I hope he doesn’t see the sadness in my smile. “Yeah, that beak is sharp, and she loves things that dangle. But Doris likes you, so you should be fine.”
The kitchen is currently filled with boxes of business cards and stationery and manuals for my new cash register. There’s also a bag of supplies for the bathroom downstairs, which I need to paint….
“Good gravy, I still have a lot to do,” I mutter.
“Make me a list. Not because I don’t know what needs to be done, but because I don’t know which things you want to do exactly your own way.”
I go up on my tiptoes to peck him on the cheek, one hand on his chest. “One of these days, you’re going to have to take another job. I know you’re not charging me enough.”
His arm wraps around my waist. “It’s not my fault you get girlfriend prices.”
My heart stutters, and I keep my hand on his chest. His eyes are shining, so earnest. “Amazing sex and lower prices? That sounds like a pretty good deal, honestly.”
He puts his hand over mine, holding me to him. “To be clear, amazing sex and lower prices are in no way related. They’re just bonuses to putting up with me.”
I look directly into his eyes, and it’s just as electric as it was the first time I met him. “It is a pleasure to put up with you.”
He laughs, eyes dancing, and kisses me again. “I always hoped a woman would say something like that to me.”
With a jolly jingle, the front door opens. “Delivery!” someone shouts.
I look to Hunter, who nods. “Go on. It’s your bookstore,” he says. “And you’re the only one who’s wearing shoes.”
I want to dance as I run downstairs, calling, “A bookseller’s work is never done!”
40.
Two Weeks Later…
I’m standing atthe counter by my brand-new cash register, my nerves jangling like crazy as I watch the clock count down the minutes.
It’s almost time.
The bookshelves are covered in books—and one corner is jam-packed with old VHS and DVD boxes for the townies. Nutkin, the taxidermy squirrel, is hanging on the wall, and the chandeliers are glowing. Nora Cove—now freed from the tyranny of tie-dye and fudge stains—is standing by to help shoppers, while Hunter is on a ladder making sure theGrand Openingbanner is perfectly centered. The whole Chamber is outside arguing over how to best cut the ribbon, while Farrah patrols the streets in her Glinda the Good Witch costume, ready to give the turkey flock a stern telepathic talking to if they should dare to show up on my big day. The Arcadia Falls populace is milling about, excited about something new for a change and, if I’m honest, jonesing for boiled peanuts, which are simmering in their new twin slow cookers on a much sturdier table Hunter built to match thebookshelves. Although I’ve chosen a great POS system and have everything ready at the counter, we’re still on an honor system for peanuts, and the fishbowl is shined and sparkling. Some things don’t need to change.
“Oh, what a beautiful day!” Doris sings from the series of perches Hunter built into the wall behind the counter just for her. Then, in my head, “Are they almost here?”
“They’re on the way, but they hit some traffic in Atlanta,” I tell her. “Now come on. It’s almost time.”
I let her step onto the shoulder of my Elizabeth Bennet dress and head outside. Joyce Blakely, wearing an Alice in Wonderland costume, gives a speech on behalf of the Chamber, letting everyone know how wonderful it is to finally have a bookstore in Arcadia Falls and wishing me, the girlfriend of her grandson, a beautiful opening day. I can tell Nick wants to bang his gavel, but he’ll have to settle for waving his fake Sweeney Todd cleaver.
My sisters are running late, but the show must go on before somebody throws a brick through the glass to get at the boiled peanuts. I use a comically large pair of scissors to cut a big yellow ribbon, and then the curious, costume-clad public is pouring into Nuts for Books, the first bookstore ever in Arcadia Falls. And sure, there’s already a line for peanuts, but soon there’s a line at the counter, too.
We have bestsellers and classics and used books and my personal favorites—mostly romances—and Nora’s selection of graphic novels and lots of Georgia authors, plus a shelf for local indie authors who need a shot. The spinner rack is still chock-full of competing cookbooks, local ghost stories, and Bigfoot memoirs. The Squirrely Reading Nook is cozy with rugs and benches and a colorful mural of local birds and squirrels and flowers. We’ve got a big calendar on the wall with several book clubs alreadyscheduled to meet here, and one crowded table up front for Sadie Rugg, a hugely successful author who happens to live five miles away in Scorpion Hollow and asked us to be her home store. Preorders for signed versions of her next book are already into four digits, and we had to open a second date for her launch party to make sure all her fans can get in the door. Everyone keeps telling me how lucky I am, and I can only rub the little dictionary in my pocket and agree that I am, indeed, very lucky.
“You know, Miss Wolfe, Maggie would be proud,” Colonel says as he nibbles one of Shelby’s cookies in his Long John Silver costume. “And the memorial mural is a touch of genius.”
“She would’ve loved it,” Tina agrees, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.
I nod and wipe at my eyes. I’m not going to cry.
We mustn’t dwell. No, not today. We can’t.
Not on New Bookstore Day.
An hour into the grand opening, I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had a chance to look up, much less check my phone. I’ve had to refill the peanuts and dump the cash register once already, and so many people have stopped to compliment us on the store and wish me well that my cheeks hurt from smiling.
“Rhea!”
