Chapter Forty-Three
Forty-Three
Monday was slow at the bookshop. Outside, rain fell in dense needles, and the sky turned dark. Land’s End hadn’t seen a customer in hours. Mia paced in front of the windows, headphones on. And Shelby, standing at the counter with her laptop, typed the words The End —her favorite in the English language. At least, today they were.
She’d finished her first draft of Bookshop Beach .
Closing her laptop, she exhaled. Writing a novel was usually a marathon; this one had been a sprint. And it was challenging to write about Emily’s illness without losing the upbeat tone of the book, but she felt that storyline was balanced out by the frenemies-to-lovers plot. And in the end, everyone got their happy ending: Emily’s health stabilized and she had her bookshop. Jackson lost his shop but got something more important: the first genuine relationship of his life. Shelby felt, in many ways, it was a better book than her debut; Emily was a more sympathetic heroine, and the love story was more dramatic than the friendship arc in Secrets of Summer .
She wondered if she should reread the whole thing before sending it to Claudia, and decided not to. She was sure Claudia would have notes, as she had for Secrets of Summer , and Shelby would comb through the manuscript again when she got it back from her. There was no reason to stall. She sent the email with a little tremor in her gut. The feeling, like the last time she’d handed in a book, was exhilarating and terrifying. And it felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
She looked up to see Mia sorting through the window display. Shelby was waiting for the right time to bring up her reading problem, feeling a lot of responsibility to get it right. With the store so dead and near closing time, it was as good a time as any.
“How’s it going over there?” she called out. Mia didn’t hear her. Shelby walked out from behind the counter and waved to get her attention. Mia pulled off her headphones. “Hey. You can go home. I’m going to close early.” A clap of thunder made her jump.
“Home is the last place I want to be,” Mia said, pulling the hood of her sweatshirt over her head.
“Okay,” Shelby said, taking a breath. “Well, since we’re here, I’ve been thinking a lot about what you told me—about the reading. I really appreciate that you confided in me. And if keeping it just between us was the best thing for you, I’d have no problem doing it. But I know it’s not the right thing to do.”
Mia’s eyes widened. “You can’t say anything. You promised!”
“Okay, okay, I won’t,” Shelby said, trying to walk it back a little. “But you should. Talk to your mother. Or even your brother. They can help you, and at the very least, they’ll understand why you’re avoiding college applications.”
Mia shook her head. “You’re wrong. They won’t understand.” Her eyes filled with tears. Shelby moved closer and put her arm around her.
“Sometimes, it’s hard to have perspective when it’s your own parents. But I know Carmen. All she wants is for you to be okay.”
She was clearly unconvinced. “No—all she wants is for me to go to college. It’s bad enough that I’m letting her down. I don’t want her to freak out about the reading on top of it.”
“I think you’re underestimating her,” Shelby said gently.
Mia shook her head vehemently, crossed her arms, shrank away from her. Shelby wanted to stop pushing, but knew she had to be the adult in the room.
“You can’t hide this forever, Mia. It’s going to catch up with you. It has caught up with you.”
Mia pulled on the drawstrings of her hood. “No. It hasn’t. I’ve been working here all summer and you never would have known if I hadn’t told you. Just forget I said anything.”
“I can’t, Mia. One summer in a bookstore doesn’t mean you have the tools you need to get through the rest of your life. That’s why I need to tell you this. Whether you want to hear it or not.” Her phone sounded with a shrill alarm. She glanced down: there was a flood alert.
“Saved by the bell,” Mia said dully. The rain pelted the windows so hard it sounded like ice. They could no longer see across the street to the restaurant.
“I’m going to check that the back door is closed tight,” she said, heading to the rear of the store. Before she reached it, her feet were soaked. “What the hell?”
Water was pouring inside like a scene out of Titanic .
“Mia!” she called out.
The books in the storage room were no doubt a lost cause. But they could start moving books off of low shelves and onto tabletops.
“This is bad,” Mia said, standing behind her, but avoiding water line.
“Let’s go—the hardcover shelves first.” They rushed to the front of the store and started pulling books into their arms.
“We need help,” Mia said. “I’ll call Justin.”
“No!” Shelby said sharply. “I mean, we’ve got this.”
But Mia was right—they needed extra hands. She could call Doug, but she didn’t want to leave Colleen alone in the storm. She was sure he wouldn’t want to, either. Maybe Hunter? They hadn’t spoken since their argument at the baby shower. Duke? Anders. She’d call Anders.
He didn’t pick up the phone. She didn’t bother sending a text. It was fine—she and Mia would manage.
Something loud crashed to the sidewalk outside the store.
“We don’t have this,” Mia said, pulling out her phone. “I’m calling my brother.”
Justin adjusted his windshield wipers and plugged his phone into the charger. He pulled a flashlight from the glove compartment, and then texted his father to see if he needed help securing the restaurant.
He’d been tracking the storm since Sunday morning. It was going to be a southeaster, unlike recent storms that had pushed from the north to the west and built up around the breakwater. This one was going to hit different. How different—and how hard—they just didn’t know. Last December, a storm had flooded dozens of basements and Bradford Street with three feet of water. It was the price of living at the water’s edge. And for decades and decades, the trade-off for living among such natural beauty was well worth the risk of a storm every now and then. But the increase in storms, and the dramatic severity of storms, was changing the risk-reward calculation.
He thought about the havoc this storm was wreaking on the marshes, the tidal flats, the estuaries. It was going to be a long week.
He made his way down Route 6, traffic at a crawl. The rain picked up, reducing visibility. The headlights only seemed to make things worse.
His phone rang with a call from Mia.
“You okay?” he said.
“I’m fine, but Land’s End is flooding. We need help saving some of these books.”
His wipers flipped uselessly. He tried turning his headlights off, then on again. A text came in from his father: they wanted Mia to meet them at the restaurant, but she wasn’t picking up her phone.
“Okay listen, Dad’s trying to reach you. Go the restaurant right now, and I’ll be at Land’s End to help Shelby in a few minutes.”
Mia protested, but he said if she didn’t listen to their parents then he wasn’t going to go to Land’s End. Thankfully, she didn’t call his bluff.
She agreed to go to the restaurant. He headed for the bookshop.