CHAPTER 5 A PROMISE MADE IN PENCIL
On Monday morning Clara called her boss and asked to work remotely for three months.
The silence on the other end lasted long enough to make her nervous.
Then Marianne said, “I wondered when you were going to ask.”
“You did?”
“You’ve taken four vacation days in six years, Clara.”
“That is not relevant.”
“It is deeply relevant.”
“I’ll keep my full workload.”
“I know you will.”
“I can come in for major meetings.”
“Fine.”
“And if this creates any problem—”
“Clara.”
She stopped.
“Take the ninety days.”
So Clara did.
By ten-thirty she had established a temporary office upstairs in the bookshop apartment, where Aunt June had installed a desk beneath a dormer window.
The apartment was more finished than Clara expected.
White walls, refinished floors, a tiny kitchen, one bedroom, one bath, and shelves built into every reasonable surface.
On the refrigerator, Aunt June had left a yellow note.
MILK. EGGS. CALL CLARA.
Clara stood staring at the last two words until they blurred.
She took the note down and folded it carefully into her wallet.
At noon, Eli arrived with an electrician named Sam Carter.
Sam inspected outlets while Eli opened the panel in the back hall.
Clara followed them with a notebook.
“What are you doing?” Eli asked.
“Taking notes.”
“Why?”
“Because information should be written down.”
Sam grinned. “I’m with her.”
Eli sighed.
The inspection produced better news than expected. The electrical system needed several repairs but no full replacement. Sam promised to return Wednesday.
After he left, Clara and Eli stood near the front counter.
“How much?” she asked.
“Ask Sam.”
“I mean everything.”
“I told you—”
“I know. Depends what I do.”
Eli nodded.
“So I made a list.”
“Of course you did.”
She handed him a sheet.
He read it.
Repair front trim.
Paint exterior door.
Finish reading room.
Inspect plumbing.
Repair history aisle floor.
Service heating system.
Replace six damaged shelves.
Repaint children’s moon.
Install better lighting.
Clean upstairs.
Inventory valuable books.
Reopen by September 5.
Eli looked up. “September fifth?”
“Three weeks.”
“You want the shop open in three weeks?”
“Yes.”
“The reading room won’t be done.”
“Then finish it later.”
“The sign painter is booked.”
“I can paint letters.”
“I’ve seen your handwriting.”
“My handwriting is excellent.”
“It leans downhill.”
“That was one birthday card when I was nineteen.”
He smiled.
Clara stopped.
There it was again—ease arriving without permission.
Eli looked back at the list.
“Why September fifth?”
“Because school starts the week before. Because three weeks is enough time to create urgency but not enough time to overthink. And because if the shop is going to fail, I’d rather learn quickly.”
“Always efficient.”
“You say that like an accusation.”
“Sometimes efficiency is just fear wearing a watch.”
Clara stared at him.
“What does that even mean?”
“It means you schedule decisions so you don’t have to sit with them.”
She took the list back.
“You’ve become philosophical.”
“Comes from sanding cabinets.”
“Very meditative.”
“Extremely.”
She turned away.
“September fifth.”
Eli considered.
“I can get the repairs done.”
“Good.”
“But you need help with inventory.”
“I have spreadsheets.”
“You need people.”
“I have spreadsheets.”
“Those are not people.”
“They’re often more dependable.”
He laughed.
Clara hated that she liked the sound.
Eli walked to the front window and examined the frame.
“June made me promise something,” he said.
Clara waited.
“She said if you decided to reopen, even temporarily, I had to help you until opening day.”
Clara blinked. “She said that?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Two weeks before she closed.”
“Did she know she was leaving me the shop?”
“Yes.”
“She told you?”
“She told me enough.”
Clara folded her arms. “What else did she tell you?”
Eli shook his head.
“Eli.”
“No.”
“You cannot tell me my aunt left you secret instructions and then refuse to explain.”
“I can. Watch.”
She stared at him.
He pointed to her list. “September fifth?”
“Yes.”
“Then we start today.”
“We already started.”
“See? Impatient.”
“Annoying.”
“Consistent.”
He went outside to measure the front trim.
Clara remained behind the counter, irritated and smiling at the same time.
That afternoon she created an opening budget.
The numbers were not encouraging.
Even with June’s careful records, the shop had barely broken even the previous year.
Online sales were inconsistent. Special orders had declined.
The inventory included too many slow-moving titles and not enough recent releases.
The business website looked as if it had been built when dial-up internet was still a threat.
At four, Clara called Hawthorne Development.
Preston Vale answered.
“Ms. Bennett. I hoped we’d speak again.”
“I’m not accepting the offer yet.”
“I understand you’ve reopened the building.”
News traveled faster than weather.
“I’m evaluating the business.”
“Of course. Our interest remains, but I should mention we’re pursuing another property nearby.”
“Is that pressure?”
“It’s information.”
“Then thank you for the information.”
She hung up.
Eli came in from outside carrying a strip of rotten wood trim.
“Who was that?”
“Hawthorne.”
His expression closed.
“They’re looking at another property.”
“Which one?”
“He didn’t say.”
Eli set down the wood.
“That matters.”
“Why?”
“Because if they’re assembling the block, one sale affects everybody.”
Clara frowned. “The bakery?”
“Possibly.”
“Maggie owns her building.”
“Yes.”
“Would she sell?”
“No.”
The certainty in his voice made Clara look at him.
“You know something I don’t.”
“I know Hawthorne already approached two owners.”
“Who?”
“The old hardware building and Garland Pharmacy.”
Clara looked through the window toward the pharmacy two doors down.
Suddenly the offer in her bag seemed less isolated.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“Because you got here four days ago.”
She pressed her lips together.
Fair.
Eli picked up the rotten trim again.
“Still want ninety days?”
Clara looked around the shop.
“Yes.”
“Still opening September fifth?”
“Yes.”
“Then that’s what we do.”
He walked back outside.
Clara watched him through the glass.
Her aunt had made him promise to help.
For reasons Clara did not yet understand, that promise felt more dangerous than the developer’s offer.