If Found

        Nicole heaved a gusty sigh as she pushed open the heavy wooden doors of Beantown USA, her favorite coffee shop in known existence. The staff behind the counter gave her a cheery wave, and Nicole knew there was a decent chance they were already making the London Fog that she would be ordering. 

She was a creature of habitual comforts and proud of it, she thought, as she settled into a high-top seat along the windows with her toasty hot beverage. A counter ran across the entire window, and she could take breaks from her book and contemplate people going by, who came from places she had never been, headed to places she may never reach herself. The infinite nature of the possibilities pleased her, mostly because she didn't have to care about these particular ones herself.

        Looking down the counter to her left, she spied a book someone had left on the counter. Not just any book either, but a properly handsome book, its cover tooled in opulent leather, the pages edged in gleaming gold. She leaned in closer to see the title and started in surprise; it was one of her favorites, "Anne of Green Gables." Now there was a character who hadn't put limits on possibilities.

        Nicole looked around the shop behind her, curious as to who might have left this book here. The area around it was empty, no cup with coffee dregs nor plate with pastry crumbs in sight. Surely the owner had just gone to the bathroom and would be back for their book, she thought, and returned to her own book.

        The next time she looked up, the book was still there, untouched. Nicole checked her watch; thirty minutes had already gone by. Again, she scanned the shop behind her. Everyone was fully engrossed in their own conversations or reading material. No one seemed interested in what had to be a special edition of a classic book.

        Frowning, Nicole lifted the front cover of the book with a hesitant finger, ready to snatch it back at the first sign of someone rushing up in outrage.

        The pages were the pale golden color of sand, perhaps purposefully, but more likely with age. There was an elaborate Ex Libris label that was peeling up a bit at the corners like an ancient stamp.

        The label stated "If found, please return to Maggie" along with an address. Nicole frowned, and checked her phone to be sure the address was where she thought it might be. It was a short bus ride away, but still, not what could be characterized as a nicer part of town, even if she were in a magnanimous mood.

        She mused, brushing her fingers idly over the page, and to her horror, her thumb caught the edge of the Ex Libris label and peeled it back another centimeter or so. She slammed the book shut, thinking that it served her right for being nosy.

        She tried to go back to her own book, itself a long-awaited installment of a cherished series, but the rich peacock blue-green of the abandoned book beckoned her gaze once more.

        She carefully opened the book at a random spot, which turned out to be a brightly colored illustration of Anne at her Lake of Shining Waters, the blues serene, the greens of fresh springtime, Anne's own hair a vibrant lick of flame that seemed almost to come off the page.

        She let the book fall shut again. It was a stunning book, and she already knew the Ex Libris label would peel off all too easily. Besides, anyone who could leave a book such as this behind surely didn't deserve to keep it? A person ought to be more careful with their treasures.

        Her hand reached out for the book, slow, reluctant. This precious book could be hers, but that wasn't the right thing to do. She knew she would be brokenhearted if she managed to lose a treasure like this forever. She didn't know the story of how it got deserted, and it didn't matter anyway. She had to be considerate and return it.

        Unbidden, Harrison's rant from the other night shoved to the front of her consciousness, his raging that she was inconsiderate, that for godsdamned once she needed to think of him first. Her brain (and all her friends for that matter) knew this to be middle-school gaslighting, Harrison's frustration that Nicole was holding fast to the boundaries she had set for herself.

        Still, the little girl who lived deep in her heart heard her mother agreeing with Harrison, urging her to do whatever necessary to keep such an upstanding and decent man, otherwise she would end up alone and no man would want her.

        Nicole's expression and resolve hardened. She cleaned up her teacup, checked her phone for the next 156 bus, stowed the precious book safely in her bag alongside her own book, and went to the bus stop to wait.

        The 156 deposited her on a block of Jackson she had never been to, but studying her phone, she found the address quickly, coming to a stop in front of an old two-flat building. Peering at the panel next to the front door, she pushed the button for Maggie Harris and waited.

        A woman opened the door, her dark skin displaying almost no wrinkles despite the silver running throughout her black hair like rivers reflecting the moon at night.

        "Yes?"

        "Are you Maggie Harris?" Nicole was an introvert at heart, and if her voice squeaked slightly, well, it still got the job done.

        "Yes, I am, and you are?"

        "Nicole? I think I have your book? I found it at the coffee shop, and saw the label inside, and it's so beautiful, I knew if it were me I'd be so upset to lose it and anyway here it is? Is it yours?" Nicole realized she was starting to ride the Babble Train right off the rails but was powerless to stop herself.

        Maggie's face broke into a broad smile, warm and honey-sweet. It put Nicole in mind of her grandmother, of a beloved grade-school teacher. It made no sense, but this stranger felt safe.

        "It is my book, and I'm so glad to see it safely home. Please, won't you come inside for a moment?" Maggie stepped back and waved Nicole in.

        "Oh no, I couldn't intrude, I just wanted to make sure it got back to you--"

        "Please. I insist. A lot of people would have just kept the book or sold it," Maggie said as she led the way inside.

        They stepped into a room full of warm light. The walls were lined with bookshelves from floor to ceiling. Overstuffed armchairs and sofas were draped with worn but still brightly colored crocheted afghans, perfect for snuggling against the winter chill. A fire crackled in the grate, adding to the warmth of the room, both in temperature and ambiance.

        Nicole's mouth dropped open. Had she fallen through a wormhole into a hobbit hole? Were Frog and Toad about to emerge from wherever the kitchen was, carrying tea and cakes?

        "By the look in your eyes, I can tell you would love nothing more than a few minutes to peruse the books?" Maggie asked with a knowing smile.

        "I, but I, I mean, yes!" Nicole said. She hurried to toe off her shoes, not wanting to track on the beautifully woven rugs, and hurried to inspect the nearest shelf. Here indeed were riches. Classics, fantasy series, mythology, history, her eyes didn't know where to land first.

        Maggie disappeared into the back of the house for a few minutes, and came back not with Frog and Toad, but indeed with a tray of tea complete with a plate of scones.

        Never in her life had Nicole felt so comfortable with a perfect stranger, but the books, the room, and the kindness she felt emanating from Maggie herself won her over completely, and soon they were chatting about their own favorite books over the tea and scones.

        With a start, Nicole looked at her watch and realized an entire hour had gone by, and rose to leave. "I'm so sorry, really I just meant to return your book, your house is so lovely and comfortable, but I'll just get out of your hair now," Nicole stammered, shoving her shoes back on as she slung her bag back over her shoulder.

        "Why don't you pick a book to take home with you? A reward for a good deed," Maggie offered, still seated and regarding Nicole with a steady eye.

        "Oh NO, I couldn't possibly, I can tell how much you cherish your books! I'm just happy I was able to bring Anne back to you!"

        That steady eye still fixed on Nicole, Maggie said, "All right. It's always wonderful to meet someone who respects other people and their treasures so much. I see good things in your future, Nicole, maybe in your very near future. A person such as yourself certainly deserves them." Maggie ended this with a raised eyebrow, gazing upwards momentarily.

        "Oh gosh, well, fingers crossed, I'll take good energy anytime, thank you!" Nicole laughed as she opened the front door. "I've had such a good time meeting you, Maggie, thank you."

        "I assure you, the pleasure is all mine, Nicole," Maggie walked her to the front door and waved as Nicole walked down the front steps and off to the bus stop.

***

        The following week, Nicole checked her email, marking the bills to be paid and others as spam, until she got to one from Champlain Press, and her breath caught in her chest. It was the literary magazine she'd submitted her story to on a whim, a story she'd dashed off when she'd decided she'd had enough of being Harrison's doormat and he could accept that or he could get bent. The story had been more therapy than anything else, and she had expected nothing to come of it.

        They were pleased to inform her that her story had been accepted for publication in their winter issue, payment to follow via Paypal. She checked her Paypal and there it was, $500 from Champlain Press.

        She put the laptop aside and flopped back on the couch to process the news, her cat Boots promptly jumping into her lap. She read the email again, read the Paypal account again.

        She let out a squeal, hugging Boots to his complete discomfiture, and texted her best friend Deb so they could celebrate.

***

        Maggie watched the man through the window of the coffee shop from her vantage point across the street. The book on the counter had caught his eye. He studied it, rifling carelessly through the pages. Closing the cover again, she saw him take out his phone and snap a picture of the cover. He typed into his phone for several moments and then scrolled, a calculating gleam developing in his eyes. With a furtive glance around the shop behind him, he quickly peeled up a label from inside the front cover of the book, crumpled it into a tiny ball, and shoved the book in his bag, leaving behind his coffee and the discarded label in his rush to secure the windfall of the rare book.

        Maggie picked up her own phone and spoke quietly. "He's leaving now. White, short dark hair, about six foot tall, medium build. Stall him till I get there. I need to have a chat with Mr. Harrison Taylor."

        She grinned as she hung up, sipping the last of her tea. It was always gratifying to deliver a Benediction, as she had for Nicole Henderson the other week, but Maggie had to admit there was a certain petty pleasure in delivering a Malediction as well.

The End