Not Quite by the Book

Chapter Twenty-One

The following day, I sat beneath an oak tree on the gravel lane with my journal and cell phone, scribbling plans for my perfect version of Rini Reads and hoping my parents wouldn’t take offense at the changes I wanted to make. I hadn’t been able to sleep after Davis left the night before. I’d toiled with existential questions and dug deep into my heart. What did I want from my life? Where did I want to live? What did I want to do?

I’d discovered that I wanted to run a bookstore, but not Rini Reads. At least not as it currently existed. And I’d filled a notebook with ideas on how I could make it my perfect bookstore. I walked the lane with Emily’s words in my ears as lunch drew near. She thought the truth was rare, and therefore a delight to tell. I couldn’t disagree. Then I took a deep breath and made a very important phone call.

“Emma?” Mom answered on the first ring. “Are you okay? You don’t usually call until evening. Your father and I can be there in ninety minutes.”

I laughed. “I’m fine. I was just thinking of you and wanted to talk.” Because Cecily had been right. Some things were too important to wait for days to say. This wasn’t the 1850s, and I liked hearing my loved ones’ voices anytime I wanted. Like now.

“Oh, thank heavens. We’re doing well. Missing you and recalling vividly why we stopped spending so much time at the store. This is a lot of tough work. And I’m not going to lie, we think it’s kind of a drag.”

“Mom!” I gasped, then laughed. “What?”

“It’s true. Entrepreneurship is a young person’s game. These days we only like the parts where we get to talk to customers. It’s hard to believe how much we used to love it. Back when our lives were still ahead of us. Now our lives are right here. All around us. You and Annie, Jeffrey and the baby. Our book club and neighbors. It’s just not for us anymore.”

I let her words settle in, and I knew they were true. My parents were just as social and excitable as I was. They hated to miss out on anything, and while Rini Reads had once been their dream, dreams could change. Mine had. “That sounds perfectly reasonable.” And another weight lifted from my heart because it was clear to me now that my parents hadn’t been avoiding me or abandoning me. They’d been living their lives, believing the busyness of the store fulfilled me.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about things,” she said. “I realized that we haven’t asked you if you still love working here. You’re certainly incredible at it, but your dad and I have been talking, and we’ve made a lot of assumptions. I think we might’ve gotten a few things wrong.”

I sighed, leaning my back against the broad tree trunk and letting it bear my weight. “I do enjoy working there.”

“But?” Mom asked.

I bit my lip, warring internally with the truth and a lifelong desire to please her. If I said I wanted to change everything about the store, would she care? If I admitted how left out I’ve felt, would she understand? Would she feel responsible? I feared that more than anything, because I could finally see my life was the result of choices I’d made, not choices she’d made. I should’ve spoken up about all these things long ago.

“Emma?”

“I haven’t been happy,” I admitted. “Not for a long time.” My voice wobbled on the simple words.

“Oh, sweetie.” The concern in her tone ripped through me, and for a moment I wanted to take it back. “Why? What’s wrong? Has something happened?”

Emotion clogged my throat, and I forced it back, knowing this was the moment. I could speak the truth as Emily recommended, or I could continue allowing my bitterness to fester.

Fresh instinct kicked inside me, and I knew it wouldn’t be the latter. Not anymore, and hopefully never again, because I wasn’t the same woman who’d left Willow Bend. I had a clearer view of myself, my family, and my future now. I couldn’t go back to peering at life through a dirty window. I wouldn’t.

I started speaking and didn’t stop. The words rushed from my lips like water through a broken dam. “I love the store, but it became a burden when Annie got married and you and Dad stopped coming in as often. I felt intense, unfair pressure to work harder and make you proud, but I made myself miserable in the process.”

“Honey. I had no idea. You seemed so content, always busy. Why didn’t you ask for help?”

“I did.” I cleared my throat, needing to say something else I knew would hurt her. “I just didn’t know how to make you hear me.” I’d said the words a dozen times, even created graphics and spreadsheets to justify my need for help. I tracked the store’s sales volume and ever-rising demand, but when I directly requested a part-time employee or two, all my parents saw was how smoothly everything already ran.

I hadn’t pushed the matter. That was on me. But they hadn’t listened, and that was on them.

“I didn’t realize,” she said. “We didn’t know.”

“You knew,” I corrected softly. “You didn’t take the time to help me find a solution.”

“We knew you—” She stopped short of finishing her thought. “Oh, no.”

“Yeah.” I could hear the realization settle in. I swiped a tear from my cheek and kept going before I lost momentum. “Another thing that’s been killing me is how close you and Dad are to Annie and Jeffrey. I want that for you, but I want to be a part of our family, too, not just the one who runs the bookstore. I know I’m single. You’re two happy couples. I’m a fifth wheel, and maybe I won’t say yes to every invitation, but I want to be invited.”

Mom made a soft strangled sound, and my heart broke a little more. “I didn’t want to hurt you,” she said. “I know how much you want to find love, and I worried you’d be bored or sad listening to us talk about our trips and little dates. I’m so sorry. I should’ve known leaving you out wasn’t the answer.”

“You didn’t know because I never told you.”

“I’m your mother,” she said. “It’s my responsibility to make sure both of my daughters are valued and prioritized.”

I snorted an ugly little laugh. We really were the closest, most loving, but most dysfunctional family in all the land.

“I’ve been so clueless,” she said. “Your father and I are your parents. And your friends. There’s no reason you wouldn’t be just as interested in what we’re up to as Annie. You don’t need a spouse to want to hear what we’re doing. You’re on an Amherst adventure, which I can’t relate to at all, but I’m hooked on your evening calls. I carry my phone around every day at dinnertime, waiting for updates. I want to know everything you’re willing to tell me because I love you.”

Tears blurred my eyes as I absorbed her apology.

“I swear we’ve never meant to leave you out,” she said, more fervently. “And we spoke to Annie first about giving you the shop, because we wanted to let her down easy. Not that we thought she’d have an interest in owning it, but because she’d grown up there too. We didn’t want her to think we were playing favorites by choosing you over her to inherit something so essential to our family. For the record, she had no objections. More than that, I hate that we didn’t ask you if taking over was what you wanted. If it’s not, we can sell it, no hard feelings. We can use the proceeds to take a family cruise!”

I laughed. “No! Please don’t sell it. I’ve been thinking a lot about being a bookstore owner, and I’ve got an idea I’m excited about. I’ve even considered staying in Amherst to make it happen,” I admitted, “but only if that makes the most sense in the end. Not because I’m running away or upset with anyone back home.”

Mom was silent, probably stunned, possibly hurt, so I hurried to fill in the blanks.

“I want the store, but it was your first baby, and I don’t want to diminish that by making too many changes. If reimagining things makes either of you sad or uncomfortable, I’ll look for another space to lease, and we can totally take that cruise.”

“You want our store?” Mom asked, her voice soft and thick with emotion.

My throat tightened, and I knew it was true. I could set up shop anywhere and succeed, but deep down, I wanted to succeed with the store I’d grown up in. “Yes.”

“Ed, she wants the store.”

“Well, hot damn!” Dad bellowed in the background.

“Honey, we don’t care what you do with this place. We know whatever you do will be great. We’re just thrilled to see it stay in the family. It’s our legacy now.”

I wiped my eyes and smiled widely. “I think you’ll love what I have planned, but I want to work on the details before I share.”

“Of course.”

“Mom,” I said, a thousand emotions lightening my heart and head. “Thank you so much for supporting me so I could take this trip. I needed it more than I knew.”

She sighed, and I imagined her pressing a palm to her chest. “I love you so much, sweet girl.”

We spoke for a few more minutes before saying our goodbyes, and I slowly released ten years of tension.

I pulled my knees up to my chest and rested my notebook there. The more I thought about owning Rini Reads, and the changes I’d make, the more excited I became. Taking over for my parents no longer felt as if they were dumping their responsibilities on me. It felt like a gift I’d earned by proving I was the right person for the job. Their trust and faith were priceless, and I planned to make them proud.

A week ago—even twenty-four hours ago—I never would’ve imagined looking forward to returning to my life in Willow Bend. What a difference a day could make.

The phone rang as I scrolled through images of adorable dogs in reading glasses, and I stilled when Davis’s number appeared on the screen.

“Hey,” he said. “I wasn’t sure you’d answer.”

“Why not?” I looked toward the stone manor down the lane. No sounds of power tools or falling drywall met my ears.

“You’ve been hard at work for a while. I thought you’d have your ringer off.”

I dragged my gaze from window to window, wondering if he could see me from wherever he was now. “I just talked to my mom, so this is a good time. What’s up?”

“What were you working on?”

I turned back to my notebook, pleased with the progress. “I’m making plans for the bookstore.”

“Want to talk about them?” he asked. “I was just about to break for lunch, so I have some time,” he said.

I raised my eyes to the sound of his voice, now in stereo, both through the phone’s speaker and in the space to my left. I disconnected the call to watch him approach.

His navy T-shirt was untucked over his blue jeans, and he’d pinned his hair away from his face with a backward ball cap once more. He’d traded his tool belt for a thermal lunch tote, and I smiled at the perfect combination of my new favorite things.

“May I?” He motioned to the space beside me on the blanket he’d recently returned.

I scooted over to make more room.

Davis sat and placed the bag between us. “Not quite as cool as your hot chocolate charcuterie, but I’ve got soup and sandwiches.” He unpacked two croissants wrapped in parchment. Two small thermoses, presumably filled with soup. Utensils, bottled water, and napkins.

I set my books and phone aside and tried not to overthink the fact he’d gotten up this morning and packed a lunch clearly meant for two.

“Chicken salad,” he said, pointing to the sandwiches.

I selected a croissant and peeled away the wrapping.

Davis opened his thermos. “And potato soup.”

I smiled. “I love potato soup.”

He slid his eyes briefly in my direction. Whatever he was thinking, he kept it to himself.

“Do you always pack a lunch for two?” I asked, with hope plucking at my chest.

He wobbled his head a little as he wiped his mouth on a napkin. “I try to eat with Grace a couple of times a week, but she made other plans today.”

“Lucky me.” Grace was either my favorite person or a thorn in my side. I couldn’t decide which. I sank my teeth into the flaky croissant to redirect my thoughts and moaned in satisfaction.

“Good, right?”

“Amazing. Where’d you get all this?” I asked. The packaging gave nothing away.

“I bought the soup and croissants from a café in my neighborhood. The chicken salad is mine.”

I paused midchew. “What do you mean it’s yours? You already had it at home?”

Davis frowned. “No. I made it.”

“No. You didn’t.”

His grumpy face returned, and I fought the urge to laugh. “Are you suggesting men can’t cook, or are you only doubting my abilities?”

“I’m suggesting this sandwich came straight from heaven.”

His irritation eased, and a glint of pride shone in his eyes. “It’s one of my mom’s recipes, so you aren’t completely wrong.”

I reached for his hand, prepared to offer an understanding squeeze, then thought better of it and pulled away.

His gaze tracked my retreating hand, then moved to his thermos. He dunked a spoon into his soup without comment.

“I heard about your fight to save some historic properties near downtown,” I said, still dying to get the details. “Farmhouses and their barns.”

He nodded, a small smile pulling at his lips. “I won, and I’ve already gotten interest from Architectural Digest about this project.” He nodded toward Hearthstone Manor.

“You’re kidding!”

Davis shook his head, a slight blush on his cheeks. “I sent some in-progress photos with details about the home’s history and future. An editor called to ask about including this project with a few others in an issue leading up to the big winner’s announcement.”

I let my mouth and eyes open wide.

“I planned to woo you with a bottle of wine later. The magazine’s team wants to tour the place and take some professional shots. I told them I’d get back to them because I needed to check with the home’s tenant.”

“You name the time,” I said. “I’ll make myself scarce.”

He opened his lips, as if to say something, then went for the soup instead. A moment later, he caught my eye. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Tell me about the new plans for your store,” he said, turning the spotlight onto me.

For a moment, I considered dodging the question. My idea was still so new, it felt fragile. But this was Davis, and he’d grown up in a bookstore, just like me. He was the perfect person to brainstorm with. And I could use the input. So I let myself dive in.

“I think I need to pull everything out and start over,” I said, taking a little inspiration from his renovation of the manor.

His brows rose. “A total remodel.”

“Total,” I agreed. “I want to make the shop pet friendly. A place where people can bring their pets and hang out with a good book. And I’m going to get a dog. It can be the store’s mascot. Preferably an older dog who needs a home. Something docile and loving, like a retired greyhound. We have a rescue in town where I can volunteer when I get home. And there’s a dog park about a block away from the shop, so we’re in the perfect location. We already get lots of pet traffic on the street.”

I passed my notebook to Davis. “Here. I wrote a lot of the little details as they came to mind.”

He scanned my words while I kept going.

“I can offer a light beverages service for people and whipped-cream cups for pups. I’ll need to replace the floors to handle doggy toenails and inevitable messes. I’ll buy more comfortable seating and maybe a half dozen pet beds in various sizes. Water bowls for the entrance and a cookie jar of pet treats at checkout. Transitioning our stock will take a while longer, to diminish losses. But I think I can do it in under a year. I’ll strategically replace romance books as they sell with new releases in other genres. I want a good mix. There should also be sections dedicated to other categories like poetry, pet books, and local authors. Maybe even a tribute to Emily Dickinson somehow.”

Davis nodded thoughtfully, still turning the pages of my notes. He shared opinions and ideas, and asked insightful questions, like how I’d advertise, and if I’d considered hosting monthly visits with therapy dogs.

I pulled the notebook from his grip and added those questions along with a dozen other ideas as we finished our meal.

A familiar car turned onto the drive as Davis gathered his gear and our trash.

I stood to greet the now familiar delivery car as the driver shifted into park and climbed out with another bouquet. I accepted the flowers, then poked my nose into the buds for a deep inhale.

Davis stood, squinting against the afternoon sun as the car drove away.

“Thanks for sharing your lunch,” I said.

“Thanks for hanging out.”

We parted ways, and I searched the flowers for a card. Once again, Annie had skipped that part. This time, however, the blooms weren’t an apology. This bouquet held honeysuckle and daisies.

Davis’s gaze traveled from my wide smile to the bouquet in my arms, and he raised a questioning brow.

I pulled my blanket from the ground, not bothering to stop or explain.

Then I rushed back toward the manor, excited to decipher the new message.