Chapter 40
Two Weeks Later…
I’m standing at the counter by my brand-new cash register, my nerves jangling like crazy as I watch the clock count down the minutes.
It’s almost time.
The bookshelves are covered in books—and one corner is jam-packed with old VHS and DVD boxes for the townies.
Nutkin, the taxidermy squirrel, is hanging on the wall, and the chandeliers are glowing.
Nora Cove—now freed from the tyranny of tie-dye and fudge stains—is standing by to help shoppers, while Hunter is on a ladder making sure the Grand Opening banner is perfectly centered.
The whole Chamber is outside arguing over how to best cut the ribbon, while Farrah patrols the streets in her Glinda the Good Witch costume, ready to give the turkey flock a stern telepathic talking to if they should dare to show up on my big day.
The Arcadia Falls populace is milling about, excited about something new for a change and, if I’m honest, jonesing for boiled peanuts, which are simmering in their new twin slow cookers on a much sturdier table Hunter built to match the bookshelves.
Although I’ve chosen a great POS system and have everything ready at the counter, we’re still on an honor system for peanuts, and the fishbowl is shined and sparkling. Some things don’t need to change.
“Oh, what a beautiful day!” Doris sings from the series of perches Hunter built into the wall behind the counter just for her. Then, in my head, “Are they almost here?”
“They’re on the way, but they hit some traffic in Atlanta,” I tell her. “Now come on. It’s almost time.”
I let her step onto the shoulder of my Elizabeth Bennet dress and head outside.
Joyce Blakely, wearing an Alice in Wonderland costume, gives a speech on behalf of the Chamber, letting everyone know how wonderful it is to finally have a bookstore in Arcadia Falls and wishing me, the girlfriend of her grandson, a beautiful opening day.
I can tell Nick wants to bang his gavel, but he’ll have to settle for waving his fake Sweeney Todd cleaver.
My sisters are running late, but the show must go on before somebody throws a brick through the glass to get at the boiled peanuts.
I use a comically large pair of scissors to cut a big yellow ribbon, and then the curious, costume-clad public is pouring into Nuts for Books, the first bookstore ever in Arcadia Falls.
And sure, there’s already a line for peanuts, but soon there’s a line at the counter, too.
We have bestsellers and classics and used books and my personal favorites—mostly romances—and Nora’s selection of graphic novels and lots of Georgia authors, plus a shelf for local indie authors who need a shot.
The spinner rack is still chock-full of competing cookbooks, local ghost stories, and Bigfoot memoirs.
The Squirrely Reading Nook is cozy with rugs and benches and a colorful mural of local birds and squirrels and flowers.
We’ve got a big calendar on the wall with several book clubs already scheduled to meet here, and one crowded table up front for Sadie Rugg, a hugely successful author who happens to live five miles away in Scorpion Hollow and asked us to be her home store.
Preorders for signed versions of her next book are already into four digits, and we had to open a second date for her launch party to make sure all her fans can get in the door.
Everyone keeps telling me how lucky I am, and I can only rub the little dictionary in my pocket and agree that I am, indeed, very lucky.
“You know, Miss Wolfe, Maggie would be proud,” Colonel says as he nibbles one of Shelby’s cookies in his Long John Silver costume. “And the memorial mural is a touch of genius.”
“She would’ve loved it,” Tina agrees, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.
I nod and wipe at my eyes. I’m not going to cry.
We mustn’t dwell. No, not today. We can’t.
Not on New Bookstore Day.
An hour into the grand opening, I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had a chance to look up, much less check my phone.
I’ve had to refill the peanuts and dump the cash register once already, and so many people have stopped to compliment us on the store and wish me well that my cheeks hurt from smiling.
“Rhea!”
When I hear Jemma’s voice, I look up, tell my customer I’ll be back in one second, and hurry out from behind the counter to hug my sisters. They look exactly the same, of course—it’s only been a couple of months, even if literally everything about my life has changed.
“It looks amazing!” Cait says, and I can tell she means it.
“The sign! The neon! The floral selfie wall! It’s perfect!
You did exactly what I told you!” Jemma jumps up and down and squeals at me before hurrying off to grab photos for her Instagram.
They’re dressed as Peter Pan and Tinkerbell, and I can tell it’s costing Cait her dignity to wear the pointy green hat and curly-toe shoe covers.
“So this is Arcadia Falls, huh?” Cait asks me. “The town from hell that we were never supposed to set foot in. You never told us it was so aggressively charming.”
“You…kind of have to experience it for yourself.”
I can see the customers growing impatient, so I pat Cait on the shoulder. “Here, take Doris with you. Look around. Go up the back stairs to the apartment if you need some quiet time.”
“Is there a coffee shop nearby?” she asks.
“No, but there’s a coffee maker upstairs.”
With a thumbs-up, she’s headed to my apartment’s kitchen.
After that, time absolutely flies. The costume contest is a riot, and everyone agrees on the winner: Nathan, who used a cardboard box to make himself into the Arcadia Falls Video Emporium & Boiled P-Nut Palace, complete with little paintings of Arnold and Howard the Duck in the window.
Barb argues that it’s not a book character, but Joyce helpfully points out that the Video Emporium was included in The 1996 Official Downtown Arcadia Falls Chamber of Commerce Atlanta Olympics Family Cookbook on the spinner rack, so Nathan graciously accepts his trophy.
Our first day’s sales are beyond what I ever dared to hope.
People came from miles around to see the new store and buy books and gifts—and, again, yes, sup upon the peanuts they’ve apparently been missing like crazy for the past couple of months.
The fishbowl is absolutely crammed for the third time when I close the front door, and I’m glad I taught Hunter how to refill the slow cookers.
The Sadie Rugg table is picked clean. Edie’s book-themed soaps and candles are almost entirely sold out, as are Shelby’s book-themed macarons and Smokey’s book-themed fudge.
I go through the steps of closing out my drawer, put everything in the new, locking safe—the Safe Safe—bring in the sandwich board from the sidewalk, unplug the peanut pots, and turn out the lights on my first day as a bookstore owner and peanut monger.
I’m so, so glad I had Hunter open up these stairs.
I’m exhausted as I head for my apartment, but the moment I hear the laughter and voices within, I catch a new wind.
Here in my kitchen are the people—and bird—who helped make my dream happen.
Cait and Jemma and Hunter and Shelby and Edie and Doris, all gathered around the remains of the gorgeous custom cake Shelby made for the grand opening, picking at it with forks.
The moment I’m through the door, Jemma screeches and Hunter pulls a bottle of champagne out of the fridge and pops the cork, careful not to get any on his Mr. Darcy breeches.
He and I make eye contact, and I’m reminded of the last time he brought up the idea of champagne.
The hunger in his gaze reminds me that once we convince Shelby and Edie to walk Cait and Jemma over to the Magnolia Inn, we’ll have this place all to ourselves. Mostly.
Doris will thankfully be asleep instead of trying to keep us apart. But for now, she’s on the table, bobbing her head, singing “Bali Ha’i.”
Cait holds up her glass. “To Rhea! Sis, I’m so proud of you.”
“To Nuts for Books!” Jemma adds. “And did I mention we have to get you some plants?”
“To the Kirkwoods!” Shelby says. “Arcadia Falls just wasn’t the same without y’all.”
“To books!” Edie says. “As long as Hunter doesn’t steal mine anymore.”
“To the future!” Hunter clinks his glass against mine, and I can see the future spread out before us, a story unfolding page by page, complete with a happily-ever-after.
“To magic,” says a familiar voice, and I nearly burst out crying when I see the ghostly shapes behind Cait and Jemma. I’m used to Abraham by now and grateful that he seems to have boundaries, showing up in the bookstore rarely and only to be helpful.
But this is my first time seeing Maggie.
Her glowing form—her glowing, ghostly, human form—smiles at me.
I hold up my champagne.
“To magic,” I say.
And I mean it with all my heart.