7. Try a Pumpkin Bar
Try a Pumpkin Bar
Iwas drowned in the scents of pumpkin spice and cinnamon when I walked into Margaret’s bookshop the next day.
I never could figure out how she got the shop to always smell exactly like the season she desired, as I never saw a single candle or cinnamon broom anywhere.
But as usual, the scent was pervasive without being overwhelming.
There were now white and orange twinkle lights all over the inside of the store as well as the porch, and the decorative pumpkins and autumn leaves had spread inside as well.
Several end caps and tables promoted autumn-themed romances, nonfiction books on harvest and homemaking for the holidays, and one even boasted several original copies of various Fairy Books by the Langs, a few Edgar Allen Poe works, and some shiny new copies of the Grimm tales.
The moment I saw the fairy tales, it was as though a spell had been cast over me. What I wouldn’t give to smell each and every one.
But no, I chastised myself. I wasn’t here to sniff books–even old ones like these. I was here to ask about the book.
Belle came around a corner carrying a stack of to-go cups and lids. “Hey, Ella! How are you?”
“I’m good, thanks,” I said. “Is Margaret in today?”
“She should be back in a minute. She had to run something to her house.” Belle paused and looked at the book I was carrying. “I’m guessing you’re here to ask about that.” She nodded at the book.
I gave her a forced smile. “It’s… more than a little confusing.”
“It’s never been offered to me,” she said as she started to stack the cups on the counter beside the espresso machine. “But I can tell you that almost everyone who does borrow it comes back more than a little mystified.”
After glancing around to make sure we were alone, I went up to her. “Why do you think that is?” I whispered. “What’s happening in this book… It’s impossible!” I shook my head. “And even if it weren’t, the book’s not even complete!”
Belle laughed ruefully. “Like I said, she’s never offered it to me, so I don’t know exactly what you’re talking about, but life with Margaret…
” She paused and gave me a strange smile.
“It’s often that way. Things just go… very well sometimes.
And sometimes, they go very well for her.
At least, whatever she wants to happen has a way of working out. ”
She looked around us before lowering her voice.
“I’ve never once seen her decorate or clean, but the place is always spotless, minus the little jobs she has me do here or there.
And just before the beginning of the next season, I wake up one day, and the shop is simply…
transformed into whatever season is coming next.
I don’t see her decorating, and I certainly don’t decorate. It just isn’t, and then it is.”
I stared at her. If anyone would know these things, it would be Belle. Not only did she work at the bookshop, she also lived in the little apartment above the store.
Belle leaned forward. “I’ve never even seen her tea grow cold. Once, I watched her for a whole hour while she read a book. And it stayed steaming hot the entire time!”
I stared at her in disbelief. But before I could ask any more questions, another voice sounded from the back of the store.
“Ah, I see you’re here to ask about the book.” Margaret made her way to the front and began rearranging things behind the register. “I told you, I lend it to people who need it. Now, what took you so long to ask about it?”
I stared at her. “Margaret… the book…” It felt crazy to even say it out loud–especially in front of Belle. In fact, I might not have said anything except for all the things she had just confided to me.
“It writes itself!” I finally finished in a whisper. “And only as things happen to me. Which are all oddly… specific.” I shook my head again. “I don’t know what’s going on or how this book works, but–”
“Ella,” Margaret interrupted with an amused smile. “Are you suggesting that I gave you a magical book?” Then she took a sip of tea.
I would have absolutely denied her ridiculous question if she hadn’t been watching me with sparkling eyes from behind her cup.
“Well… did you?” I finally asked, at a loss for words.
“Belle, make her a pumpkin spice London Fog, will you?” Margaret asked. Then she turned back to me. “I gave you the book that you need right now. And all I ask is that you read it every night before bed.” She gave me a mischievous smile. “It will help you sleep.”
“Actually, it’s doing exactly the opposite right now,” I said as the sound of the mini frother started buzzing from Belle’s coffee station in the corner.
“I’m not used to having books that… write themselves according to my life in my room when I sleep.
” The more I said it aloud, the crazier it sounded.
“Now, Ella.” Margaret put her hands on her hips. “You’ve been buying books in my store since you were old enough to walk. When have I ever given you the wrong one?”
“Well, never, but–”
“Then that’s all there is to it,” Margaret said, making her way behind Belle’s counter. “Now, try one of these pumpkin bars. They’re a new recipe.”
So with a pumpkin bar in a paper bag, a steaming pumpkin spice London Fog, and the book still tucked under my arm, I left the shop even more confused than when I’d come.