3. Ami
Chapter three
Ami
I make my way down the sun-dappled street, and then, finally, my destination is in sight.
Aunt Maggie’s bookstore, Salty Pages.
It's a quaint little shop with its decrepit old sign and inviting display window.
The air smells of the sea and freshly made pizza from the next-door pizzeria. The combination is intoxicating, reminding me why I love this town.
As I approach the door, my phone buzzes.
It’s a message from Lyla.
How’s the reunion with Campbell going?
I snort, quickly typing back, As expected. Bumping into him, literally. Save me? ??
I slip my phone back into my pocket and push open the door to Salty Pages.
The bell jingles merrily, announcing my arrival.
The scent of aged paper and leather-bound volumes welcomes me.
It’s a comforting smell that reminds me of countless afternoons spent lost in the world of books.
This old bookstore sure has played an integral part in my love for reading and writing.
This magical place is a treasure trove of literary wonders. Every nook and cranny is filled with shelves that reach up to the high, tin-tiled ceiling. The shelves are a haphazard collection of mismatched wood. Some are painted in faded pastels and others are left bare to show their natural grain.
Each shelf is crammed with books of all shapes and sizes, their spines worn and titles barely legible from years of eager hands reaching for them.
There are sections devoted to every genre imaginable. From mystery to romance, fantasy, history and whatever you can possibly think of. Each genre is marked by a hand-painted sign hanging from the ceiling. I remember Aunt Maggie and my mother carefully painting them years ago.
The light in the store is soft and golden, filtered through the large, dusty windows that overlook the bustling street outside. Fairy lights are strung along the tops of the shelves.
And oh, I really love the little reading nook, complete with a pair of overstuffed armchairs and some crocheted blankets which invite visitors to sit and stay awhile.
I spent many hours in this little spot. It was great comfort for me, especially while I was grieving for my parents, but even more.
The books I read here took me to faraway places and adventures. It’s where my love of reading began.
The centerpiece of Salty Pages is the old wooden counter at the back, where a brass cash register sits like a relic from another time. Behind the counter, Aunt Maggie is busy sorting through a stack of new arrivals, her glasses perched on the tip of her nose.
I take a deep breath, savoring the familiar scent of books, coffee, and a hint of vanilla.
“Hey, Aunt Maggie, I am…”
But even before I can finish my greeting, something furry and fast launches itself at me.
I yelp, flailing as a ball of fur lands squarely on my chest, with its claws digging into my shirt. “What the…?!” I stagger backward, trying to detach the creature that’s currently using me as a scratching post.
A pair of wide, green eyes stare up at me, and a loud purr fills the air. “Help! Aunt Maggie! I am under attack!” I shout, doing a little dance as I try to shake off the feline assailant.
Aunt Maggie appears from behind a bookshelf, and her laughter echoes through the store.
“Oh dear, I see you have met Dusty. Her real name is Dusty Pages and Covers, but Dusty for short.” “Dusty? More like Bombardier!” I retort, finally prying the cat off and holding her at arm’s length.
She dangles there, looking utterly unbothered by the chaos she has caused.
Aunt Maggie approaches, taking the feline from me. “She is our newest addition, and she is still getting used to new people.”
“Clearly,” I mutter, rubbing the claw marks on my chest. What a way to start the day. I bumped into Ethan first, and now a cat.
“Oh, she didn’t mean any harm. She’s just a little... enthusiastic.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“Enthusiastic? I think she mistook me for a climbing frame.”
Aunt Maggie chuckles, scratching Dusty behind the ears.
“Well, she likes you. That’s a good sign. She is usually quite picky.
“Lucky me,” I say dryly, adjusting my shirt and smoothing my hair.
Aunt Maggie sets the cat down and pulls me into the most comforting hug I’ve had since the last time I was home. Did I just think “home” right then?
“So, what’s the plan for today?” “Just the usual, Sweetie. Sorting through some new arrivals, rearranging the fiction section, and we have a local author coming in for a signing later.” It’s going to be a full day, already feeling more at home.
There is something incredibly soothing about the bookstore's routine. “I’m here to help, so put me to work.”
"First, how about a coffee? You look like you could use another cup because the one you came I with had a close encounter of the Dusty kind.
" Aunt Maggie suggests, as I realize the coffee cup was no longer in my hand.
“Bless you, Aunt Maggie,” I say, following her.
We head toward the small café area at the back of the store.
After my chaotic morning, I need all the caffeine I can get.
We settled into the cozy corner of the store where the café was set up.
Aunt Maggie brews a fresh pot while I sink into a plush armchair, again taking in the comforting ambiance.
The walls are lined with shelves crammed full of books about animals, and the air hums with a soft jazz tune playing in the background.
Aunt Maggie hands me a steaming mug, and I take a grateful sip.
“So, what’s new around here? Besides the attack cat.” She laughs, sitting across from me. "Oh, you know, the usual small-town gossip. But there is something more I want to tell you. I am contesting town municipality elections."
I stare at Aunt Maggie, my coffee halfway to my mouth. “You’re running for the town municipality elections?” I repeat, incredulous. “Yes, I’ve been thinking about it for a while. There’s a lot that needs changing around here, and I thought it was time to take matters into my own hands.”
“That’s amazing, Aunt Maggie!” I exclaim, setting my coffee down and leaning forward.
“You would be perfect for the job. You know everyone, and everyone loves you. Who could possibly run against you?” Aunt Maggie’s smile falters slightly, and she looks at me.
“Well, I should tell you who’s contesting against me. ”
I shake my head, “Who?” She takes a deep breath and says, “Ethan Campbell.”
My jaw drops. “Ethan?! Mr. I-Burn-Down-My-Own-Yard’ Campbell? Are you serious?”
“Yes, he announced it last week. Apparently, he has some big ideas about improving the town’s infrastructure and business environment.”
With a thud, I set my mug down a little harder than necessary, coffee sloshing over the rim.
“You have got to be kidding me. He has been bumping into me since morning, literally, and he couldn’t even blurt out that he’s running against my aunt?
Why is he even doing it? He is a grumpy man with a knack for fires. He is not a politician!”
“Calm down, Ami. It’s not the end of the world. I’m confident in my campaign, and I have a lot of support.” I huff, crossing my arms. "Still, it's infuriating. He doesn't deserve it. You've done so much for this town, and he is just... I mean, just… Ethan!"
“I know, dear. But it’s a free country. Everyone has the right to run for office. Even Ethan.”
“Right,” I mutter, staring into my coffee. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“No, it doesn’t. But it does mean you should brace yourself for more run-ins with him. Campaigns can get heated, and you know how he is.” I groan. “Great. Just what I needed. More Ethan in my life.”
We sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, and I try to wrap my head around the idea of Ethan running for the municipality office. It feels like a bad joke, but I know Aunt Maggie is serious. And if she is taking him seriously, maybe I should, too.
“Okay, so what’s the plan?” I ask finally, looking at Aunt Maggie. “How can I help?”
She smiles warmly.
"Well, I am glad you asked. There's a lot to do. We need to organize some community events, get the word out about my platform, and, of course, convince people to vote for me."
"Count me in. Whatever you need, I am here, and I can really help you out with my research skills."
“Thank you, Ami. I knew I could count on you.”
Aunt Maggie and I spend the next hour discussing campaign strategies. I jot down some notes to beat that jerk.
The idea of Ethan running against Aunt Maggie still makes me want to throw something, but now I am channeling that energy into brainstorming.
I hug Aunt Maggie goodbye and head back to my place.
Once inside, I kick off my shoes and toss my bag onto the couch.
“Right … research,” I mutter to myself, heading straight for my desk.
I fire up my laptop and start digging into the local government website, looking for anything that might give Aunt Maggie an advantage.
Then I pick up my phone and type a text message to Lyla.
“You won’t believe it. Aunt Maggie’s running for the municipality elections. And guess who is running against her? Ethan freaking Campbell.”
Her reply is instant.
“No way. That’s insane. How can I help?”
"I know right. But let me get back to you. I need to dive into some research first," I respond before I set my phone aside and focus on the task at hand.
I pull up voter demographics, past election results, and any articles I can find about local issues.
After a while, my eyes start to blur, and I realize I haven’t moved from my desk in over an hour.
I drag myself to the kitchen and brew another pot of coffee for fortification before I delve back into work.
Starting a spreadsheet to organize the information I’ve gathered is tedious, but it's something I’m good at.
My mind wanders as I type, imagining the campaign events we could host. Maybe a book fair at Salty Pages or a beach clean-up event .
We need something that shows Aunt Maggie’s commitment to the community.
She doesn’t want the town to get ruined by the youth taking over.
She wants it to remain as it is, very unlike Ethan’s ideas.
I pull up another document and start drafting a campaign flyer.
As I work, I can’t help but think about Ethan.
What’s his angle? Why does he suddenly care about town politics?
I can’t picture him shaking hands and kissing babies.
I snort at the mental image. After what feels like an eternity, I stretch and look at the clock.
Only two hours have passed.
Ugh, this is going to be a long day. I mutter, reaching for my now cold coffee.
Eventually I’m halfway through my newly brewed second cup when my phone buzzes.
This time, it's a news alert about the elections. Curious, I open the article and see a headline about Ethan's campaign announcement. Skimming the article, I try not to roll my eyes at his lofty promises. “Improving the town’s infrastructure? Please. He can’t even keep his own yard intact,” I mutter, shaking my head.
I save the article for later, thinking that knowing what he is promising might be helpful.
And I dive back into my research, I lose track of time as I compile information and brainstorm ideas.
My desk is soon cluttered with notes, empty coffee cups, and half-eaten snacks.
Mental note to self: clean up later. By the time I finally close my laptop, I have a solid strategy in place and a list of tasks to tackle tomorrow.
I collapse onto the couch, feeling a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction.
“Made some progress on the campaign front. Will fill you in tomorrow. Need sleep. And maybe a coffee detox,” I text Lyla to update her.
I finally sink into the comfort of my bed, ready to catch some well-deserved Z's, but then the sound of a guitar drifts through the air. Seriously? Now? I mean, I get it. The music is great, but not when it's invading my much-needed nap time.
I toss and turn, hoping the racket will stop, but it only seems to get louder.
Ugh, why does he have to play now? Doesn't he have anything better to do?
I groan and bury my head under the pillow, trying to drown out the noise, but it's useless. Looks like I'll have to add 'guitar smashing' to my to-do list.