The Book Charmer CHAPTER 1 Grace DOVE POND, NC MAY 16, 2019 "Are we there yet?" Daisy asked. "No," Grace said for the eighth time, her eyes locked on the moving truck that slowly rumbled along in front of her Honda. Every side of the ancient truck bore the words MCLAREN''S YOU NEED TO MOVE WE CAN DO IT, LLC. Mama G, in the front beside Grace, looked over the seat at Daisy. "We just passed the ''Welcome to Dove Pond'' sign, so it won''t be long now." "We''ve been driving ?forever." Daisy slumped, twirling her ponytail with restless fingers, a habit she''d picked up during the past few difficult months. Daisy was a precocious child, this daughter of Hannah''s and an unknown boy from her high school.
Even at the tender age of eight, Daisy was an odd, old-souled sort of kid, all elbows and knees, blurting what she thought no matter how bold or ill-advised. She was smart too, perhaps even brilliant, according to her test scores, and she could read well above her level, devouring books the way most kids her age devoured cartoons. Despite that, the child made only mediocre grades, as she was easily distracted, she and her restless mind. Just like her mother. Grace looked at Daisy in the rearview mirror, noting the blond hair and crystal-blue eyes. Oh, Hannah, you would be so proud of her. Grace''s throat tightened and she forced herself to focus on the truck they followed. Mama G looked up from her knitting to admire the large maples and elms that dotted the streets.
"I love these trees." She sighed happily, then returned her attention to the mittens she was making. Shortly after Grace and Hannah had come to live with Mama G, she''d taken up knitting, saying it "calmed the nerves." Grace thought that was strange, because no one had a more peaceful spirit than Mama G. Over the years, she''d made hundreds of scarves and mittens, most of which had ended up in Grace''s room, as Hannah had never liked them. Grace glanced over at Mama G now. Her once-graceful hands were liver spotted and gnarled, but they never stopped moving. Normally, Mama G''s rhythmic knitting sent a flood of calm through Grace, but today it did nothing.
Right now, everything felt useless, empty. Broken. Grace swallowed the lump in her throat and applied the brakes as the moving truck slowed in front of her. "We should be turning onto Elm Street soon." As if in answer to her prayers, the truck''s signal flashed and the vehicle slowly turned. "Almost there." Grace admired the rows of elms that shaded the road. "Our new house is at the end of this street.
" New meaning "recently rented." She silently ticked through her Things That Must Be Done list: unpack, register Daisy for school, find a caretaker for Mama G--the list seemed endless, and she winced to think about the shrinking amount left in her bank accounts. The events of the past few months had murdered her savings. But by Grace''s careful calculations, if they lived frugally over the next year, they would have enough for a down payment on a small house in Charlotte. The thought of returning to Charlotte calmed Grace. For the past five years, she''d worked at a large financial company in one of the city''s trendier areas. She''d been happy there and, until the craziness of the past few months, she''d never thought she''d leave. But she''d go back, and this time she''d take Mama G and Daisy.
It wouldn''t be easy, but it would happen. She would make sure of it. Behind her, Daisy leaned against her window and stared at the houses rolling past. The street was long and wide, the sidewalks shaded by the towering trees. The quality of the houses perched along the way gave Grace hope. Huge and ornate, the grand old lady houses flaunted a variety of pastel colors. Windows glinting in the afternoon sunshine, they gazed at one another with sleepy, lace-fluttered windows and wide, white-trimmed porches. It looks like a safe neighborhood, and these houses--wow! Perhaps this will all work out.
Hope blossomed, so Grace--ever cautious--tried to tamp it down, hugging her worries like a shield. "I like these houses," Daisy said. "I bet they have ghosts. They look like the right kind." Grace looked at Daisy in the rearview mirror and saw her niece''s nose pressed against the window glass. "There is no such thing as ghosts." Her mouth instantly tight with anger, Daisy said in a sullen tone, "How would you know?" Grace had to clamp her mouth over a sharp reply. Just a week ago, Mama G had warned Grace to pick her battles with Daisy, and this wasn''t a hill worth dying on.
It still hurt, though. And Grace was never sure if she was giving up some sort of authority by not reprimanding Daisy about things like tone of voice and eye rolls. I don''t know a darn thing about raising kids. Not one. Yet now, here I am. Until two months ago, Grace''s position in Daisy''s life had been "Favorite Aunt" and nothing else. Grace had loved being the FA, who breezed into town like Mary Poppins, beloved by everyone as she bestowed presents and took Mama G and Daisy on all sorts of fun adventures. Those were the days, she thought wistfully.
But things were different now. Everything has changed. Daisy muttered to herself, "I like ghosts." Grace tightened her grip on the steering wheel. It was silly to argue about something as ridiculous as ghosts, but she didn''t want Daisy afraid to sleep at night because of every old-house thump and creak. For all of Daisy''s bravado, she was a sensitive child and suffered from her own overactive imagination. "Ghosts can be very nice," Mama G said in a thoughtful tone. "The ones I''ve met were, anyway.
" Daisy leaned toward the front seat as far as her seat belt would let her. "You''ve met ghosts? Were they--" "She''s joking, of course," Grace interrupted. She wished Mama G wouldn''t encourage Daisy''s flights of fancy. "Mama G, tell Aunt Grace you aren''t joking," Daisy said in a belligerent tone. "Tell her that you''ve seen ghosts." Grace swallowed a sigh. Parenting was damned hard. If you weren''t being scoffed at, you were being challenged.
But then again, maybe it was only difficult because she sucked at it. Part of the problem was that while she wasn''t really Daisy''s mother, Grace''d also lost her standing as the Favorite Aunt. Right now, neither she nor Daisy was quite sure what Grace was, except inexperienced. Loneliness swamped Grace, seeping into her soul like icy water. Growing up, no matter how badly life had treated her and Hannah, they''d had each other. Even when, at seventeen years of age, rebellious Hannah had run away, leaving four-month-old Daisy with Mama G, she''d kept in touch with Grace. Grace had been in college, neck-deep in tests and papers and fighting for her place on the dean''s list, but she''d been ridiculously grateful for Hannah''s scarce text messages and rare phone calls, even though 90 percent of them had been requests for money. Still, those tiny contacts had made Grace feel that she and Hannah were still a family.
But more than that, they''d allowed Grace to pretend that things were okay. That Hannah was okay, even though she wasn''t. Two months and eleven days ago, Hannah had died, her life burned to a crisp by her own wild spirits. And Grace, still pretending things were "okay," hadn''t been ready. There was a hole in her life now, one she didn''t know how to fill. Somehow, in losing her sister, she''d also lost all the hopes she''d been clinging to that, with time and love, Hannah would stop wandering the world like a lost soul, chasing dangerous men and even more dangerous thrills. That one day, she''d come home, realize how much she missed Grace and Mama G, and how special Daisy was, and she''d welcome them all back into her life. That they''d finally become the family Grace had always so desperately wanted them to be.
Hannah''s death had left Grace aching, angry, and empty. But it was even harder for Daisy. The little girl had loved her beautiful but distant mother with an obstinate, uncritical passion. For weeks after the funeral, she''d refused to go to school, staying in bed unless forced to get up, arguing about everything with everybody. It had taken all of Mama G''s considerable influence to convince Daisy to return to her classroom. But once there, the child had been sullen and silent, ignoring her friends and teachers alike. She did no homework and when the time came to take a test, instead of answering the problems, she filled the paper with drawings of furious dragons spewing fire. Had her previous grades not been so high and her teachers so understanding, she might have failed.
The school counselor had warned Grace that the next few months, and perhaps longer, would be difficult and that it would be normal for Daisy to continue to "act out," at least for a while. Despite the warning, Daisy''s sudden flares of anger and her stubborn refusal to accept Grace as a parent had made a difficult situation even worse. But more than anyone else, Grace understood anger. What was difficult was seeing the sheer pain that lurked behind every sharp word that tumbled from Daisy''s mouth and being unable to do anything to help. Grace gripped the steering wheel harder, torn between a growing anger at Hannah for being so careless with herself, even though it had cos.