Chapter Forty
CHAPTER FORTY
Two weeks after my birthday, my events coordinator convinced me to throw another party.
It was the grand opening of Bildungsroman, a month late, although Amelia Louisa assured me this wasn’t uncommon.
“We’ll say it’s for the community, but really we need to bring in an enthusiastic crowd to make sure we meet our sales quota,” she said.
“I’m going to pretend the party is for the new restroom,” Jo said, because we were all grateful it was finally done. “You should include a picture of the toilet on the invitation.”
So, despite wanting to be there for Macon, despite needing to know if my feelings were reciprocated, I put in even more hours at the store.
Amelia Louisa helped me hire a restaurant on our street to cater the party and to build goodwill.
We contacted the downtown business association (we were a new member), the local newspaper (barely a pamphlet), and some local news websites (reach unknown but probably equally dire), and she booked an interview for me on our public radio station.
Friends and family were invited. My sister was still unavailable, but my parents actually wanted to attend.
It had been so many years since I’d had an accomplishment worth celebrating that I hadn’t even considered the possibility.
I discouraged them because I didn’t have a room for them to stay in.
“You’re busy with the wedding,” I said, which was true.
“Come visit me in the new year.” I was proud of my store but still ashamed of the studio.
I didn’t want them to see how broke I was or how much I’d put on the line.
Even more so, I didn’t want the distraction from whatever was happening—or not happening—with Macon.
I’m sorry , I texted him, but I have to invite you to another party.
Has it already been a year since your birthday? he texted back.
Grand opening. I know things are rough right now, so obviously I don’t expect you to come, but I wanted to let you know.
Oh, that. It’s already on my calendar.
It is??
You emailed the flyer to every library.
I felt embarrassed. Right. Of course.
He started typing again without waiting for my response. Unless you don’t want me there? Your invitations always sound like pardons.
I would love for you to be there , I said quickly.
And then I worried that the word was too much, even in this context. His reply didn’t arrive for several minutes. Okay.
The next few days were a storm of stress and anxiety, but then Saturday night arrived, and the store transformed into the very essence of love.
Brittany and Reza and Amira. Carla and Richard, who didn’t show up together but who immediately found each other in the crowd.
Jamal from Ridgetop Means Bizness. Clyde the joke man.
Librarians from all the branches, not just mine.
I recognized library patrons and authors and illustrators, and then strangers appeared.
We had hoped for a big gathering but had mentally prepared for a small one, but people stayed—and more people kept coming. The bookstore had never been so alive.
I was on my tiptoes, searching the room to see if Macon had materialized, when somebody else walked through the door. I gasped. He saw me, too.
“Cory!”
He grinned, weaved his way through the crush, and kissed my cheek.
It was exactly what Macon had done on my birthday, yet nothing like it.
My knees didn’t weaken. There was no quick jerk away, no scratch of stubble.
It was what a kiss from a friend was supposed to feel like.
I threw my arms around him, and he laughed.
“Iggy! The store is incredible.”
“Thanks for coming. I didn’t know if it was weird to invite you.”
“Are you kidding? I would have been pissed if you hadn’t.” He gazed around in genuine wonder. “I mean, look at all this! You did it.”
I beamed. “I did.”
“Gosh, Ig,” he said, taking me in again. “You look beautiful.”
I was wearing a red sleeveless dress with a twirly full skirt and a dramatic square neckline that had a delicate scalloped edge.
It was my maid-of-honor dress, though it didn’t look like one.
My sister had good taste, and she’d chosen well.
I never would have been so bold as to wear it before the wedding, but Riley had asked me to. It was her way of being there.
“Thank you,” I said. I felt beautiful and loved in it.
We didn’t have long to catch up because there were other people I needed to talk to and shake hands with, but it felt good to see him. It felt good to know he still cared about me. And it felt good to have no regrets about separating.
A short time later, he found me again, a supportive stack of purchases in hand.
He had to go, but first he wrapped me in a proud hug with his available arm.
I felt happy in his embrace. Cory knew me in a way that nobody else ever would, but there were also so many aspects of myself that stretched beyond him now.
That he would never know. And these parts of me were reserved for somebody else.
Elijah and his mom snagged my attention next, and I got to brag to her about how Elijah had whipped my science fiction and fantasy section into shape.
And then Mr. Garland serenaded me with a few flattering and embarrassing bars about a vivacious shopkeeper.
And then I spotted Shanelle, so I brought her a hunk of cheese from the caterer’s table to split between her rats.
And then—
There he was . Tucked against the regional books. I don’t know how long he’d been standing there, but he was angled away from the crowd, examining the display.
My entire body illuminated. I was certain my skin began to glow.
“Excuse me,” I said, and floated away.
People called my name, and I said hello but didn’t stop.
He glanced over at me—a glance that told me he was assessing the situation and had been assessing it for some time—and startled because I was actually headed toward him. My smile was radiant. His eyes didn’t leave mine. My skirt swished against me and didn’t stop until it was touching his legs.
“Hi,” I said.
Macon looked pained but also lit up from within, exactly how I felt.
“Ingrid,” he said, as if he couldn’t say any more.
He was still wearing his work clothes, a rumpled button-down and corduroy jacket that I’d seen innumerable times. His hair was unkempt. Every single aspect of him was familiar, yet now that I understood that this was love—now that I was ready to tell him—he seemed surrounded by a strange aura.
“Did you get something to eat?” I asked. “A farm-to-table place did the catering. I think you’ll approve.”
“Not yet. I will.” He smiled, but it slipped away. “Uh, I saw Cory on my way in.”
My glow dimmed. I took a step back, muscles tightening.
He shook his head as if to say I’d misunderstood. “I think it’s great that he came. I’m glad you’re still friends.”
“Oh.” My limbs loosened. “Me too. It was nice to see him.”
“You look… the store looks… it’s all very pretty.”
He winced, but my heart nearly burst out of my chest. It was the first time that he had ever acknowledged me as attractive.
In all our years together, he had carefully avoided the subject.
Even on workdays when I had dressed up a bit and it would have been normal for a friend or coworker to say, “You look nice today,” the words had never crossed his lips.
My friends were right: Macon was shy. I had always known this, but he was so confident in his work and in our conversations that he was good at masking it. It was easy to forget. But it was obvious—so obvious—now.
Macon was shy, and Macon liked me.
I was beaming .
He looked rigid and uncomfortable, as if his shoes were pinching his feet. Then he took a deep breath. “You arrived at my house only two minutes after I texted you about Bonnie.”
There it was. I’d been wondering how long it would take for him to realize it was impossible for me to have arrived that quickly. I nodded, heart thundering.
“Why did you come to my house that morning?”
“Ingrid!” Jo shouted over the crowd. “The registers are down!”
“Shit.” I bit my lip. “I’ll be right back, okay?”
As I jostled my way through the sea of readers, I glanced back over my shoulder. He was still watching me. I gave him another smile, trying my best to convey to him: I’ve got this. I’ve got you. I understand everything now. You’ve done enough, and I’ll take it from here.
But when the crisis had been averted and my staff were ringing up the sales again, I returned only to find that he wasn’t there.
Frantically I circled the store. He wasn’t anywhere.
Guests drew me into conversations, and while the mingling and handselling were great for business, they were terrible for my emotional state.
When the crowd finally thinned hours later, I kept expecting him to reappear, as if he’d been hiding behind a chair and waiting for everyone else to leave. But he was gone.
The store didn’t fully clear out until after ten. In what should have been a moment of triumph, disappointment crushed me. Mika and I sent the others home while we cleaned up. Bex stayed to help us and sweep the floors.
“Are you okay?” Mika asked, sensing my distress.
“Of course,” I said. But I was miserable because Macon had called it a night without me. I’d have to text him in the morning and see if he wanted to meet up. I’d been waiting all year long for him—I’d been waiting years for him—but to wait one more sunrise felt agonizing.
Bex danced in their emerald green tracksuit and spun the broom. “Success!”