Chapter 4
Jonny
The best thing about being the Fun Single Uncle? is that I get to pull stunts my older siblings (responsible parents, rule followers, blah blah blah) would never attempt.
Case in point: rolling up to the elementary school on a Monday afternoon, signing out my oldest niece and nephew like I’m on a covert op, and whisking them away for an exclusive Uncle Jonny Special Activity.
The mission? Have a ridiculous amount of fun, secure their eternal devotion, and then dump them back on their parents a couple of hours later—overstimulated, hopped up on sugar, and believing I’m cooler than Santa.
“Who’s excited to see the Christmas market?” I ask, looking in the rearview mirror.
Two voices from the back seat of the truck shout in unison, “Meeeeee!”
“Y’all are gonna love it,” I say, grinning. “There’s a sweet shop—”
“Yay!” they cheer.
“—and lots of toys—”
More cheers.
“And…” I lower my voice dramatically. “There’s even a bookstore.”
Silence.
Two pairs of eyes blink at me from the rear-view mirror. Six-year-old Maggie (Bianca’s oldest) looks politely confused. Seven-year-old Jake (Isaac’s oldest) looks like I just suggested we get a cavity filled for fun.
I shouldn’t be surprised, but I can’t help the tiny pang of disappointment at their reactions.
I mean, I get it. Azalea has never had a bookstore, and the McKays aren’t a big reading family.
Growing up, the only books I’d ever laid hands on came from the sad little school library.
It wasn’t until college, when I stumbled into an indie bookstore searching for a restroom, that I realized there were entire stores just for books.
My mind was blown. Ever since, I’ve found a favorite bookstore in every city I’ve called home.
There’s something about them that makes the world feel bigger—a reminder of how much I don’t know and how much I still want to learn.
That’s exactly why I’m excited about the pop-up bookstore: the chance to open the eyes of people here in town to a bigger, wider world. Especially the kids. And especially my own nieces and nephews.
I reach the old textile mill and pull into the parking lot.
It’s about half full, not bad for the first day of December, especially at a new location.
But if it doesn’t get busier as the month goes on…
well, let’s just say everyone will know who to blame: the guy who spent his teenage years raising hell, then bolted for the city at the first chance he got.
Shaking that off, I refocus on my niece and nephew.
“If y’all are good for me at the market,” I say, turning in my seat, “I’ll buy you whatever book you want.”
Jake narrows his eyes in a way that reminds me of my older brother, like he’s analyzing the market value of this offer. “Only if you get me something at the sweet shop first,” he says.
I sigh. “Deal.”
Inside, the place isn’t packed, but it isn’t a ghost town either. I lead Jake and Maggie through the maze of shops and booths, waving and greeting people as we pass. We grab a couple jars of spiced apple preserves for my mom, and, of course, more of those damn dilly beans Kara’s been craving.
Next up, the sweet shop. I buy each kid a giant lollipop, the kind my mom never let me have because they’re just going to end up half-eaten and covered in pocket lint.
Not my problem, though. I’m just the cool uncle.
Then we make our way back to the entrance, where the bookstore sits in the old front office and counting room.
Only a handful of people are browsing the shelves, but at least it’s not empty.
I spot Sarah at the register helping Mr. Jenkins, the janitor from my high school days.
I steer Jake and Maggie toward the children’s section, watching Sarah to see if she looks up. She doesn’t.
Okay, so maybe I had an ulterior motive for coming here.
I thought Sarah and I were getting along pretty well the other day when I helped her with the shelves.
She’s the kind of woman I would’ve instantly noticed at some downtown bar somewhere: classy and polished, with that aloof, unattainable vibe.
And yeah, I’ll admit it was kind of fun to play the role of the country boy flirting with the cute city girl.
She seemed to be into it, too. But when I asked if she wanted to hang out, she clammed up.
I guess I can’t blame her. She’s new here, and I’m just a random “handyman” she got stuck with in a nearly empty building. Makes sense to be cautious.
But today, if she happens to see me with my niece and nephew, and then happens to realize that I can be trusted to spend an evening with…well, that’s not the worst outcome, is it?
I’m browsing a nonfiction shelf near the kids’ section when Sarah finishes with Mr. Jenkins, then heads toward Jake and Maggie.
“Hi there, can I help you guys find a book?” Sarah asks them. Her back is toward me, and my eyes do a quick down-up. Not enough to be creepy, but enough to let me know that she looks damn good in those jeans.
“I don’t like books,” Jake declares, and I internally groan. That’s what I get for putting my dating prospects in the hands of a seven-year-old.
“All right,” Sarah says, laughter in her voice. “What do you like, then?”
“Dragons.”
She runs her finger along a row of books, then pulls one out and shows it to Jake. “How To Train Your Dragon,” she reads.
“I saw that movie!” Jake blurts.
“Well, the book is way better.” Sarah hands it to him. He takes it with all the enthusiasm of a kid being ordered to eat his broccoli, but he does start flipping through the pages.
Then Sarah crouches down next to Maggie. “What about you? What do you like to read?”
In response, Maggie shrugs. I know Bianca would scold her for being impolite, but I hang back and watch it unfold.
“Let’s see,” Sarah says slowly, then pulls out a book with a purple cover. “Do you like…fairies?”
Maggie brightens and looks over at me. “Uncle Jonny, will you buy me one of these?”
Sarah pivots, freezing when she sees me. “Oh. Are these your…”
“Niece and nephew,” I say, coming closer. “Thanks for helping them.”
She’s so pretty. The thought floats through my mind. She’s wearing a striped black-and-white sweater under a red apron that reads THE BOOK NOOK, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, her lips all pink and pouty.
Unfortunately, the expression on her face is somewhere between wary and suspicious.
“Happy to help,” she says, straightening as she notices the bag I’m holding. “Have you been doing some shopping?”
“Needed more dilly beans.” I roll my eyes. “My little sister’s going through them like potato chips.”
Sarah blinks. “Your little sister?”
“Yeah. It’s her first pregnancy, and I guess this is what the baby wants—her husband travels a lot for work, so I’m her first call.”
“Oh.” Sarah blinks again, and that wary expression eases. Then I remember when Sarah got a little weird last time we talked, it was right after Kara called and asked me to grab her dilly beans. Sarah must’ve thought…gross. I internally shudder.
“How’ve sales been?” I ask, wanting a new topic. “Converting Azalea to the joys of literature, one reluctant reader at a time?”
She shakes her head, but she’s smiling now, which seems like a win. “Not sure I’m actually converting anyone.”
“Hey, miracles happen.” I nod toward Jake. Against all odds, he now appears to be actually reading the dragon book. “Look at him—future bestselling author in the making.”
She chuckles. “Or a future professional dragon-rider. Hard to tell.”
“Exactly my point,” I say, grinning. “Either way, your influence is undeniable. You’ve got magic powers, basically.”
“Magic powers, huh?” She folds her arms, peering up at me. “And what are your powers, Uncle Jonny?”
I pretend to think, tapping my chin. “Oh, I don’t know…charming smile? Ability to carry giant boxes without breaking a sweat? Being the best uncle in the universe?”
She rolls her eyes, laughing. “And so modest, too.”
“What can I say? Greatness is a burden.” I shrug. “How are you liking Azalea so far?”
“I haven’t explored it a whole lot. Been busy setting all this up.”
And that’s my in.
Leaning closer, I say, “Then you deserve a break. Not sure if you heard, but the lighting of the town Christmas tree is tonight. Want to come?”
I figure if there’s any scenario where she’d feel comfortable hanging out with me, this is it. Public place, wholesome setting.
“I don’t know,” she says. “I’ve been pretty tired at the end of the day.”
“Sure, but you have to eat dinner, right? There’ll be taco trucks, funnel cakes, chestnuts roasting on an open fire…”
I grin, raising my eyebrows, but she shrugs and looks down. “Maybe I’ll see you there?”
Disappointment pings through me. She probably has a boyfriend back home. Or maybe she’s just not into me. Either way, the message is clear: Sarah is immune to my charm. I wonder if she’s heard anything; there’s nothing this town likes more than spreading gossip. Even if it’s more than a decade old.
“Sure,” I say, straightening up. “Well, I hope you get some good sales—”
“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?”
Jake’s high-pitched voice echoes through the bookshop. I whirl around; he’s wandered into the romance section and has pulled a book off the shelf. The cover has a shirtless man with an oiled-up chest kissing a woman.
I’m about to burst into laughter when I see who else overheard him: Nancy Barnes. My tenth-grade English teacher. And she is not amused.
“Jacob McKay,” she says sternly, peering down at him through her bifocals. “You ought to put that book down right now.”
“Excuse me,” I say to Sarah, then jog over to Jake. I got on Mrs. Barnes’s bad side plenty of times in high school, and while I definitely earned it, I’m not about to let my seven-year-old nephew get the brunt of it.
“And you know better than to use that kind of language,” Mrs. Barnes is saying, her voice sharpening. “That is unacceptable, young man—”
“Uncle Jonny says if it’s in the Bible, we can say it,” Jake cuts in, eyes flashing with defiance.
At that, Mrs. Barnes turns and sees me. She shakes her head, lips pressed together. “I should’ve known. Jonny McKay, back in town, already corrupting the youth.”
I suppress an eye roll. Not that I blame her—I was a total shit in her class, when I bothered to show up.
I scratched curse words into my desk with a paperclip, tried to pass off my older siblings’ papers as my own, and generally made her life miserable at every turn.
But come on, it’s been fourteen years. “Mrs. Barnes, please—”
But then I feel a hand on my arm and look down; it’s Sarah. I didn’t even know she’d followed me over.
“Hi there,” she says to Mrs. Barnes. “Can I help you find anything?”
Sarah’s voice is customer-service perfect, but there’s a tremor of tension beneath it. She’s as pissed as I am about Mrs. Barnes chewing out Jake.
Mrs. Barnes’s sharp gaze zeroes in on Sarah’s hand on my arm.
“You’d do well to keep your distance from this one,” she says, her tone icy. “He’s trouble. Always has been, always will be. Best thing he ever did for this town was leave.”
My jaw clenches. It’s too late to change what Mrs. Barnes thinks of me, and Sarah’s already made it clear she’s not interested. But Maggie and Jake are watching, absorbing it all.
I’m about to say something when Sarah’s hand wraps around my biceps, pulling me a little closer. Surprised, I look down at her.
“The tree-lighting,” she says, looking up at me. “What time does it start?”