Good god, they weren’t even to the bigots’ candy store yet. Her arms were going to be Jell-O for the rest of the day.
“I don’t believe I do,” the short Black woman Olive had stopped to talk to said.
“This here is Mae Kellerman. They’re the one who’s moving into your old shop!”
Cara turned to look at Mae. “No shit,” she said, and Mae liked her immediately.
“Yeah!” Olive enthused. “We’re taking this rug over there right now. Want to get an early look at the bookstore?”
“It’s still really a work in progress—” Mae attempted to interrupt.
“Hell yeah, I do.” Cara ambled to Mae’s side. “You need help here?”
And before Mae could answer, Cara was tugging up their end of the rug, and Olive was on the move again.
“It’s a great space, eh?” Cara asked Mae as they walked. “I miss it, sometimes, but it made sense to go online.”
“Yeah,” Mae breathed. God, there was just nowhere good to grab ahold of this thing. “Thanks for leaving it for me, I guess?”
Cara snorted. “You’re welcome. Although I suppose we should all be thanking Dell. If he’s letting you have it, he must really believe in you.”
“Well—” Mae felt herself flush, even more so than she already was. “He’s not letting me have it, exactly. He’s letting me lease it, with conditions. Even though Iwantedto buy it outright.”
Now both Cara and Olive laughed. “Sounds about right,” Cara said. “Still, my statement stands. Hey, Freddy!” she shouted at the bar as they passed it, even though Freddy wasn’t actually anywhere to be seen. “Miss being next to that bastard,” she said with affection, and Mae felt a streak of…something, that Cara and Freddy had apparently gotten along.
But then she stopped caring, because they were passing Freddy’s, and that meant—finally—they were here.
After fishing her keys from her bag, the three of them stumbled through the door.
“Holy smokes!” Cara dropped their end of the rug onto the floor without fanfare. “Look at that mural!”
“What mur—oh, wow!” Olive turned, dropping her end with a similarthud, and they walked in tandem to admire Gemma’s work behind the counter. “Bay Books!” Olive shouted. “Would you look at that!”
Cara crossed her arms, looking down at the floor with a crease in her brow.
“Hold on a minute,” she said, walking a few steps away from the counter this way, then that way. “These floorboards aren’t sticking up anymore.”
“The Gutierrez boys fixed them this week.” Mae wiped a forearm across her sweaty brow.
“You mean you’re opening this place back up without any tripping hazards?” Cara let out a disbelieving puff of air. “You’re gonna make me look bad.”
“The floor still dips a bunch over there,” Mae said brightly, pointing toward the back of the room, “if that helps.” Multiple contractors at this point had assured her this little quirk was fine.
Cara’s face broke into a grin. “You know, it does.”
“Oh, this bookshelf is pretty.” Olive glided over to the newly installed shelf, sniffing the air as she did. “And it smells like fresh wood? Was this custom made?”
“Yeah. Dell’s making all the shelves.”
Olive turned.
“Dell makes bookshelves?”
“Yeah, he has a whole woodworking shop at his house. They’re good, right?”
Now Cara turned.
“Dell has a woodshop at his house?”
