Chapter One
My relationship with Emily Dickinson began at my family’s bookstore when I was ten. My mother, busy with customers, had interrupted my anguished tale of the school’s meagerly stocked library by shoving a tome of the poet’s works into my hands, and I fell instantly, irrevocably in love. When my mom was diagnosed with cancer a short time later, I spent long hours with her at the hospital, reading those same poems. When she beat the odds, I’d wondered if Emily’s words saved her.
Mom, on the other hand, concluded that her time spent planning an extravagant vow-renewal ceremony led to her full recovery. She declared hope a miraculous thing and me her bridesmaid. The event became an annual joy-filled affair, and I’d become the world’s youngest wedding coordinator.
Twenty years later, my feet, head, and heart ached after the most recent vow-renewal celebration. Happy as I was for my parents, decades of long-suppressed misery had risen unbidden to the surface mid-Macarena. A tipsy gray-haired guest ambushed me on the dance floor, bottom lip protruding, and jeered, “Poor Emma Rini, always a bridesmaid, never a bride.”
I’d heard those words before, but something about being in a vast sea of smiling couples, and the deep inner knowledge that she was right, sent pain reverberating through me. I’d never wear the big white dress, share the first dance, or leave a church hand in hand with my soulmate. In the moment, I’d briefly, shamefully, imagined tripping her. Butinstead, I left the dance floor in search of water and tried not to dwell on the fact that, year after year, I remained solo. I’d tried everything to skew the odds of finding love in my favor, including intermittent fasting, Pilates, and prayer. Sadly, nothing had worked.
I’d returned home around midnight, sans heels, SPANX, and any hope of finding true love.
This morning, the opening line from one of Emily’s most famous poems formed a loop in my head.
If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain.
The words hit differently because the heart in question was mine, and I was determined to stop it from breaking. I just wasn’t sure how.
The shop’s front door opened, knocking the little brass bell into a tizzy and pulling me back to the moment.
I refreshed my smile and redirected my thoughts. “Welcome to Rini Reads!”
My family’s store had been around for thirty-one years. Opened the year I was born, the store was originally named Rini’s Romance Reads, but it had expanded its inventory, slightly, over the decades. The clientele was loyal but aging, and I itched to make updates to engage a wider crowd. My family didn’t share my enthusiasm, which was unfortunate, because the store’s prime location and longevity gave it great potential as a community hub.
The hours raced by as I made recommendations for customers’ next reads and shared news of upcoming store events, then sent my parents a quick text after the morning rush. They typically spent a night or two at a B&B following their vow renewal, and this year wasn’t any different. When my sister, Annie, and I were young, they’d work at the shop during the days and get us a sitter at night, but by the time I’d graduated from high school, I managed the shop alone and kept an eye on Annie. The last few years I saw more of our parents via photos ontheir social media accounts during their getaways than in person. And it only bothered me a little that they’d generously shared details of this year’s trip planning with Annie and her husband, Jeffrey, but sparsely with me.
I nearly rolled my eyes at the childish thought. This was exactly why I needed to make big changes in my life. I was on my way to becoming a cranky old lady.
I wished my parents happy travels, then put the phone back into my pocket.
My new delivery guy arrived a few minutes later. “Hey, Emma.”
“Hey, Caden,” I said.
Caden was a senior at the local college, fit and fine but too young to hold my interest. He passed me his clipboard with a smile. “I just need your signature.”
“Here you go.” I signed and passed the paper back to him, and his gaze traveled curiously over me.
“I like this look on you,” he said. “You’ve got a whole geek-chic vibe going.”
I stilled, suddenly remembering my ensemble and glasses. I’d worn my softest jeans with an ivory camisole and a ten-year-old cardigan. I’d decided that from now on, I’d dress as comfortably as I wanted because I was no longer concerned that it might be the day I experienced a real-life meet-cute that led to true love. I’d even skipped wearing my contacts as a small rebellion.
No more brokenhearted Emma. I was a bookstore manager in transformation.
“Looks good,” he said with a wink and a weird two-finger salute. Then he saw himself out.
I sighed and went to change the window display.
Rini Reads was deep and narrow, with floor-to-ceiling shelves along the walls and a generous window facing the sidewalk. Armchairs were tucked into quiet corners at the back, and the apartment where I’d lived since college was right upstairs.
I removed the books from their pedestals and replaced them with a selection of Penguin’s Clothbound Classics. The gorgeously repackaged tomes were proven fan favorites and sure to catch the eyes of passersby. I arranged silk leaves in autumn colors around each book, then spread the rest of my supply on the ground and strung card-stock cutout letters above to spellFall in Love with a Book. Typically, I waited a bit longer to set up the fall displays—it was only the first of September—but apparently I was jonesing for change all around.
The bell above the door rang again as I reshelved the other volumes, and Jeffrey appeared, holding the door for Annie to stride inside.
I straightened and worked up a bright smile for my little sister and her handler.
She wore an adorable floral sundress with a matching headband and sandals. She’d curled her long brown hair into ringlets that fell over her shoulders.
Envy hit at the sight of her beautiful curls. I could only pull the sides of my recently cut locks into a messy little knot while the rest continuously reached in vain for my shoulders.
