Gramps and I are standing in front of a redbrick building, with similar structures attached on each side. He’s in a maroon cardigan, with brown corduroy pants, his signature loafers, andhis favorite newsboy cap atop his head. My chest pinches at the sight of him. I remember him like he’s sitting in the room with us now—his deep belly laugh, his calming presence, the way he’d squeeze my hand when he knew I needed reassurance.
Mia swipes and zooms on her phone, scooting the view down a road until—she freezes. It takes all three of us a moment to glance back and forth between the photo and the screen, but then.
“That’s it,” I whisper. “Look at the lines of darker brick.”
“Even the awning is the same,” Theo adds.
“Let me see,” Bree says, joining us on the ground.
Once we’ve all given our confirmation that she’s found the spot, Mia says, “Not a bookstore, then.”
“An antiques shop?” Bree asks, squinting at the screen. “Okay, that’s still cute though.” She hands over another picture. “Try this one.”
Mia flips it over and types in a new town, this one in northern California. She and Theo argue about where to search, trying a few different roads before they land on one that looks similar.
“I have a good feeling about this one,” Mia says, but when they finally spot the same building, a collective sound of disappointment swoops through the room. “Looks like a realty office.”
Bree hands her another and another after that. Theo grabs my laptop from the kitchen so we have a bigger screen, and we search through towns all over the Pacific Northwest, sometimes giving up when we can’t find the right location. But we do find several: a pottery shop, an art museum, architects offices, a Pilates studio, an ice cream parlor.
We’ve made it through a third of the stack when Mia lands on a location in a small town in Oregon. My heart stutters to a stop when I see the sign overhead:Barb’s Books.
“A bookstore!” Bree cheers, but I can’t even smile.
“It’s so adorable, isn’t it?” Mia clicks the link to their website. She presses on the About Us in the corner and scrolls down, reading Barb’s bio. “Oh my god, I love her already.”
There’s a heavy, achy pressure in my body, and I don’t know what it means. Idraw my legs up and tuck them close. It feels like I’ve lost a competition I didn’t know I was participating in. A missed chance I didn’t take. A dream I handed over to someone else.
The shop truly seems perfect—exactly the kind of place Gramps would’ve loved. My heart hurts at the thought that I can’t go visit it with him. Someone saw the same vision he did, and he’ll never get to witness it.
I can feel Theo’s eyes on me, and I give in to the urge to look his way. His expression is gentle. He can see exactly what I’m feeling, and for the first time, I’m grateful for it. Thankful someone else is in this emotional space with me.
“Holy shit!” Bree’s outburst snaps my attention away from Theo. “This one’s in Fern River.” She flips over a new photo, back and forth to confirm.
My heart beats unsteadily. “What?” I reach for the photo and stare at the handwriting on the back.Fern River, Washington.How did I miss this?
I turn the picture over slowly, and what greets me on the other side has my mouth going dry. An electric current zips up my arm, locks into my chest, and I can’t breathe. The world feels like it’s tilting underneath me.Iknow this place.Iwork two doors down from it every day.
“Is that—?” Theo starts.
“Yes,” I croak, then swallow hard. Mia types something into the computer, but I stop her. “You don’t have to look this one up. Iknow where it is and... and... it’s empty right now.”
Sandwiched between the thrift shop and Wildwood Bakery sits a rental space. No one has been there since the music store moved into a bigger lot two roads over a couple of years ago.
In the photo, Gramps is in a short-sleeved shirt and vest, and I’m so tiny beside him—maybe five or six. I’m wearing a pair of denim overalls and a dark green bucket hat, but instead of looking at the camera, like all the rest of the photos, we’re smiling at each other. The photo is grainy, but I can feel the connection between our gazes and his hand on my shoulder. Ican see the mirth in his green eyes as clearly as if I’m standing right there with him.
Something stirs in the back of my mind, just out of reach. Ican’t quite identify it, but I’m very aware of its presence.
Mia is constantly finding signs from the universe.It was fate, when she tried a new coffee shop and overheard her now-boss discussing the fact that she needed a last-minute graphic designer.It was meant to be, when she was getting “weird vibes” about a party in college, so she canceled, and we ended up at a bar where she met Bree.It was destiny, she said, when her gut told her to take a new route to dinner, and she found a box of abandoned kittens on the way—one of which is now curled up in Bree’s lap.
Honestly, I’m jealous of that ability. If the universe is sending me signs, I’m either not seeing them or I have no idea how to translate them.
But something about this photo feelsheavy, and I wonder if I’m supposed to be paying attention to that sensation.
Mia’s phone comes to life on her lap, her mom’s face appearing on the screen. She mutters a curse. “We’re late for dinner.”
Bree stands and sets the rest of the photos back in the box. “Eva’s gonna swat you two with a kitchen towel.”
Mia gives her fiancée a simpering smile. “And probably give you all the credit for getting us there.”
