2. Lana
CHAPTER 2
LANA
I f there was one thing I could count on, it was the rhythm of my work day.
I headed downstairs at eight on the dot, watering can in one hand, dog treat in my pocket. Mrs. Schneiderman’s schnauzer was guarding the door. He watched as I watered each flowerbed in turn, each blooming window box, each hanging plant.
“Hey, Wiener,” I said to him, when I was done. He pricked up his ears, but he stayed where he was. It was Wiener’s mission to break into my shop, and every morning, he set up camp to that end. Every morning, I lured him away with a milk bone, then I ducked inside before he could follow. He pressed his nose on the glass, thwarted again.
“Nothing here for you, bud. See, it’s just books.” I held one up. Wiener stood panting. Then a gate slammed next door and he scurried away.
I heard Mrs. Schneiderman scolding him. “Bad dog. Bad Wiener!” She called over to me. “Morning, sweetheart!”
“Morning, Mrs. Schneiderman.” I stuck my head out the window. “Feels like a hot one.”
“Perfect spring weather.” She opened her own store and shooed Wiener inside. “I had that gate fixed. I don’t know how he got out.”
Over it was my guess, same as every other day. But I just laughed. I didn’t mind Wiener. He was part of my morning, like starting the coffee. Which I proceeded to do, then I found a washcloth. I wiped down the table in the kids’ section, somehow sticky again, though we didn’t allow food. I put a few misshelved books back in their places, straightened the summer reads on their display racks. I was just cracking open our latest new shipment when the front door swung open and Alice walked in.
“Coffee’s ready,” I called.
“Ooh, you’re an angel!” She hurried to the break room and soon I heard pouring, then the clink of her spoon as she stirred in sugar. Alice was a new hire, but I loved her already, always on time, always happy to be here. She peered over my shoulder, sipping her coffee. “What’s that on top?”
I frowned. “I don’t know.” I pulled out what looked like a cardboard deckchair. It had been packed flat, but now it fell open. “Some kind of display, I guess. I’ll set it up later.”
“A lounger,” said Alice. “Beach reads. I get it. You put a book in it, see? And a little umbrella.” She pulled out an oversized cocktail parasol. I groaned, trying to figure out where I’d put that. I had room for endcaps and storefront displays, but not this sort of odd-shaped non-standard nonsense. Maybe in the front window, if I cleared out some space.
Alice checked the wall clock and flipped the store sign to open. I got to work on the new display, setting it up. I got kind of into it after a while, adding a colorful placemat to serve as a beach towel, a line of blue books piled in a wave. I left one open on top, a pale fan of sea foam. By the time I’d done that and packed up the old display, the kids were arriving from morning daycare. I hurried to greet them.
“Hey, Katie, Daniel! Ready for story hour?”
Katie yawned hugely. Daniel scratched his nose. Sharon, their teacher, herded them inside.
“Sorry,” she said. “We’ve had an eventful morning.” She steered the rest of the kids in, and back to the reading nook. I followed, smiling.
“Eventful how?”
“Mike found a newt. Didn’t you, Mike?” She suppressed a shudder. “He sneaked it in with him and set it loose in the nap room, and the screaming, the shouting, the jumping on tables…”
I tried not to laugh, but a giggle broke through. “What ended up happening? Was the newt okay?”
“Oh, the newt’s fine. Fit as a fiddle. My head, on the other hand…” She rubbed at her temples.
“Alice’ll get you a coffee. And I think we have aspirin.”
“You’re a lifesaver. Katie! Sit down.”
Katie froze halfway through climbing onto the table. She slid back down and sat on a cushion. I tipped her a little wink and she looked away shyly. I’d planned on kicking today off with Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus , but I guessed Sharon didn’t need twenty minutes of the kids screaming “Noooooooo!” Instead, I went with fairy tales, good for quiet reading, though Puss in Boots soon had the kids asking questions.
“Wait, wait, Miss Stamey?” Daniel stuck up his hand.
“What is it, Daniel?”
“How does a cat wear boots?”
“Well, on its feet.”
“But, on all four feet, or only the back ones?”
I turned the book around to show the illustration. “Only the back feet. Don’t they look snazzy?”
“My dog has boots,” said Mike. “For when the sidewalk’s too hot. But he has to wear four of them, one on each paw.”
“Miss Stamey, can cats really walk on two feet?”
“Well, no. Not most cats. But this cat is special. Why don’t we keep reading and see what happens next?”
The kids mostly settled down after that, getting into the story and forgetting their questions. I read through Puss in Boots , then one more story, and by the time I was finished, half the kids had dozed off. Sharon woke them gently and got them on their feet, coaxing them out of the reading nook with promises of treats.
“Thank you,” she mouthed at me, over their heads. Then she was hustling them back out the door, back up the street, all clutching their tow rope. I tidied the reading nook and reshelved the book. Alice came up beside me, toting her purse.
“Thought I’d head out for lunch,” she said. “Can I bring you anything back?”
I thought for a moment, then shook my head. “No, thanks, not this time. I’ll grab something upstairs.” But I didn’t go up to my place when she left. Instead, I dug out the task I’d been dreading, next month’s book order list.
The thing was, my shop was small. Really small. I couldn’t stock every book, or anywhere close. I had to guess what the town would love — and in summer, the tourists — and only stock that . No room for error. Mom had always nailed it, month after month. She’d had this instinct, never went wrong. You always have what I’m looking for, Mrs. Schneiderman once told her. I come in every time, and boom, like magic. It’s like that store, y’know, from that story. The one where the shelves stock your heart’s desire.
I felt my eyes prickle. My vision swam. Mom had been magic, but now she was gone. And if I didn’t find myself a touch of her magic, I didn’t know what I was going to do. Sales were way down from this time last year, and still trending downward. I blinked back my tears.
If there was one thing I could count on, it was the rhythm of my work day — but if I couldn’t step up, I’d soon lose that too. I’d soon lose Mom’s legacy, my entire childhood. The only life I’d ever had, or ever wanted. Panic swelled in my chest and flapped behind my eyelids, and when I closed my eyes, the room pitched and yawed. When I tried to breathe, the air felt too thin. I gulped a huge breath, then gulped another. A cloud of bright sparks swarmed my head. I clutched at the counter.
“Lana? You okay?”
I jerked upright — Mom? — but it was just Alice. She ran up to catch me before I could fall.
“Hey, come sit down. What happened? You sick?”
I let her half-drag me back to the reading nook, into the beanbag I kept there for story hour. My knees went out from under me and I flopped down hard.
“I forgot my wallet,” said Alice, stroking my back. “Made it halfway to Baguettes, and that’s when it hit me. I took it out to show Sharon the pics of my niece and never put it back again. Hey, try and breathe.”
I sucked in a long breath, slow through my nose. When I let it out again, I felt my head clear.
“Was it the list again? Panic attack?”
I nodded, feeling silly. “Yeah. Freaking out.”
“We’ve all been there,” said Alice, and plopped down beside me. “Anything I could help with?”
I was about to say no, but maybe there was. “You like to read, yeah?”
“Book-a-day habit.”
“You could go through the catalogues. Pick out what you’d order. Maybe two heads are better than one.” I sighed. “Though, at this point, it might be too late. We’ve been bleeding cash since Mom got sick, and now she’s gone…” I closed my eyes to hold back fresh tears.
“There’s your spare room,” said Alice. “Couldn’t you take in a lodger?”
“A lodger? Upstairs?” I tried to picture how that would work, my tiny apartment, just my room and Mom’s. Her room was empty now, technically open — she’d moved in with Miss Rose when the stairs got too hard for her. I’d brought all her things over so it felt like home, and they were still there, as far as I knew. But even with the room free, it’d be a tight fit, my tiny kitchen, my one pokey bathroom. The hall closet so narrow it just fit my coat.
“The summer people’ll be showing up soon. You can ask for a lot if you rent to a tourist. They go nuts for that old-timey Haverford charm.”
“Old-timey… you mean, like my shower? How it takes twenty minutes to get halfway lukewarm?”
“Yeah, those guys love all that. Trust me. My old roommate’s mom had a place by the beach, with this actual shed out back she fixed up as a guest suite. She rented it out for, I want to say twenty-five hundred? You wouldn’t get that much, as you’re sharing a bathroom, but you could ask for a thousand. Maybe twelve hundred.”
“For Mom’s old room? It’s the size of a closet.”
“Yeah, but it’s pretty. And you’re really clean. People pay more for a non-messy roommate.”
“They do not.”
“ I would. If I didn’t have one already.” Alice pulled out her phone and tapped at the screen, scrolling through Craigslist for our little island. “One room by the beach, eighteen hundred. Not even a good beach. That’s up by the rocks. Oh, and it says here, must be fine with large dogs.”
“Let me see that.” I took her phone from her and squinted at the screen. Summer rentals were popping up like mushrooms — one room, a suite. A huge, sprawling beach house. I bit my lip. “No harm in trying, I guess.”
“That’s the spirit,” said Alice, and snatched her phone back. “Okay, let’s sell it. Cozy room— no, cozy means small. Charming room downtown, central location, walking distance to shopping, food, and the beach. Above quiet bookshop. Non-smoker preferred. No pets, right?”
I thought of Wiener. “Yeah, say no pets.”
“No pets, no weirdos. Fourteen hundred.”
“Don’t put ‘no weirdos.’ And fourteen hundred? ”
“Leaves room, if they haggle.”
“Or no one will call at all. That’s way too much.”
“Well, you’ll find out, because…” She tapped the screen. “Posted.”
I rolled my eyes and stood up, feeling better. The distraction had helped at least, if nothing else. I could get on with my day now, back to my routine. As long as I didn’t think too much, I would be fine. Then tomorrow, once Alice had started our order list?—
My phone chirped in my pocket. Alice bounced.
“Ooh! Already?”
I laughed. “No way that’s from the ad.” But when I pulled my phone out, a text popped straight up.
Saw your ad for the room. I’d love to come see it. Call me back any time, and we’ll set an appointment.
“Summer people,” crowed Alice. “What did I tell you?”
“We don’t know it’s a summer person.”
“So call and find out.” Alice grabbed my phone from me and tapped on the text. When she handed it back to me, it was already ringing.
“Seriously?”
“Hello?” A male voice, deep and warm. I jumped, almost dropped the phone, and giggled, embarrassed.
“Sorry. Uh, hi. I’m returning your text? About the cozy— I mean, the charming, the… uh, the room.” Heat flooded my face. I’d botched it already.
“I’m new in town.” Was this guy fighting laughter? Alice was bouncing, mouthing summer person . I turned my back on her and tried to stay calm.
“I’m Lana,” I said.
“I’m Sa— uh, Brad.” He cleared his throat. “Tripped over my tongue there. Let me try that again. I’m Brad, pleased to meet you. Your room sounds perfect.”
“It is a great room.” I tried not to babble. “It faces east, so it’s bright in the mornings. But I can hang curtains if you like to sleep late. Oh, and it includes utilities, heat, TV, water. So, it’s not huge, but?—”
“It sounds great. Do you have time today for me to come see it?”
I froze for a moment, tongue-tied myself. Was I really going to meet this man, a total stranger? I’d never lived with a man before, even in college. Why hadn’t I made Alice specify female? Would it be weird if I changed my mind now?
“I’m sorry,” said Brad. “Was I being too pushy? Maybe you had some questions you’d like to ask me? Last time I had a roommate was way back in college, and he was assigned to me, so I’m new to all this.”
Alice made an aww sound. I waved her off.
“No, no, you’re good. You’re not being pushy. I was just trying to think when would be good to meet you.”
“I can do any time, the sooner the better.”
I thought for a second. “How about four-ish?” That way Alice would still be around, and I could get her opinion before I let him move in. If Brad pinged her creep radar, she could warn me off.
“Four-ish sounds great.” I could hear the smile in Brad’s voice. When I hung up, I was smiling myself. Alice was clapping.
“See how easy that was?”
“Easy?” I whirled. “I still have to meet him.”
“But he sounds cute.”
“How can anyone sound cute?” He kind of had, though, a deep, pleasant voice with a masculine rumble. Steady and confident, but not cocky or rude. And what was I thinking? I wasn’t looking to date him. Just find a lodger, just?—
“You’re blushing!” Alice was pointing. I smacked her hand away.
“Get back to work.”
But when I glanced in the window, my reflection was glowing, pink-cheeked and flustered. A total mess. I sent up a quick prayer he wouldn’t be cute, or at least not as cute as his voice made him seem. No one would sublet from some blushing fool… and if he didn’t, my future was bleak.