Book Lover, The (23 page)

                            
23

W
HEN RUTH FINALLY CALLED DEBORA at Chapter One Books in Belvidere a week later to suggest sharing a room at the convention, she was stunned at Debora’s news. With a calm resignation that Ruth couldn’t quite fathom, Debora told her she was closing her store the following week.

“Oh, Deb, isn’t there something—”

“Ruth, I’m done,” she interrupted. “I’ve spent the years like a college kid with an addiction, living hand to mouth and putting every cent I own into the store. No wonder my husband almost left me. It’s time to let go.”

“What will you do?”

She heard a big sigh. “I don’t know. Take a few weeks off. Go visit my daughter in Atlanta. They’d love for us to move there. But I also have to get a real job.”

“Deb, this is—”

“I know it’s a real job. It’s three jobs. But to the outside world, it just looks like an obsession, throwing these little book events, reading in our spare time between customers…”

“Come on, not everyone feels that way.”

“Sorry, I’m just cranky.”

“No, I’m sorry. If there’s anything I can do—”

“Just listen to what they’ve been saying at the conventions the past few years. Everything has been about diversifying and I just kept ignoring it. I didn’t want to be a barista or a post office or a gift shop. I just wanted to sell books.”

“Actually, I have been thinking about it.”

“Good. And you need to do more events, too. That was my downfall—I just found them exhausting and it’s so hard sometimes trying to convince the publicists why their big authors should come way out here where you never know how many people will show up.”

Deb’s store was in a sleepy town with little traffic. Ruth wasn’t sure how Deb had lasted this long, but wanted to say something on a positive note. “They need to remember that after their author leaves, we hand sell those signed copies. A signed copy is a sold copy.”

“I’m going to miss it, though. There’s something magical about this business, that I think people on the outside will never understand. I thought I’d grow old and die in this store.”

“Well, I’ve gotten to the growing old part,” Ruth joked, trying to lighten Deb’s mood.

“Oh, come on, Ruth. They call it ‘vintage’ now, don’t they? It makes you more valuable.”

“Well, this vintage bookseller is about to have another milestone. In fact, our downtown revitalization project is finally getting proactive. We’re planning to start First Friday Walks and the first one is going to coordinate with my store’s anniversary celebration coming up in the fall.”

“That’s right, what is it—twenty years?”

“Would you believe thirty?”

“Jesus, Ruth, you are a legend. That is a milestone, especially in our business. I wish you all the luck in the world. I’ve had my husband all these years. You’ve done it alone.”

“Well, I’m hanging on by my fingernails here, though after August I can relax a bit. Megan’s made the Stephanie Meyer vampire releases our biggest event of the year, a midnight costume party, and of course a prepaid book purchase is your ticket in. Each year, they’ve gotten bigger.”

“Maybe I should’ve found me a Megan, but…it’s too late.”

Hanging up, Ruth stood there, looking out the front window as the morning sun began to hit the buildings across the street, wondering how different her life might have been if she hadn’t been widowed at such a young age. Yes, Debora had her husband, and Ruth had her store. Maybe it was an obsession for her. In a way, hadn’t she let it take the place of a husband, a lover? And the intimacy she might have had if she’d made different choices?

She couldn’t say she had regrets, though. She’d married the wrong man, blinded by desire to what was probably staring her in the face all along: it could never have worked. Out of that mistake she had three wonderful children, and four grandchildren.

And she still had her store.

                            
24

I
N THE BEGINNING, LUCY HAD THOUGHT SHE’D BE GOING stir crazy at the cabin as the days passed, but she wasn’t. There were long stretches of nothing where she simply couldn’t work or focus, and she’d stare out the window, or from the porch, at the lake and mountains on the other side as summer exploded with a profusion of color. Everything was lush and green, the woods littered with pink and white petals of flowering dogwood, like confetti after a parade. Each day she now walked there, even just for a little while, and felt peace descend as if she’d swallowed a pill.

There were sleepless hours, too, when she’d lie in bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling in the darkness, but unafraid now. She thought a lot about the past and it seemed as if her exhausted mind and body were finally processing the surreal turn of events in her life. One day soon, yes, she’d have to think about a future. But for now, she was here.

And she was becoming better friends with Colin.

Last week he’d told her his goal was to swim to the island and back by the end of summer, something he’d done with ease before the accident. She’d nearly yelped in alarm. What if something were to go wrong, who would know? Even if he called for help, what if she was out? The other houses were too far away for anyone to hear him, if anyone was even home. He must have seen her worry, because he reminded her that he was training for next summer’s competition and the months he’d be able to practice in the lake, which he preferred over a public pool for obvious reasons, were short.

She didn’t want to insult him by questioning his ability, or tell him that his mother and sister would go ballistic. So she offered to time him. Each morning now began with this ritual. She would untie the canoe from the dock and paddle alongside him, as he ventured a little farther across the lake each time. It was a glorious way to start the day, before the world was fully awake, watching the birds slowly come to life, the sun ascending over the far mountain, the rhythmic splash as Colin’s arms sliced through the water. It was now her favorite part of the day.

When they finished, he’d sit drying off for a few moments—wearing trunks, of course. Neither of them ever mentioned that first morning, and she wondered if he’d really seen her. Colin then went to sit in his whirlpool for a while, to warm his body.

“I won’t be here tomorrow morning,” she told him now, as they headed to their own cabins. “I’m going to see my mother, remember?”

“I remembered.”

“And?”

He tilted his head and studied her a moment. “I’ll be fine.”

“You promised.” Although he swam effortlessly, she knew that was no guarantee. And she couldn’t tell Ruth, because she had promised she wouldn’t. He wanted to surprise her.

“Please,” she said and saw a slow smile curl his lips.

“All right, I did promise. Just this once.”

“Thank you.”

Two hours later her car was packed and Lucy was off.

* * *

HER MOTHER LIVED IN A LITTLE CONDO IN Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, which David had insisted they buy for her after she was forced to retire due to carpal tunnel syndrome that had been plaguing her for years. The prices and taxes were much cheaper than New Jersey and she was all about getting “the most bang for our buck,” although it had been Lucy and David putting up the bucks. Still, it made Lucy happy to see her mother finally settled someplace where she’d never have to move again.

When she crossed the Delaware River from New Jersey into Pennsylvania, Lucy couldn’t help glancing north, thinking about the eagle they’d rescued up the river in the Water Gap. She’d gone back to The Raptor Center with Colin once again, anxious to see it, but the bird was still sequestered in the Quiet Zone. Randy wasn’t holding out much hope it would be going back out into the wild. He told them it definitely had lead poisoning, but they’d done chelation therapy and the bird was finally improving. Its wing was another story, however. The break was near the joint, probably too close for it to ever be able to fly again. Her heart broke at the news, thinking of the huge, powerful bird confined to a cage for life. Beside her, Colin had said nothing.

“Well, I’m going to stay optimistic,” she’d said. “You never know, right?”

At what point, she thought now as she drove, did you give up? At what instant did Colin resign himself to never walking again? Maybe it was that moment you needed to stop grieving, and start healing, as she had that day in the woods. When you needed hope again.

Still, she wasn’t ready to give up on this bird. Because somehow, she knew what it would mean to Colin to see it fly again, to watch it soar above the treetops as it was meant to do.

A half-hour later she exited off Route 78 into Bethlehem. Pulling into her mother’s driveway, she saw that her mother’s car was running and there was a suitcase in the backseat. Then the front door flew open and out she came, followed by a short man with thinning brown hair and a big smile, just as she’d pictured him.

Artie gave her a big hug. “Your mother’s a great lady. I’ll take good care of her. Now, I’m off to see the grandkids.”

Lucy was stunned then when her mother looked at her and her eyes filled with tears. Then she pulled Lucy into a tight embrace—they were not huggers, so this should have been a red flag—but Lucy squeezed back.

“I’ve got a fresh pot of coffee brewing,” her mother said as they went inside.

Lucy got the cups while her mother lit a cigarette. Her mother poured, then sat across from her.

“I talked to David last week. He told me everything.”

Lucy’s stomach seized. Then she reached for a cigarette and lit it.

“I called the house, worried. I knew something was going on. Jesus, Lucy, why do you always have to hold everything in? Just like—”

“I know, just like my father.”

Not sixty seconds had gone by and already the old patterns were back in play.

Lucy stood up. “You know what? How about I get settled and we talk about this a little later, okay? I’m really tired from the drive.”

Her mother watched Oprah as Lucy unpacked, and from the spare room she could hear Oprah’s guest spilling her guts and tears about being obese all her life, while Oprah kept asking,
What is it you’re really hungry for?

A few minutes later, Lucy was surprised when her mother poked her head in.

“Why don’t you take a nap and then we go out for a nice dinner?”

“Okay, Mom, that would be nice.”

“I don’t mind missing my Bonco game tonight.”

“Well, why don’t we go out for lunch tomorrow instead?”

“I already told Lydia I probably wouldn’t be coming. I’m sure she doesn’t mind.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive, although her desserts are to die for.”

“Mom, you knew I was coming, why didn’t you tell her before?”

“Lucy, you’ve been telling me you’re coming for weeks now. How was I supposed to know if you really were this time?”

“I…I’m sorry.”

“And who’s been doing your hair?”

Her fingers automatically went to her head. “I have.”

Her mother shook her head. “You know better than that. You never cut your own hair, no matter how good you are.”

The day after Ben died, she’d cut her long blonde hair to within an inch of her scalp. She’d looked like a chemo patient, but she didn’t care. She just couldn’t bear to see herself looking so normal. David had never said a word. Her mother had just stared at her at the cemetery and Lucy knew what she’d been thinking, because she remembered the salon sagas of how women always took their frustrations out on their hair.

“Your layers are at an awkward stage,” her mother said softly.

“I don’t care if they’re awkward,” she said, making the decision just that moment. “I’m letting it grow.”

Her mother nodded and closed the door.

* * *

HANNAH BURST INTO THE STORE AFTER HER SHIFT AT ELAINE’S with a basket dangling from her hand. “Look, my first prototype,” she said, practically dancing as she held up her wares. “A Book Lover Basket, what do you think?”

Ruth examined the small picnic-type basket with a red paisley liner. Inside, artfully arranged, were a book, bookmark, muffins, gourmet tea bags, and a cut glass mug, all wrapped up with sparkling cellophane and a bright red ribbon.

“I love it!”

“Me too. And I’ve been reading up on business plans, Ruth, you know in that book that Hazel suggested?” They both laughed. “Anyway, I’m going to stop and see Lynn at the bank, and try to get a small business loan.”

Ruth couldn’t say anything about Lynn, who was still working, although Ruth was certain she wouldn’t be much longer.

“I saw these great bistro tables online, very country French, but not cheap,” Hannah went on.

“Well, don’t get too carried away. It may take a while until you’re in the black.”

“Eddie thinks I’m nuts. That there’s no way this is going to work.”

Ruth bit her tongue, then said, “Your gift baskets are brilliant.”

“I’m beyond excited, Ruth. And I’m going to make this work.”

Just then Megan came in for the evening shift, and she, too, loved the gift basket idea. Before Hannah left, they decided to coordinate the grand opening of Hazel’s Café with the anniversary celebration at the inaugural First Friday Walk. Both would be promoted during Applefest in October, which was downtown Warwick’s biggest event each year.

After Hannah left, Megan looked at Ruth. “The café was really a great idea of yours, by the way.”

“Thanks, Megan.” It was rare that Megan ever gave her a pat on the back. “By the way, I nearly forgot, whatever happened with all that stuff from Sandy’s grandmother and the age of the store?”

“Oh, right,” Megan said, opening a big Tupperware bowl to eat her dinner before Ruth left. “I did some research and came up with nothing.”

“Well, that’s too bad.”

“Mmm,” Megan said, digging into her salad, “have you tried that new farm stand out in Pine Island? It’s a little drive, but their organic produce is to die for.”

Ruth stared at the plump red tomato slices and famous Pine Island onions. How many days had she held herself back from taking that drive? Needing to know: Was he still there?

“You know, Megan, I think a big summer salad might be perfect for this Sunday’s brunch.”

Twenty minutes later Ruth was in her car, her heart pounding. There were only two gas stations in Pine Island that she could recall, so if Thomas was still there, he’d have to be at one or the other.