Ella's Autumn at the Enchanted Bookshop

1. A Birthday Book

A Birthday Book

Ilogged into my college dashboard on my laptop, my heart beating like a hummingbird’s wings as I waited for it to load. Birds chirped in the trees around me as a pleasant breeze blew through their branches, making them whisper as though to remind the residents of Buchkarte that autumn had arrived.

But at that moment, I wasn’t interested in autumn’s arrival. I was just trying to see my semester grade.

“Please be good! Please be good!” I whispered, as though I were the only one on my community college campus and not surrounded by people making their way to and from class. But when the numbers finally appeared on the screen, my heart plummeted into my stomach.

I’d gotten a B. Not an almost-there high B. Not even a middle-of-the-eighties B. But a low B. An above-passing-but-barely B.

My phone buzzed, and I answered without glancing at the screen. “Hello?”

“Well,” my cousin chirped, “I was going to wish you a happy birthday. But I can tell something’s wrong. What is it?”

“Hi, Amanda.” I closed my laptop and put it in my backpack before zipping it up and starting toward home. “I got a B in Business 101.”

“So? Isn’t a B above average?”

“What’s wrong is that I could have done better. Easily. But Casey kept me busy all of finals week running a camp that she was supposed to run.”

“Did you tell her it was your finals week?” my cousin pressed.

“I did. But she didn’t care.” I kicked a rock with my boot as I walked.

Usually, I enjoyed the wooded trail that led from the campus to the main street of Buchkarte.

It was almost like taking a short hike surrounded by pine trees and tiny woodland creatures that liked to beg for Cheetos.

But today, I just wanted my walk of shame to end.

Amanda huffed. “Ella, we’ve been through this a million times.” And then, as I’d known she would, she launched into her usual guilt trip, reminding me that if I just ignored my stepmother’s ridiculous commands, she would make my stepsister do it instead.

Amanda meant well. But she didn’t know Casey the way I did. For one, she seemed to think that Casey actually cared about the horses that lived on my parents’ ranch.

Casey did not care about the horses. Casey didn’t even like horses.

Two, Casey hardly ever made Harper do anything.

“Only because it’s your birthday and because I need to head home will I go easy on you this time,” Amanda finally said after pausing for breath.

I gave my phone a wry grin. “You’re too kind.”

“Shut up. Look, I want to take you out tonight. There’s a new restaurant that just opened up on Main. And also, I know that tyrant of yours isn’t going to do anything to celebrate.”

A fierce longing welled up within me. After the rotten day I’d just had, I needed a night out with my cousin.

But then reality came crashing down, and I sighed.

“I wish I could. But tonight’s the last night of the seniors’ riding camp, and Casey should be just getting back from her business trip.

She won’t want to run it on her own after I’ve run it all week. ”

“Well, if you’re going to be that way, then fine. Do your stepmother’s stupid camp tonight. But we are going out sometime. I’m holding you to it.”

I smiled in spite of myself. “Definitely. Thanks, Amanda. You’re the best.”

After hanging up, however, the desire to celebrate my birthday in some capacity tugged at my heart.

And while I did have to be back at the ranch for the riding camp I was coaching by six…

there was time to swing by my favorite place on the way home.

I could celebrate my birthday in one way, at least.

The walk to the bookstore was a pleasant one.

Then again, almost all of Buchkarte’s walks were enjoyable.

The town was large enough to have a little of everything, but small enough that I knew many of the residents and could walk its diameter in under an hour.

There wasn’t much space for the town to grow any more in that section of the Colorado mountains.

Which meant real estate was expensive, and competition for outsiders who wanted to move in was steep.

But then again, anyone who had ever visited could see why.

The streets were clean and cheerful. The town’s welcoming committee always had banners and wreaths hung from all the light poles and other city decor for this holiday or that.

Heck, the town had its own holiday–Book Day–which took place once a season.

Was it random? Yes.

Was it started by the local bookstore owner? Also yes.

But everyone loved it. The tradition was that everyone bought a new book that day, whether new from the bookstore or used from a friend or second-hand store and then read it while eating cake.

Why cake? I hadn’t the slightest idea. But no one complained because who didn’t love books and cake?

Unfortunately, it was not Book Day. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t celebrate my birthday the way I wanted.

Taking a deep breath of the piney breeze, I watched as orange, red, yellow, and brown leaves floated past me down the street.

Several times people called out greetings as I walked, and I waved in response to this cafe manager or that shop owner.

That was one of the best parts of growing up in Buchkarte.

I knew almost everyone. And almost everyone knew me.

Unfortunately, however, that meant they also knew my family situation as well.

Still, I was determined not to think about all the work that was ready for me when I got home. Instead, I soaked in the deliciously cool breeze of the early autumn day, and a few minutes later, when I rounded the corner to the elm-lined street I loved so much, I was smiling once again.

And if I hadn’t been smiling already, the sight that was waiting for me would have done the trick.

The bookstore, Enchanted Endings, had once been a house.

It was Craftsman style with blue siding, white trim, and swirling gable decorations.

As she always did this time of year, its owner, Margaret, had several rocking chairs out on the raised porch, and they were surrounded by countless pumpkins of all colors and sizes, flameless candles, and the railings were wrapped with twinkling orange and white lights.

Several tiny bookshelves also sat on the porch behind the rocking chairs, where readers could lose themselves for a few hours at a time.

Halfway up the steps, I stopped and studied the porch, wondering how the shelves and the books inside them stayed so clean despite being outside in the wind all the time. As always, however, they were neither wet nor dirty, but perfectly pristine.

I walked inside and stopped in the center of the entrance, inhaling deeply and greedily drinking in the scents of paper, wood, cinnamon, and coffee.

The paper and wood smells, of course, came from the books, shelves, and floors, but the cinnamon and coffee scents emanated from the tiny little kitchen at the back of the shop where readers could order their favorite drinks and baked goods as they browsed.

Despite having grown up visiting this bookstore, it never ceased to amaze me how many books had been squeezed inside without making it feel cluttered or cramped.

The walls were covered with a wallpaper that featured massive flowers, making the books look somewhat as though they were hidden beneath a giant’s garden.

Several chairs and love seats were scattered about, and as the late afternoon light cast a perfect golden glow through the windows, the effect was magical.

“Hey, Ella!”

I turned to see Belle, the store’s only employee, standing behind the kitchen counter. She had removed a sheet of sugar cookies from the oven and was giving them a thorough inspection.

I smiled and went to join her. “Those smell delicious.”

“I hope so. I used the rest of the sugar on them.” Belle continued to study her creations. Then she smiled up at me. “Did you want to order something?”

“I think today I’m going to splurge and order my first iced pumpkin latte of the season,” I said, looking up at the little menu above the counter.

“Ooh, quite the splurge.” Belle grinned. “What’s the occasion?”

I gave her a somewhat embarrassed smile. “My birthday.”

Belle straightened. “Well, then, you won’t be splurging at all. It’s on the house.” And she turned and began gathering the ingredients to make my drink.

“You really don’t have to,” I added, but I was drowned out by the sound of the machine she was already mixing liquids in.

“Nope,” Belle said, shaking her head. “If Margaret finds out that I charged you for a drink on your birthday, I’ll be in trouble.”

“She’s right, you know,” called another voice. I turned to find a woman with snow white hair coming to stand beside me.

Margaret was slightly taller than me, and from what I had been told, she was even taller in her youth. And goodness, did she give the best hugs. But now she was frowning at me as though I’d done something wrong, tapping her glasses the way she always did when she was agitated.

“Belle,” she called to her employee as she studied me with a furrowed brow. “Get Ella’s cupcake from the fridge. I placed it there this morning.”

“I was wondering what that was for,” Belle laughed.

But I just blinked. “You… know my birthday?”

Margaret snorted and waved me off. “You’ve been in here on your birthday every year since you were three. Of course I know your birthday!” She pursed her lips. “I also happen to know that that stepmother of yours won’t bother to get you a cake.”

A few years ago, an announcement like this would have embarrassed and bothered me to no end. But the town knew who and what my stepmother was, and I’d eventually realized that the sooner I acknowledged that truth, the better off I would be.

“Well, then,” I said, smiling as Belle handed me my drink and cupcake, “since I was gifted the drink and cake, I shall buy myself a birthday book as well!”