CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I bury myself in work for the next couple of weeks. I give Pied Piper Books my all, coming up with brilliant plans and executing them with results beyond anything Piper or I could have hoped for.
New customers come into the store daily. Most of them are locals, but a good chunk of them are visitors or tourists who tell us a friend or family member recommended the store, or they saw our Instagram account and had to visit. We work on our plans to add in the café, talking about potentially expanding the store later this year or next year and having an official bookstore-slash-café. We work with local artists to carry their goods—candles, paintings, jewelry—and launch a campaign to stock an entire section of indie and self-published books. I’m a machine, churning out ideas, eating, sleeping, and breathing Pied Piper Books.
I’m searching Instagram for new bookish hashtags when a text from Hugh pops up.
I hear Piper will be able to retire early from all the money the bookstore is bringing in, thanks mostly to you.
I smile. Things have carried on as usual with us over the last two weeks. Every time my brain tries to veer into ‘what if’ territory I switch into bookstore mode and replace those thoughts with my to-do list. It’s been working so far. Mostly. I’m not quite ready to let Hugh go.
We’re thinking about leaving the store to the others for a couple weeks and running off somewhere together,I text back.
I hear Scotland is nice this time of year…
Funny, I’ve heard that too.
I wait, breath catching in my throat. This is his chance to invite me to visit him. To say something or make some grand gesture to let me know he still wants me. Still wantsus.
My phone buzzes and I nearly fumble it in my haste to see his reply. Except it’s not a reply from Hugh, it’s an email notification. I swipe over to my inbox and now my breath hitches for another reason. It’s a reply from a publicist I’ve been in contact with recently.
My eyes sweep over the email. My hands start shaking so hard, the phone slips from my fingers. Piper walks into the room as I’m scooping it from the floor, and her brow furrows in concern. Before she can ask what’s wrong, I thrust my phone at her. Watching her face as she reads the email is priceless; it transforms from confused to hopeful to elated in the span of thirty seconds.
She grabs my shoulders and starts jumping around. “Oh Ivy, I could kiss you!” She releases me abruptly to reread the email, her whole body vibrating with excitement. “I can’t believe you got them to say yes. This is huge. This is next level, wildest dreamshuge.”
I’m smiling so hard my face aches. It’s not every day a world-renowned, bestselling author agrees to add your little bookstore to their tour stops because they’ve heard about you through the social media grapevine. I’m half tempted to pinch myself to see if I’m dreaming.
Piper gasps. “We have so much to do!” She shoves my phone back into my hands and begins pacing. “We need to start spreading the word immediately. We need to order as many copies of her books as we can, and get the book club people involved. Should I hire a caterer? We should make this a big, fancy thing, right? I can’t serve alcohol, but I can serve food and non-alcoholic drinks, and maybe a signature mocktail? Oh god, I’m going to start hyperventilating.”
“Piper.” I stand in front of her, stopping her pacing with gentle hands on her shoulders. “I know two weeks isn’t a long time, but we’re going to make this the most incredible, memorable event this bookstore—hell, thiscity—has ever seen. Okay? Don’t forget who you’re talking to here.”
Her whole body slumps forward and her forehead meets my shoulder. “Of course. You’re right. I know you’ll work your magic. It’s what you do best.”
*****
“Would you accept payment of my firstborn child for the magic you performed here tonight?”
Laughing, I turn to face Piper, wrapping my arms around her. Over her shoulder, I see what I’ve been trying to process for the last hour: Pied Piper Books is packed almost to capacity. I keep thinking I’m going to blink and everyone will disappear, as if it’s all a mirage. God knows after two solid weeks of working night and day, I’m exhausted enough Icouldbe imagining all of this.
Piper gives me a squeeze and releases me. “I can’t believe we pulled it off.” Her beautiful brown eyes shimmer with tears. “I can’t thank you enough for everything you did to make this happen.”
“It was my pleasure, honestly. I got to flex my creative muscles, and it all came together perfectly.” I cast my gaze around the room, taking in the glowing fairy lights and LED-lit paper lanterns. I loosely recreated the cover of Andrea James’s latest novel,Prairie Summer, which is set at a ranch-turned-B&B in Alberta.
I roped Meredith into helping me source a photo booth and props like cowboy hats, small-scale artificial hay bales that can be used as seats, a variety of bandanas, and other miscellaneous items. It’s been a total hit, with a lineup of people waiting to have their picture taken. Pied Piper Books has been working its way toward becoming ‘Instagram famous’ and this is going to really set us apart.
“I think I need another cup of the Prairie Punch,” Piper says. “It’s addictive, even without alcohol.”
“Pinterest win,” I say in a singsong voice. We hired a caterer to provide a variety of finger foods, including oversized cupcakes with mini replicas of the book cover and tiny edible cowboy hats. People are already tagging us on Instagram with pictures of those.
Piper does a little finger wave and disappears into the crowd. I watch her weave through dozens of people, stopping to talk to several of them. From the way her cheeks flush, I know she’s getting a lot of praise for pulling off such a stellar event. Ms. James did a reading followed by a Q&A, and she’s been signing books for the last half hour. We’ve sold so many copies of her new book, along with her backlist, I have a feeling we’re going to sell out.
I surreptitiously check my phone. No new messages. I heard from Hugh last night; he wished me luck and said he knew the event would be great. I expected to hear from him today too. It’s already well after midnight in Scotland, though, so I guess I should stop checking my phone. I sigh as I slip it back into the pocket of my dress. It’s time to make a decision, and I’m afraid it’s one that’s going to leave me with a broken heart.
For tonight, I’m going to concentrate on the good. This party has been an epic success. Ms. James is charming and down to earth. She arrived early so she could chat with Piper and me, and didn’t bat an eye when Bridget burst in and went into fangirl mode. She was warm and gracious, taking pictures and signing our books, and even offering to sign some extra stock so people who couldn’t make it to the event could still get a signed copy.
I make the rounds of the store, chatting with people and stopping to replenish the food table. I’m reaching for another cupcake—I’ve already had two, but there are a ton of them and I wouldn’t want any to go to waste—when I sense someone behind me. The place is packed and I’ve had people bumping into me or brushing against me all night, but whoever this is, their nearness sets my nerves tingling.
“Excuse me. I hear you’re the one to talk to about book recommendations.”
