Chapter Forty-Three
Forty-Three
It’s time.
And we’re ready. There are balloons and banners throughout the store, and right in front of the enormous Romance section, Brenna and Dane have loaded long tables with cold drinks and food that I’m forbidden to eat. There’s only one thing left to do.
“Here we go,” calls Miguel, wheeling the dolly toward the table that’s in front of the braided rug and under the rainbow painting.
“What’s in there?” asks Brenna, watching Miguel pull a box cutter out of his back pocket.
“Amelia’s books,” he says proudly. “She had dozens of extras she planned to use at events, but they’ve just been sitting in her office all this time,” he tells her. “Think you can add them to the inventory before we get started?”
“You know I can.”
“You’re the best. Well, other than Riley,” he says, and they laugh. “Technically she’s the best, too. Are you two back on good terms?”
Brenna smiles sheepishly. “Then you knew?”
He nods. “About your cold war? Kind of hard to miss.”
“Ugh, sorry. But yeah, she apologized, and I…well, of course I forgave her. I wish she’d have told me everything earlier, but it is what it is. I don’t think we’re right for each other, but I’m really happy to call her a friend again.”
“I cannot tell you how glad I am to hear that,” he says, patting her arm. “A friend like that is hard to find.”
I watch from the front counter as Riley strides over to him. “Hey, boss?”
“Yes, manager?” he says, and she grins.
“How would you feel about a sign for this table that says, ‘Read Amelia’s Rainbow’?
I’ll keep brainstorming if you want,” she adds quickly.
“Still, I feel like we should do something extra special with the display—something that really brings attention to the author who started this place. What do you think?”
“I think…” he says, pivoting slowly to look around the store. He smiles when he reaches Riley again. “I think that would be the exact right thing.”
Then he carefully cuts through the tape and pulls back the box flaps. “These are ready to find a good home.”
Riley plucks a paperback from the box. Then she turns toward the rainbow, presses the book to her heart for a moment, and says, “They already have.”
—
The bookstore is packed.
People are standing shoulder to shoulder. Riley and Brenna have set up chairs in front of the podium for those who cannot stand, and those are all taken, too. There are even a few stragglers out front on the sidewalk. But this time, they’re not here for Jonathan Middleton-Biggs.
They’re here for our store…and for Amelia.
Because Riley and Brenna have accomplished a true feat and have called all of Amelia’s author friends, even the one who upset Miguel by rearranging Amelia’s books at her memorial.
And though it was short notice, many have driven in and even flown in from across the country to celebrate Amelia and bring attention to the store with the help of a bunch of strangers on the internet, whatever that is.
“You’re sure you’re okay, Harold?” Miguel asks, bending down to scratch my ears.
I’m near the register, in the plastic wagon that Amelia Mae once used when she was young. She made Fiona bring it in from Chicago because she didn’t want anyone stepping on me.
Me? I tell him. I’m fine. Are you?
“I’m nervous,” he whispers.
Oh, Miguel, I say, licking his cheek. It’s going to be okay. Ask for help if you need it.
“You’re right, Harold,” he says, and he doesn’t even wipe his face. “We’ve got this.”
We do—but deep down, I’m nervous, too. I see Dane, who has his arm around Miriam.
She’s back from Ann Arbor, and as Dane told Riley, they’re having the world’s longest one-night stand.
Judging from the way they’re gazing at each other, it might just last forever.
I see the fellow with the cat backpack, on his butt in the middle of the crowd so everyone can ooh and aah at his companion up close.
I see Brenna with Riley and her Aunt Kathy at the front of the bookstore.
And is that Becky slinking through the door?
Bob isn’t with her. Still, whatever Miguel scribbled on the note he included in the box of Amelia’s books must have thawed her icy heart.
But Fiona and Amelia Mae still haven’t arrived.
Miguel’s been waiting for them. Despite the snacks and good company, the crowd’s getting restless as they wait for him to speak. Riley says something to Brenna, then goes over to Miguel to tell him it’s time to start.
He scans the room yet again and, with some reluctance, heads to the front of the store, pulling me behind him in the wagon. Dane’s set up the podium with a microphone, which Miguel taps, and it sends a terrible screeching sound through the crowd. However, it does get everyone to stop talking.
“Hello,” he says.
“Can’t hear you,” someone calls.
He tries again. “Thank you for being here tonight.” He sounds better, though he’s a bit warbly.
“A few of you are new to our little bookstore. If that’s you, welcome.
Most of you are regulars, and we appreciate you so much.
I also want to welcome our novelists—I’m told we have authors here from as far as Cincinnati and Seattle. ”
Someone hoots, and a woman yells, “Fresno in the house!”
Miguel waves. “Hola, Fresno. I so wish Amelia May were here to see you all. As most of you know, she was my partner and the cofounder of this bookstore. She died nineteen months ago.”
People murmur, and some lower their eyes.
“Thank you,” he tells them. “This event and your presence would’ve meant the world to her—”
A voice carries from the back of the store.
“Excuse us. Pardon us. Coming through,” says Amelia Mae, who is using snake hands to weave through the crowd. Fiona, who’s wearing my favorite yellow dress, is following on her heels.
I prop myself up on my front paws, and Amelia Mae runs to me as Fiona slides next to Miriam and Dane.
Miguel breaks into a grin. Fiona grins back, and the next thing I know, they’re staring at each other like a couple of fools.
Of course, fool, Amelia always said, is just another word for a human in love.
“You know, I’m going to go off script here,” says Miguel, still looking at Fiona. “There are no coincidences—that’s what Amelia told me. I loved her terribly, but I never did agree with that.”
Someone makes a surprised sound, but he continues.
“That’s only because I thought she was telling me I had to embrace the crap that life slung my way—and there’s been a lot of crap since she got sick and passed.
But now I get it. That’s not what she ever meant.
Which I should have known, because she was the first to stomp her foot and speak up when things weren’t fair.
But she also knew that if you stop pushing so hard and let life happen the way it was always going to happen all along, the good will find you.
The good people,” he clarifies, and the lightest strands of Fiona’s hair sparkle as she shakes her head.
He points a finger at the banner. “Now, for our big announcement. I believe most of you know that our store’s next great adventure is dedicating this space to romance. We’ll still carry other books, but this is a destination for people who love love.”
The crowd erupts into cheering and clapping, and Dane kisses Miriam.
“Thank you,” says Miguel, overwhelmed by their reaction.
“There’s more, though. My amazing co-owners and I—Riley, Brenna, Dane, and Natalie, who I’m honored to call friends as well—are pleased to announce that we are renaming Lakeside.
Brenna?” he says, and she pulls the cloth off the new sign over the big picture window.
“ ‘Happy Endings!’ ” squeals Amelia Mae.
“That’s right,” Miguel tells her. He looks out at the crowd again. “That wonderful suggestion came from a budding writer who happens to share a name with my Amelia May. Something tells me that’s no coincidence, either.”
Oh, Miguel, you really get it. Keep it up and you might just come back as a dog in your next life.
He pauses and turns to Fiona, who’s beaming. “As I learned reading Amelia’s novels, love isn’t just the point of our existence; it’s the greatest gift you can give another person. I’m proud to be a part of a place that honors that.”
Miguel finishes his speech, and people cheer again before wandering off to eat and drink and buy books. Then he goes to get glasses of champagne for himself and Fiona, but when he returns to the place where she and Amelia Mae were standing, she’s missing.
He turns around in a circle. He’s just starting to look worried when he spots her weaving through the throng with two men.
It takes me a moment, but I realize one is Vik, and the other is—why, yes, it is Jonathan, but he’s wearing a T-shirt and doesn’t have his glasses on, and his hair’s cut short.
I’m just a dog, of course, but if anyone’s asking me, he barely looks like the man on the books he was supposed to have written.
“Miguel,” she says, accepting the glass from him. “This is my brother, Jonathan.”
Miguel breaks into a smile, then shakes Jonathan’s hand. “It’s good to finally meet you. I hope you didn’t fly back from Copenhagen for this.”
Jonathan smiles, then slips his arm around Vik. “No, I flew back from Copenhagen for love. So, if anyone can appreciate what you’ve done with the store, it’s me. I just wish I’d come in sooner. I really am sorry.”
“Apology accepted. Besides, if you hadn’t gone rogue, I never would have met Fiona,” he says, smiling at her. “At any rate, there’s no time like the present. Please, be our guests.”
“We appreciate that,” says Vik, and then they disappear into the crowd.
Fiona winks at Miguel and clinks her glass against his. “To love.”
“To me loving you,” he says quietly.
Her eyes widen.
“I should’ve said it when you came over to tell me about you and Jonathan,” he tells her.
“I understand now that it wasn’t the truth that drove me away.
I’ve been afraid of being happy—and of the possibility I could lose another person I cared about.
But I promise you that I’ll never let my fear of losing you get the best of me again.
Will you give me another chance to show you how much you mean to me? ”
“I already did, you fool,” she says, then kisses him.
“I suspect Amelia knew exactly what she was doing when she told you about this store,” Miguel says when they finally pull apart from each other.
“I do, too,” she says, glancing around. “And maybe she knew I’d end up loving you, too.”
“I like that thought.” He puts his arm around her waist and pulls her close. “Does that mean I get to be an early reader of whatever you write next?”
“You’ll be the very first.”
“I can’t wait. In the meantime…” He dashes over to the register, where a long line has formed, and reaches behind the counter. When he returns, he’s carrying a fresh copy of Missing Person. “Would you sign this for me?”
She regards it. “As JMB?”
“No, as yourself—the woman who wrote the book,” he says in a low voice. “I know it’s complicated, but this story will always have a special place in my heart, so it’d mean the world to me if you’d consider it.”
Fiona hesitates before pulling a pen from the pocket of her dress.
Then she squats down, balances the book on the edge of my wagon, and opens to one of the first pages.
“It means more to me,” she tells him, and beside the scribble that I assume is her name, there’s a little wet dot where a tear has fallen.
She stands, but instead of handing the book to him, she plants her lips on his and sinks into his arms.
“Harry, he did it!” whispers Amelia Mae, who’s just appeared behind me. “He fixed it!”
Yes, the man has finally learned to grovel—and my heart feels so, so full.
A dog’s only as happy as his owner, after all.
“Come on,” says Amelia Mae, who has already started tugging the wagon away from them. “Let’s leave these lovebirds to it and do a quick spin before we have to go.”
“Don’t wander too far,” calls Fiona.
Amelia Mae smiles sweetly at her. “Have we met?”
“Yes, love, we have—and you have an alarming tendency to act out Missing Person. Which is exactly why I’m asking you not to wind up in Alaska.”
“I won’t,” she responds in a singsong voice before winking at me and adding in a whisper, “Don’t tell my mom, but I actually don’t want to worry her any more than I already have.”
“Harold, are you good?” Miguel asks me.
I raise my head to tell him I am for now, and that’s enough.
“Well, you know I’m here if you need me,” he says.
I do.
Amelia Mae pulls the wagon to the front of the store to what’s left of the rainbow of love stories; thanks to Riley’s display, nearly all the paperbacks have gone to good homes.
I didn’t see it earlier, but someone, probably Miguel, has placed a framed photo of my Amelia in the center of the table.
I know this shot; Dane took it years ago, not long after he started working here.
In it, Amelia’s seated on the yellow velvet chair, with me at her feet, and Miguel’s smiling down at her.
She’s so joyful—and of course she is. Her favorite place, she always said, was wherever we were.
As I stare at the photo, I finally understand that Amelia may have asked me to take care of Miguel, but she never meant for me to give up my own happiness. She wanted me to create more of it for both of us.
I look across the store at Miguel, who’s standing with his arm around Fiona, listening to Dane and Miriam banter back and forth.
Brenna and Riley are hip to hip at the register, selling book after book after book.
Beside me, Amelia Mae’s yapping my ear off about the story she wants me to help her write tomorrow.
And I think to myself, What a very good dog I’ve been.