“I tried when I got here, but there’s no cell service.”
I stretched my legs in front of me on the carpet, pointing my toes toward the fire. “We should walk up the lane and make the call. He’s probably worried sick. Cell service clears up about halfway to the sidewalk.”
“You’ve really been living here alone like this for a month?” she asked. “No cell service. No internet. No one to talk to. Aren’t you going nuts? I practically jump on Jeffrey every time he walks through the door after work, desperate for conversation. I want to stay home when the baby comes, because we can afford it. But I think being alone with a baby will make me feel even lonelier than I do now, if that makes any sense.”
I twisted on the carpet to face her. “Come back to work at the bookstore,” I said. “You can choose your hours, and we can hang out. Bring the baby with you. Then we’ll have time to catch up every week. Just us, no Jeffrey or Mom and Dad.”
Her eyes lit for the briefest of moments, then dimmed to the disgruntled expression she too often wore. “Babies are loud and demanding. People don’t want that when they shop for books.”
I smiled. “What if the bookstore wasn’t quiet anymore?” I asked. “What if it was bright and lively. With pets.”
Annie’s brows rose. Lover of all furry things, she sat upright, interest piqued. “Go on.”
“Ever wish you could put your degree in design to use?” I asked. “Your house is basically finished. Every room looks like a magazine spread. What if you took your talents commercial?”
She grinned. “Tell me more.”
“Be right back.” I hopped to my feet and headed for the hallway. “I made a murder board!”
Annie’s laughter followed me to the study, where I collected my whiteboard and stack of notebooks filled with research and ideas.
I returned a moment later and placed the notebooks on the couch at her side. I propped the whiteboard against the coffee table and opened my arms. “Voilà!”
She examined the materials for several moments before returning to me. “Oh my goodness, yes!”
I pumped one fist in the air.
Suddenly Olivia’s words echoed in my mind. When I first met her, she’d said,We share what we love with the people we love.
And I wanted to share my new bookstore adventure with Annie.
She scooted to the edge of the couch, examining the board more closely. “It’s brilliant.” She glanced quickly at me, then to the notebooks at her side. She set one on her lap and freed the pen stuck in the spiral binding. “Can I write in this?”
“Absolutely.” I took a seat beside her, where I could watch as she made notes and sketched. Everything about her energy screamed enthusiasm and joy. This was the youthful, happy Annie I’d left when I went to college. The one I’d been missing for years.
“Do you have any plain paper and other color pencils?” She asked without looking up from her sketch.
“Yep!” I hustled away with a smile. When I returned, Annie was on the floor with the whiteboard, moving my magnets and writing on the attached sticky notes.
“What if we partnered quarterly with rescues for pet adoptions?” she asked. “We could keep information at the counter for potential foster families, then throw themed events that would bring in business and get animals adopted. A day for homing black cats near Halloween, or a home-for-the-holidays weekend between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Maybe fundraisers in the summer?” She turned to face me, a pen caught between her teeth.
I hiked one eyebrow. “Did you saywe?”
Her cheeks flushed. “I’m not trying to take over, I swear. But I could help with event planning and logistics. Not just design.”
“You could be my partner,” I offered. “If you want. Even if you need lots of time off for the next eighteen or so years. I don’t have to own the store alone.”
She grinned. “I might get bored after the transition is complete and your event calendar is set. But I can definitely help you make these changes and get ready to promote the daylights out of it. You’ll probably want rid of me after that anyway.”
“Probably,” I agreed.
Annie laughed.
My heart swelled as I watched her work. “Hey. You know what we need?”
“Whiskey?”
“No. A hot chocolate bar.”
