Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
STELLA
Between finishing my last days of work at the library, completing the set up of my business, opening accounts with book vendors, and trying not to daydream about a certain handyman I know, Thursday, October ninth arrives before I’m ready.
I walk into the title company as a woman with a bulging bank account, and walk out with a key and a bookstore.
The plan is for my family to drive up on Saturday to help move my stuff from one city to the next.
I’m too impatient to wait two days to visit my store.
As soon as I have those keys, I’m on the road to Blissful with my trunk full of everything I need for the next few days, including a bucket of cleaning supplies.
All the worry and stress of the last month settles into conviction.
Blissful Books and Gifts will be the cutest little bookshop in the whole of Arizona.
I park behind the building and unlock the back entrance. The door creaks open. I stand for a minute on the threshold, feeling every emotion. Joy. Excitement. Anticipation. Fear. I’ve never owned my own space or so many books. It’s a thrill unlike anything before.
I walk through every inch of the store, mentally cataloging all I have to do before I’m ready to open. Excavate. Clean. Construct. Repair. Paint. I want to start right now, but first, I need somewhere to sleep tonight. I grab my cleaning supplies and head to the loft to make the space habitable.
The door opens easily and without a sound.
I’m sure that’s thanks to Drew. When I step into the kitchen, I’m not met with the musty smell I remember from a few weeks ago, but with the scent of fresh paint.
Every wall is painted a clean, crisp white, very different from the light brown before.
In the middle of the room is a kitchen island with a granite counter top; white marbled with gray.
I drop my purse and the bucket of cleaning supplies so I can cover my mouth with both hands.
Drew did this. Who else could it be? There is no way I can ever repay him for making my dream kitchen a reality.
On my brand new kitchen counter is a bouquet of bright, happy gardenias. Leaning against the vase is a card. I step forward and grab it.
It’s from Diane, Lauren, Brody, Benji, and Drew congratulating me on my new bookstore. In parentheses at the bottom it says dinner is in the freezer.
The refrigerator! It’s new. It isn’t the small, black fridge that was here before.
This one is stainless steel with the freezer drawer on the bottom.
I open it to find a casserole dish with instructions for baking taped to the top.
Vegetarian shepherd’s pie. How thoughtful of them to make me a vegetarian meal.
I preheat the oven, which also looks new, and head through to the rest of the apartment.
It’s also been cleaned, with the same primer painted walls.
It’s a white canvas, ready for the bright paint and wallpaper I’ve picked out.
I step further into the room … and gasp.
Since I was here last, built in bookshelves have sprung up, exactly how I described them to Drew so many weeks ago. Also painted white.
All I can do is stare, both hands covering my heart. I run my hand along a smooth shelf. They go up to the ceiling where Drew added a header of crown molding. It’s beautiful.
This is too much, and I call to tell him so.
He answers after the first ring. “Stella! Are you here already?”
“What did you do?” That’s all I manage before I break into sobs.
“Woah. Are you okay?”
I can’t get any words out because there are no words to describe how beautiful this all is.
“I’m on my way home now,” Drew says. “I’ll be there in a few.”
Ten minutes later, he bursts through the door as if he expects me to be in danger. I’m waiting for him next to the beautiful island he built me. I’ve spent the time since he ended the call opening and closing the drawers. I’ve never had drawers that slide so smoothly.
“Stella, what’s wrong?”
He’s breathless and worried. I’m breathless from crying.
I don’t mean to, but I love him so much, I launch myself at him and wrap my arms behind his neck. He’s taller than I am, and my feet are no longer on the floor. His arms wrap around my waist and hold me tight to his chest.
When I say I love him, I mean friendly love. Because even though Roe’s words from months ago have rolled through my head since the second I walked inside (everything he does shows how much he loves you), I know the truth. He’s a thoughtful friend I’m lucky enough to have in my life.
Okay, that doesn’t actually explain anything.
I don’t know the truth. I can’t imagine why he built me the perfect house.
No one has ever done anything like this for me before.
No one sees me like he does and accepts all my quirks as if they’re lovable and not embarrassing.
He’s the bestest best friend I’ve ever had.
With Drew’s arms around me and the feel of his five o’clock shadow against my cheek, my tears slow. Could there be anywhere in this whole world better than in his arms? No.
“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” he asks softly, as if I’m a frightened animal that might spook.
“Nothing's wrong. I cry for every emotion. Happiness. Fear. Frustration. Anger. Sadness.”
“So are you crying from happiness, fear, frustration, anger, or sadness?”
I close my eyes. “Joy. The island is beautiful. The bookshelves are gorgeous. The loft is clean. But you shouldn’t have done anything. I have a plan, and I would have gotten to all these projects eventually.”
“You don’t have to do it alone. That’s what I—er, we’re here for.”
I lift my head so I can look at him. His arms loosen, and my toes touch the ground. Neither of us step away completely.
“Who is ‘we?’” I ask.
“You’re a member of the Second Street Cooperative now. We watch out for each other and help when we can. My family helped clean and paint, but also Claudia from Triple B with her brother, Miles. Lana at the bakery. Nim, Monique, and Marla. I probably did less than everyone else.”
My chest warms with their welcome. This isn’t just a business. It’s a community. I’m a part of it now. So though it’s hard for me to accept the help from practical strangers, I appreciate it.
“But you built my bookshelves and island,” I insist. “That is too much.”
“With Roger. He has a wood shop in his backyard.”
“Thank you. I’ll thank Roger when I see him next.”
Though not with an exuberant hug and tears of joy. I reluctantly step back from Drew. Only then do I notice he’s covered in sawdust. I can’t resist brushing it off the top of his head. It’s his head, and the contact still sends shivers through my body. I’m ridiculous.
There’s more on his shoulders. I use both hands to wipe the sawdust away.
“You’re getting sawdust all over your clean floor,” Drew says.
“It’ll sweep up.” That’s easier than saying I like the feel of his strong shoulders beneath his shirt.
When I finally drop my hands, Drew’s staring at me with a softness in his green eyes.
I have to look away, or I’ll fall right back into his arms. Who knows, my lips may accidentally get close to his. They might touch. If that happens, I will definitely have to move back to Tucson because my level of embarrassment would not allow me to stay. I’d like to live here longer than an hour.
I notice my appliances and remember they’re new.
“The new fridge and oven?” I say. “Was that everyone too?”
He shrugs and looks down at his feet. “Bob at the appliance store sold them for cost. Housewarming gifts.”
I shake my head. “A housewarming gift is a hot pad. Not new appliances.”
He rubs his neck but meets my eyes. “A housewarming gift is whatever the giver wants it to be. Are you going to argue with me over this? Or accept them graciously.”
I am capable of being gracious. “Thank you, Drew and the Second Street Cooperative.”
“You’re welcome, from all of us.”
There’s a bubble of squashy feelings surrounding us, and I need to pop it immediately. I move to the counter and stick the casserole into the preheated oven.
“Will you stay for dinner? It’s the shepherd’s pie you left, so I’m sure it’s delicious.”
“My mom made it, so it definitely is. I’d love to stay. Tonight, I am all yours.”
My heart races at the thought. I wish. For practical reasons, I stand on the opposite side of the island from him.
“You don’t need to stay after dinner,” I say. “You can do whatever you usually do on a Thursday night.”
“And what will you do?”
I look around at the sparkling clean kitchen. “I had planned to clean my loft, but since I live in a town full of good Samaritans, I’ll start clearing out the books in the backroom.”
“I’ll stay and help.”
I’m shaking my head before he finishes speaking. “Drew, you’ve done too much already. I have no idea how I’ll ever pay you back for all that you’ve done for me. I have it under control.”
“Stella.” He doesn’t continue until I look at him. “I want to help. A gift given from the heart doesn’t have to be paid back.”
We have a stare off. Honestly, I would love him to stay. I fold first.
“Okay.”
“Tell me your plan. It’s kind of a mess downstairs.”
Since my furniture won’t arrive until Saturday, we sit on the floor in the living room as we wait for the buzzer to sound.
“I want to clear everything out of the backroom.” I can’t pull my eyes from the bookshelves, even as I talk about downstairs.
“Once all the books are out, we’ll clean the floors and walls, then move some of the bookshelves from the store to the backroom and place them along the walls for storage.
That won’t all happen tonight, but I want to get as far as I can. ”
“What are we doing with all the books that are back there now?”
“We’ll sort them into giveaway, sell, or toss piles.”
“How do I know what goes where?”
I look around for where I left my purse. It’s still by the door, so I grab it and come back. I pull out the scanner I bought and hand it to Drew.