Chapter 2 – Brinley
brINLEY
T he coffeemaker behind me beeps, telling me that it’s done brewing.
I take a long inhale, and I’m greeted by my favorite smell in the world—fresh coffee, paper books, and the faint pine-tinged scent of floor cleaner.
It’s the smell of the Copper Cup, my little bookstore and café, right before I switch the sign from “closed” to “open.” The last quiet minute of my day, when I’m still the queen of my own kingdom.
As a small business owner, building ties to the community is essential to keeping sales up.
I try to host as many events as possible to keep people coming back and buying books and coffee.
Usually, I have one a day at most. But every month, there’s one overscheduled Tuesday where we’re absolutely slammed.
And lucky me, today is that dreaded Tuesday. Trevor, my part-time student employee, had to take off for his finals. That means I’ll be running all day, tending to customers.
Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, the delusional bookseller steels herself to face the onslaught of uncaffeinated customers, in the mistaken belief that she could face their needs alone. Two stars, predictable ending.
“Good morning!” I call, waving to the van.
First out of the van’s sliding door is Prudence Grimsworth, a tiny, hunched, gray-haired woman who’s every bit as pleasant as her name implies.
I don’t mind, because I get a kick out of her buying all the spiciest romance novels off our shelves.
Seriously, Ms. Grimsworth has read some of the filthiest smut out there, from minotaur threesomes to taboo romances that make Flowers in the Attic look like a Disney movie. She’s who I want to be when I grow up.
“Anything new?” she grunts at me. “Or did I waste my whole morning?”
“I got some new titles in last night,” I promise her. “I set aside an orc romance for you.”
“Orc, huh?” She looks a little impressed, despite herself.
“I’ll grab it from the register after I’ve got everyone’s coffee orders in.”
It takes ten minutes to get all the Shady Oaks folks out of the van, and another twenty for me to make up their breakfast teas and cappuccinos.
Ms. Grimsworth’s frown looks permanently etched on her face when I finally bring over the promised book.
The frown turns into a smile—okay, not a smile, but a less intense scowl—as she reads through the first chapters of The Lady and the Orc.
After the retirees leave, Paige Turner rushes in, her giant purple wig barely hanging on by a bobby pin. Paige is the drag queen who hosts a monthly story hour for preschoolers and their exhausted parents. She’s also perpetually late.
“Fuck, shit, sorry,” she wheezes. “I know I’m behind. I missed my first bus.”
I hand her a cup of water. “It’s fine. I guess the kids are running a little behind, too.”
Paige still hasn’t figured out that I switched the official start time for her event from 10 to 10:30 on the Copper Cup’s website months ago. It’s a little underhanded of me, but I figure it’s worth it to keep the preschoolers from hearing their favorite storyteller swear like a sailor.
By the time the kids and their parents filter in, Paige’s wig is fully attached to her head and I’ve warmed up the sugar-free carrot muffins, which always sell out at storytime.
Once everyone’s settled down to listen to Paige read If You Give A Moose A Muffin , I take my opportunity to restock the romance inventory after the nursing home invasion.
Tonight, the after-work book club is meeting to discuss The Road .
It’s a little-known fact that the more depressing the book club book, the more likely everyone is to buy a romance novel to cheer themselves up.
While preschoolers giggle in the background, I fill up the display tables with hockey romance books. My eyes catch on a cover illustration of a broad-shouldered brunette, with his hair hanging a little shaggy over his forehead. He looks a little like?—
Like he-who-shall-never-be-mentioned-aloud.
The man who’s mine, but not in any way that matters. The one who made me come in a coat closet last weekend.
I swallow a sigh and look away from the romance book. Girl who runs bookshop full of love stories can’t even tell anyone she has a boyfriend. Zero stars. Would not recommend.
After the preschoolers come the introvert lunch rush.
Every worker in a five-block radius who doesn’t feel like chatting in the break room comes to the Copper Cup for a sandwich and a chance to read quietly at our tables.
After that, I squeeze in a call with a potential new coffee supplier before the after-school coffee rush.
By the time the book club comes in around six, I’ve only been able to sneak up to the bathroom once. Lunch was a stale croissant I scarfed down hours ago. My feet are sore and my muscles drag with exhaustion, but at least the cash register’s full.
Just as I expected, discussing The Road is so depressing that I sell every new copy of The Lady and the Orc to the bummed-out book-clubbers.
They stay later than usual, exchanging small talk, and I let out a breath of relief as the last one leaves.
After a long, good day, I can’t wait to go to my apartment and crash for a few hours.
The bell on the front door rings again as someone new comes in. Of course .
I automatically plaster on my customer service smile. Most of the time, I love my job, but sometimes I’m forced to put on the fake smile every retail worker has in their back pocket. The one that’s a little too plastic, showing a few too many teeth.
Except for once, the person walking in prompts a genuine grin.
“Eden!” I shriek. I rush toward the beaming blonde and she runs toward me. We collapse in a heap of flailing, giggling limbs on the floor. That’s the thing about friends you’ve known over a decade—when you get together, your dignity tends to vanish.
“Okay, that was embarrassing.” She laughs. “You don’t have security cameras, do you?”
“Of course I do. Don’t worry, I’m grabbing the footage from our reunion and I’m posting it in the Camp Rush group chat.”
“Nooo.” Eden grabs my arm. “If Counselor Eric sees it, he’ll never want to marry me!”
We both cackle at the thought. When we were thirteen-year-old kids at sleepaway camp, everyone had a crush on Counselor Eric.
It seemed like a good idea at the time, since he was the only man within a fifty-kilometer radius.
Now with the benefit of hindsight, it’s obvious that his oiled slickback, wraparound sunglasses, and extensive collection of tie-dyed T-shirts didn’t exactly add up to crushworthy material.
Still giggling, we pull ourselves to our feet.
“I thought you weren’t coming until late tonight!” I say.
Eden rolls her eyes. “I had to move up my departure time after I caught my brother Wade trying to slip an airtag in my suitcase.”
“Which he was doing…why?”
“You know my brothers. They think Toronto is basically Gotham City. They’re positive that if I walk outside by myself, I’m going to get kidnapped by the Riddler.”
Just then, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
I reach for it immediately, wondering if it’ll be Beau.
I know he was planning on working tonight, but maybe he changed his mind so he can come meet Eden.
He knows that on top of being my best and longest friend, she’ll also be my roommate for the next few months.
And she’s the only person who knows about us.
Instead, I find a text from an unknown number.
Unknown
If she gets into any trouble, call me. Day or night.
I show it to Eden. “You recognize this number?”
“You’ve got to be freaking kidding me,” she mutters. “That’s Jasper’s.”
I met Jasper a few times when I visited Eden’s family ranch as a kid.
Back then, he was way too busy with farm chores and weekends at the rodeo to bother us, which suited us just fine.
We didn’t need three older guys following us while we ran through the fields and picked berries and brushed the horses.
They didn’t get all controlling and overprotective until after their dad died.
“I am so sorry,” Eden sighs. “I told them not to contact you, but they don’t listen. They never listen. They once tracked my phone to a Denny’s at 2:00 a.m. and called the manager.”
“Wisely,” I point out. “Nothing good happens at a Denny’s at 2:00 a.m.”
“Yes, but that’s not their business.” I watch as Eden blocks the number on my phone. “There. If you hear from the other two jokers, just let me know. I’ll read them the freaking riot act.”
I laugh, but it feels a bit hollow. It must be nice to have brothers who want to protect you. Luke has never exactly looked out for my well-being. In fact, he’s actively sabotaged it a few too many times for us to ever really be close.
“What time do you close?” Eden asks.
I check my phone again. “I should have closed fifteen minutes ago, actually. Got surprised by a last-minute customer.”
“This place is amazing,” she sighs, turning around to take in the Copper Cup’s warm wood and stuffed bookshelves. “It’s just like in the pictures. Coming in feels like a hug. I love it.”
“Thanks.” My face gets hot and red, the way it does whenever a compliment really hits me.
The truth is, I’m more proud of the Copper Cup than anything else I’ve ever done.
It’s the one thing that’s entirely mine .
My parents said I was crazy for opening it so young and so fresh out of college, but my grant proposal got me all the modest start-up money I needed, and who actually needs sleep, anyway?
Eden shakes her head. “One day, I’m going to make you accept a compliment without your face turning into a tomato.”
“Good luck with that.” I nod toward the register. “You take a look around while I lock up the cash. Then we can go back to my apartment.”
Luckily, my apartment is right down the street. Unluckily, each of Eden’s suitcases weighs more than she does.