Chapter 8 #2
She hesitated for two reasons. She hadn’t been in Second Chapter since Earl died.
It had been hard enough cleaning out his fridge in his apartment, even though she’d done that shortly after his passing.
The grief wasn’t as acute now. But Second Chapter was where Earl’s heart had always been, and she wasn’t sure how she’d handle being there.
Then there was Leo. She hadn’t seen him all day, and this morning when she and Sir left for their morning walk, Sir didn’t
meow at his door. When they went outside, his Turismo was gone. She was sure he was avoiding her on purpose, and she wasn’t
eager for the upcoming awkwardness.
“Meow!”
Not wanting to keep Sir and Leo waiting, she opened the door, and as expected, her cat shot into the shop like a bottle rocket.
The lights were on, but she didn’t immediately see Leo. Second Chapter looked exactly the way Earl had left it and the way
Leo had described—chock-full of books, magazines, even some posters, all without a scintilla of organization or tidiness.
Return patrons likened it to a treasure hunt and said that searching through the stacks, piles, and wonky shelves hoping to
find literary gold was most of the fun. There were also plenty of customers who walked in, saw the pandemonium, and immediately
walked out. Earl was never offended. He always said that Second Chapter wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea.
It was definitely Via’s. She loved to read, but for her the main attraction was Earl’s commitment to being a generous bibliophile.
That’s what made Second Chapter special. He’d never been in it for the money. Perry Percival would never honor that, and she
doubted Leo would be here long enough to understand it.
In the distance Sir meowed, and it sounded like he’d made his way to the back of the shop.
She maneuvered seamlessly through the chaos, knowing the layout from all the time she’d spent here.
The inventory, however, was still a mystery.
Only Earl knew everything he had, and he never wrote anything down.
She wondered if he was allergic to handwriting.
He certainly avoided anything computerized.
When she arrived near the bathroom, Leo was standing in the doorway, Sir Meow weaving around his ankles. “Just checked out
the bathroom.” He held up a completely dried-out wax air freshener. “This was the only decorative thing I saw. Under the sink
is a stash of TP and a can of bubble cleaner spray, so it’s not completely uncivilized.”
That made her smile a little. So did his gray sweatshirt and baggy khaki trousers. Another Earl outfit, she surmised. The
look was straight from the nineties. Leo would have rocked the grunge era.
“I, uh . . .” He rubbed the back of his neck.
And here comes the awkwardness.
“Meow.” Sir was sitting on top of Leo’s tennis shoes.
Via shook her head. “Sir—”
But Leo had already grabbed the cat, who went limp in his hands, and deposited him on top of a nearby short bookshelf. He
gave Sir a quick pat on the head and looked into his eyes. “Stay.”
“He’s not a dog, Leo.”
“Weren’t you the one who said he had—what was it?” He touched his slightly scruffy chin. “Big-dog energy?”
“You remember that?”
He tapped his temple. “Mind like a steel trap.”
“With the humility to go with it.”
“Hey, when you got, you got it. The only things I don’t remember are what color socks I put on in the morning, what I ate
for dinner last week, and the answer to eight times seven.” He headed toward the front of the store.
“Fifty-six,” she said, following him.
Without turning around he replied, “Are you sure?”
“Yes—” She paused. It was fifty-six, wasn’t it? She quickly went through her sevens.
He chuckled.
And just like that, they were on an even keel again. “Very funny, Harvard Boy. It sounds like your steel trap is a little
rusty,” she said, catching up to him.
“No one’s perfect.”
But when he was like this—witty, charming, and sporting that scruffy, sexy beard—he was extremely close. She glanced over
her shoulder. Sir Meow was indeed staying put. He even looked comfortable perched on the one bare space on the shelf that
barely fit him, licking his left paw.
“I’m already overwhelmed,” Leo said, dropping the lighthearted mood as they stopped in front of the few open spaces at the
front of the store. “I hope you have an idea of where to start.”
She motioned for him to join her behind the counter. Underneath were stacks of old shoeboxes, whipped topping containers—anything
that could hold something was stuffed in every nook and cranny. There was barely any room for the tall, creased leather stool
with a silver back that was in the middle, where Earl sat during the shop’s hours, his nose in a book.
“Where’s the cash register?” Leo asked.
“He used this.” She picked up a small silver calculator from the nineties. Or was it the eighties?
“Does he have a ledger book? I know better than to ask about virtual spreadsheets.” He knelt down next to her, scanning the
mess. “I’m astounded he has cable.”
“He liked watching old TV shows. Or history channels.”
He stood. “That’s what was on when I first turned on the TV.”
For a moment they were both quiet. A moment of silence for Earl. Then Leo said, “If he didn’t have a cash register, where did he keep the money?”
“In a cash box. He took it upstairs every night after he closed.”
“I haven’t seen it.” He leaned against the stool. “Not yet anyway.”
“I’m sure it’s in his apartment somewhere,” Via said.
Sir Meow jumped on the counter and rubbed his cheek against Leo’s arm. Leo absently scratched the cat under his chin, sending
Sir’s purring into overdrive.
She watched Leo’s fingers move from Sir’s chin to the cat’s ears. Blissed out, Sir leaned into his touch. Via had never been
so envious of a cat in her life.
A knock sounded at the door. She turned to see Owen waving at them through the window, smiling. Earl had so much stuff crammed
into the small space that she had to scooch past Leo, her body brushing up against his. “Sorry. Got to get that door.”
“No problem.” The corner of his perfect mouth lifted in a half smile.
Her eyes zeroed on his dimple. Right there, at the corner of his incredible lips . . . warmth shot through her.
Owen. She had to let Owen in. Quickly she unlocked the front door and opened it. Chilly evening air entered the shop, and
the autumn-colored lights on all the businesses cast the town in a warm glow. “Hey, Owen.”
“Hi, Via. I was closing up the pharmacy and I saw the lights on in here.” He peered around her shoulder. “Are you opening
the shop again?”
“No . . .”
Leo appeared next to her and held out his hand to Owen. “Leo Brewster. I’m Earl’s nephew.”
“Nice to meetcha.” Owen shook his hand, still peeking inside the shop. “I miss this place. Could always find a decent book to pass the time when the pharmacy was slow. I can’t get into any of the stuff that comes out now. Earl was always good for some quick conversation too.”
“But not too much.” Via smiled.
“Nope. The man had his limits. Would you mind if I have a last look around? There will never be another shop like Second Chapter.”
“Sure,” Leo said. “Take your time.”
Owen’s smile returned. “Thanks.” He came inside. “So you’re a Harvard man.”
Harvard Boy . . . Via walked over to Sir Meow, stroked his fur, and listened in.
“My son, Tim, went to MIT.” Owen ran the edge of his finger against one of the dusty bookshelves. “Works in Seattle for that
big computer company. Been there almost ten years. Me and Clara keep hoping he’ll come back home, but it’s not likely. He
likes it there.” He looked at Leo. “I’m assuming you’re from Philadelphia. That’s where Earl said he hailed from.”
“No. New York City.”
“Oh. He didn’t mention he had family there.” Owen paused. “Actually, I don’t recall him talking about his family at all.”
Leo smoothly diverted the conversation from family to the bookstore. He asked Owen what type of books he liked, who was his
favorite author, and other small-talk questions that Earl would have detested but Owen seemed to enjoy answering.
“What’s your favorite thing about Second Chapter?” Leo asked.
Owen tapped his chin. “Obviously the location. Smells like old books in here too.”
“That’s a plus?” Leo asked, wrinkling his nose slightly.
“Sure. And there’s plenty of variety to choose from. You never know what kind of gems you’ll find in here.”
Leo’s brow raised. “You’ve found valuable books?”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. Earl didn’t care much for that kind of thing. He just bought what he liked.”
Leo nodded, as if he were taking mental notes. Via sure was. “What about the dust?” he asked Owen. “The mess?”
“Part of the charm. If I wanted to go to a cookie-cutter bookstore, I’d go to Mentor. Or Beachwood. Or any other bigger city
around here.” He frowned. “Sure am gonna miss it,” he repeated, almost inaudibly.
Via had no idea Owen was so attached to Second Chapter, and a spark of hope lit in her. This was exactly what she wanted Leo
to understand—how important the shop was to Earl’s customers and friends. Maybe that would make him more discerning about
who he sold the building to.
“Thanks for letting me reminisce. Clara’s got supper going, so I’d better get home.” Owen headed for the door.
“Nice to meet you.” Leo turned to Via. “I’ll be in the back for a minute.”
She nodded and went to the door with Owen. He was halfway out when he turned to Via. “I’m a little floored Earl never mentioned
he had a nephew. I talked about my kids and grandkids with him all the time. Seems like a nice guy. Hope he stays in town
for a while.” He pushed up the collar of his jacket and left.
Via turned the lock until it clicked. If things were different, she might hope for that too.