Page 1 of Book and Ladder
Chapter 1
Daisy
A bad neighbor is as great a calamity
as a good one is a great advantage.
~ Hesiod
“Books.”I spin in my front room, glancing one way then the other. “Books. Books. Books.”
“There you are!” I exclaim, grabbing the box of ten special editions.
I had them shipped to my house to ensure they didn’t get misplaced with our other inventory.
I grab my purse, my cell, and my tumbler of coffee off the entry table.
My phone rings as I’m walking out my front door.
I shift the box on my hip and pin it there with my elbow, holding my coffee, tapping my cell while I step onto the porch. Multitasking like a boss.
“Hey!” I answer.
“Heyyyy!” Winona’s chipper voice practically sings.
“I’m almost there!” I tell her. It’s my day to open at my bookshop, Moss and Maple.
“No rush. I wanted to let you know I decided to get up early. I’m here, opening up. But I’m in the back room. I didn’t want you to think I was a book burglar or something when you got here.”
“A book burglar? Pretty sure that’s not a thing, Win.”
“What are you talking about? Books are expensive. And valuable.”
I shove the phone next to my neck and bend my head to lodge it so it doesn’t drop. Pinning the box to my side with my arm, and keeping a secure grip on my coffee, I use my free hand to tug the door shut behind me.
“True. Thanks for the heads up,” I say. “And …” my words trail off when my eyes land on a moving truck blocking the driveway of the duplex where I live.
My neighborhood is an older, middle class suburb of our small town. Some of the homes show their age, but most have been maintained and refurbished over the years. And a few, like mine, have been split into rentals.
“Hold on, Winona,” I say into the phone.
Then I shout, “Hey!” to the dark haired mover standing near the passenger door of the moving van with his back to me.
He doesn’t budge, so I repeat, “Hey!”
The box is digging into my arm, and my fingers are starting to ache from the death grip I have on my coffee. I shift my weight, hoist my purse up and switch my tumbler to my other hand while still keeping the phone lodged between my cheek and shoulder.
“Sorry, Win. There’s a moving van blocking my driveway.”
“Oooh are you finally getting a new neighbor?”
“Looks like it.”
I glance around. The other movers must be inside the vacant half of my duplex.
“Plug your ears,” I warn Winona. “I have to shout again, sorry.”
“Knock yourself out.” She laughs.
