Chapter 13 #2
“I can do that,” I say, feeling lightheaded.
“You’ll want to find yourself an inspector, possibly an appraiser, to make sure I’m not ripping you off. I have a realtor friend in town we can use, unless you want your own. I’ll talk to him tomorrow. He won’t appreciate a call on a Sunday morning before noon.”
I should feel sorry for bugging him on his weekend, but I don’t. I’m buying a book store!
“Thank you, Mr. Long.”
There’s a pause. “Thank you, Stella. My wife would be happy to know her family store is going to a fellow book lover.”
Things happen fast when the buyer and the seller are anxious for things to move forward, especially when there’s a cash offer.
I take a day off from work and drive to Blissful to go over the building with the inspector and then an appraiser.
The news is great: it’s a solid building being sold at a fair price.
My architect brother-in-law Aaron meets me there to measure the building and get a feel for what I want the store to look like. He’s agreed to design the interior, including a public bathroom, and give me a break-down of the cost.
When he has all the measurements he needs, I walk him to his truck.
“Thanks for your help, Aaron.”
“You’re welcome. I don’t get to design buildings much anymore, so this is fun for me. Are you heading back to Tucson now?”
“No. I have a friend in town. I’m having dinner with him.”
“Ah.” He raises both eyebrows at discovering my friend is male. “I won’t mention your dinner to my wife, or your whole family will find out, and you’ll never hear the end of it.”
I laugh and cover my cheeks, my chest warm. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
Once he’s gone, I go back inside and to the front of the store where Mr. Long sits at the register. He’s reading a nonfiction book today, but closes it at my approach.
“Well?” he asks.
“Everything looks good to me,” I say. “I still want to buy this place.”
He smiles, but there’s a hint of sadness as he looks around. “It’ll be hard not coming in every day, but I’m ready to let this go. Allow someone younger and more enthusiastic to carry on the Blissful Books legacy.”
Soon to be Blissful Books and Gifts when the sale goes through.
I wave goodbye to him and head next door to the hardware store. Drew told me to go through to the staff area and into his office. I feel like a thief, but no one stops me. A door in the back has “Manager” stenciled across the door. I knock and push it open.
His office is just as utilitarian as his loft upstairs. Nothing on the wall. Papers organized on his desk. He looks away from the computer screen to me. His brow lifts, his eyes widen, and his lips form a smile. He’s happy I’m here. The feeling is mutual.
“Hey. How did it go?” he asks.
“Really well. No issues with the building or the price. We’re moving forward.”
He leans back in his chair, relaxing, as if he was worried there would be something wrong with the building, and I’d back out.
“I’m glad,” he says. “I have to finish payroll before I can leave. You can go upstairs to wait if you want.”
“Sure. I’ll get dinner started.”
I grab the ingredients for rosemary vegetable stew from my trunk and hike up the stairs. I remember the door code from last time I was here. I’m happy to see he has a fresh bunch of flowers in Lola’s vase on the table.
When he comes up an hour later, the soup is simmering on the stove, and I’m on his couch with my laptop going over the store numbers my brother Theo and I worked out earlier this week. He smiles as he removes his boots.
I have a flash of what it would be like to be married.
To Drew specifically. It pinches to know this is a fiction story that will only ever live in my head.
It does make me face the fact that I’ve fallen hard for the handsome handyman.
For the rest of my life I have to pretend I haven’t while being his neighbor, friend, and fellow business owner.
I don’t know how I’ll do it, but I have to. There isn’t any other option.
As we eat, I catch Drew looking at my lips. I lick them, thinking I have food on my mouth. He glances away. Later, he stops in the middle of a sentence and moves my hair behind my ear. I shiver at the soft touch of his fingers along my skin.
Both those moments give me a flicker of hope that Drew might like me as more than a friend, but all I have to do is remember Caleb, and I squash it. I refuse to make a fool of myself and lose another best friend.
Once under contract, I write my resignation letter, but wait to submit it until after I slide it across Clementine’s desk.
Her eyes scan over the block of text. With each line her expression sobers. When she looks up, her eyes are glassy. “I can’t believe you’re leaving me.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” We’ve been work buddies for ten years. Our coworkers are great, but some people you mesh with better than others.
“How are you going to survive without a job?” she asks. “Did you find a rich husband and didn’t bother to tell me?”
“No, I have something better planned. I’m buying a bookstore.”
She stares at me for a few seconds. “You’re lying.”
I tell her about Drew’s friendship, my love of Blissful, and the best bookstore in all of Arizona. Then show her pictures I took of the store during the inspection.
I finish with, “If everything goes according to plan, I will own the building on October ninth.”
Clementine’s jaw drops. “That’s in a little more than three weeks.”
“I know. Theo said if I want to start on a solid financial footing, I need to have the store open by the day after Thanksgiving, ready for Christmas shoppers. That gives me seven weeks to sort through thousands of books, clean, do some renovations, paint, and buy stock.”
She shakes her head in disbelief. “Wow. You are brave.”
I scrunch my nose. “You don’t think I’m stupid?”
“Sometimes bravery and stupidity are the same thing.”
I slap her shoulder. “Thanks, Clementine.”
She laughs. “I’ll bring my family over on a weekend, and we’ll help you clean out that mess. I might sneak a few books in my purse when you’re not looking.”
“If you help, you can take all the books you can carry.”
“Don’t tell my husband. He’ll leave with the whole store.”
“That sounds like a really good deal to me.”
I tell my coworkers and a few other friends over the next week, but I don’t tell Mallory, or any of our shared friend group.
They’ve all remained silent since the engagement party.
In petty revenge, I’m happy to keep this part of my life a secret from them.
Though, truth be told, they probably wouldn’t care if I did reach out. I’d rather not find out that I’m right.