Chapter Sixteen
Sixteen
I live for the day when the bookstore is completely painted and Grand is able to start on her mural, though she hasn’t yet offered a clue as to what she’s planning, or how she’ll make it work in a space that needs to function for both children and adults.
Grand has already claimed the upstairs corner bedroom, which overlooks 10th Avenue toward the southernmost tip of Pass-a-Grille, where Bella Flora sits, and Gulf Way and Paradise Grille to the west, thereby providing southern and western exposures, as well as views that practically beg to be painted.
She plans to use it as a second studio for herself—she says the light is perfect and the views out over the beach and the Gulf of Mexico are inspirational. She’ll also use it to give individual and very small group art lessons. The beach will serve as her “large group” classroom when the weather allows.
The kitchen isn’t fancy but has everything we’ll need to keep people caffeinated and hydrated. There’s a sink, stove, and refrigerator as well as a new wine fridge still in its box, which will no doubt come in handy.
By the time we break for lunch, all three of us are spattered with paint and eager to get outside, so Myra opens containers of Ted Peters smoked fish spread with the requisite saltine crackers and hot sauce along with a quart of their German potato salad, while Grand and I drag a small wrought iron table and three chairs out onto the front porch so that we can enjoy our picnic beneath the palm fronds and the soft Gulf breezes. Note to self: Make sure a hammock ends up on this porch.
“All right, ladies,” Myra says as we polish off every bit of food and a bottle of pinot grigio. “I want to have a sign and bookmarks and paper bags with the new logo on them printed as soon as possible. And maybe flyers we can pass out to let everyone know that a bookstore is ‘coming soon.’?”
“What do you think, Lillian?” Myra asks Grand. “How long after we agree on a name for the store can you create a logo that we can use?”
“Shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours.” Grand grins. “I’ve already got a few ideas that I can tailor to whatever name we choose.”
While Grand finishes off her glass of wine, Myra goes inside and returns with an easel then sets a chalkboard on it.
“All right, then,” Myra says. “Let’s just throw out whatever comes to mind. I’ll put the suggestions on the board. We can narrow the list down later.”
“Okay,” Grand calls out. “How about the Beachfront Bookstore? Or Beachfront Books and Arts as a nod to the acting and art classes we’re planning to offer?”
“Clear and to the point,” Myra says as she writes them on the board. “What else have we got?”
“Sandcastle Books?” I throw in though it’s more question than suggestion.
“Promising,” Myra says. “And also lends itself to a great beach-related logo.” She pauses for a second before asking, “What do you think of Sunshine Books? It gives a nod to the old Sunshine Elementary School that was just a few blocks away from here and it pretty much compels us to use bright sunshine-y colors on the logo and sign.”
We all nod enthusiastically. Frankly, I could go with any one of the four with the addition of “and Arts,” but we are clearly on a roll.
“Okay, how about Paradise Books?” Grand asks. “Since we’re right across the street from Paradise Grille? And this beach is a veritable patch of paradise.” Grand smiles. “Or maybe Flamingo Books? I mean, flamingos don’t typically inhabit the beaches here except when blown in by hurricanes, but they’re a very Florida thing.”
Myra scrawls these latest suggestions on the board noting that “and Arts” will be included with whatever we choose.
“What do you think of Just Beachy?” I ask.
“I like it a lot,” Myra replies. “But Just Beachy could apply to anything from beachwear to rafts and beach toys.”
“Then what if we add the books in a tagline? You know, like…Just Beachy: Your Beachfront Bookstore.”
“It’s catchy. But I think the fact that it’s a bookstore is too important to be an afterthought,” Myra points out.
It’s hard to argue with that. “Right,” I agree. “So let’s finish up the list so that we can vote. Though obviously the final decision is Myra’s.”
“Okay,” Myra says. “Anyone have anything to add or a point to make?”
“I still like Beach Books, because it’s direct and alliterative,” I say as Myra scribbles it on the chalkboard.
“Well, I still like Beach Reads,” Grand says.
“ But ,” I begin to protest as Myra’s chalk flies over the board. “Wasn’t that the title of a novel that was published a few years ago?”
“I believe so,” Myra concedes. “But there was also a book written quite a while ago by Jennifer Weiner in which a troubled granddaughter goes to stay with her grandmother in a retirement community and ends up turning her life around.” Myra winks. “And you’re still allowed to live with your grandmother at Casas de Flores.”
Ouch.
“In the end, the existence of those or other bookstore-related novels doesn’t matter,” Myra says. “Because while it’s good to avoid confusion where possible, book titles can’t be copyrighted in the way that an actual book is. Plus, Beach Reads is basically a genre, not just a title of one book.”
“So,” I say, taking one last stab at this. “What if the name of the store is Sandcastle Books and Arts? But just beneath it in standout lettering we add, ‘We’re Just Beachy!’?”
“Huh,” Myra says. “I really like that.”
“Me too,” Grand adds.
They both sound a bit surprised, which is a little insulting, but they’re also both nodding and smiling. And I lived in Hollywood long enough to take a “win” anytime one presents itself.
“Okay,” I say with a smile of my own. “All in favor of Sandcastle Books and Arts for the name of Myra’s store with a tagline of ‘We’re Just Beachy!’ say ‘Aye.’?”
There is a resounding “Aye” from all three of us.
“All righty, then.” Myra erases everything but the winning name and tagline. “Let the games begin!”
I, alas, go back to painting while Grand sits down with a sketch pad and starts working on the store logo. Two hours later I’ve finished two of the kitchen walls and its ceiling. Grand has created three distinct designs, which we debate enthusiastically. There’s really no pressure because we know that any one of them would work great.
The one we choose shows a sandcastle sitting on a small patch of sand. A little girl, sunhat askew, is patting the castle, her face creased in smiles. Two adults, presumably her parents, are perched on their knees helping her. SANDCASTLE BOOKS has been carved into the castle. On the sand in front of it in cursive, are the words: We’re Just Beachy! A beach bag nearby has an open knapsack with books poking out the top.
A golden sun hangs in a powder blue sky behind them, and you can just make out the sparkle of turquoise water in the background.
· · ·
“Don’t wait up,” Grand says the next evening. “And don’t be worried if I’m not back until tomorrow.”
I blink. “But…where, exactly, are you going?” Oh God. I sound exactly like my mother. “And what could you possibly find to do all night?”
Grand raises an eyebrow. I’m the one who blushes in embarrassment.
“I’m having dinner with Brian and then I’m going to spend the night with him.”
“But it’s already too late for the Early Bird.” It’s the only thing that comes out.
“Yes. Brian’s making dinner for me at his place. And then I’m going to stay over.” She shoots me a cat-about-to-lap-up-the-cream smile.
I feel what I’m ashamed to admit is a quick stab of jealousy. “But, Grand…”
“There’s no point trying to talk me out of it, sweetheart. My mind is made up.”
“But…but…”
“But what? Do you think we’re too old for sex?”
“No, no, of course not.” This is a lie. I totally think she and Brian are too old for sex or should be. And what do we really know about Brian anyway? He could be a mafioso or an ax murderer or…a fortune hunter. Not that Grand has one.
“Stop worrying, darling. I’m a grown woman. And I’m going to be what? A few buildings away?”
“I, um, I just thought—”
“Enough.” She smiles again. “There’s no need to worry. Sleep well. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. After the breakfast in bed I’ve been promised.”