Читать книгу The Bookshop On The Corner - Rebecca Raisin - Страница 11

Chapter Two

“The Bookshop on the Corner.” I cradled the phone with my shoulder, and glanced at my watch. Almost time to head over to Missy for my appointment.

“Who am I speaking with please?” asked an elderly voice.

“This is Sarah. Can I help you with anything?”

“Sarah…” He spoke my name slowly as if he was trying to place who I was. “I’m Gerald. I herald from Chicago way.” Gerald’s voice was squirrelly with age, and tinged with something…sadness perhaps? “I have a business proposition for you, Sarah, if you have a moment to discuss it?”

Intrigued, I replied, “Sure, Gerald. Fire away.”

“I have a wonderful library full of books that I think you might be interested in. They’re special books, very special indeed…” It wasn’t unusual for me to receive calls from people wanting to sell their book collections because I advertised far and wide in an attempt to find stock, though lately I’d reined in my budget a little out of necessity.

“Any first editions?” I asked, thinking of my out-of-town clients who collected them.

“No, nothing like that. You see, these books are extraordinary, but maybe only to folk like you and me. Most of them are brown with age, and their covers are spider-webbed from use. But they tell a story, you see. They tell our story.” He paused as if weighing up where to begin.

“My wife, Gloria — Glorious Gloria, I called her — spent a lifetime acquiring this collection. Books written in various languages, books so old the pages are loose, but she loved them. The scruffier the book, the better.” His voice dropped to almost a whisper. “A lifetime, she sought out books to add to her shelves. Like some kind of mysterious algorithm, she chose books based on what? I never knew. There was no rhyme or reason. There are books about boat building, and gothic horror — they’re so varied, I sometimes wonder if even she knew why a certain book appealed to her. Sixty-five years spent on this hobby of hers. Finding bookshops that were tucked down narrow alleyways, or great big houses converted into a book lover’s paradise — I’ve seen them all.”

It sounded like bliss to me.

Gerald continued: “Do you believe in magic, Sarah?”

I replied instantly, “In the magic of books? Yes.”

“So did Gloria. If only I could explain how she looked when she found the book she would take home. Her eyes would light up, she’d speak in this beguiling hushed tone, her face full of wonder like a child on Christmas morning. It was like she was finding something priceless each and every time, yet to anyone else they would be nothing but a book destined for the penny bin out front of these small shops.”

It was as though I knew Gloria, understanding the happiness of stumbling across a book as though it were burnished gold. How lucky she’d been to find a man who was obviously besotted by her. But he spoke about Gloria in the past tense and tears pricked my eyes when I realized I’d never get to meet her, another person who lived to find lost and forgotten books and give them a new lease of life.

“I know exactly how she felt,” I said. “There’s a certain pull books have on a person if they listen hard enough.”

Gerald chuckled. “I have found the right place, then,” he said. “You know, Sarah, we visited The Bookshop on the Corner a long time ago. I wonder if you remember…”

Closing my eyes, I thought back for a moment. Surely a couple like that I would remember? I would have recognized a kindred spirit in Gloria. “When?” As soon as the word left my mouth, it came to me. It was winter, and snowing hard outside. The bookshop looked as romantic as ever that day; snow filled the squares of wood on the window pane outside. I had the fire in the reading room stoked up casting an orange hue in the small space. An elderly couple spilled through the door, laughing as they dusted snowflakes from their clothing. It was Gloria I pictured, wearing a cerulean-colored coat, vibrant, and chic. But there was something in her eyes that made her seem timeless, almost ageless.

“Do you recall us?” Gerald asked.

“Yes,” I said, smiling at the memory. “Gloria bought a sci-fi novel — something wacky. You stayed in the reading room sipping tea while we watched the snow fall through the windows and talked about books for hours.” How could I have forgotten them? They came in a few years back. Gloria had a quiet grace about her, but also a zany sense of humor that had me in fits of laughter. When they left, I remembered thinking I hoped I’d have a relationship like theirs one day. They just seemed to fit, perfectly, like two pieces of the same jigsaw.

“What happened to her?” I asked before it dawned on me I could have worded it better.

Gerald sighed, and took a moment before replying: “She passed on, Sarah. Not too long after we came into your bookshop. It was sudden. I woke up one morning, and she was gone. But you know what? She’d just that last night finished the book she was reading. And I think that was a sign especially for me — that she knew what was coming somehow and it was OK. God chose the right moment, at least, in that respect. She would have given Him hell if he’d taken her halfway through a book.” He laughed softly, but it sounded hollow.

“Which book was she reading?” I wanted to read that book, and wonder what she might have thought about that last night when she went to sleep.

“It was The Notebook, by Nicholas Sparks…” Gerald sniffed, and I gripped the phone tighter, hoping he wouldn’t end the call just yet. I wanted to hear more of their story. “You know, I read the book afterwards,” he said, “and it seemed fitting. Right, somehow. I’ve never told anyone this, but sometimes I read passages from The Notebook aloud, pretending she’s there, and is listening, with that glorious Gloria smile on her face. It makes me feel close to her. As though she’s just stepped into the other room for a minute…” His voice trailed off, and it took all my might not to cry down the phone. They’d exuded this radiance, and that kind of shine only came from real, once-in-a-lifetime love.

“I’m so sorry, Gerald. I can only imagine…” Anything I could say would only seem trite in such circumstances, but I tried desperately to think of something to say that would comfort him.

“It’s OK, Sarah. I’m doing better. I know we’ll meet again, so I live for that. I live for her, because it’s what she would want. But it’s time for me to move now. There’s too many memories in this big old house, and I’m too old to be tending gardens, and wandering around waiting for her to come back. Which brings me to the books. I want you to have them. I know they aren’t worth anything money-wise, and even if they were, it’s not about that. I want them to go to someone who understands their value, albeit sentimental.”

I exhaled quietly, trying to keep my emotions at bay. “Are you sure? There’s no way you can take them where you’re going?”

“I’m sure. I’ll keep a few that hold an extra-special memory, but the rest, I would like to ship to you, if you’ll have them.”

Light spilled into the small hallway from the reading room off to the side of the shop. It was a small room with a few high-back chairs that had seen better days, a fireplace and bookshelves around three of the walls. It was a space for customers to read when it was cold, and a room the local book club used for their monthly meetings.

“Gerald, I’d be honored to have them. But I won’t sell them. I’d like to put them in the reading room, the room you used when you visited, and then they can be enjoyed the way they’re meant to be.”

Gerald didn’t speak immediately. I sensed he was crying, and trying to quell the tears before responding. I pictured Gloria’s books arranged along the shelves in the reading room, including the one she bought here all those years ago. They’d have another life, those books, and Gerald could move along with his.

“Thank you, my dear. From the bottom of my heart. Gloria rhapsodized about you and your bookshop all the time. You’ve made an old man very happy.”

“I hope you find comfort in your new place, Gerald. And if you’re ever in town, come by and say hello.”

We finished the call; when I hung up I let the tears flow. And I knew right then, that was what I was missing in my life…a love affair like theirs. I wanted someone who knew books were more than just words on paper. Someone who understood my introspective nature and didn’t try to change me. I dabbed at my eyes with a tissue, ruminating about the fact that there was no one like that in Ashford. I could see the type of man I wanted: quiet, bookish, and introverted, someone who wouldn’t make me feel that reading all day was weird. And someone who’d snuggle right up next to me and read too.

My last thought before heading to Missy’s was that I hoped Gerald would find his way without his glorious Gloria.

***

“Hey!” Missy said, snipping away at a manic pace on a client’s hair as I wandered into her salon. “Busy morning?” she asked, her voice as loud as her clothing.

“I wish,” I said and sat heavily on the pink sofa. The bookshop figures had been dwindling each week. I had my out-of-town clients who sought hard-to-find books, and without them the bookshop wouldn’t survive, but worryingly they weren’t ordering as much these days either. My walk-in traffic had increased over the chocolate festival but not enough to stop the worry that seemed to plague me.

I rested my head against the back of the sofa, recalling the conversation with Gerald. “I had a lovely gentleman call and offer me his wife’s book collection for my reading room. She’s passed on…” My voice broke as I thought of Gloria.

Missy eyed me for a moment and said softly, “Must be a mighty fine collection all right — only the best go into that room.”

The reading room was my own personal library. It was filled with books that meant something to me, or that had changed the way I viewed the world. Anyone could sit in there and read, but the books weren’t for sale. Now, though, I’d take those volumes home and Gloria’s books would take pride of place.

“Yes,” I said. “It’s time for a shake-up. I thought I might rearrange the shop, maybe organize a weekend away or something. I just feel like…change.”

Missy arched an eyebrow, and stopped her furious scissoring. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Did you just say you’d rearrange the shop?”

“I did.”

“And the C word? Change? What’s brought this on? I know you, and change isn’t in your vocabulary.”

I laughed at Missy’s reaction. Change was so alien to me, it was almost another language. I was a staunch fan of the ‘if it’s not broke — don’t fix it’ mentality. Missy ran her hands through her client’s hair, fluffing it up. “I’ll just blow-dry Lettie’s hair, and then we can have a proper girl chat — what do you say?”

Lettie piped up, “Don’t mind me, gals. I’m enjoying this.”

Missy threw her head back and hooted. “I’m sure you are, Miss Lettie. Shame I’m about to drown out any conversation with this little beauty.” She winked at me and pulled out a hairdryer. The whooshing sound prevented us from talking, so I walked out back and made a pot of tea. When I returned Lettie was gone and Missy was sweeping up piles of golden-blond hair from around the chair.

She rested the broom against the mirror and said, “What’s this really about?”

I poured tea in two dainty but mismatched cups, and handed one to Missy.

“The gentleman who called told me the most incredible story about his wife, and their relationship…and seeing Lil and Damon every morning, kissing like their life depends upon it, I just feel a little lost. Dormant. Maybe nothing happens to me because I don’t try hard enough.” The words fell from my lips before I could edit them.

Missy clucked her tongue. “Oh, Sarah, you don’t need to try. You’re perfect just the way you are, and the quicker you see that, the better.” She sashayed over to me and joined me on the sofa. “I think broadening your horizons is a great idea but don’t go changing who you are.”

“I won’t,” I promised. “It’s time for this little bookworm to scramble from the pages for a few days, at least.”

Missy leaned in to hug me. “Who knows? Maybe you won’t need to. Maybe change will blow in on the wind under the guise of a six-foot-tall, dark, and handsome stranger.”

“You romantic, you,” I said, and rested my head on her shoulder.

***

Later that day, I was finishing an order for a client who collected old comics, when Mary-Rose, a regular, walked in. She worked down the street a way, selling aromatic candles, and beautiful bath products.

“You literally smell like peaches, Mary-Rose,” I said.

“I’ve just made a batch of peaches and cream bath bombs. The whole shop smells divine!”

Mary-Rose made everything from scratch using natural products; often the scent would meld its way down the street, having us scurry up to see what concoction she’d made this time. “I’m still in love with the marshmallow bath bombs. They make my whole house smell gorgeous for days after. You’re an alchemist.”

Mary-Rose grinned. “That’s what I keep telling Paul, but will he listen? No!”

Paul was Mary-Rose’s husband, who originally told her it was preposterous opening up a bath shop in Ashford. That she’d go broke before the first week was out. But she hadn’t. It seemed the townsfolk of Ashford adored her products, and what girl didn’t like smelling as if she’d just bathed in a tub of peaches?

“Paul will work it out eventually, once you’re sunning yourself in Spain, a holiday paid with the profits!”

“Wouldn’t that be something?” she said longingly before shaking her head. “Must not think of Spain. I’ll get the worst hankering for tapas and I’m not likely to find them around here, unless I get Lil to expressly cater them for me. Now, I’m looking for a book.”

“What kind of book?” I moved around the counter.

Mary-Rose scratched her chin. “It’s got a red cover.”

I tried to keep the grin off my face. “A red cover, right. Do you know the title?”

“Hmm, no.”

“The author? Or genre?”

Mary-Rose crossed her arms, and gazed around the shop. “Well, no…I think it might be classed as romance, but it could also be family saga.”

It never ceased to amaze me when customers enquired about a book they wanted purely based on the color of the cover. As though there were only a few books in all the world with a red cover, and it was just a matter of narrowing it down.

“Family saga, well, let’s start there,” I said. “Come down the back, Mary-Rose. I think I have just the book you’re after.”

I’m sure the books rustled in anticipation, and somehow we found the mysterious red-covered volume Mary-Rose was searching for. That was the inexplicable magic books held over us mere mortals.

***

After a long night at the kitchen table poring over the paperwork for the bookshop, I’d eventually given up, and gone to bed with a regency romance. Debonair heroes were just what the doctor ordered, and I’d ended up finishing the book just as midnight struck.

I’d fallen into a restless sleep, dreaming about my life and how to make the bookshop a little more successful. Words flashed through my mind, until I plucked a couple from my dream. Book blogging. It couldn’t hurt to start a blog, discussing my love of books, and what the bookshop had in stock. Maybe I’d review books as I read them. Start discussions on the latest trends, including the popularity of the eBook. I knew there were a lot of books being published that were only in digital format, and, being a voracious reader, I didn’t want to miss out purely because they weren’t in paper form. Either way, a daily blog post could only help the bookshop, and who knew what might come of it? Energized, I got up in the pre-dawn darkness and dressed for another day at the bookshop.

***

“Book blogging?” Missy cried. “That’s about the greatest thing I’ve ever heard of! I follow a bunch of lifestyle blogs, and they’re great! I can’t believe we haven’t thought of this before.” Her forehead furrowed. “At any rate, it’s not too late. And, you know, you can have a link to your online store too.”

I’d been waiting all morning for Missy to arrive to tell her my plans. “Right, well, today The Bookshop on the Corner blog will be born!”

Missy sipped her coffee and then said, “The possibilities are endless. You can do a monthly book club, or monthly discounts, book bundles, all sorts of things…”

I inched forward on the high-back chair in the reading room. “Guest authors, interviews, I’m in heaven just considering it.”

Missy stood, and kissed my cheek. “Let me know when it’s up, sugar, and I’ll send it out to my veritable treasure trove of online friends.”