They both sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, the tension between them gradually dissolving as the wine worked its magic. Abby twirled the stem of her glass, staring into the dark red liquid as if it held all the answers she needed but dared not ask for. Eventually, a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, and she let out a soft sigh, acknowledging that maybe, just maybe, some wounds needed time, and a little humor, to heal.
*****
Adelaide Elizabeth Blake was the undisputed matriarch of the family. She was eighty-five and had a well-preserved face and the body of a woman twenty years younger. She had been married three times. Her first husband, Cecil, had been the love of her life and had given her a son, her only child, one she adored.
She had been active in the running of the bookstores until three years ago when a stroke had rendered her incapable and helpless for close to six months. During which time, the doctors had warned her to take a step back.
Now she sat in on board meetings and dispensed her vast knowledge to her son, daughter-in-law and granddaughter.
She spoiled her great-granddaughter, ignoring the protests from the child's mother. She would pop in with bags of clothing or some very expensive toy and insisted on spending time with Zoe.
Now she was seated in the conference room, a cup and saucer perched on one knee. The board meeting was over, and she decided to linger. A satisfied smile touched her lips as she looked around the elegant room with its long mahogany table and chairs and comfortable sofas.
Her son was putting away his portfolio, and his wife was fetching him a cup of coffee. Her gaze switched to her granddaughter andfelt the pride blooming. The girl was not only a beauty, but she was also as smart as a whip.
She had found a way to make so many ideas that had at first seemed foolish and trivial work to the business's advantage. Right now, she was brainstorming new ones to implement for the coming winter season. A Winter Wonderland series, with the set up in one corner of the store, where plays could be enacted and Santa and his elves catering to the younger children.
Christmas books with stories by local authors, exchange of gifts, packages that include age-appropriate books and toys. The girl never stopped. She reminded Adelaide of herself almost fifty years ago. And she had excess energy.
As much as she liked the idea that her granddaughter was such an exemplary and successful businesswoman, she worried that the girl did not have time to socialize. Which was why she had come up with the idea of a party at her place.
The country manor was woefully empty and needed some energy.
"Now," putting aside her tea with a brisk snap of her hand, she tracked her eyes around the room to get everybody's attention. "Put that thing away, honey. We have some serious discussion to see to."
"Just one..."
"No. Time and a place for everything. I need you and your mother to help me with the planning of this party." She lifted an elegant hand when she sensed a protest forming on her granddaughter's lips. "Yes, it's the busiest time for the book industry and blah, blah, blah. I happen to know the drill, seeing as I've been part of it for most of my life. The fact still remains that we have to have some fun. I was thinking of hiring Coolidge to do the indoors decorating and Holland for the outdoors."
She gazed at Abigail. "I would like you to come up with a theme."
Tamping down the irritation at how her grandmother had neatly backed her into a corner, Abby put away her iPad. "A theme?"
"Yes. Something to do with the winter."
"Grams, you're talking about planning a party in four weeks. That's not enough time."
"You're young and clever. Get that red-haired gal to help you."
"Jillian is very busy."
Adelaide sniffed. "Not too busy to plan a function. Besides, this will give her enough time to rope your brother in." She lifted a thin brow. "I might be old, but I have eyes and a very sharp mind. I will be calling him to do his part. Draw up a plan and send it to my secretary."
She rose and her son jumped to his feet to fetch her jacket.
"Thanks, darling." Her expression softened as she lifted her face for his kiss. "Call me later. Abigail, walk with me please."
It was not a request.
*****
He liked the look of the bookstore. From the outside it was an old, weathered building that reminded him of a graceful woman decked out for tea.
The red bricks were faded, the white trim giving it a slightly modern look.
Inside, the scent of fresh coffee mingled with the faint aroma of well-loved pages, creating an inviting atmosphere that welcomed every visitor. The shelves, lined with books of everygenre, seemed to beckon, promising adventure, knowledge, and comfort to those willing to explore. Soft lighting illuminated cozy reading nooks, where patrons could lose themselves in stories for hours on end.
People mingled. Mothers towed their children towards the neatly stacked shelves. There was an air of merriment and excitement. Conversations were muted. Cashiers, a line of them, rang up sales.
