Chapter Two
Jorja
“H EY, HEY, HONEY,” I cooed to Mia as I stepped through the front door, pulling off my jacket and leaning down to pet my Maine Coon, Mia. She was a rescue, the runt of her litter who had been dumped in a shelter. When I had seen her, her sweet little tufted ears and her white ruff, I had known at once that she needed a home with me.
But, tonight, as I stooped down to give her a cuddle, she just squeaked at me and then led me toward her bowl next to the door. I sighed. There I was, thinking I was getting a nice welcome from my little girl, and all she cared about was getting fed. I should have known better.
I went to grab her a packet of wet food and emptied it into her bowl, rubbing my hand over her little head as she scarfed it down happily. She’d had to take a downgrade in her food recently, due to the financial troubles at the store, but she would have eaten pretty much anything I had put in there. She would be fine.
But I was more worried about the store, and how I was going to keep it afloat. It had been a rough year, and I knew I couldn’t let the store slip through my fingers. It was the one connection I still had to her, the one place I still really felt connected to her.
Which was a little strange, and I knew it, given that I was living in her house. I had grown up here, and, after she had passed a few years ago, it had been a no-brainer to stay here. It was a little too big for Mia and me, if I was being honest, but I didn’t give a damn. I wasn’t leaving this place. It was my home.
Though it had been hers, too, I always pictured her in the bookstore. The Mastin Bookshelf, that was what she’d called it, when she had opened it all those years ago – she had been a much younger woman then, and she had constantly found herself running short of stuff to read. Once, when she was complaining about it to her husband, my grandfather, he had suggested that she open a place to keep herself and other people stocked, though he had mostly been joking, she had taken the suggestion, and bought an old store to fill up with books and magazines and everything readable.
I felt a pang in my chest as I sank into the seat closest to the window in the living room, the one that looked out over the street beyond. The nights were really starting to draw in now, and it was already getting dark. I knew I should have been getting something to eat, but honestly, I didn’t really feel like having anything.
It was hard to muster up much of an appetite, with everything that had been going on lately. I knew my grandmother would have been gutted if she had known what was going on with her store, and there was a part of me glad that she hadn’t lived to see it go downhill. But I was sure she would have come up with some way to make money, some way to rescue it. She had always been smart like that.
I glanced over to the box of decorations on the side, the ones that I had laid out in preparation for decorating the place tomorrow. I rose to my feet and began to go through it, trying to put myself in the Christmas spirit.
I pulled out my favorite piece—a wooden music box with a carved Christmas angel on top that danced a slow circle while the box played “Silent Night.” The tune was a little mournful, but beautiful, in its own way. It had been my grandmother’s favorite, and I had taken it on as my own after she had passed. I could still remember her sitting in her chair, smiling after she had cranked it up, letting the soft music fill the room as snow fell outside.
I picked at the little compartment beneath the angel’s feet, frowning as I tried to pull it open. I couldn’t count how many times I had tried to do this over the years, and I had never figured out what was actually going on in there. I supposed it was meant to open, but it had been jammed for as long as my grandmother had had it.
I was going to take it into the store this year, I decided. I spent more time there than I did at home these days anyway, and I might as well enjoy it—enjoy having it close, and let the customers see it, too. It would be like my grandmother was there, at least in spirit.
Even if I wasn’t sure how much longer I would be able to keep the store open in her memory.
I pushed that thought to the side quickly. No. I needed to stop letting myself get all caught up in the stress and doubt. It was nearly Christmas. I could deal with all the hard stuff on the other side of the festive season, but for now, I wanted to just relax.
Mia kept me distracted once she had been fed, curling up on my lap and resting her head on my thigh as I flicked through my latest read, a little ghost story that was keeping me occupied on these dark evenings. I’d meant to read it for Halloween, but I had been so busy, I hadn’t had time. What mattered was that I was catching up on it now, right?
I snuggled down in bed that evening, Mia padding on the covers beside me before she curled on in a ball and pressed herself against me. See? It was all going to be all right. I just needed to relax, focus on getting some good rest, and then I could get the place all set up for Christmas, starting from tomorrow.
I woke early the next morning, and packed everything up into boxes as Mia wound in and out of my feet. That cat, honestly, she was going to make me fall one of these days. Not that it was particularly difficult to do that. I was always tripping over my own feet, especially when I was around someone else. It was like so much of my energy went on socializing, that I couldn’t remember how to keep my legs underneath me.
The bookstore was just around the corner from my grandma’s house, and I carried the boxes the few streets to the Bookshelf. It was already starting to get really cold in the mornings, but they were clear and crisp, too—I liked that. And the quiet, before everyone else had started to get on with their days, that was something I really savored. Not that life was exactly hectic right now, with the way things had been going at the bookstore, but still.
Haley was in later that day, and, though I had promised I wouldn’t decorate without her, I figured I could at least lay out the few decorations I had brought from home. Amongst my grandmother’s favorites was a small, model Christmas village carved out of wood, the paint starting to chip off some of the characters and models, but I still loved it. I cleared a space in one of the front windows, making space for everything to lay out, and set to work putting it all together.
The little village was adorable, and I couldn’t help but smile as I put it all in its rightful place; I tugged on the little fabric scarves of the children, making sure they were sitting right, and balanced them atop a little pile of books with their sled to make it look as though they were in the midst of careening down.
But the main event, for sure, was going to be the Christmas tree that I put up in the back of the store. My grandma had had the same giant artificial tree for as long as I could remember; told me it was a waste to get a real tree over and over again, and that I was better off just going for something that could be packed away into a box at the end of every Christmas season. Well, that, and it didn’t shed needles everywhere, which had to count for something.
I unfurled the branches from where it had been neatly tucked away into its ancient storage box the year before, humming to myself as I set to work. I could get Haley to decorate most of the tree, but I wanted to at least get the star on top. When the star was placed on the highest branch, I felt as though I could really begin the season properly, and heaven only knew how much I needed that right now. A little burst of Christmas cheer might bring a few more people into the store, and I had to hope it was bustling to make up the rest of the profit margins we hadn’t exactly been meeting recently.
I set the tree up, and carefully pulled the little stepladder from the back office to climb it. I knew I should have waited until there was someone else around to keep an eye on me as I did this, but right now, I just wanted to get it done. That was my problem, when I got it in my mind that I was going to do something, there wasn’t a thing on this earth that would have been able to stop me.
With the little plastic star, shimmery with chipped glitter, in one hand, I scaled the ladder, reaching across to plant it on the highest branch. But I couldn’t quite reach from here... I just needed to get a little closer. Maybe if I shuffled the ladder round a little...
I jumped a couple of times, trying to move the ladder slightly, hoping it would have enough give to let me reach the far side of the tree. With the star still grasped in my hand, I lifted myself on to one tiptoe, leaning across it, stretching as far as I could.
Which was, of course, the exact moment when I heard the bell above the door chime. A customer!
“I’ll be right with you!” I called to whoever had just walked in. I couldn’t see them past the tree. I just needed to inch a little closer, and then I—
“Oh!” I exclaimed, as I lost my balance. The star fell from my hand as I tumbled off the stepladder, and I braced myself, squeezing my eyes shut and lifting my arms to try and stop the fall from hitting me too hard.
But, instead of the uneven wooden floorboards that ran along the length of the shop, I found myself lying in a pair of strong arms.