The Red Door Inn by Liz Johnson

touch, Marie brushed her fingers along the red leather spines of Shakespeare and Dickens and Austen. The brown ones on the far end were only a few reads away from losing their threadbare casings, and she dropped her hand before she could add to their wear and tear.
    Would she have liked reading the classics in high school any more if they’d been this beautiful?
    Probably not.
    â€œDo you have any first-edition Montgomery?”
    â€œMaud?” Aretha spoke as though she were old friends with the author who had made the island famous. “Oh dear.I can’t keep Anne on the shelves. I’ve had three first editions and fourteen second or third.” She shook her white hair. “But the tourists eat that stuff up. They can pack it into their rollers and carry it back to wherever they come from. It’s easier to move than the whole case.”
    â€œI suppose that makes sense.” Even if it wasn’t what she’d hoped to hear. The beautiful antique bookcase would look stunning in the inn with or without a first edition of the classic island tale.
    She flipped the price tag so she could count the zeros there, and her breath caught in her throat.
    Nothing could look that good.
    Aretha patted her shoulder. “I’ll keep my eyes open for a first edition for you.”
    â€œI’d appreciate that. Thank you.” Marie pulled an early-twentieth-century Pride and Prejudice off the shelf and turned it over. No price tag. “Are these for sale?”
    â€œBy the set.”
    â€œHow much?” Seth’s voice made the women jump.
    Aretha looked up into his face, her smile knowing. “For you? We might be able to make a deal. Let me just check my records to make sure I’m not giving them away.”
    She wandered toward the back room where they’d looked at the bedding just that morning, leaving Marie to stare at her feet while Seth stared at her.
    â€œBooks and a typewriter, huh?”
    He sounded so much like Jack, trimming his words until he had to speak only the essential ones.
    â€œAnd a writing desk too, I hope.” She glanced down the wall, brass and iron pieces lining every inch until there were none to spare.
    Which of these pieces would fit in the Red Door? Which would make it feel like home for the guests who would spend their vacations in its rooms? Which would seal memories in their minds, keeping them coming back season after season?
    There were iron animals and fireplace pokers. But they were cold and heavy, like the weight of Seth’s ever-watchful gaze.
    She needed something beautiful and strong. Something that showed Seth that she knew what she was doing. Something like the large brass light right in front of her.
    Stepping around a wooden pedestal topped by a porcelain washing pitcher, she hurried to inspect the lantern with its faded gilded edges. “What is this?”
    Marie had meant to ask Aretha, but Seth stepped to her side, even as she pulled away. “It’s from a lighthouse. See, the light would stay still, and the outside panel would spin like this.” He made a circle in the air with his finger.
    â€œAre there lighthouses on the island?”
    Aretha joined them, her laughter booming through the store. “I should say so. There are more than fifty active lighthouses.”
    A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, but Seth piped up before she could voice her idea. “Let me guess. A lighthouse room.” He didn’t have to go on. His tone said it all. He thought it was a ridiculous idea.
    â€œWhat a splendid idea.” Aretha clearly didn’t agree with his assessment. “I have a few other pieces.”
    She grabbed Marie’s hand, pulling her deeper into the maze, and pointed out a captain’s wooden box—which contained a seafaring compass—and a ship in a bottle. They danced around the room so fast that Marie’s head spun and her chest tightened.
    Fighting the panic attack that