Chapter One
Chapter One
Rosie
“WHO’S READY TO TAKE A TRIP TO THE MAGICAL LAND OF books?” Rosie Lucas asked as she set a plate of pancakes down in front of her granddaughter.
“I am!”
Olive’s smile lit up every single inch of Rosie’s heart.
The three-year-old girl and her mother, Rosie’s daughter Emma, had been back in Oregon for less than twelve hours but Rosie already knew she never wanted them to leave again.
“Can I get a new book there?” Olive asked. She sent a sideways hopeful look to her grandmother that Rosie found impossible to resist.
“I believe that can probably be arranged.”
Rosie still owned Wood Briar Bookshop after all, though she hadn’t handled the day-to-day operations in years.
But what was the fun of owning a bookstore if a woman couldn’t spoil her only granddaughter by letting her choose a picture book to bring home if she wanted?
The two of them chattered about some of Olive’s favorite stories and television shows while the preschooler ate her breakfast. It was a thoroughly enjoyable time.
Olive had nearly finished with her plate of pancakes when her mother rushed into the kitchen, her T-shirt still untucked and her hair slightly messy.
“Sorry,” Emma said, sounding frazzled. “I know we talked about trying to get there before the store opens in—” she looked at her watch “—five minutes. I must have overslept. I don’t know what happened. I never sleep through my alarm.”
“I turned your phone off,” Olive informed her with a cheerful smile. “It was too loud. I didn’t want it to wake you up.”
Emma gave her daughter a frustrated look, even as she leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “That’s kind of the point of an alarm clock, honey.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Rosie assured her. “I know we said nine but nothing is written in stone. There’s no reason we have to leave at nine on the dot. We have all day. I only suggested it when you said you wanted an early start.”
“Right. I do. I need to know what I’m up against. From everything you’ve said, it sounds like I’m going to have my work cut out for me.”
Had Rosie given her daughter a task beyond her abilities? She really hoped not. She wanted to challenge Emma, not scare her away.
Ever since she and her daughter had reconnected after years of estrangement when Olive was six months old, Rosie felt as if she constantly walked a tightrope suspended two hundred feet in the air.
A thin wire covered in baby oil. One misstep would ruin all their hard work toward healing the rift between them.
She didn’t want to do anything to drive her daughter away again.
“You don’t have to fix everything wrong with the bookstore in one day,” she said carefully. “I hope I didn’t give you that impression.”
Emma poured herself some coffee. “I don’t know. You were giving off some solid desperation vibes on the phone.”
Rosie could not disagree. She did need Emma’s help.
More than that, though, she had been desperate to earn more of a role in the lives of her daughter and granddaughter.
Despite their wary reconciliation a few years ago, Emma still lived near Seattle, hundreds of miles away from their town on the Oregon coast.
“You really are saving the day. I hated the idea of having to close the store for several weeks while your grandmother recovers from her accident, especially right as we’re heading into the busy tourist season.
The bookstore has barely covered its operating costs for years.
I don’t have time to run it myself and I don’t really have time to train someone else to manage it.
Not someone with your level of skill anyway. ”
“You do know I have zero experience at this, right?”
“You managed a restaurant, though.”
She made a face. “Not a restaurant. A Starbucks. That’s not the same as handling the day-to-day operations of a busy bookstore.”
“First of all, Wood Briar Bookshop is not that busy, unfortunately. Mom hasn’t exactly made drawing in crowds a priority.”
“I’m fully aware of Grandma’s philosophy. Books are meant to be enjoyed. Throwing in silly concepts like profit and loss ruins the experience.”
Rosie’s mother loved running the bookstore. Ordering books, talking with customers, helping a reader find the perfect selection. All the things Rosie had loved when she ran the bookstore herself.
Sylvia did not, however, enjoy having to reconcile the budget or focus on the bottom line. As a result, the bookstore wasn’t exactly a profitable enterprise.
Over the years, many people had asked Rosie why she hadn’t sold it after Gary’s death.
She never had a good answer for them, mostly because she didn’t really know the reason.
It made no business sense whatsoever. Her focus for years had been Lucas Construction, the company she and Gary had started together that she had muscled back out of near bankruptcy.
She really didn’t have time to focus on the bookstore she had owned for only a few months when her husband died and her life fell apart.
But every time she was tempted to sell, something held her back. How could she explain her love for books and her determination to keep the bookstore’s doors open in a town that otherwise wouldn’t have access to one?
“She hasn’t changed,” Rosie admitted. “If anything, her time running the store has only reinforced her beliefs. I actually heard her say to a customer once that they were free to spend as much time as they wanted browsing, reading the books, admiring the dust, and that buying was optional.”
Emma laughed. “Sounds like Grandma.”
Rosie gave a rueful smile in response. She loved her mother dearly. For all her quirks, Sylvia was kind, compassionate, fierce. She couldn’t help that the bottom line wasn’t her priority.
Emma, on the other hand, would be brilliant.
“You have a business degree and plenty of experience managing people. As far as I’m concerned, you’re perfect. I’m so grateful you agreed to help.”
Rosie had no idea why Emma had finally acquiesced this time. She suspected her daughter had been ready for a change, especially as the lease on the apartment she shared with two other single moms had been ending soon.
“I won’t be perfect for anything if I can’t wake up in time for work.” Emma turned to her daughter with a chiding look. “New rule, kid. You can’t turn off my phone alarm when it goes off, okay?”
“Okay,” Olive said cheerfully, taking another bite of pancakes.
“Looks like Grandma made you breakfast.”
“Mickey pancakes. Except I already ate the ears.”
“I hope that’s okay.” Rosie tried to keep the anxious note from her voice but was afraid it filtered through anyway. Perhaps after Emma and Olive had settled in and been here a few weeks, Rosie might relax a little, lose some of this fear of making a wrong move and sending her daughter away again.
“Why wouldn’t it be okay? I always eat the ears first. I always figured that way Mickey can’t hear me chewing the rest of him.”
“I meant the pancakes. I know you’re vegetarian.”
Emma lifted an eyebrow, the metal post piercing there reflecting sunlight. “Unless you have a special recipe these days that uses beef tallow or pork drippings to make your pancakes, they should be fine.”
“No beef or pork. Just plain old pancake mix.”
“Then we’re good. I appreciate you feeding her.”
“It was my pleasure.” Rosie hoped her daughter knew she was determined to do everything possible to make sure the two of them were comfortable in her home.
“I tried to pick up things at the grocery store I thought you might like. I even bought a vegetarian cookbook and I’ve been looking up recipes online.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate that,” Emma said. She looked a little less frazzled now as she settled into a chair across from her daughter, sipping her coffee.
“Is your room comfortable? I did my best to update it. I’ve been slowly working on it since Christmas but after I talked to you last week, I had Bryce put a few other projects on the back burner to finish up here.”
Emma’s mouth tightened momentarily, then she smiled. What had Rosie said?
“It’s nice,” Emma assured her. “I really appreciate having two connected bedrooms and the Jack-and-Jill bathroom in between them. The rooms are perfect for now. If I end up staying in town longer than a few months while Grandma recovers, I’ll probably look for my own place.”
So many ifs. Rosie could only keep her fingers and toes crossed and do all she could to keep her daughter comfortable.
“You know there’s no need for that. I have plenty of room, especially with Mom insisting on staying in her own place.”
Rosie was not sure who was more stubborn, her daughter or her mother. Sylvia had lived in the tiny self-contained guest cottage in Rosie’s backyard for ten years, ever since she’d uprooted her life in Portland after Gary’s death and moved here to help them through their grief.
Her mother was stubborn, opinionated and fierce. She did her own thing and always had. Why else would she be currently recovering from a broken ankle sustained while Rollerblading at seventy-two years old?
“I’ll be ready in a minute,” Emma said.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a pancake?”
“No. Coffee usually does it for me in the mornings.”
This was yet another thing Rosie did not know about her daughter these days. This adult version of Emma was a virtual stranger.
The last time they had lived together, when Emma was seventeen, her daughter had loved a big breakfast. Bacon, hashbrowns, pancakes. The whole thing. Now she was a vegetarian who apparently fueled up with coffee in the mornings.
She would figure all of those things out. They had time now. Emma was here for at least a few months. If Rosie had anything to say about it, she could be here longer.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the back door opening. She looked over in surprise and found her mother peering at the three of them seated at the table.