Chapter 10 #5
“My life is hardly deprived,” Rachel said, laughing hard.
“On the inside, though.” Mo’s tone wasn’t one of judgment, it was one of caring.
“Our inner lives need to be fed. Nordic noir is great. So is young adult, fantasy, or romance. Anything that helps you connect with yourself and other people in your imagination. It’s easy to fall out of the habit of reading fiction.
” Mo sized her up. “Bet you’re the kind of person who will do anything if science backs it up. ”
“I’m definitely more interested if there’s data to support an idea, sure. Who isn’t?”
Mo laughed. “Lots of people aren’t. Most of my customers aren’t data-driven. They’re feeling-driven.”
As Mo and Rachel talked, Kell decided to let Mo do some of his work for him. He didn’t need to intervene in Rachel’s first exposure to someone so committed to the town’s mission that they ran a bookstore about nothing but love.
In the non-fiction section, he came across a book called Mama Loves Her Babies: How Mother Trees Connect Forest Families and slipped it into the crook of his arm. Mo always carried cool books that he would never have found on his own.
As he walked to the counter, he noticed Rachel had two paperbacks in her own hands.
“Finding good stuff?” he asked her with a wink.
“I still want Max Seeck’s new book, but Mo says I should try these.”
“You’ll have to go to the library for mystery and thriller,” Mo said. “Dotty makes sure every genre is covered. That was one heck of a fight.”
“Who is Dotty?”
“Dotty Chen. The town librarian. About fifteen years ago, the Love Committee tried to make the library carry only love-themed books. I thought Dotty was about to go to actual war over it. Loads of residents agreed with her,” Kell explained.
“A love-only library sounds like a terrible idea!” Rachel exclaimed.
“I’m glad you agree. It’s also how this store stays unique,” Mo said.
Rachel read the title of Kell’s book. He motioned for her to add hers to his pile, but she resolutely held on.
“I’m expensing this,” she said. “Research.”
“Your boss is going to let you expense books called Lord of Scoundrels and Shopping for a Billionaire?” he asked skeptically.
“Research,” Rachel repeated, sending Mo and Kell into laughter.
“You’re going to love that one,” Mo commented with a chin nod toward Rachel’s choices. “It’s a classic.”
“You really make a profit doing this?” Rachel asked, half in wonder, half with the crisp tone of a businessperson.
“I do. We have an internet presence now, and we ship worldwide. We get a lot of romance authors who do readings, and signed books are a huge deal. Romance fans come from all over and make it a vacation. Tourism is all about ripple effects. The inns make money, the restaurants make money, people buy books… you know?”
Rachel added a small bag of very familiar red foil-covered chocolate hearts to her book purchase.
“I do. Thank you.”
Kell let her buy her own books, the corporate card with the Markstone's logo on it making him ponder. Was the town really too silly for her? Too cutesy?
Mo’s phone rang and they waved as Kell and Rachel left the store clutching their bags. The cold hit them in the face as they emerged onto the sidewalk.
The very next store was Love You Flowers.
Rachel looked in the window. “It’s like a volcano of roses erupted in there.”
The line out the door, about ten deep, was nothing but men his father’s age, some in suits, most in Carhartts and construction boots. One after another, they went in empty-handed and came out carrying a few dozen roses in their arms.
“That’s quaint.”
“Aside from weddings, this is the month everyone makes their money. The town half-jokingly calls February 14th our Black Friday.”
“I can see why.”
“Want to go in?”
“It looks too crowded. What else?”
“Bilbee’s Tavern.”
“It’s early for a drink!”
“Not to drink. Just to tour.” Kell thought for a moment. “But let’s head to the center of town first. The common. You really need to see the heart and soul of Love You, Maine.”
“I thought you said the people were the heart of the town.”
“They are. That’s my point.”
The tune “Silly Love Songs” came on the town’s PA system, the light-hearted ditty making Kell grin.
“More love songs,” Rachel said with a laugh.
“The Love Committee hand-selects the playlists. They carefully curate to make sure the songs are family friendly, and not too sad.”
“It sounds like this Love Committee has a lot of sway in town.”
“It does. People rotate in on two-year terms.”
“You ever serve on it?”
“No. I’ve tried to avoid it.”
“Why?”
The white gazebo smack in the middle of the town common came into view, the trim covered in red heart decorations. An enormous, glittery red heart was attached to the peak of the roof.
“Don’t want to spend my free time arguing about which songs get people to open up their wallets, or whether Christina Perri’s ‘Jar of Hearts’ is appropriate. I’ve got better things to do with my time.”
“Like what?”
“Like cut dudes wearing heart costumes out of trees.”
Knowing laughter greeted that comment as he steered her toward the gazebo.
Small platforms were everywhere, pulled out for the festival.
No one wanted to work on a snow-covered common or set up crafts tents in February so, about twenty years ago, people got together and built small pavilions that could be broken down flat, stored away, then reassembled for the festival.
The Department of Public Works cleared the snow off the sidewalks and the paths that criss-crossed the common and, just like that, a winter festival was possible in Maine.
Most of the vendors weren’t set up yet but a few had begun already, especially the locals, who got a jumpstart on making money as the crowds swelled ahead of the actual festival. Out of the thirty or so pavilions, six were occupied, and Kell took Rachel right to the one that said Love You Tattoos.
“Hey, Dutch,” he said to a young woman who looked like she couldn’t have been more than five feet tall and a hundred pounds on a heavy day. Thick eyeliner stretched catlike at the corners of her eyes. Her mouth spread into a huge grin as she stood staring up at a mildly chagrined Kell.
“Hi!” she gasped. She noticed Rachel with an uncertain defeat. Kell had known Anna “Dutch” Connelly since she was born, and had helped build sets for all the school plays she was in, but the crush she had on him was confounding.
“I need a henna tattoo,” he said, then looked at Rachel. “You want one?”
Her no was right there. He saw it, hoping she got his undertone. Dutch was one of the poorest kids in town, smart and creative, but with two parents who were barely hanging onto the trailer they lived in with her and her thirteen-year-old sister.
They were more into the bottle than parenting.
Both girls worked any odd job they could find to make money. Dean hired them to stack wood sometimes. Dutch’s henna tattoo hobby had turned into a way to generate some extra dough.
“Um, sure,” Rachel said, giving him a look that said she expected the full story later.
“What do you want?” Dutch pulled out a thick binder of designs, the gorgeous patterns making Rachel brush them with her fingertips in awe, Kell enjoying Rachel’s pleasure as she viewed the art.
“Doesn’t everyone get hearts this time of year?” Rachel asked. “By the way, I’m Rachel.”
Dutch’s face fell. “I know.”
Kell pulled out his wallet. “How much for a custom design?”
“For you?” the kid said. “Nothing. I owe you for driving me home from play practice all the time.”
“Uh uh. You need to be a better businessperson. Charge for your talent and time,” he chided her.
“What kind of custom design?”
“Can you take this and–” he pointed to a pattern and whispered something in her ear, and she began laughing.
“SERIOUSLY?”
He nodded.
“Sure, but…” Cutting her eyes to Rachel, she asked, “Who is it for?”
Rachel gave him a quizzical look. “What kind of design are you asking for?”
“How spontaneous can you be?”
“Huh?”
“Are you willing to close your eyes and let Dutch–Anna–put my custom design on you?”
“Depends on where, I guess,” Rachel said with an uncertain smile, eliciting laughs from everyone.
“ARM!” Dutch screeched. “On your arm!”
“It’s not going to be anything gross, is it, Kell?” Rachel asked nervously. “I’m not a fan of surprises, but I’m intrigued.”
“Trust me,” Kell said. Rachel inhaled sharply and he wondered if he was making a mistake.
“You want me to trust you?”
“It’s henna. It’ll wash off after ten or so showers. Will you trust me with this?”
For a few seconds, he expected her to say no, those seconds exposing five years of pain.
Asking her to trust him over something so tiny was a test, and they both knew it.
She should really be the one asking for trust, but in a way, she had.
She wanted him to trust the deal she was offering Lucinda and Boyce.
Rachel was spending an entire day with him, and she didn’t have to.
Something deeper was brewing between them.
Rachel sat down on one of the two chairs in front of Dutch, closed her eyes, and thrust out her arm.
“Okay. Deal.”
Kell handed Dutch double her normal rate. Her outlined eyes got huge.
“That’s too much money!”
“Not for what you’re about to invent.”
“You’re seriously scaring me, Kell.”
He sat next to Rachel. “Good that you’re trusting me. It’ll be fun. You need more fun in your life.”
Her eyelids closed and her shoulders dropped. “Fine. But you’d better not have anything lewd tattooed on me. I have to fly in a week and go through TSA security.”
“It’s not lewd. Promise.”
“Let me guess. It’s the Svalbard flag?”
Kell leaned and whispered in Dutch’s ear again. The snicker came out before she could suppress it.
“You want that?”
“I do.”
“Right in the middle of the design?”
“Yes.”
“That’s hilarious.”
“And I want a matching one, too.”
“Oh! Is that why you gave me so much money? It’s still too much, but for two…”
“You undercharge, kid.”