“We should’ve flown.”
But then I would’ve had to wait to get some of my essentials, like my books and my inflatable mattress. Then we still would’ve had to drive for about two hours from the nearest international airport, and either rent a car or buy a ride. And then my car would’ve been shipped.
“Never mind, we made the right choice,” I say as I steer us off to the rest stop.
There’s no one else around, so I get Oscar hooked up to his kitty harness and open the door to the grassy field beside the brick outhouse. I take a few lunging steps to work out the ache in my hip, but the damn thing is persistent. That’s what I get for sitting hours and days on end.
A chill breeze blows through the budding trees and I hug my arms tight against my sides.
“It’s almost freaking May,” I mutter to the wind that feels way too cold to be on the brink of summer.
Oscar sniffs around for a few moments, then finds a bit of dirt he likes. It’s just number one, so I put my little plastic baggie back in my pocket and hurry him to the car.
Ten minutes out from the city, we hit major construction that diverts us onto another road. I’d read about the “highway” adjustments, but thought there’d be at least one lane open. Apparently, the road is going from single lane to two, and they decided to just rip everything up and go for it.
The GPS complains wildly as I follow the detour. Oscar screams at the fake woman with a British accent on the fourth request to make a U-turn, so I disable the voice feature. I’m so,soover this trip.
The trees thin, and I spot glimpses of water between the budding boughs. It shimmers with the bright afternoon sunlight and I sigh.
“Oh, look at that beach,” I tell Oscar.
He chirrups and stands on his back legs to look out the window. He’s always loved the beach—though I wonder if he thinks the sand is just one giant toilet. The crisp, salty air, and flocks of birds to chase, brought him so much joy. He always gave his best attempt to sneak up on the seagulls, but I knew that, given the chance, those birds would take off with him instead of the other way around. So, always a harness.
The signs demand I slow down to twenty-five as I enter town, and it gives me a great opportunity to look around more. The BoogleStreet View images didn’t do any of it justice. Is it a little run-down? Yeah, but it’s also a three-hundred-year-old town that’s never exceeded a population of two thousand. It’s really,reallysmall-town vibes here.
Still, it’s the hub for several other, even smaller towns, that surround it, bringing the weekend foot-traffic up to about ten thousand. Flagging sales during the weekdays will give me ample time to work on my rebind commissions, so I’m not worried about income so much. And, if my online business keeps growing, I could attract major attention to this speck of Wisconsin.
I drive past a shed in the middle of a field that has “GUNS” spray painted on the side in blue, and a little American Flag fluttering over the door.
Verysmall town.
Finally, I make it back to Main Street after all the rerouting and pass the bar and restaurant I’m dying to try; The Chubby Radish. Not only do they have some amazing vegetarian dishes—like black sesame roasted brussel sprouts—they have some incredible looking fresh fish tacos. Oscar and I love our fish tacos. Well, he just loves the fish and I eat his extra tortilla.
There’s a statue of a plump, anthropomorphic radish waving to the traffic on the street and I chuckle. It reminds me of the radish spirit from one of my favorite animated films, and those squeaky little feets.
We drive by several more businesses and restaurants I can’t wait to try before making it to our new home sweet home—Second ChanceFantasy. Well, it just says “Books” above the beautiful door right now, but soon it’ll have its own custom sign.
I pull off the street and into the little gravel drive that leads to a dilapidated single car garage behind the building. Oscar senses that we’ve arrived at our destination and begins yowling at the top of his lungs. I put the car into park and throw him a treat to make him settle.
“I need to get a few things set up before you can come in,” I tell him.
He lets out a long, unbroken scream of fury and I groan.
“Fine! You can come in! But you have to stay in the kennel.”
I throw open my door and stretch myself long and hard as I emerge from the torture chamber. Oscar continues his angry song, as if I might forget he exists. I come around and pull him out of the passenger seat, then amble my way to the back of the building.
It’s all wood siding from the waist up, but red brick below that. I’d read that the town had burned down a few times, so I’m guessing this brick frame is the remnants of what came before the bookshop. I wonder why it’d caught on fire so many times…
I set Oscar down and fiddle with the number dial on the back of the safety-key holder attached to the knob. I pull out the set of old bronze keys and jingle them at Oscar.
“We’re home, buddy,” I say with a grin.
He meows impatiently and I roll my eyes.
I insert the key into the slot and grab the handle to hold it steady. A sizzling jolt of static discharges up my arm—or at least, I think it’sstatic—and I pull back with a start. I shake out my hand and go back in for another try.
The knob is warmer now than before, so it must’ve been static. I probably rubbed against the car seat too much in the past thirty minutes with how uncomfortable my butt was getting.
