Katie opened a notebook. “I’m happy to help, but I’ll write down what we say. My brain is like a sieve at the best of times. What can I do for you?”
A few children began drifting into the room while Isabel told her about highlighting local authors’ books. By the time theywere talking about author talks and book launches, the children were listening intently.
Katie placed her pen beside the notebook. “That all sounds fantastic. I know some young authors who’d love to display and sell their books in your store.”
Isabel gave a relieved sigh. “I’m glad you’ll be able to help. Until I connect with local writing groups, I can’t organize anything. Let me know if you know of other authors in the area.”
“I definitely will,” Katie replied. “Should I email or call you?”
Isabel picked up her bag. “Email would be best. I have a lot to do over the next few weeks, and I might forget something if you call me.” Just before she was ready to leave, Isabel heard a familiar voice.
“Hi, Katie! I finished another chapter!” Tommy hurried through the door, clutching a worn spiral notebook. He stopped short when he saw Isabel, his face lighting up. “Hi, Isabel. Are you joining our writing group?”
“Not today,” Isabel replied. “I’m just talking to Katie about the bookstore. I didn’t know you were part of this group.”
Tommy grinned. “My friends told me about it. I’m writing an adventure book. Katie’s helping me make it more exciting.”
“It’s already pretty exciting,” Katie said, winking at Isabel. “Tommy’s just making it even better. Why don’t you show Isabel what you’re working on while I get everything set up?”
Tommy hesitated only a moment before sliding into the chair next to Isabel. He opened his notebook carefully, revealing pages filled with neat handwriting and colorful drawings in the margins.
“This is about Marco and the Hidden Cave,” he explained, pointing to a sketch of a boy with a magical compass. “But I’m telling it from Bruno’s point of view—he’s the three-headed guard dog who protects the treasure.”
Isabel found herself drawn into Tommy’s story. His version was full of small, adventurous details—how each of Bruno’s heads had a different personality, how the youngest head secretly loved belly rubs, how the oldest head pretended to be grumpy but actually enjoyed Marco’s music the most.
“This is wonderful, Tommy,” she said when he finished telling her about his story. “I love how you’ve thought about how Bruno might have felt, being stuck between wanting to do his job and wanting to help Marco.”
Tommy beamed. “Katie says the best adventure books show how everybody has reasons for what they do, even the scary characters.”
Isabel nodded. “When I take over the bookstore, I’m going to have a special section for local children’s authors. Would you like to display your adventure book there when it’s finished?”
Tommy’s eyes widened. “But it might take a long time to be a real book. Everything’s in my notebook at the moment.”
“Every book starts as a notebook story,” Isabel said. “Children will love reading your story.”
“Grandpa says I should be proud of what I write,” Tommy said. “He says if I like what I’ve written, then other people will enjoy reading it.”
“Your grandfather sounds very wise.” Isabel watched as Tommy carefully closed his notebook. “Has he read your story?”
Tommy nodded. “He helps me research things, too. Sometimes he even acts them out with me, just like my mom and dad used to do. But I’m not supposed to tell anyone that part.”
Isabel bit back a smile, imagining serious Frank George pretending to be a three-headed dog. “Your secret is safe with me.”
Katie called the writing group to order, and Tommy hurried to join the others sitting around a large table. When he turned back to wave at Isabel, his face was bright with excitement.
Isabel waved back and then walked toward the door. Instead of leaving, she leaned against the door frame, watching as each child talked about what writing they’d done during the week. Her gaze kept returning to Tommy as he listened to what the other children were saying.
“He’s quite special,” Mabel said softly from beside her. “When Tommy and his grandpa first came to town, he was so quiet. The writing group has really helped him open up.”
Isabel thought about the boy who’d run to help her with her bags of books, who saw three-headed dogs as complex characters worthy of understanding. “He is special,” she agreed. “And so is Katie for running this program.”
Isabel thought about the bookstore. It needed to be a place where stories like Tommy’s could find their home, where local voices could mingle with classic tales, and where new perspectives could shine a fresh light on old truths.
A place where second chances could begin with a simple story shared between friends.
CHAPTER 9
Frank was flipping pancakes when his phone buzzed. Tommy sat at the kitchen counter, thoroughly absorbed in a book they’d borrowed from the library. Thankfully, he was oblivious to the way Frank’s shoulders tensed when he saw the Seattle area code.
