Eighteen
We’re back at the bookstore the next morning, but it’s just me and Riley; Miguel drops me off so she can keep me company while he runs an errand—to do what, he doesn’t say.
I’m still feeling blue, but I’d rather be blue here, especially now that I know the store’s future is even more tenuous than it already was. I follow Riley around as she puts this book back and rearranges that shelf and pulls a well-read copy of a picture book from the children’s section. Dog-eared, she calls the books that the kids love most, and while that doesn’t make sense to me, I certainly don’t hate the comparison.
It’s an overcast, sleepy sort of day, and the only person who’s stopped in so far is a college-aged student. She approaches the register with a book, but she looks like she’s about to buy a block of manure. When Riley asks her what she prefers to the novel she’s purchasing for school, she confesses she’d rather watch TV. Minutes later, the student’s clutching a second paperback and has promised Riley she’ll report back as soon as she’s finishedCircle of Friends.
Miguel’s walking in as the student walks out. Riley spots him and waves from the register. “I want to hear about your trip to Chicago! How was it?”
He takes a sip of the coffee he must’ve picked up while he was running errands, then says, “You first. How did closing go yesterday?”
“Kind of you to ask, but it was business as usual. So? Chicago?”
He glances down. “I’m surprised Dane didn’t already tell you—it was a total bust.”
It wasnot.How can he say that?
But he’s not looking at Riley anymore. Instead, his eyes are roaming the room, and they just landed on the Romance section. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I donotlike the way he’s regarding those shelves.
“What happened?” asks Riley. “Dane said you met JMB’s sister and the two of you really got along. She should be able to talk him into coming in, right?”
“I thought so, too, but that’s not happening.” He shakes his head. “JMB’s in Copenhagen and is done doing events.”
“Copenhagen.” Riley practically spits the word out. “Like in his novel?”
“I thought it was an odd coincidence, too, but maybe he’s trying to relive his past. Whatever he’s up to, it sounds like he’s done being an author. Which means we’re in serious trouble.”
“Crap. Well, maybe we can get someone to take his place? I’ve been looking into possible replacements.”
“Thank you,” he says with surprise. “I appreciate that.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Amis charges for events,” she says,rubbing her finger and thumb together. “So, he’s out. Coetzee’s and Lethem’s teams didn’t call back, and Atwood said she can’t commit to anything right now.”
“Probably for the best—people would fuss about it not being Jonathan, so I’m going to end up refunding the tickets one way or another. Which, as we all know, we can’t afford.”
Riley squares her shoulders. “I was actually hoping to talk to you about that.”
He sets his cardboard coffee cup on the counter. “I’m listening.”
“So…we’re struggling.”
“We have been for a while, and I know that’s my fault.”
She shakes her head. “You don’t run this place on your own. It’s on all of us. Dane said Brenna’s trying to reduce our returns, and I’m helping Natalie get better at hand-selling—but respectfully, those moves are only going to get us so far.”
“Por favor,not e-books again,” Miguel says, wincing. “I can practically see Walt Whitman rolling over in his grave.”
“Miguel, if Whitman were alive, he would have been at the forefront of Project Gutenberg and figuring out how to get his books on your phone. Well, notyourphone—that thing’s a brick with buttons,” she says, and he pretends to be offended. “But yeah, I think we should have a real conversation about e-books. They’re gold, and we don’t have to miss the rush.” She holds up a hand before Miguel can protest. “I am well aware of your feelings on the matter, so that’s not the main thing I’m proposing. Instead of leaning so heavily on literary fiction, we could get more romance readers into Lakeside. Romance authors, too. After all, we know so many of them—and didn’t Amelia always say that romance readers were the mostvoracious? Nearly every bookstore from here to Timbuktu sticks romance in the back or in some far corner like it’s shameful. We don’t have to do that. Weshouldn’tdo that. We have an opportunity to serve those readers. And yes—make money doing it.”
The lines between Miguel’s brows deepen. “Amelia and I were always clear that this is a store forallreaders. Not just one type.”
“It still will be, but romance could be our differentiator. Like Brenna said in our last meeting, our romance sales are slipping right now, which doesn’t reflect industry trends. Even if that weren’t the case, they could easily be twice what they are now. We could do a big romance event here. An entire conference, even, where we have authors come and sign books and do readings and—I don’t know, there are probably a bunch of things I’m not even thinking of. We have the space,” she says, gesturing to the center of the store. I can see what she’s saying. Most of the tables could be moved so that readers could mingle.
Riley continues. “The romance book club that meets here every month said they’d be all over it, and said they’d tell other readers who aren’t in the immediate area. They’d help publicize it for us.”
“You already asked them?”
“Hypothetically, and strictly for research purposes,” she says breezily. “We could capitalize on the fact that we’re in the Midwest instead of on the East or West Coasts—not everyone wants to fly to New York or LA to see their favorite novelist, and most of the big-name writers don’t even live there. Off the top of my head, there are a bunch of local authors who mightbe willing to come. We could ask Amelia’s network for help—I’m sure they’d be willing to show up. This could really put us on the map.”
