35. New Chapters
35
New Chapters
Rose
T he December rush is here at Mood Reader, and I am dead on my feet. Mia and I have worked in tandem all day. She’s been perched on the stool behind the counter, checking out our customers, while I’ve circled the floor, doling out book recommendations and gift ideas. The Christmas music tinkling over the speakers is cheerful, and the glistening twinkle lights make the space feel extra cozy now that the sun has set.
It’s been one whole week since I came clean with Anton. One week since my dad fired me. One week since I’ve taken what my sisters told me to heart and had a good, hard look at myself and who I want to be.
I’ve cried. A lot. I’m telling myself it’s good and healthy to feel my feelings. It’s also a reminder that I’m a human, and my emotions are valid, even if I feel so messy it makes me itchy.
I’ve also started my own list. Anton was on to something with his notes about me, I think, and I’ve taken it a step further. My list is a compilation of things I want to be. Promises to myself. At the top of the list, I’ve written honest and faithful . If nothing else, I’ve vowed not to succumb to the secrets any longer. I want to live my life in the light.
Also included on my list are things that bring me joy like reading , working out , and spending time with family .
I couldn’t put a finger on another aspect of my identity, but I eventually settled on helping people . In any form, I like to help out. It’s why I love it here at the bookstore so much. It combines my love of books with my love of helping people. When I can match a book to a person, I feel a shot of happiness zip up my spine.
Earlier this week, I typed up my article about Anton, which felt like a dagger to the heart for all three thousand words. I emailed it to my dad, and then, after a moment’s thought, I also fired it off to Ned.
When I finished the article, I stared at a blank Word document for about thirty seconds before letting my fingers fly across the keys again, a new story pouring out onto the page. I’d all but given up on writing fiction, but now I figure I have nothing to lose.
You know what? Writing is oddly therapeutic. I’ve typed myself to sleep every night this week. All those tropes I thought I’d never include because they’re too painful? They’re in there. Go figure.
I feel good when I’m writing, like I’m piecing myself back together as I’m piecing together a story. I don’t know if I’ll do anything with this manuscript, but that’s not really the point right now.
Anyway, it’s a start.
I’m doing okay. Not great. But okay.
The fact that Mood Reader has been swamped is helpful. The less time I have to dwell on how much I miss Anton, the better.
On the other hand, Mia keeps shooting me furtive glances and worrying her bottom lip. All day, I’ve felt like she has something she wants to say to me, but she keeps chickening out. I’m half terrified she’s going to fire me too.
When I finally close and lock the door behind our final patron, it’s 9:07. Mia shuffles to the comfy seating area, dropping into one of the overstuffed chairs.
“What a day.” She motions me to the chair opposite her. “Sit.”
I do as I’m told. She’s got dark circles under her eyes, and she looks like she could fall asleep right here.
She catches me staring and offers me a wry grin. “I’m exhausted. ”
“Is everything okay? You seem a little”—I search for the word—“off. Anything I can do?”
Mia shifts her jaw and her gaze before meeting my eye. “Actually, that’s what I want to talk to you about.”
Here we go .
I brace for the worst while also giving myself a pep talk. If she’s going in another direction with Mood Reader and doesn’t need me anymore, I’ll be okay. I’ll be devastated, but I’ll be okay.
“You’ve obviously noticed I haven’t been myself lately,” she hedges. “I’ve been waiting as long as possible to tell you because I didn’t want you to worry. I was hoping to bounce back quicker.”
Oh gosh, it’s happening .
I bite my lip and try to keep the corners of my mouth from dropping into a frown, but it’s tough.
“Apparently,” Mia continues, “I’m not one of those women whose morning sickness goes away after the first trimester.”
I blink. “Wait. What? ”
Mia’s face splits into a grin.
“You’re pregnant? “ I leap up off the couch and charge her, slowing only to make sure I don’t maul her in a bear hug that could hurt the baby. “Oh my gosh, Mia. Congratulations!”
When Mia leans out of my hug, she’s got tears in the corners of her eyes. “Thank you.” She swallows a watery laugh. “We’ve been trying for a while, and we’re so excited it finally happened for us.”
I grab her hand and give it a squeeze. “I’m so happy for you and Patrick.” I think back over the signs I missed the past few weeks. “Everything makes so much sense now.”
“Right?” she chuckles. “Not only is my morning sickness not going away but it’s also not limited to the morning. I’ve felt pretty miserable twenty-four seven. The only thing that helps is eating Granny Smith apples, of all things.”
I shake my head in awe of her. “Why are you here? You should rest. I can handle the store. ”
Mia squeezes my hand. “I can’t not work for the entirety of my pregnancy,” she argues.
“Well, tell me what to do so I can help you, then.”
Mia presses her lips together. “That’s what I want to talk to you about.”
I nod at her to continue.
“Patrick and I have talked about what we want our family life to look like after the baby comes. I’d really like to stay home with our little one—at least part time.”
“Of course.”
“I can’t do that in good conscious as the sole owner of this place.” She glances around the now quiet book shop before taking a deep breath and looking me dead in the eyes. “I want to take on a business partner, and I want you to be that person.”
My jaw drops open. “Are you serious?”
She nods. “You don’t have to make a decision immediately. We would obviously get lawyers involved to draw up a fair business contract before you buy in. I don’t know your financial situation, and I don’t need to know,” she hurries to add. “But I want to make sure our plans are solid, because I want this store to thrive for years to come.”
My heart is thumping out of control, and my head spins with possibility. My savings from my undercover work will go a long way in helping me to cover the buy-in, and I’m sure I could get a loan. The prospect of putting down roots in Cashmere Cove—of doing something that’s my choice—makes me feel like I could fly. Here I thought she was going to fire me or tell me the shop was closing, and instead, she’s handing me an opportunity to have a stake in a business I love dearly and continue doing a job I enjoy…right when I felt like my prospects were dwindling.
I reach out and hug Mia again.
She squeaks out a laugh. “I’m guessing you’re interested. ”
“So interested. You have no idea how much this means to me.” My throat is thick. I haven’t told Mia everything that went down in the last week, but she knows something is up.
She smiles. “I’m thinking we’ll get through the busy season, and then when the calendar turns, we can figure out what this business looks like between the two of us going forward. How does that sound?”
“Amazing. Thank you so much.”
She grins. “Thank you . I’m going to be able to enjoy this pregnancy a whole lot more, knowing things will be taken care of after the baby arrives.”
“You got it.” I stand and hold out a hand to hoist her up. “Let me take care of shutting down. You head home.”
She stifles a yawn. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Get outta here.”
“Thank you.” She grabs her bag and coat from behind the counter and leaves through the back entrance.
I take my time getting things in order, stopping to spin in circles every so often. I have big dreams for the store. I’ve been wanting to pitch an idea to Mia for a while now about linking up with some independent authors to see if we could sell signed copies of their books and handle the shipping and logistics of the sales for them. I’ve dragged my feet because I haven’t wanted to overstep, but now? Now I’ll be able to take ownership of this idea and then some.
I can’t wait.
I dance around the comfy chairs, wiping away our customers’ coffee rings on the end tables and singing a Christmas carol about sleigh bells, when a knock on the front window makes me scream.
I clutch my chest and whirl around, squinting into the darkness outside. Because of the lights of the store, it takes a minute for me to register who I’m seeing.