The Bookshop
Nora quickly made her way down the bustling street and into the wine and spirits shop. Despite the time of day, the store was surprisingly crowded. Weaving through the clusters of people, Nora finally found the large wine section at the back of the shop. The amount of choice was overwhelming.
The overcrowded space made her feel a bit claustrophobic, and she began regretting stepping foot inside. At this point she didn’t care what type of wine it was; she just needed a bottle to hold for the photo. She hastily grabbed a bottle of red from a center display set up like a Christmas tree and walked back to the front of the shop to pay.
The crowded space had her on edge, and she tapped her foot impatiently as she stood in line. Glancing out the window onto thestreet, she watched a strong gust of wind pick up, causing tiny whirlwinds of snow to spiral into the air.Like the energy rising in my chest, she thought.
After paying for the wine, Nora stepped back out into the cold chill of the wintry air that hung heavy upon the city and began walking back to the spot where her grandmother had stood in the photograph. Recreating the image required more than just the wine bottle though; she needed a small red book as well. Scanning her surroundings for a bookstore or a gift shop, she found nothing. She hadn’t noticed any bookshops on her way to the monument either.Perhaps there’ll be one ahead where the group was walking, she thought. The wine sloshed around in the bottle as she increased her pace to a light jog to catch back up.
As she approached them, the soft, warm glow of twinkle lights caught her eye, and she turned to her right and found a small bookshop nestled between two towering buildings across the street from where she stood. Its large teal door, weathered with age, showcased a wreath crafted from holly and evergreen boughs. Flanking the door were two sizable windows with tiny panes bathed in the warm glow of Christmas lights.
Nora looked around, certain she had stood in this very spot when she recognized the building from her grandmother’s photo. Yet, as far as she could remember, there had been no bookshop. She pulled out her phone and snapped a photo, then stepped forward and crossed the street, feeling that strange pull from earlier come rushing back. A wave of excitement shot through her as she turned the old ornate brass knob, wondering what she might find.
As soon as the door cracked open, another gust of wind blew so forcefully past her that the door burst all the way open, causing her to stumble as she entered. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought it had purposely pushed her in.
The door had brushed against a set of chimes hanging above it, their loud tinkle alerting the clerk to her presence. The aroma of old books and leather-bound covers greeted Nora as she stepped into the cozy shop. Mahogany bookshelves, worn with time, stretched from floor to ceiling, holding rows upon rows of what looked to be old antique books. A small book display sat on the top of a long counter, a little farther into the shop. As she drew closer, she made out that it was an array of old books on Yule and the winter solstice.
Boasting high ceilings with a second-story loft overlooking the ground floor, the shop felt like a step back in time; every detail, from the vintage light fixtures to the antique cash register, transported her to the forties. Nora could have spent her entire trip in this shop, looking through all the old books. She could picture herself getting lost in all the magical tales that surrounded her. Just the thought of it filled her with an energy that made her feel more alive than she had in years. A smile spread across her face as she took it all in.
“Hello, may I help you?” a scratchy voice said from behind a stack of books resting on a long counter that spanned one-half of the back wall. A short woman with salt-and-pepper hair and the thickest glasses Nora had ever seen stepped out from behind the counter with a cane and an inviting smile. Nora had been so swept up in the sheer beauty of the shop that she had almost forgotten what she had come in to get.
“Hello, this might sound a little odd, but I’m looking for a small red book.”
“Do you know the title?” the woman asked, with a raise of a snowy white eyebrow.
“To be honest, any red book will do. It’s for a photograph I need to recreate,” she told the woman, feeling a bit awkward asking for a book solely for the color of its cover.
“Aye, I see. Looking for a Christmas book, then, I take it? ’Tisthe time of year,” she said as she walked over toward a large spiral staircase that wound its way to the second story, filled with even more books than the first. “I know just the section. You follow me,” she told her, waving her forward to follow her up the staircase.
The wrought iron stairs, a masterpiece in their own right, featured curved bars that formed exquisite tulip-shaped fixtures supporting the railing, which the woman held onto as she climbed. She struggled, pulling herself up one step at a time. Upon reaching the top, she paused for a moment, resting on her cane to catch her breath.
“Oh my, I’m not as young as I think I am,” she joked as she began walking again, leading them toward the back corner of the loft.
“Here we are. I think you might find what you are looking for here. Just remember, sometimes the best books are where you least expect them.” She winked and then headed back to the stairs.
Odd thing to say, Nora thought as she began scouring the shelves for a small red book to recreate the photo. Several books with red spines caught her eye, but each one she pulled out revealed a different colored cover—brown, burgundy, green, but not red. Moving to the next case, she encountered the same thing—lots of red-spined books with mismatched covers.
How strange, she mused. She couldn’t recall coming across many old books where the spine color differed from the color on the cover. Perhaps it had been more common than she thought.
About to return to the first bookshelf, figuring the burgundy-covered book would be the closest match she might find to red, something caught Nora’s eye. Between the bookshelf and the wall was a flash of red. She took a few steps back and took another look. Snugly wedged between the wall and the weathered bookshelf was a tiny red book.
Setting the wine bottle down, she attempted to fish it out of the crack. Extending her arm into the narrow gap, she tried to reach it, but her arm was too big, and her fingertips just barely grazed the edge of the book’s spine.
Pulling her arm back out, she spun around, scanning the room for something to fish it out with, but nothing caught her eye. On a second pass, her gaze landed on a small silver sword with a leather-wrapped hilt resting above the window—an unexpected touch of medieval King Arthur decor—and just what she needed. Glancing down over the railing, she saw the woman engrossed in sorting a large stack of books.
Seizing the opportunity, she grabbed a small stepladder, typically used for reaching books on the top shelves, and positioned it beneath the window. Climbing up with silent prayers that it wouldn’t creak and alert the woman, she reached for the sword. To her surprise, it was much heavier than anticipated, nearly causing her to lose her footing as she carefully removed it from the wall.
Descending each step carefully, she made it down without a sound. She quickly made her way over to the book and slid the sword below it. With a gentle maneuver, it slipped between the pages. Like rescuing a bird with broken wings, she lifted the book up and out of the gap.
It was made of dark red leather and embossed with tiny golden leaves around its edges. The resemblance to the one her grandmother held in the photo was uncanny, and if she hadn’t known better, she would have thought it was the very same book. Its beauty captivated her, pulling her in. She was just about to open it when the old woman yelled up, startling her.
“You finding everything okay, miss?” she called out from below.
“Yes, thank you.”
Grabbing the sword, she quickly returned it to its place on thewall and slid the ladder back into position. Nora glanced down at the tiny red book, a smile playing across her lips. She retrieved her wine bottle and descended the stairs.
Upon reaching the bottom, she walked up to the counter, her eyes searching behind the stack of books for the woman.
