It was their wedding photo.
“Look at him though,” I said. “He’s staring at her while she’s looking at the camera. He might not be smiling, but he loves her. You can tell.”
She peered at me and nodded. “Yes. Very astute observation.”
I then saw the next photo of Lucy and Edwin. They were on the bank of Lavender Lake. Lucy had reeled in a fish, and the camera had captured her whoop of excitement mid-flash. Edwin was holding the net to try and help her grab the fish.
“He’s been gone ten years now,” she said softly. “Miss him like crazy. I swear I can still hear him coming through the back door sometimes.”
I didn’t know what to say so I said nothing at all.
“Listen to me,” she said with a self-deprecating laugh. “I didn’t mean to stroll down memory lane.”
“Thanks for letting me stroll with you.” I took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “You wanted to talk to me about something?”
She placed the photo back on the wall and faced me. “When are you going to ask me if you can rent the storefront and open up your bookstore?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Town
“Who told you?” I groaned. “Muddy?”
“Of course.”
“This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. I was making up a business plan to show you. A full presentation and everything, with numbers and goals and a timeline so I could come to you with more than just a dream and vibes.”
“Sometimes a dream and vibes is all you need,” she said, turning away from me. “Come on.”
I trailed after her to the back room. There were four chairs around a card table, a bottle of bourbon and a deck of cards in the center.
“What do you play?” I asked, gesturing to the deck.
“Poker,” she said with a grin. “Sit.”
I sat and placed my bakery bag on the floor and waited. She didn’t say anything as she went to the coffee maker that rested on the counter against the back wall.
“Coffee?”
“No thanks,” I said.
She made herself a cup, grabbed her mug, and returned to the table. She pulled out the chair across from me and took a seat. “Tell me about your bookstore.”
“I really wish you’d let me make a presentation and come back and do this right.”
“No presentation. Just what’s in your heart. Why a bookstore?”
“Not just a bookstore,” I amended. “But a place for people to sit with their friends.”
“They have Sweet Teeth for that. Or The Diner. It sounds like you want to open a coffee shop.”
“Huckleberry Hill doesn’t need another restaurant. And it definitely doesn’t need a coffee shop. What it needs is a place with big couches that swallow you when you sit in them. It needs soft ambient light. Gel pens. Journals. Local crafts and preserves. I want the bookstore to be a place where people can woolgather.” I smiled softly.
My grandmother had loved to woolgather.
Shaking my head, I dispelled thoughts of her, but the warmth of her memories swelled in the air around me.
We stared at one another and a slow grin spread across her face. “You have my blessing to open your bookstore. On one condition.”
