I…kind of love it?
“Short, simple, does twice the work,” Cait agrees. “And gives it a playful feel. Kinda homey. Very approachable.”
“Maybe I could have a squirrel mascot, or collect squirrel art,” I say. “Oh my God. I just remembered—there’s literally a taxidermy squirrel in the antiques market. You guys, I already have a squirrel.”
I don’t even realize that I’m doing it, but the little dictionary is in my hands, and I’m turning it over and over as the possibilities mount up. This all just feels so perfect.
“Now, Cait, I’m gonna need a logo. Classy but whimsical. Inviting. Don’t want to scare off the locals or make the tourists turnup their noses. It should be child-friendly, but like there’s stuff for the whole family. For everyone.”
“Nutsforbooks.com is available.” Cait looks up, very serious now. “Pretty cheap, too. Nine bucks per year. Buy it?”
“Buy it.” I chuckle, tingling with delight. “Man, it sure is nice when one sister is an advertising genius and the other one is an influencer with great ideas.”
“I dunno,” Cait mutters as she works her magic. “Jemma did also suggest Booknuts, which is not great.”
“I meant people who were nuts for books not, like, books with, um, bits,” Jemma says. “Obviously.”
“Well, you know, Jem, the guy who came up with truck nuts is certainly raking it in. Maybe we have someone 3D-print book nuts, and—”
“I withdraw my support if testicles are involved,” Jemma says prissily.
“We’re getting off track. When’s the grand opening?” Cait asks.
I grimace. This is the not-so-fun part. “I’m not sure. Now that shelves are going up and we’ve got a name, I guess I’ll go talk to Tina and Colonel about business stuff. Hopefully a couple of weeks?”
“Halloween,” Jemma says, as if it’s already decided. “With a party. It’s the perfect theme.”
“I’ll have some logo ideas over to you tonight. Do you have colors? Any kind of style? A favorite font?” Cait is grinning, a sure sign that my business, for at least a little while, will be her hyperfixation.
“The walls are bright white, and the wood will be honey gold. I want things to feel light and airy. Pastel rainbows, maybe. A mural. Quirky but aesthetic. But not too dull—no sad beigebooks for sad beige children. And not too old or frumpy or country. Like, the kind of Etsy store that makes you want to pay extra for pretty gift wrapping, you know?”
“Oh, Rhea, you have to let me come up and help style things, once you have stock!”
“I know, Jem.”
“And then you have to let me fix whatever Jemma does.”
“I know, Cait.”
“Rude!” Jemma complains.
“You guys…” I stare down at the tiny dictionary in my hands. “I have a really good feeling about this. For the first time, it’s like I can see the future I want. Like I’m finally the main character.”
“As long as the book isn’t horror or true crime, that’s great,” Cait says. “Just watch out for—”
“Shush!”
My sister goes silent as I turn to listen.
There it is again.
A knocking noise from downstairs. It doesn’t sound like a fist on the glass door of the video store, though. All the little hairs onmy arms rise, and I pick up my phone and fetch the flashlight I bought at Walmart.
The knocking grows more insistent.
I hope it’s Hunter, but I know it isn’t.
“What’s wrong?” Cait asks.
