The Bookstore Diaries

Chapter One

“Not a good one.”

Jax Sutherland pulled the books out of the carton and put them on her cart. “Don’t say that. You haven’t even read it.”

“Not a good one.”

She glanced up at Ramon and sighed. “You’re being so judgy.”

“Time for a snack.”

“In your mind, it’s always time for a snack and no.”

The large African gray parrot huffed loudly, sounding amazingly like Jax’s mother when she was annoyed, then flew out of the

stockroom and into the store. Jax turned her attention back to the book Ramon had dissed, running her fingers across the beautiful

floral cover. While she could never admit it to the parrot or anyone, she’d read an advanced copy of the novel in question

and well, he was right. Despite the glowing reviews and the upscale advertising campaign, it really hadn’t been a very good

story.

“But it will be someone’s favorite,” she told herself as she wheeled the now-full cart into the main store. “Because there’s

a person for every book.”

She steered toward the New Fiction section, careful to avoid bumping into the dozens of customers browsing, reading and talking, and the construction crew working by the east wall.

The Painted Lady Bookstore was a vibrant part of the local community here in Port Palmas, California.

The glorious three-story-plus-basement Victorian mansion had started life in the late 1800s as a family home.

Over the past hundred and fifty years, it had been a speakeasy and a boardinghouse, then was briefly abandoned in the 1960s before being bought by her grandparents in the early 1970s and turned into a bookstore.

There were three stories of retail, including the basement, with the former bedrooms, living and storage spaces hosting a genre and complemented by appropriate decor.

The mystery room had faux murder weapons on display, as well as a very nice painting of Sherlock Holmes done by a local artist. The fantasy room had a four-foot crocheted dragon, complete with very detailed wings.

The basement housed both a horror section and games room, while the smallest upstairs bedroom was painted to look like a jungle scene and belonged to Ramon.

He had a perch with his potty tray and his three-sided covered cage where he retreated to spend the night.

On the third floor was a spacious two-bedroom apartment with a full kitchen and a widow’s walk that offered unobstructed views

of the ocean. Since the end of her marriage, Jax had lived there on the alternate weeks she wasn’t with her two kids.

Ever since she’d first walked into the Painted Lady Bookstore when she was ten years old, she’d loved everything about the

place. She adored the tall ceilings, the big windows, the way the staircase creaked and how when a storm raged outside, the

old house always made her feel safe. She belonged here—she always had.

As she put out the new books, pausing to answer questions about when a favorite author would have a new release or to schedule an appointment to discuss a charity event, she reveled in the happiness that was her life.

Despite the divorce last year, she was doing great.

Everyone she loved was happy and healthy, which was kind of amazing.

“Hey, Jax, can we talk?”

She turned as her ex-husband approached, pleased she’d reached the place where the sight of him didn’t dredge up a bucket

of negative emotions. The split had been relatively amicable—if she ignored how stunned she’d been when he’d announced he

wanted out of their marriage. One second they’d been an averagely happy couple, at least from her perspective. The next he’d

been packing his things and moving out.

It had been a Thursday night, she remembered. The kids had gone to bed and she and Harris had been discussing the very sad

funeral they’d attended that afternoon. They’d lost a friend, Kim, who had been about their age—something that had shocked

them both. Only instead of sharing how badly he felt, Harris had said he was leaving her.

He’d walked out before she’d had the chance to catch her breath, leaving her to explain to their two children why their father

wasn’t joining them for breakfast.

But they’d gotten through it and the kids were thriving, so yay them. They’d both moved on. Harris a little more than her,

what with him dating nearly every single, semi-age-appropriate female in a fifty-mile radius, while she’d yet to even consider

going out with a man, but that was just a teeny-tiny detail that mattered to no one.

She glanced at the large wall clock that had once graced the wall of the San Francisco train station. It was barely after

one in the afternoon.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for a game?”

Harris was the baseball coach at Port Palmas High School. Spring was the height of his season.

He followed her gaze to the clock, then nodded. “I only have a few minutes but I wanted to speak to you. Can we go into your office?”

“Sure.”

She left the cart in what had been the original kitchen and now housed cookbooks, along with a nice selection of kitchen gadgets,

aprons, spices and canister sets, and led the way to the back of the store where they squeezed into her small, cluttered,

windowless space. Seconds later Ramon flew in and settled on one of the tall bookcases.

“Hey, my man,” Harris said. “How’s it hanging?”

Jax held in a groan. “Stop saying that to him. You know he loves to repeat everything we say.”

“He’s a guy. It’s an appropriate question.”

She shut the door and they sat on opposites sides of her desk. In the second it took him to start talking, she wondered if

he wanted to change weeks or was thinking about where to take the kids on vacation this year. Since Xander, their youngest,

had turned five three years ago, Harris had started a tradition of taking both kids to a different ballpark over the summer.

Last year they’d driven to Cleveland where they’d spent a week exploring the area and going to baseball games.

“I want to amend the parenting plan.”

What he said and what she’d been thinking were so at odds, she needed a couple of breaths to process.

Her first instinct was to say absolutely not.

They’d worked hard on making sure they had everything in place to give their children the best possible life.

Harris, the child of divorce himself, had hated going back and forth between his mom’s and his dad’s places and had wanted something different for their children.

It had taken Jax a few days of internet research to come up with the idea of leaving the kids in what had been the family home while she and Harris alternated weeks when they were with them.

Although it had taken them a few months to settle into the new routine, now it was simply how things were.

When she wasn’t with her children, she lived in the bookstore.

“How?” she asked cautiously. “It’s working the way it is. They’re so comfortable and happy.”

He shifted in his seat. “I want Shawna to spend the night.” He looked away, then back at her. “We’ve been going out for nearly

six months. It’s getting serious. It’s not reasonable that I can’t see her for a week at a time.”

Jax resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Oh, you can see her, Harris. She’s welcome to hang out as much as you want. She can have dinner with the kids every night. But this isn’t

about seeing her, is it? You want to be able to sleep with her on the weeks you’re in the house. This is about you getting

laid.”

“You getting laid. You getting laid.”

The singsong voice came from up above. Jax groaned while Harris chuckled. “Way to go, Ramon.”

“Don’t encourage him.”

“You might want to keep him out of the kids’ section until he gets tired of saying it.”

“You getting laid,” Ramon repeated, then flapped his wings. “Go outside.”

She opened the door and he flew out, echoes of “You getting laid” trailing behind him.

Jax had no idea how she was going to distract Ramon with a new phrase but she would figure out something. In the meantime,

she had a Harris-sized problem to deal with. She shut the door again and returned to her desk.

Her ex-husband had been a minor league baseball player when they’d met. He was tall and good-looking, with thick, dark, wavy

hair and an easy smile. Her crush had been instant and she’d been thrilled when he’d noticed her—after all she had just been

a small-town girl, going to a small-town college. But he’d been smitten and within nine months of that meeting, they’d been

married.

She’d been a loving, understanding wife while he’d played in the minors for five years, waiting for his big break.

She’d always encouraged him to follow his dreams while supporting him financially.

When the call had come, she’d flown to Seattle to watch his debut with the Mariners.

One year later, he’d blown out his shoulder, ending his major league career.

As far as she knew, he’d never been unfaithful. He’d been steady, a good father and a loving husband—right until he’d left

her and filed for divorce.

For the first eight months, there’d been a string of women but about six months ago, he’d started seeing Shawna—a relatively

new resident who was a teacher at the elementary school across the street from Harris’s high school. According to Jax’s sister,

Ryleigh, also an elementary school teacher, Shawna was sweet, caring and good with her students. Of course she was also gorgeous,

blonde and all of twenty-six, so twelve years younger than Jax and fourteen years younger than Harris, but who was she to

criticize.

“No,” she said, careful to keep her tone neutral. “Per the parenting plan, no adult overnights unless the parties are married

or at least engaged.”

His expression tightened. “That’s not fair. Shawna’s important to me.”

“While that’s lovely, it’s not relevant. Come on, it’s only an issue every other week. Figure something out. Have a quickie