And as she stood in this little shop, just one little space in this wide green Earth, she realized that even if Dell was gone—even if he maybe never came back—because she was starting to accept that he might not come back—he would still be in the bones of the place. She took a few steps to run a hand over the shelf closest to her. Crouched down to examine, again, the detail of the curving waves. Every time she touched them, it felt like touching the curve of his mouth, the rise of his cheek. The valleys at the corners of his eyes.
The more she looked, the more the others showed themselves, too: Vik’s designs in every sticker and business card, in the sign above the front door. In the work of the Gutierrez boys, of Eli Zalasky and every other contractor who put in their time and skill. Mae couldn’t walk across the rug without thinking of Olive and Cara.
Jesus was in every mote of dust that spun through the air.
Maybe this place wasn’t hers and hers alone at all. Even if she was Bay Books’s only ever employee.
Maybe nothing we ever tried—nothing good, anyway—was truly selfish, in the end.
* * *
On opening day of Bay Books, Mae woke slowly in Dell’s bed, half-conscious and uneasy.
After the third snoozing of her phone’s alarm, she made herself get out of bed.
She didn’t want to.
She felt off, unlike herself, uncomfortable in her own skin. The opposite of how she wanted to feel on opening day. Vaguely, she recalled that she’d had some type of epiphany last night at the store, some great moment of peace, but whatever, that was still old naive Mae who hadn’tactuallyopened a dumb small business yet.
Someone threw abrickthrough herwindow.
Mae brushed her teeth.
She’d had a steady job in Portland, a steady job where she helped people. She had her own apartment and good friends and a sense of safety.
She believed she could run a small business because, what? She liked stocking the shelves at Blockbuster when she was twenty years old?
She spit into the sink.
Oh god.
Mae let out the dogs, threw her hair in a bun. Checked that Vik and Jackson’s car was still in the drive. They’d slept in the ADU, had actually insisted on it, even if that bed was definitely not big enough for both of them. Mae couldn’t face them right now. She sent a quick text, agoing to the store early, join me whenever, seriously no rush, and kicked her Kia into gear.
And the whole ride down to Main Street, she pictured hordes of angry middle-aged women walking into her store, picking up young adult novels with sex scenes and gay people, and screaming at her. Staring at the trans flag by the front counter and whispering to each other.
She parked in the alley, walked in through the back door. Put on the kettle for tea. Walking into the main room, she turned on the lights, booted up the computer. Retrieved the prepared cash till from the safe in the office, transferred it to the counter.
Mae knew she should be double-checking everything. Signage, displays, the security system, her scanners and POS system.
Mostly, she drank her tea and did a lot of staring. Vik had brought her a fresh bouquet of flowers: cosmos and coneflowers and yarrow. They sat next to thepileapeperomioides.The clock ticked away.
Fifteen minutes before open, a sense of overwhelming doom overtook her. Vik still hadn’t arrived, which was fine,good; it was preferred to freak out alone.
The doom didn’t have anything to do with Dell not being here, with missing him, even if she kept checking her phone for a reassuring text from him—he’d been sending photos, lately, of the house where he grew up, of the town that looked rather gray and cold but still charming; she would kill for a picture from Michigan at this moment—but it was simply that this was all avery bad idea.
When time betrayed her, forcing her to move from her chair and flip the hand-painted sign she’d commissioned from Gemma toOpen, Mae worried she might throw up.
Thirty seconds later, she’d barely returned to the counter when the door flew open with a jingle.
“Hi!” A middle-aged woman waved at her, dark blonde curls bouncing as she shook her body in a bit of a laugh. Three other women followed. “Sorry to be those weird people creeping at the end of the block waiting for the second you open!”
“We’re just so excited,” another one gushed. “We’re in a book club, but we’ve never been able to buy books in our very own town.”
“Oh, it’s so good,” a third gasped, staring around at the store. She hit the first woman in the side with the back of her hand. “I told you it’d be so good!”
“I know!”
“Well.” Mae managed a wobbly smile. “Thank you for being Bay Books’s very first official customers.”
