The crowd parts, and we both stop and exhale. Sitting outside the door of a shop a few feet away, unbothered, is Mac. His tongue hangs out of his mouth as he pants, and his tail is wagging like he didn’t just make us run after him.
“We should’ve known this dog was going to be a problem when we were seventh in line to adopt him, and we still got him.” Everett laughs as we walk up to where Mac sits.
Bending down, I ruffle the white curls on top of his head and grab his leash. “You’re such a troublemaker.”
He paws at my coat and licks my face.
“Ahhh, Mac. Not my mouth,” I say, wiping the sleeve of my jacket across my face and standing.
“Umm…Claire.”
“Yeah?”
I look over to find Everett peering up at the sign hanging above the shop. It’s orange andThe Book Rackis written in a whimsical font.
My mouth parts, and I blink reading the sign a few more times.
It couldn’t be. Could it?
“That was the name of…”
“Ginger’s store,” I finish. “But, that doesn’t make sense.” I shake my head, and my calming pulse starts to rise again.
The building is painted orange, and large windows are painted with a mural of a candy-colored town covered in snow. A flower arch with multi-color blooms frames the door. It stands out among all of the neutral colored brick and stone. It’s impossible to miss, yet we live just a few blocks away, and I’ve never seen it before.
Well, I’ve never seen itherebefore.
“Should we go inside?” Everett asks.
“We have the dog.”
“It says animals are welcome.” He points to a small sign hanging in the window.
“I don’t know. Do you think she’sin there…Ginger?”
“There’s only one way to find out.” He shrugs, and the corner of his mouth tips up.
“Okay.”
I nod, and he pulls open the door.
“Welcome in,” a voice says once we’re fully inside, causing us both to turn. Behind the counter is a woman who looks just like Ginger. Full figure. Red curls. Freckles. They could be twins.
“Hello,” Everett says.
“Come in. Come in,” she encourages, walking over to where we stand by the front door. “Today is our grand opening, so we have some refreshments in the back of the store, and everything is twenty-five percent off for Christmas.”
I glance at Everett and then around the shop. It’s a carbon copy of The Book Rack from Sugarplum Park, but instead of being there, it’s here.
Mac jumps up and licks the woman’s face. “I’m sorry,” I say, pulling him off of her. “He’s still learning his manners. Mac, sit,” I grit out.
He obeys, and his tongue falls back out of his mouth.
“Oh, I don’t mind,” she says, scratching his ears. “I’m Ginger, by the way. Do you two live in the neighborhood?”
Ginger.
My eyes cut up to Everett, and my stomach bottoms out.
