Page 73 of Book and Ladder
“With your own money?” Winona’s voice is faint now that they’re on the main floor.
Daisy answers. I may be the only one who can hear her. “Does it matter? I want Moss and Maple to be a place of refuge and welcome. Cocoa is a trademark here. I can cut the budget elsewhere.”
I glance around. People are shuffling, picking up carpet squares and stacking folded blankets on a shelf. Daisy wouldn’t want me to overhear anything she says about her business, especially not anything to do with her struggling to make ends meet.
I catch Dustin’s eye and point upstairs. He nods, continuing to help people tidy the basement.
I emerge from the staircase and approach Winona. “Do you have a mop?”
Her brow scrunches, but then she says, “Follow me.”
She opens a hall closet and I grab the mop, heading into the front room to mop up the water from when Dustin and I entered.
Daisy turns her head and eyes me—at first suspiciously, but then her face softens momentarily.
“Sorry,” I say. “We brought the storm in with us.”
“It’s alright,” she says softly.
I wait for her usual witty retort or sarcastic addendum. Nothing comes.
I wring the mop out in the bathroom sink and place it in the closet.
When I return to the main room, Daisy’s handing mugs of warm beverages to her customers, smiling and saying something reassuring to each one. This is why Moss and Maple matters. It’s not merely the books. It’s this—Daisy making every customer feel as if they belong here because they’re her favorite.
She makes me want … what, exactly? To be a part of this safe haven she offers anyone who needs it. Of course, that’s the very last thing I will ever be. At least I mopped the floor.
Dustin walks over to my side, picking up his boots. “Enjoying the ambiance?” he teases, nudging me in the ribs.
“She’s really …” I don’t finish. I don’t even know what made me say that much.
Daisy Clark is special. I always knew it. Somehow in all our bantering and rivalry, I forgot what it feels like to be the recipient of her brand of care.
“I’m going to check in with Grey and drive Emberleigh home,” Dustin says.
I glance out into the road.
“I’ll be right there,” I tell Dustin.
He and Emberleigh step out onto the porch a few moments later, followed by a few other customers who grab their umbrellas off the porch and step into what is now a mild rainfall.
I carefully make my way to Daisy. I never know if I’m about to encounter a bear with a thorn in her paw. Still, I enter the cave, like a fool.
“Do you need … um … want … anything else?” I ask.
She’ll say no. Of course she’ll say no. What she wants—always wants—is the greatest amount of distance between herself and me.
She surprises me when she looks up at me, a softness in her eyes, and says, “Thank you for checking on us.”
“Anytime,” I say, hoping she senses the genuine sincerity behind the word.
Silently, I tell her,I’ll drop anything for you. I know I didn’t back then. But I’m different now.
An unfamiliar woman in her mid-fifties approaches Daisy. When she says, “Thank you for hosting me,” I realize this must be the guest author. On second glance, I know her writing. Patrick O’Connell, local firefighter, shouldn’t have a clue who she is, so I keep my awareness to myself.
“Thank you for coming out,” Daisy says with a soft smile. “So sorry we had to cut things short.”
“It was an adventure.” The author smiles, nudging her glasses up her nose.
