The Tuesday Night Survivors' Club

Book 1: Survivors' Book Club Mystery

by Lynn Cahoon

Genres: Amateur Sleuth; Animal Cozy Mysteries

Synopsis

Survivors become sleuths to find a missing member of their book club in new-age Sedona, New Mexico . . .



Two things got Rarity Jones through her breast cancer treatments: friends and books. Now cancer-free, Rarity is devoting her life to helping others find their way through the maze to healing. She's opened a bookstore focusing on the power of healing—Eastern medicine, Western medicine, the healing power of food, the power of meditation, and the importance of developing a support community. To that end, she's also started the Tuesday Night Survivors book club. With its openness to new-age communities, Sedona, Arizona, is the perfect fit for Rarity's bookstore and the tightly knit group.



But their therapeutic unity is disrupted when one of their members suddenly goes missing. Martha has always kept to herself, never opening up much of her personal life to the group. Now she's nowhere to be found. With her car abandoned on a trail and her dog left with a friend, Rarity is sure something terrible has happened—but will she be able to uncover Martha's secrets before it's too late?

Release date: June 14, 2022

Publisher: Lyrical Press

Print pages: 212

Sample

Chapter 1

Rarity Cole was living and loving her second shot at life. If she’d been a cat, she would have eight left. Right now, she was just grateful to have this second chance after living through the breast cancer that had been almost too advanced. Now, in the bookstore she’d cashed in her corporate stocks to buy, she felt at home. She shelved the last book from the box that had arrived this morning into her new healing section. It still looked a little sparse, but she was determined to give others like her options when the C word was thrown around by the team of doctors who seemed to think they had total control over you and your body.

Which reminded her, she still needed to find an oncologist in the area. The doctors from St. Louis had pressed how important it was to keep on the medical regimen they’d started her on, which meant not only taking a pill every day, but getting regular blood work and mammograms to make sure she was okay. She’d spent long enough pretending she wasn’t still recovering from the cancer treatments. It was time to check into her body again. She took the empty box back to the main counter and wrote the task on the to-do list that she kept on the counter.

The air-conditioning blowing out of the nearby vent made her shiver, and she rubbed her arms before finding a sweater to put on. If she turned it down, she started to sweat every time someone opened the door to The Next Chapter, her new bookstore in downtown Sedona, Arizona. Her shop was positioned right between a fortune teller’s shop and a place that sold crystals. The crystal shop was owned by Rarity’s best friend from high school, Sam Aarons. Sam was the one who had talked her into moving here and away from St. Louis a few months ago.

Honestly, she didn’t mind the new location. It was in keeping with the new her. When you rang the bell at the oncologist’s office, you tended to reevaluate your life. Gratitude for what you gained and what you currently have.

Which was, in Rarity’s case, a few extra pounds around the middle and a need for a nap at least once a day. Eating right and exercise hadn’t stopped the ten-pound weight gain that had circled her waist. And stuck.

Rarity blamed the chocolate. She’d eaten a lot of chocolate, and ice cream and fast food during her year of treatment. Then the visits had just stopped. She had seen her doctor once since she’d been “cured” and once before she’d left St. Louis. They’d drawn blood to check to see if the cancer had returned. Or worse, if the treatment was now killing her instead of the disease. Doctor visits were always a barrel of fun.

The bell over the door sounded, and she watched someone walk toward the counter.

“I’m here for the meeting tonight?” A fiftyish woman stood in front of the counter. “I know I’m early, but I was so excited when I read about your new book club in the Sunday paper. I’m Shirley Prescott. I rang the bell after completing treatments two years ago. Although, I’m still going to my oncologist every six months. They call it a well-baby checkup. And I’m rambling. George always says I ramble, and since having cancer, I’m worse. I guess I want to get out all my words before something else happens because tomorrow’s not promised.”

Rarity took an instant liking to the woman. Shirley’s chattering was refreshing after hanging out in a quiet bookstore and then going home to an empty house. “I’m Rarity Cole, owner of The Next Chapter, and I’ll be leading the group tonight. I’m almost at a year. Survivor. I always hated that term. But you work with what you’re given, right?”

“I feel like I should have done something heroic to be called a survivor. Like survived a month in the desert or walked away from a plane crash. I just went to every appointment and did what they told me. Well, except for losing weight. I started baking again, and George doesn’t eat sweets. So there’s that.” Shirley glanced around at the area by the fireplace. “I see you found Annie’s Bakery. She bakes the best cookies in town. Well, besides me.”

“Go grab a drink and a few cookies.” Rarity looked at the clock. It was almost seven, and Shirley looked like the only participant in the book club. Rarity had needed books when she went through treatment, but maybe having a group called the survivors’ book club was off-putting. Like what Shirley said. “We’ll get started in a few minutes.”

Shirley handed her a piece of paper. “Before I forget, George wanted to know if you could order these books for him. They’re all on World War I or maybe II. I forget what he’s currently researching. He makes planes and boats and stuff. You should see our basement, it’s filled with his models.”

“Sounds like a fun hobby.” She glanced at the list. “I don’t think I have any of these in stock, but I can have them for next week’s meeting. I’ll just need a credit card to charge them on.”

Shirley dug in her tote and pulled out a wallet. She handed over a card. “Set me up a tab because I’m going to be your best customer. George hates driving into Flagstaff to get supplies. And when I was going through treatment, he’d complain for a week after I had chemo about how long the drive was.”

“I bet you were glad for the company.” Rarity thought about how Kevin hadn’t come once to her treatments, saying that hospitals made him sick.

“Yeah, as much as he griped, he’d bring games and cards. We had fun.” Shirley smiled at the memory. “Which I know sounds totally weird. Anyway, I’ll go get settled. You do what you need to do, don’t worry about me.”

It was already ten after seven, so Rarity ordered George’s books, set up a contact file for Shirley and George, and then took the credit card back to where Shirley was sitting. She had taken out a pile of pink yarn and a crochet hook and had started working on the project in her lap. Rarity held out the card. “Here you go. That’s pretty.”

“It’s for my granddaughter. Karen and her husband are expecting. I’ve been working on this off and on for a month. I need to get it done, but it’s so hot. Sometimes I wish we still lived in Idaho. Getting through the winters there, I needed a project on my lap.” Shirley tucked the card into her wallet. “I’m sorry we didn’t get more of a crowd. I’ll bring someone next week. I promise. I hope you’re not thinking of cancelling the club.”

“No, there’s no need to cancel. It takes time to build a group.” Rarity sat next to the pile of books she’d chosen for possible discussions. “Have you read any of these?”

Shirley shook her head. “During treatment I didn’t read anything but cozy mysteries. I could lose myself in the plot or the setting. I’m looking forward to expanding my reading choices.”

Rarity moved the cozy mysteries she’d pulled into a side pile. “Okay then, I’ll take these off the list.”

“Maybe someone else will want to read those,” Shirley protested.

Rarity glanced around at the empty chairs. “I don’t hear anyone complaining. Let’s look at the women’s fiction. I wanted to start with a book that didn’t talk about cancer, but instead dealt with a woman struggling with other problems.”

They discussed the books until there were only five left on the table. Rarity heard the clock chime eight thirty. “We did a lot of work tonight.”

“We didn’t even choose a book.” Shirley pointed to the table. “We still have five up for contention.”

“We can make the decision next week. I’ll put these on the counter with a flyer about how we’re going to choose one to read next week. Maybe that will draw some more people into the group.” Rarity could already see the flyer in her mind. She’d make it first thing in the morning.

“You’re really good at this marketing thing.” Shirley tucked her blanket into her tote bag. “I’m happy you moved here and opened your shop. I’ve missed being part of a book club.”

“I’m glad I did as well.” She glanced around at the old building with high ceilings with tin plating on them. She didn’t know what the utility costs would be to keep this place cool, but she loved the look of the old brick and the warm wood floors. “It’s beginning to feel like home.”

* * * *

Wednesday morning, Rarity made the book club sign and display and then went about what was becoming her normal routine. She’d worked as a business analyst at a large corporation before leaving St. Louis, and she’d thought her days were busy then. She had quickly found out that owning the bookstore meant no day was the same. She needed to start setting up some systems. She liked systems.

Sam Aarons came into the shop with two cups of coffee in her hand. Sam believed in dressing for the part, wearing flowy skirts and white peasant blouses. Her long, curly red hair topped off the look. She came up to the counter and handed one of the drinks to Rarity. “Hey, neighbor. How did your book club go last night?”

“Didn’t your crystals already tell you?” Rarity took a long sip of the coffee. “This is just what I needed. Why is coffee from a shop so much better than what you brew at home?”

“Because Annie brews it with love. At least that’s what her sign above the coffee bar says. And my crystals don’t tell the future. For that, you need to go to Madame Zelda’s next door. She’d be glad to tell you what’s going to happen in your future. I just give you the gems to protect yourself from bad juju. Like the clear quartz I sent you when you were diagnosed. It’s a master healer stone.”

Rarity reached up for the necklace she still wore. “I love it. Even if it didn’t cure me.”

“You of little faith. Anyway, is the fact that you have a display up for the group a good sign? Lots of attendees?” Sam picked up one of the books and glanced at the back.

Rarity shook her head and held up a finger.

“Why do you want me to wait?” Sam set the book down. “Why can’t you tell me now?”

Rarity silently took a drink and waited for Sam to get the message.

“Oh, I get it. But you have got to be kidding me. One person showed up? What a waste of time.” Sam nodded to the chairs. “Can we sit for a bit? These boots are new and horribly uncomfortable. My feet will be killing me long before I close the shop today.”

“What we do for our image. Sorry, of course we can sit.” Rarity crossed over and sat in the same chair she’d occupied last night. “It wasn’t a complete waste of time. The woman who came brought in a big order, so at least there’s that.”

“Are you doing okay with the store financially? Walk-in traffic will start picking up soon. Summers can be a little slow. People don’t realize it’s not going to be as hot as they think here.”

Rarity nodded. Business had been slower than she’d hoped, especially since it had taken longer to remodel the building than she’d planned. She’d only been open a few months. “I’ll be fine. Tell me about your date last night. How did it go?”

“Do I have to?” Sam groaned and then sipped her coffee.

Rarity giggled. “That bad?”

“We met at the restaurant in Flagstaff because he couldn’t drive all this way on a work night. Then he was almost an hour late. He was all Brooks Brothers suit and tie. And he insisted on splitting the bill. Just so no one would feel obligated for anything après dinner.” Sam rolled her shoulders. “I’m never going to find Mr. Right. I should just give up the search.”

“You’re perfect the way you are, and if there’s a Mr. Right in your future, he’ll find you.” Rarity leaned back. “Or we could ask Madame Zelda.”

“You are so bad.” Sam leaned her head back and closed her eyes. When she spoke, she let her voice waver, imitating the fortune teller. “You will meet a man where you least expect to meet him. He will be tall, dark, and handsome. Please hand over your credit card for payment.”

The bell over the door sounded, and Madame Zelda walked into the store.

Rarity stood and hit Sam’s arm to alert her as she hurried past. “Madame Zelda, so nice of you to visit. What can I help you with?”

Madame Zelda narrowed her eyes and stared at Sam, who was now also standing but by the fireplace. “I came in to see if you had a flyer for your survivors’ club. I have a client who might be interested in some social interaction around the subject matter. She’s very timid, though, and I might not be able to get her to come.”

“We’re a small group so,” Rarity added of two silently, “so she should feel comfortable.” She picked up a flyer from the counter, writing the book list on the front. Then she handed it to the fortune teller. “I’m sure she’d enjoy the discussion. These are the five books that we’re considering reading.”

“Hey, Rarity, I need to go open. I’ll chat with you tonight.” Sam circled around the furniture and Madame Zelda and almost ran out of the store.

“That girl needs to relax. She’s wound up like a clock ready to bust a spring.” Madame Zelda watched Sam through the window as she hurried to open her store. “It’s not healthy to be that anxious.”

“Sam’s a little high-strung.” I nodded to the flyer. “I hope your client decides to visit at least once. Can I have her name?”

“I do not divulge my clients’ information. Surely you can understand the privacy needed for a job like mine.” She tucked the flyer into a pocket on her dress and left the shop.

Rarity waited for her to disappear out of view of the window before responding. “As if people who visit fortune tellers are expecting privacy like it was their doctor. Maybe that’s just life in Sedona.”

Rarity didn’t have time to think about Madame Zelda’s privacy policy much more that day because she had several customers show up, one after the other. A few took a flyer about the book club, others asked her to order a book for them, and one walked through the bookstore checking out the stock, and just left.

When she went to lock the door at five, she glanced outside at the empty sidewalk. Or almost-empty sidewalk. The man who’d been window-shopping at her store sat on a bench on the other side of the street reading. He must have felt her stare because he looked up from his book and nodded after meeting her gaze.

Now she felt stupid. He’d just been killing time. Or looking for his online ordering shopping list. Maybe opening a brick-and-mortar store in a digital age hadn’t been the smartest idea with the book world changing in front of her eyes.

It didn’t matter, though. This was her dream, and she wasn’t going to waste any time worrying about opening at the right time. Action was rewarded. Worrying never did anyone any favors.

She went back to the storeroom and grabbed her purse out of the small closet. Then she checked the back door to make sure it was locked. Finally, she turned off the lights, and holding her keys in one hand, went to the front door to leave and then lock up.

The man on the bench was gone when she turned and dropped her keys into her tote. She glanced up and down the street but didn’t see him.

“Hey, are you ready? The restaurant’s this way.” Sam stood outside her shop, waiting for Rarity to join her.

She shook off the vague unease she felt, but before she went to meet her friend, she reached back and checked again that the shop was locked. Then she slowly walked the few steps to meet Sam.

“Everything all right?” Sam’s face echoed the fear that Rarity had felt when she’d seen the guy watching her.

Rarity took her arm. “Everything’s fine. I’m just hungry, that’s all.”

Chapter 2

When next Tuesday rolled around, Rarity worked on a crossword puzzle while she waited to see who would show up for the book club. She looked up when the bell sounded over the door. But it was just Sam with a tray filled with cookies and slices of coffee cake.

“I’m happy to pick this up at Annie’s, but I think you ordered way too much. What if no one shows?” Sam set the cookies on the wood bar that served as the cash register area. “You only had one person attend last week.”

“Don’t jinx it. Shirley said she’d be back this week, and she took flyers for her oncologist’s office. Besides, if no one shows, then I have a lot of cookies to eat. I won’t have to cook dinner for days.” Rarity pulled up a stool behind the counter and sat down. She wasn’t at her strongest yet, and more often than not, a day at the shop had her falling asleep in her chair after dinner. When she talked to her doctor about her lack of energy, she’d been told to give it time. She was going to use the same mantra for her new book club. “The group will fill out, eventually. This survivors’ group is a community service project.”

Sam came around, pulled a water bottle out of the fridge, and set it in front of Rarity. “Drink this. You’ll feel better if you’re hydrated.”

“Yes, Mother.” Rarity smiled to soften the blow. Besides, Sam was right. She needed to drink more water. Moving to the high desert from the Midwest had made her crave water. She just needed to get better at reading her physical needs. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Since I don’t have to be back at the shop until Thursday, I thought I’d grab some takeout and stream that new romance movie everyone’s talking about. Hopefully, I’ll crash early. Tomorrow, I’m going for a hike. There’s a new shop down the street, and the owner is hot. He’s leading a Wednesday morning hike. And surprise, I signed us both up.” She put a card on the counter. “It starts at six, and we’ll be back at nine. Your shop doesn’t open until ten, right?”

“Yes, but I’ve got inventory tomorrow.” Rarity pushed the card back toward her friend. “Don’t tell me you paid in advance.”

“Yes, I did. And I don’t get my money back if we don’t show, so be at that address at six.” Sam pushed the card back in front of Rarity, with a smile. “You’ll be fine. It’s not a long trek, and the scenery really is worth the time.”

“The hot instructor scenery or the outdoor scenery?” She picked up the card and looked at it. She’d been meaning to start exercising outdoors rather than just walking on her treadmill, but it all seemed too much.

“Both.” Sam headed to the door. “See you tomorrow.”

A couple of women walked into the bookstore as Sam walked out. Rarity grabbed the card and tucked it into her jeans pocket. “Feel free to look around. I’ll be here to answer any questions.”

But instead of looking at the bookshelves, the women moved to the register. The younger of the two dropped her voice to almost a whisper. “We’re here for the survivors’ club? I have my hospital bill with me if I need to prove that I actually had cancer.”

“You don’t need to prove anything.” Rarity came around the counter. “I’m Rarity Cole, and I am the owner of The Next Chapter. I’m also a breast cancer survivor. I’m excite. . .