The Bluestockings: Chapter Five
"She had thought those were happy times, but six years of life without her mother had convinced Eleanor even her most precious memories could not be trusted."
Welcome to The Nook! The Bluestockings is my latest novel, which I’m releasing in serial form one chapter at a time. These posts are free for you to read, but they were not free for me to produce. If you’d like to support my work, please consider becoming a paid subscriber or purchasing your own paperback/Kindle copy of The Bluestockings. Thanks for being here!
Catch Up On Previous Chapters: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4
Eleanor
Unable to fall asleep the night before, Eleanor had spent hours on her laptop searching for information on how to save a business from financial ruin. There were thousands of search results, but few fit for a twelve-year-old to manage independently. She’d stuck to technology Maggie would know best and made a long list of ideas for how to promote the bookstore on social media. Bluestocking Books needed to find a place in the 21st century.
After a while, Eleanor had gotten curious about Maggie’s aunt Ruby and the tragic story of her mother’s death. There wasn’t much to be found online. She found a few short blurbs from the early 1960s announcing Ruby as a pageant winner. She also located her father William’s obituary from 1999. Eleanor searched and scoured for Alice Hurst, but the only result she’d found that wasn’t behind a paywall was a Find A Grave entry that noted the location of her burial in the Hurst family cemetery.
Frustrated, Eleanor chewed on a hangnail. A thought occurred to her, but she swatted it away. She got ready for bed, washed her face, and brushed her teeth. Still, the idea hovered, a ghost over her shoulder.
Finally, Eleanor opened her laptop again. She typed Vera Black Hawthorn, GA, in the search bar before she could change her mind. Immediately, the page was filled with links to news articles that had covered the story. Down a little further was Bluestocking’s website, where Vera Black was listed as the owner alongside James. Otherwise, it was all news about her disappearance.
Bile rose in Eleanor’s throat as she peered at the headlines displayed on her screen, at her mother’s beautiful face on one thumbnail after another. It seemed every outlet had printed some variation of the same story. The news hadn’t made it past local and regional papers, with the Savannah Daily News offering the most coverage. One article, in particular, caught Eleanor’s eye. The headline felt slightly less sensational than the others, so she clicked on it.
Chatham County Mother Vanishes, Local Community Left Grief-stricken
James had prevented any reporters from talking to Eleanor at the time, but they’d gotten their hands on the police reports. Eleanor felt the horrible memory of those moments prickle her skin as she read.
Wednesday, March 26, 2018
A Chatham County woman has gone missing, and police are seeking any information related to her disappearance.
Vera Elizabeth Black was last seen Monday on the property of Bluestocking Books in downtown Hawthorn, the business she and her husband, James Black, opened together in 2000. Three witnesses gave statements to police reporting that they had seen or spoken to Mrs. Black around five p.m. when she was about to close the bookstore. One such resident, Agatha Candler, owner of a bakery located next to Bluestocking Books, reported visiting with Mrs. Black at the shop before returning to her place of business. Mrs. Black was reported missing by her husband two hours after her expected return home. She has not been seen or heard from since.
“We’re just heartbroken,” Mrs. Candler said in an interview. “Vera is such a sweet woman, and she’s been an important part of this community for a long time. We’re just praying she’s found safe. She has a little girl and a husband who need her home.”
In the wake of Mrs. Black’s disappearance, the residents of Hawthorn have organized search parties to assist local law enforcement as they comb the vast acreage of forests surrounding the town. There was no evidence of foul play in or around the property of Bluestocking Books, but it hasn’t been ruled out as a possibility. Mr. Black’s husband is cooperating fully with the investigation.
“All we want is for Vera to be back here with us, safe and sound,” said Mr. Black through tears during Tuesday evening’s press conference. “Please, please help us find her.”
This is the first missing persons case reported in Hawthorn since Alice Hurst, fiancee of William Hurst, grandson of Hawthorn founder George Hurst, drowned off the coast of Tybee Island in the winter of 1949. Her body was later recovered near Fort Pulaski, and she was buried in the Hurst family cemetery. Alice Hurst’s daughter, Ruby, turned eighty this year and continues to reside on the family estate in Hawthorn.
Anyone with information regarding Mrs. Black’s disappearance is asked to contact the Chatham County Sheriff’s Department at 912-556-7865.
Eleanor smiled through tears when she read what Agatha had said to reporters about her mother. She was just as Agatha had said: kind and beloved. To the citizens of their small town, Vera had been a respectable business owner, wife, and mother. To Eleanor and James, she had been an enigma, full of ideas and life, while also troubled by dark moods. It was a regular occurrence for Vera to shut everyone out and hide away. Her mind simply became too loud for her to engage with the world or with Eleanor. Only James had ever been able to pull Vera from those moods and settle her back into the present.
Eleanor’s vision blurred as she watched a clip from the press conference for the very first time. Her dad was shaking visibly, his eyes filled with tears, as he spoke of his wife. Eleanor clutched her pillow. She’d never realized how much her dad had aged since her mother left. His hair was still fully black back then, and the lines around his mouth were less pronounced. Eleanor’s heart clenched as she thought about how much of his grief she never really saw. The entire experience was a sickening blur.
Scrolling down to the bottom of the article, Eleanor momentarily caught a glimpse of the comments. That was a big mistake. Over and over, readers made vicious accusations about her father, casting doubt on his “performance” at the press conference and calling him terrible names. Eleanor snapped her laptop shut, furious that people would accuse her dad of being anyone other than the devoted father and hus- band he had always been. She swiped angrily at her tears and prayed James had never read their ugly words.
After falling into a fitful sleep, Eleanor awoke the next morning to a heavy thunderstorm. Downstairs, James was sipping coffee by the kitchen sink. He turned to face Eleanor when she walked in, hair piled high in a messy bun on her head, and greeted her.
“Morning,” he said, cupping his mug. “How about this storm, huh? Not going to be busy today.”
Eleanor took a cereal box from the cupboard and shook some into a bowl. “Have some faith, Dad,” she replied, her voice rough from tears and lack of sleep. “Rain makes for perfect reading weather.”
James chuckled into his coffee. “At home, maybe. But nobody’s going to leave their house to come to the bookstore in this weather.”
“I would,” Eleanor said. She poured milk into her bowl and took a bite. “You want to take me over to Maggie’s today? Or should I call her and get Marianne to pick me up?”
James ruffled his daughter’s hair. “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” he said. “I’ll take you over. I’m curious to meet Maggie’s aunt.”
Eleanor raised a brow. “You’ve never met her before?”
“Nope,” James answered, taking a seat at the breakfast table. “I don’t think many people have. We just know about her because she’s—“
“Richer than the pope?” interjected Eleanor. “A total mystery? Completely fascinating?”
James pointed at her. “That, yes,” he replied. “We actually bought the bookstore from her. Did you know that?”
“WHAT?” Eleanor exclaimed. She plopped down into a seat across from her dad. “You bought Bluestocking Books from the woman who is basically our town mascot?”
James guffawed. Eleanor thought back to the video she’d watched last night and felt her eyes sting. It had been a long time since she’d heard her dad laugh like that.
“What a terrible thing to say,” he admonished her with a grin. “The poor woman is probably just an extreme introvert who wants to be left alone. But, yes, well—no. It wasn’t a bookstore then. It was just an old, empty space that belonged to the Hurst family. Your mother and I never even met Ruby. Everything was done through her lawyer.”
Eleanor was dumbfounded. “I wonder what it was before,” she said, taking another bite of cereal. “The bookstore, I mean.”
James shrugged. “Her family made their fortune in publishing and owned large sections of the original town, so I’d hazard a guess it was an office of theirs at some point. My wingback chair and the desk in the storage room were still in the back when we bought the place.”
Eleanor was thrilled at the thought of their bookstore once being the home of a publishing empire. “How serendipitous,” she sighed. Another word she’d learned from a novel.
James’ lips turned up at the corners. “You can say that again.” After breakfast, it was time for Eleanor’s second day as Agatha’s delivery girl. She had high hopes it would go more smoothly than her first.
On crutches now, Agatha made a beeline to Eleanor as soon as she arrived at the bakery. Her face was open and bright, eager in a way Eleanor knew could only mean one thing.
“Did you and Maggie have fun yesterday?” she asked, leaning toward Eleanor so much that Eleanor had to back away. “Your dad told me you’re going over to her aunt’s house to spend the night tonight. That’ll be an adventure.”
“Uh, yeah,” Eleanor replied. “I guess it will.” She made her way towards the kitchen, Agatha close behind now that she had crutches to lean on. “How many orders do you have for me?”
“None right now,” Agatha said, a note of impatience in her voice. “Don’t go changing the subject, young lady. No one ever goes over to Ruby Hurst’s house. This is quite the opportunity you have here.”
Eleanor raised an eyebrow at her employer. “Opportunity for what?” she asked, unable to hide her annoyance at being pried for information. “And how do you know that no one ever goes over there?”
“Didn’t I tell you to leave the sass at home today?” Agatha reminded her. “And I know because I know everyone here. People talk.”
“I’ll say they do,” Eleanor muttered.
Agatha continued as if Eleanor hadn’t spoken. “I bet if you could get Ruby Hurst to stop haunting that old mansion of hers and come into town, Bluestocking Books might find some more customers.”
Eleanor’s spine stiffened as she took in the subtext of Agatha’s words. She eyed the woman with apprehension. “What do you mean?”
Agatha pressed her lips together quickly. “Well...nothing, dear,” she hemmed. “I just know how hard it can be for bookstores nowadays. People are always ordering books online or reading on their phones and such. A chance to see Ruby Hurst might bring people around if they heard she’d come by, you know?”
She wasn’t wrong, but Eleanor felt the slice of betrayal cut deep.
Her dad had told the biggest gossip in town about their troubles at the store but hadn’t told his own daughter. And now Eleanor’s boss wanted her to use a new friend to get more customers.
Adults were the worst sometimes.
“If you don’t have any orders for me right now,” Eleanor said in a quiet voice, “can I just get a hot chocolate, please? I’ll read in the kitchen until you get busy.”
Agatha eyed Eleanor, her brows furrowed. Then, her expression softened. “Sure, honey. That’s fine.”
Eleanor shuffled back to the kitchen, where Richard was cheerily mixing batter for a batch of banana bread. He greeted her with a broad smile as he sang along to the radio, dancing off-beat. Eleanor couldn’t help but giggle. She sat down at the counter and pulled Walk Two Moons by Sharon Creech from her bag, a novel she’d found in the little free library. Her mom had had a well-loved copy of it at home in their office, but Eleanor had never read it before. She flipped to the back cover and read the blurb, then felt a hot flash of panic when she realized it was a story of a girl named Salamanca and her lost mother.
Her heart thudded in her chest as she fingered the cover. Memories of nights on the sofa, cuddled up next to her mom as she read a book aloud, prickled like ants all over Eleanor’s body. She had thought those were happy times, but six years of life without her mother had convinced Eleanor even her most precious memories could not be trusted.
She opened the book with care, even though it was practically a new copy, and scanned the title page. Vera’s copy at home was careworn, pages permanently dog-eared, and the spine torn until the back cover had fallen off. The book in Eleanor’s hands was used but fresh, still crisp as she turned the page and began to read. Within minutes, she was lost in the story.
“Here’s your hot chocolate,” Agatha said, placing a steaming mug in front of Eleanor, who started with a yelp. She’d been so engrossed in the book that she hadn’t noticed Agatha's approach. Richard was still singing over by the oven, where he placed five pans of banana bread mixture on the center rack to bake.
“Goodness!” Agatha patted Eleanor on the shoulder. “I didn’t mean to scare you, hon.”
Eleanor’s heartbeat slowed to a normal rate. “It’s okay. I was just reading.”
“Must be a good book. When you’re finished with your hot chocolate, I have a few orders for you to deliver.”
Eleanor nodded and took a sip of her drink, letting it warm her up from the inside out. “Sounds great,” she replied. Sal Hiddle would have to wait.
The next few hours passed in agonizing slow motion. Agatha enlisted Eleanor to help bring out orders in the cafe when she wasn’t making deliveries, but the lunch crowd was thin today. Eleanor couldn’t wait to go see Maggie.
Her stomach had been a bundle of nerves that morning as she packed her overnight bag, unsure exactly about what she might need. Did Ruby Hurst have servants? A chef? Should she bring all her toiletries, or did Ruby have those little travel ones in every bathroom for guests? Did she ever have guests? These were the sorts of questions it would be convenient to text Maggie if Eleanor had a phone.
She had decided to stick with the basics. Best to keep it simple. She’d also packed her laptop and charger along with her notebook and extra pens for their research.
On the drive over, Eleanor asked her dad about the novel in her bag. “Dad, have you ever read Walk Two Moons?” she asked, holding it up for him to see. James glanced over at the cover. Recognition flashed across his face.
“Yeah, I’ve seen that before,” he replied. “We have a copy at home, don’t we?”
“Mom did,” Eleanor said. “I found this one in the little free library.”
“I’ve never read it,” James answered. “I remember your mom liked it a lot. She said it was one of her favorite novels.”
Eleanor wrinkled her nose. “But it’s for kids.”
James shot her an offended look. “You know as well as I do that good books don’t have an age limit. Have I taught you nothing?”
“Do you know what it’s about?” she prodded. James shook his head.
“It’s about a mother who leaves her daughter behind,” Eleanor said firmly, looking out her window at the passing landscape. Live oaks, their long, heavy limbs decorated with Spanish moss, flashed in Eleanor’s reflection. James coughed and shifted in his seat. The silence pressed in around them.
“Why would that be one of her favorite stories?” Eleanor whispered, more to herself than her dad. He reached across the console and grabbed Eleanor’s hand. Eleanor looked down at her lap.
“She didn’t know she would leave us, sweetheart,” James said with a squeeze of her fingers. “What happened was—”
“What did happen to her, Dad?” Eleanor asked, looking up at him with a hope she couldn’t disguise. Maybe he knew more than he’d ever told her. Maybe she’d been wrong about her mother all this time.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, eyes full of unshed tears. “I wish I did.”
Eleanor nodded and sank into her seat, clutching the novel to her chest like a life raft.
