I’ve tried to nudge him to work on it a bit more. Hell, I think even Niall has brought it up a handful of times. But Michael always has an excuse. The bookstore takes up his time. He’s focusing on his love life. The shower needs to be cleaned.
Yes, that was the most recent excuse.
Michael shrugs and heads back into the kitchen. Sydney and I chat with the authors for a bit, asking them about their books and where they get them printed. It seems the majority of them publish through either Amazon or Barnes & Noble, or both. Sydney brings up our self-published consignment program, something she spearheaded when she joined the team. We give local authors a ninety-day period to have a new release in the store, which can be extended based on how well it sells.
Sadly, it’s really the only way they get their books into stores. Without a big publisher pushing their books, they just exist in the online shop of whichever self-publisher they went with. Here, at least, we give them a low-risk way to get their name out in the market. To feel the joy of seeing their name on a shelf along with some of their own favorite authors.
I notice people are really starting to mill around outside, hovering just outside the tables but trying to get a look at the cookies on display. “It’s time!”
Michael pops out of the kitchen, holding three fresh iced coffees for us. “Let’s fucking go.”
7
The morning and early afternoon are straight chaos. It’s just constant running around for the three of us. Sydney manning the inside register and bakery case. Michael rushing back and forth refilling the outside displays and also the bookshelves inside. I’m surviving the onslaught of customers purchasing cookies and books outside.
The only day, in my mind, that rivals today is Holidays on Main in December, but it’s pretty damn close. Both closely resemble a horde of zombies descending slowly on Old Wethersfield.
It’s just after three when Michael comes up to the cookie booth carrying two trays of cookies. “This is the last of them. Things are looking pretty sparse inside too.”
I grab the trays from him, topping off the cookie cart. “It’s been wild out here. And we did so much planning and made so much more than last year.”
“Well, that just means you’ll be set free even earlier once you sell out,” Michael turns and scampers back inside.
“Well, if it isn’t my beautiful boy!” My mother is walking up the grass towards me. While I was expecting her, who she’s arrived with is not what I expecting at all.
“Daniel, this is Charlie. Charlie, this is my son Daniel!” I shake Charlie’s hand, taking him in. He might not even be ten years older than me, and is in incredible shape. He’s wearing a t-shirt that looks almost painted on. I think I can actually see abs poking through the fabric. His hair only shows the start of salt and pepper, barely visible other than his facial hair.
“Nice to meet you, Daniel. Your mom told me all about the store and this event, but I don’t think she quite did it justice. This place is swamped!”
I laugh. “This town gets kinda crazy with events, especially down here on Main Street.”
“Well sweetie, we’d love a variety bag of the cookies. I see you only have a few left.” She turns to Charlie and points to the bottom row of the display. “Daniel’s the baking brains of the operation. Every year he adds new flavors. Michael always does the same boring ones.” I shoot her a look, and she defensively puts her hands up. “Which are also delicious!”
“Well, they all look great,” Charlie says, leaning in closer to the case and smiles. “Are those Fruity Pebbles? My favorite cereal!”
I turn to Mom. “Sounds like a keeper.”
***
The last cookies sell just over an hour later, and the clearance book cart looks picked over. It’s time to throw in the towel and pack up the outside.
I start breaking down the cookie cart, depositing the empty boxes into a nearby receptacle. I look at the front windows of the bookstore, and I see Charlie and Mom talking with Michael. Charlie has a large stack of books in his hands, and I see Michael flailing one around in his hands before ultimately placing it on top of Charlie’s pile.
“Did I miss the whole event?” I turn around and find Colin standing where the cookie cart was just standing. He’s wearing a t-shirt that saysI put down my book to be herewhich, much like Charlie’s, is accentuating the curvature of his muscles.
“You missed me working, but this is when I usually go around and eat and drink my way through the event. Would you like to join me?”
Colin smiles. “I’d love to.”
I gesture to the cookie cart. “I just need to clean up and we can head out. Give me like five minutes?”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Iced Fruity Pebble Puddin’ Cookies
Author: Daniel Pierce
Servings: 24 Cookies
