“Welcome in,” someone sings from the back of the store.
The wood floor creaks in the most nostalgic way. Somewhere between the shelves, a child is giggling. Iwant to live here. Icould sleep curled up in that sunny armchair.
Winding my way through the shop, I slip my hand over the edges of shelves and lines of spines. Isoak in every detail I can, trying to view the shop as a reader but also as a potential bookseller myself. Inote the way it’s organized, the end-cap displays, the little trinkets like key chains, bookmarks, and decorations on display.
Half my mind is overwhelmed by it all—like I could never absorb enough information. But the other half is inspired. The thought of creating a space like this, with community and overflowing warmth, feels possible.
By the time I reach the children’s book section, I realize I’ve lost Theo somewhere. But all thoughts of trying to track him down vanish when I spot an older man in the corner of the shop. He has a young girl in his lap, a book held before them. Ican’t see the cover, but as his words filter to me, I recognize what he’s reading. Iremember the first chapter ofThe Hobbitlike I heard Gramps read it to me yesterday.
Instead of looking at the book, the little girl is peeking up at the man adoringly. Ifeel like I’m intruding on a private moment, but I can’t make myself look away. My heart pinches behind my ribs.
Sometimes my grief is dark and hollow. A hole in the middle of my chest. But other times, like now, it’s warm. It’s a sweet, achy memory that I can’t repeat, but at the same time I’m so grateful I got to have it at all.
A tear slips down my cheek, and a steadying hand caresses my back. The smell of summer and sunshine hits my lungs.
I press my lips together. “Gramps”—a tight swallow—“would’ve fallen in love with this place.” His instincts were right. This spot made a perfect bookshop.
A melodic voice sounds from my other side. “You two need help finding anything?” I turn to see Barb, a stack of romance books in her arms and a friendly, crinkly-eyed smile on her face.
Before I can answer, Theo reaches for the books and offers, “Doyouneed help?”
“Well, thank you, young man,” she says, handing him the stack.
“I’m Theo, by the way.” He shifts the books to one arm so he can shake her hand.
“Theo!” She brightens like they know each other. Then she turns to me. “So you must be Fable.”
“I am.” I shake her hand as well, giving Theo a look that asks,How do you know each other?His returning wink reveals very little.
“Well, I’m Barb, and it’s so lovely to meet you.” She waves for us to follow as she heads down the narrow gap between two shelves. “Theo called yesterday and said you’d be stopping by.” She pauses at the romance shelves and pulls the first book from the stack in Theo’s arms. “Let me get these shelved, and then we’ll chat all things bookshops!”
My gaze meets Theo’s and his brows bounce excitedly. While Barb neatly slots books into place—murmuring authors’ last names as she goes—Theo and I have a silent conversation with our eyes.
What did you do?I ask.
Go with the flow, he insists.
Where is it going?
Relax, Fabes. We’ve got this.
When all the books are sorted, Barb clasps her hands together. “Okay. So, Theo told me you’re in the early stages of thinking about opening a bookshop?”
I manage to hold back the wince that naturally wants to come out. This feels incredibly uncomfortable to admit out loud, but I push through the awkwardness. “Yes. Very,veryearly, but yes.”
Excitement practically billows out of her. “Well, first of all, congratulations. Even realizing that dream is a huge step.”
I don’t know that I’ve fully realized that, but I thank her anyway.
“Should we do a tour?” she asks.
“I . . . guess?”
“Perfect! Let’s grab a drink first.” She leads us over to the small bar on one side of the shop. “Elliot’s working today. They make the best tea and coffee.”
We place our orders with Elliot, and when I pull out my wallet to pay for our drinks, Barb stops me. “Oh, no. This is on me.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Theo insists.
