A Chapter on Love Read online

  Last summer, a not-so-blind blind item about a certain flower shop in town was mentioned in Betty’s column. The owner was described as a know-it-all who liked to boss her customers around rather than give them good service. Tricia’s experience reminded Jannika to try to stay on Betty’s good side, or she would have to spend her time fixing the damage Betty did with her column instead of selling books.

  “We used to read that in school. I haven’t read it for ages. A short story. Hmm, I’m not sure, but we’ll try it. So, what do you think of my decorating ideas? I think the other gals will love it.” Betty clapped her hands.

  “Betty, my only concern is the other book groups. What if they want different themes?”

  “Like what? It’s October, it’s fall, it’s Halloween. Who could have a problem with that? Who do you think might have a problem with that, Jannika?” Betty placed a hand on her polyestered hip.

  “I don’t think anyone will have a problem Betty, and I love your theme, but I am thinking about the Purple Tent Book Group. One of the members doesn’t celebrate holidays, and I know how sensitive you are, and you wouldn’t want to—”

  “Me? I’m not sensitive. I think all you young people are too sensitive. They’re Halloween decorations, Jannika, and our ladies will love it. It’ll bring back memories, make them feel young. Maybe we’ll dress up. Oh, wait until I tell Mildred! We’re going to dress up and make our own trick-or-treat goodies for the night.” Betty turned to leave. “It’s all set. It’s all planned. Thanks for your help. We’ll see you the last Friday of the month as usual.” She put down her bags of decorations. “I’ll leave these here and be over a few days before to decorate. Oh, it’s going to be a hoot. I’ll tell the girls to pick up the story here. Oh, and Jannika, don’t think I didn’t see that article about you in the Concord Monitor last week. But we’ll talk about that later.” Betty waved a hand over her lilac shoulder on her way out.

  Jannika’s stomach did a flip as she grabbed the door on its return and opened for business. Managing Betty Busby was always more labor intensive than she anticipated. She was happy Betty didn’t want to decorate today. There were four people waiting for Jannika to open, and one of them was an artsy looking young woman with short, messy-in-that-cool-way blond hair, carrying a good-sized box of books.

  Jannika had a love/hate relationship with boxes of used books. Along with moldy and dirty books, she had found a cat turd, a handmade icon of a saint, a half bottle of perfume, melted candles, and a filthy baby shoe among other non-book items. She could usually tell at first glance if she needed the box of vinyl gloves behind her desk. After a few months at The Pageturner, she began to take photos of her book box goodies. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do with the photos, but collecting them took her mind off the ick factor.

  “Put these here on the desk and let’s have a look.”

  “My grandmother passed away and I didn’t want to throw these out. You can have them. I don’t want store credit or anything. She used to read to me each time when I visited.” The woman stroked the spines of the books with long fingers fitted with multiple silver rings.

  In Jannika’s mind an intimacy existed between most people and their books. She stepped with care into the space of the relationship of book and person. She thought it was like trying to put your hand through a bubble and not have it burst, but have the bubble absorb you into itself, making you part of the relationship. She could tell who wasn’t quite ready, and would try to persuade them to take at least some of the books and wait a while if possible. She also could tell who was ready or needed to part with their books. But she couldn’t grab the box from them. To her that would be ripping a loved one from the arms of another.

  “Are there any special books? One or two you might like to keep?” Jannika asked.

  “No. I don’t know. Maybe?” The woman shrugged and touched the books again. “Maybe this one,” she said, pulling out a book with a slightly worn cover, its dust jacket long gone.

  “Ahh.” Jannika smiled. “The Wind in the Willows.”

  The young woman looked up at Jannika. She had very blue eyes.

  “Yes. Thank you so much for encouraging me to look them over again. I’ll keep this one. I’m Amy, by the way.” She extended her hand.

  “You’re very welcome.” She shook Amy’s hand. “I’m Jannika.”

  Jannika put the box of books on the floor behind her desk.

  “Hey, Nick.” Marcy, Jannika’s best friend, came into the store with a paper coffee cup in each hand. “Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.” Marcy put both cups on the desk and cracked open the plastic lids.

  Amy looked over at Marcy. Jannika watched Marcy dive right into Amy’s ocean blue eyes.

  Marcy extended her hand. “Uh…I’m Marcy. I stop by whenever I’m around to fortify Jannika with some caffeine. In the form of tea of course. I like to think I’m doing my bit to support local bookstores by keeping Jannika functioning. Looking at books all day would make my head spin.”

  Jannika watched her normally smooth-talking friend stumble over her words.

  “I’m Amy. Nice to meet you.”

  Marcy kept holding Amy’s hand.

  “Those are some interesting rings.”

  “I have a friend who makes jewelry and she loves to try out designs on me.”

  Marcy and Amy relinquished their hands in slow motion. This was better than watching a rom-com.

  “Could I find your friend’s work around here?” Marcy took a step closer to Amy.

  “She has a studio in the White Mountains in a little village. You’ve probably never heard of it. Tassy Brook, over by Littleton?”

  “I know Tassy Brook. My family has a camp about fifteen minutes from there.”

  Jannika watched this exchange with keen interest. Marcy usually kept a careful distance from anyone local, for fear her mother or father might catch wind of the fact their daughter was a lesbian.

  Jannika saw a customer near the home improvement books who seemed to be looking at the front of the store, seeking assistance.

  “I’ll be right back,” Jannika said.

  Marcy and Amy didn’t so much as glance her way. Jannika thought she could have jumped up on the desk and danced, and they wouldn’t turn their heads. The customer waited at the end of an aisle with a book in each hand.

  “Hi there. How can I help you?” asked Jannika.

  “Which one of these is better?” the older man asked. “Nona, my wife, wants a book on greenhouses. Do you know anything about greenhouses?”

  “Why don’t we bring them over here to the table and take a look,” Jannika said. She led the way to a table by a window and moved a chair out of the way. “Does your wife like to garden?”

  “She used to be out in the garden, but ever since she retired, all she thinks about spring, summer, fall, and winter is what she’s gonna buy from the nursery and where she’s gonna put it in the yard. Now she wants to grow her own and wants to draw up some kinda greenhouse for me to build her this winter.” He hitched his pants an inch or two up his big belly.

  “This one. I think she’ll like this one,” Jannika said. She pointed to How to Design and Build Your Garden Greenhouse. “Is there anything else I can help you find?”

  “How much is it?”

  Jannika looked inside the cover where she or the manager before her had penciled in a price in the upper right corner. “Twelve dollars.”

  “I noticed you could use yourself some shelves in the back there. I’d be happy to make you some. Maybe for some book credits for Nona. She’s the book person in the family. Name’s Tommy.” He put out his hand for Jannika. “I did some work for your boss on his house a few years back, and I’ve got some nice wood. Take me, I don’t know, a day or less to get some shelving in there.”

  They did indeed need the shelves. “Sure thing, Tommy.” Jannika handed Tommy the book.

  “I can come the end of the week.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”
<
br />   Jannika liked to barter for services she or the store used. Her boss encouraged her to do this, as long as the bartering didn’t go over a hundred in sales. He considered it her monthly bonus and thought it was good community relations. She traded mystery novels for fresh eggs, and Clive Cussler books for syrup. Jannika had never met Tommy’s wife. Tommy came by often to pick up books Jannika picked out for her, but he never said why she didn’t come to the store herself. She must be able to get around if she gardened, Jannika thought. Maybe she was claustrophobic or allergic to dust.

  She often made up stories about her customers’ lives. Aunt Gunnie would take her to the library when she was a little girl. When they got home, they would have rosenmunnar cookies and make up stories about the people they had seen. Aunt Gunnie would tell Jannika she was her little rosenmunnar, her little red mouth, and would playfully scold her for licking the jam out of the middle of each Swedish thumbprint cookie before she ate it.

  Jannika wanted to give Amy one last chance to accept an offer for her grandmother’s books.

  “Well, Amy,” Jannika said, putting her hands on the box of books, “are you sure you don’t want a store credit or cash for these?”

  “I don’t want anything. I just didn’t want to throw them away.” Amy’s voice trailed off. She glanced over her shoulder at Marcy, who—Jannika knew—only pretended to look through the free books bin over by the door.

  “Thanks. These are great books. Here you go.” Jannika handed Amy her grandmother’s copy of The Wind in the Willows. “Don’t forget your book.”

  “Oh, right, thanks. It was nice meeting you. I know my grandmother’s books are in good hands.” Amy again glanced back, no doubt searching for Marcy. “Thanks again.” Amy walked toward the door.

  A blur in the shape of Marcy flew past Jannika’s desk and caught up with Amy before she left the store. Jannika watched her friend as she stacked books on her desk.

  “Hey you,” Marcy said. She touched Amy ever so lightly on the elbow. “See you next week? You have my number?”

  “I can’t wait.”

  “I can’t wait either.”

  Amy left the store and Marcy rushed over to Jannika.

  “What did I just do, jeez.” Marcy slapped the palm of her hand against her forehead.

  “What did you just do?” Jannika pretended to brush something off her shoulders. “Brushing off wayward sparks.” She smiled. “Sarah comes in at ten today. She’ll be here any minute. Let’s go get brunch at the Over Easy. You owe me some in-person condolences after my disaster last night with Blind Date Brenda.”

  Chapter Three

  The little brass bells on the bookstore door tinkled, and tinkled again. The door opened halfway, then shut, then opened again. Jannika watched long blond hair fly into, then out of the doorway. She rushed over to help with the door. Her one and only employee had her hands full of tote bags filled with…something.

  “Oh gosh, goodness,” Sarah struggled to catch her breath. “The universe wasn’t cooperating today. I think Mercury is in retrograde. First my car wouldn’t start—my neighbor had to come over and jump it—then the gas pump was out of order, then I couldn’t find a parking space. I even invoked my parking angel. Nothing. And I bought these for the store.”

  Sarah dropped the bags. She reached into one and pulled out a small, perfectly round pumpkin and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

  “Aren’t they nice? Very womanly. I thought you’d like them, Jannika.”

  Jannika smiled and caught Marcy’s eye. Sarah was forever finding womanly or femme-centric things to bring to the store.

  “Thanks, that was very thoughtful.” She helped Sarah pull pumpkins out of the bags. “Can I leave you with the store for an hour or so? Marcy and I thought we’d grab some brunch.”

  “Oh, for sure. But don’t touch anything mechanical. It’s not the day for mechanical things, trust me.” Sarah frowned and shook her head at them.

  “Not to worry Serenity…sorry, darn, Sarah, I mean,” said Marcy.

  “That’s okay, Marcy, but I’m trying to distance myself from my old name. You remember my parents. They mean well and everything, but growing up with that name was no party. Every time someone calls me by the name my parents gave me, it makes it harder for the universe to take my old name back. My old name gets held here in space and time—you know what I mean?”

  Sarah outlined an invisible box with her hands.

  “Okay, Sarah. I promise I’ll try to remember,” Marcy said.

  “I know you were my babysitter and everything, so I get you might hang on to my name longer, but I’d like to let it go.”

  “Totally get it, Sarah,” Marcy said.

  “Be back in about an hour.” Jannika slung her jacket over her shoulder.

  As soon as they stepped onto the sidewalk, Marcy slapped her thighs and stomped one foot. “Damn, Jannika. What am I going to do about Amy? Isn’t she gorgeous? Isn’t she wonderful? Did you see her eyes? Oh no, that’s a bad sign. Isn’t it?”

  “Whoa, my friend. Everything will be all right. Walk with me. Let’s go get some sustenance.”

  They walked on the uneven brick sidewalks past Bronislaw’s Bakery, Stone Bridge Jewelers, McCray’s Rare Books, and Tricia’s flower shop—Pusie’s Posies, before turning down a cobblestone alleyway to the riverfront restaurant. They’d missed the breakfast rush and were seated in a booth overlooking the river, but they weren’t here for the view this time.

  “Okay, Jannika. The date sounded bad, even for you, the queen of bad dates. Let’s talk about that first, then the Amy thing.”

  “She wore a Porky Pig jacket and thought I was staring at her boobs when I noticed Porky. She made some snarky comment and called me babe every other sentence.”

  “I know how much you love to be called babe, babe.” Marcy chuckled. “Sorry, did you leave after the third or fourth one?”

  “No, then we walked down to the antiques place, you know, the Quonset Hut place, and it was almost closing time. She made a big show of not wanting to leave and told me if we got locked in she could break us out because she’d done it before. I think she was trying to impress me, but no, just no. It was awful.”

  “Whoa, that’s kind of creepy,” Marcy said.

  “Kind of?”

  “Definitely creepy and definitely bossy. I know how you feel about bossy women. Two words. Origami class,” Marcy said.

  Jannika laughed and tossed a piece of her straw wrapper at Marcy.

  “You’re the one who got us in trouble,” she teased Marcy.

  “I don’t even remember what was so funny, do you? We kept laughing, and it sure as hell pissed off Miss…What did you call her?”

  “Miss Stay on Task. Ladies, you are not staying on task,” Jannika said with a nasal tone. “You snorted.”

  Their laughter was interrupted by a pale, very skinny, very young waitress. Her staff T-shirt with the words Over Easy and a picture of a giant fried egg hung off her in folds. She took their order of two breakfast sandwiches, coffee for Marcy, and tea for Jannika.

  “I knew we’d be best friends that day,” Marcy said.

  “Me too,” Jannika said. “Thanks for trying to cheer me up. I know everyone wants me to get out there, but I hate it. As of last night, I’ve taken a no-more-blind-dates vow. And the cherry on last night’s sundae was the truck with Maine plates that drove right past me at the end of the date. I freaked out a little. Which is really dumb. There are hundreds of cars around with Maine plates. It was a bad date and the truck reminded me that I’m still alone over a year after the breakup.”

  “Crap, Nick, I’m sorry you had another bad one. Maybe not a vow, maybe a little break? I know that shit wears you out. I think you have some kind of beacon that attracts, shall I say…unusual women?”

  “Thanks, Marce. All I know is, I’m done for now. How about you tell me about what just happened at the store with the very fetching Amy while I eat my sandwich, I’m starving.”

&nb
sp; “Did you see her eyes?”

  “Yes, I saw her eyes, and I also noticed the way they looked at you. I felt the wave of heat across the room. What about your I never date local women rule.”

  “Exactly. Why did I even talk to her? I know I can’t go out with her. I’ve been this route before, dating a local. I’m not going to sneak around and pretend. I’m not going to ask her to do that either. I need to call her and say I got caught up in the moment. I forgotten I have a girlfriend or wife or something.”

  Marcy’s hands played with the straw in her glass of water, stretching the little ribbed bendable neck in and out like an accordion.

  “See this? This is my heart. I meet someone I like, who I think I want to get to know, and zip”—she squished the ribs of the straw back together—“my heart closes down because of the reality of my family. Who doesn’t know Barclay’s Burgers? They’re all over New England.”

  “Marce.” She reached across the table for Marcy’s hand. “How long will you keep doing this? I know you want to go out with Amy.” Jannika lowered her voice. “You’re my best friend. I love you. It hurts to see you always shutting down, turning away from love, from life. What can I do to help? I’ll do anything to support you.”

  “Jeez, Nick. Maybe it’s time for me to leave Grangeton and start a life somewhere else.” Marcy looked over Jannika’s shoulder at the river.

  “So you’re going to run away? From your family, your job, your friends, Amy—from your life? I know everyone knows your family, you’re Marcy Barclay of the Barclay’s Burgers chain. I can’t imagine how public your life feels anyway.”

  Marcy put her head in her hands.