Page 77 of The English Bookstore in Bologna

“I’m seeing nothing beautiful about it.”

She let go and found his eyes. “Don’t worry. You have me on your side. I’m going to help you get her back. Just don’t buy her any more flowers. You see her again, you be cordial, but don’t invite her up. Don’t cook her breakfast. And definitely don’t let her fall asleep in your arms! Got me?”

George stopped by the bookstore. He hadn’t seen Sandy since the book club event three days prior but wanted to make good on his offer to help with any handyman needs.

She was behind the counter, tapping away on the keyboard, but she gave a warm smile when he pushed through the door, the bell chiming.

“There he is. How’s life in the doghouse? Hold on, what’s that in your hand?”

He looked down at the pink toolbox. “It was a gift for Bianca. She didn’t even have a hammer.”

“What is she, five?”

“I know, I know. I realized it when I brought it up to her apartment. The look she gave me.”

Sandy chuckled. “I bet. I’m surprised you didn’t get some pink roller skates too.”

“That’s not a bad idea.”

After a shared smile, she asked, “Is she still mad at you?”

“We’re moving past it. Trying to find common ground.” He noticed a few perusers, as Sandy called them, wandering through the aisles as he approached the counter.

“And have you read her book yet?”

“She made me promise I wouldn’t read it.”

“What?” Sandy said. “Do you not understand women at all?”

He shook his head. “Not in the slightest.”

“Read the book, George. She needs praise from you, of all people.”

“What, why?”

“Because you’re her father. If she’s anything like the rest of the world, a parent’s approval is paramount.”

“I don’t think she cares what I have to say.”

“That’s not true.”

He stepped back and set the toolbox down while she rang up a customer, wondering whether Sandy was right. Probably so. This was exactly why he kept screwing up. He was living life without a compass.

Once the customer had left, he said, “No peruser there.”

“No, but she bought last year’s Hilderbrand from the discount bin. I made exactly nothing on that. Just as bad as a peruser. At this rate, I’ll be out of business by the fall.”

“Are you really struggling or just venting?”

She crossed her arms. “I’m doing both.”

“Okay, well, at the risk of getting in big trouble, may I offer a few suggestions? It all comes from a guy who spent his entire life in the business world and now has nothing to do.”

“Should I grab my notepad?”

“If you want to. I can’t promise it’s going to be any—”

“George. I’m kidding. I’m not getting out my notepad. Feel free to tell me how to run the business I’ve been in for ten years. But I won’t be taking notes.”