“They said something about Arnie leaving the island to live with his nephew in New Hampshire.”
“Yup, that’s what’s floatin’ around. I heard it from Lisa when she stopped by to say hello this morning.”
Lisa was Grandma’s petite, thirtyish neighbor, who had a penchant for wearing jumpers no matter the season, and tying back her long hair in a bandanna. She lived halfway down the short hill from the front of the cottage along with her husband, a fisherman, and their two young kids; she worked at the Chilmark Town Hall, where she heard almost everything that went on up-island and with whom. Luckily for Maddie, Edgartown was far enough away that the young woman might not have heard the latest about Maddie and Rex. Not yet, anyway.
Then Grandma chuckled. “You know you’ve lived here too long when things like bait and tackle start a conversation.”
Returning the chuckle, Maddie asked, “I suppose you’ve known Arnie a long time.”
“Long enough.”
“You’re not sorry to see him go?”
“Don’t care one way or t’other. I suppose his customers will miss him. Unless another bait shop takes its place.”
Maddie carefully formed her question. “What if the closing is a chance for me?”
Pausing only a beat, Grandma laughed. “You want to run a bait shop?”
This wasn’t starting off as Maddie had hoped. “No. I’m thinking about turning it into a bookshop. Not as big as the ones down-island, but something to serve up-island residents and seasonal people, too. I’m thinking I could also sell your baskets and serve your herbal teas along with a few tasty treats.”
Grandma raised a curious eyebrow. “You came up with all that since last night?”
“I did. I think the idea gelled after you said you want to fix up Orson for Rafe … He’ll be so excited, Grandma. He really wants to live here. As much as I hope he still goes to graduate school, he has time for that. For now it might be nice to have a project we can all have fun with. And a good way for me to get to know the island better.”
“In that case, our young man had better learn how to make my baskets fast. My days for doing that are numbered, especially if it requires speed. I used to be a racehorse. Now I’m more like a tortoise.” She chuckled again.
“I’m sure we can make it work, Grandma. Hey, if we have them to sell, we’ll sell them. And if we don’t, we can ask people to check back.”
“Okay. But you want a bookshop? Aren’t you a teacher?”
Maddie didn’t want to say she’d chosen that career mostly to please her father. Not unlike why she’d married Rafe’s father. But that it now felt as if, like Owen, Green Hills College—andteaching—had run its course. Rather than belaboring all that, she simply said, “I’m ready for a change, Grandma, and this feels like something worth looking into. And I do love books.”
As much as she would not do this intending to try and please Stephen again, the shop might give him a reason to come to the island and be with them in the summer, though she did not mention that to Grandma now.
“What do you think, Grandma? Should I find out more?”
The old woman fidgeted on the Adirondack chair, then stood up. “Actually, what I think is it’s October and I’m freezing my behind off. As for opening a bookshop, I think you’re off your rocker.”
Before Maddie digested Grandma Nancy’s comment, the woman tottered off into the cabin, her toasty shawl dragging behind her.
The next day, Joe took Grandma to visit her friend, Winnie Lathrop. Maddie was relieved; she’d be tied up teaching an online class, which was easier to accomplish when her grandmother wasn’t installed in the living room, four feet from where Maddie sat at the table with her laptop. As comfortable as Rex’s cabin was for two, the space didn’t work well when one of them had to Zoom. On top of that, the class that day was boring, the students seemingly as disinterested in talking about methods of journalism as Maddie was in sharing them.
When class was over, she decided that, off her rocker or not, she wanted more information before ditching the bookshop idea. And the best place to get it might be from Arnie himself. So she put on a sweater and drove to Menemsha Harbor.
A sign taped to the window of the bait shop read: CLOSING FOR GOOD. LAST DAY SUNDAY OCT. 26. So, he really wouldn’t be reopening. And another business could move in.
Noticing that the interior lights were on, Maddie tried the door handle; the door swung open. A strong fishy smell greeted her; she didn’t want to imagine what it would cost to make it go away. Instead, she scrutinized the interior layout; it looked bigger than she’d expected, though picturing it as a charming little bookshop was difficult, what with rippled pegboards on the walls, rows of rusted metal shelving, and old refrigerated coolers lining the perimeter.
“Help you?” The voice wasn’t enthusiastic; it came from between the shelving that was mostly empty.
As Maddie moved toward the sound, an elderly man appeared. He wore a long rubber apron, knee-high boots, and a faded baseball cap bearing the shop’s logo above the brim. If she’d ever seen him, she didn’t recognize him now.
“You’re closing on the twenty-sixth?” she asked.
“I am. But if you’re looking for deals, you’re too late. Yesterday one of my competitors scooped up my tackle inventory—rods and reels, hooks and lures—the whole kit and caboodle. Got plenty of bait, though. If you’re planning on fishin’.”
She thought of the worms and quickly shook her head. “Not for me, thanks. But I’ve been thinking about buying a tackle box for my son for Christmas.” She told herself she’d lied for a greater good.
