By the time I’d fed Socks and brought him into the backyard to do his business, I had about thirty seconds remaining for myself. I took the fastest shower in human history, pulled a pair of jeans and a fitted v-neck sweater out of the dryer (I hadn’t had the energy to fluff and fold last night, truth be told), and ran a comb through my damp curls. I was dabbing on a bit of mascara when I heard a beep from outside.
“Bye, Socks!” I called, racing through the living room. “Don’t chew anything! And try not to pee on Jamie’s shoes!”
Jamie, Cade’s dog-walker, lived three houses down, had lime-green hair, and had made a rather successful business out of caring for all the pets in the neighborhood, from cats to iguanas to puppies to pythons. I’d met her in passing on Halloween, when she brought her kids to the door for candy. At the time, I thought the badass iridescent mohawk was part of her costume.
It was not.
She sported it full time.
I locked the door and raced down the front walk, where a turquoise muscle car was idling. The Thunderbird. Gwen was in the front seat, looking chic in a pair of tortoise cat-eye shades, a semi-sheer silk blouse, and high-waisted trousers that made her legs seem longer than should be anatomically possible. Her bruise was better today, turning yellow at the edges as it healed.
“Thanks for picking me up,” I said as I settled into the passenger seat. “Cade says I should have my own wheels back by tomorrow or the next day.”
“No problem.” Gwen shot me a smile as she steered away from the curb. “It feels a little strange, opening the shop while the search is still ongoing…”
I nodded. Neither of us felt great about the prospect of making smalltalk with customers, stocking books, and serving coffee — not while Rory was still out there. But The Gallows couldn’t stay shuttered forever. And not just because the hipsters would stage a revolt. Gwen had a business to run. I had bills to pay. Life went on.
Even when you didn’t want it to.
Even when it felt impossible.
We parked downtown in a spot on the street not far from the brick pedestrian zone. I was stunned silent by what I saw when we approached The Gallows. The whole strip was abandoned. Gone were the costumed tourists, the ghost tours moving in groups, the teens snapping selfies in the stocks. Gone were the musicians busking for tips, the food vendors pushing combo-meals, the pop-up shops hawking homemade wares. It was totally, completely…
Empty.
“Whereiseveryone?” I asked, wondering if I’d stepped into an alternate reality.
Gwen chuckled as she slid her key into the front door lock. “I told you — once Halloween is over, the whole city empties out. This is normal for a Tuesday morning. Welcome to Salem, eleven months out of the year. I think you’re going to like it.”
She was right.
Ididlike it.
And I liked it even more as the day waned on. I liked the slower pace. I liked being able to catch my breath between coffee orders. I liked that the tables were full of college students typing quietly on their laptops, instead of tourists shouldering each other out of the way for souvenirs. I liked that Gwen and I could chat as we worked, that the milk fridge never ran dry, that we could eat our lunch at a speed that didn’t cause indigestion.
I did two tarot readings in the afternoon and took my sweet time with each of them. Both tipped generously, and made arrangements to come back again in a few weeks. I sent them on their way with the small appointment cards I’d found in one of Madame Zelda’s desk drawers, unable to suppress my smile.
I had repeat customers.
Regulars!
It was a good feeling.
Towards the end of the day, I manned the shop alone for a few hours while Gwen was in the back interviewing potential baristas and busboys. We were in a late-afternoon lull. Most of our customers had wandered out when their caffeine buzz wore off after lunch. I took the opportunity to spritz down all the tables and wash the growing stack of dirty mugs.
When the door swung open, my head whipped toward it. I was hoping it would be Cade — I’d been hoping all day — but Sally swept through the door instead. She was wearing a bright yellow dress that made her already generously endowed chest appear truly gargantuan. In her hands, she had two plastic Tupperwares stacked on top of each other. Agatha, wearing a shapeless house dress, trailed on her heels.
“Hi, Sally. Hi, Agatha.”
“Hello, dear.” Sally glanced around, eyes sweeping the shop, taking in the handful of students still camped out at the espresso bar; the lone man perusing the bookshelves. “Glad to see things are finally back to normal around here. The whole town can breathe again now that the tourists are gone.”
“Good riddance,” Agatha declared, plunking down into one of Gwen’s plush armchairs.
I fought a grin. “It’s, uh… definitely a nice change of pace. Are you here for coffee?”
“No, just popping by to drop this off.” Sally set one of the Tupperware on the counter beside the cash register. “There are two slices in there, one for you and one for Gwendolyn. Cheesecake.”
My mouth watered. “You didn’t have to do that.”