Chapter 16 #2
“We’ll scan the barcodes. This machine will tell us if the books are worth anything.
Those will make the sell pile. I’ll have a small used section in the store, and also try to sell them online.
Mr. Long has so many books, I hope he has some that will sell for more than a few dollars to make it worthwhile. ”
I get lost looking at my beautiful bookshelves again. I’ve already bought the wallpaper I want to hang on the wall with the windows. It’s a floral pattern with a deep blue background and rich green leaves. The bookshelves I’ll paint blue to match. The two remaining walls I’ll paint green.
“What about the giveaway and toss piles?” Drew asks.
I force my brain back on topic. “Once we’ve pulled out the books worth money, we’ll flip through the rest. If the glue is old, the binding will break and pages start to fall out.
Toss them. Anything that has visible damage, mold, or is dirty; toss.
I’ll go through the remaining books and see if I want to try to sell them or if they should be put in the giveaway pile.
” Here I pause. “I have a question about my plan to give these books away.”
“What is it?” he asks.
“With so many people coming to Blissful for Apple Jamboree, how feasible would it be to put tables out on the sidewalk filled with free books? I hate throwing thousands of books away if there’s an option of finding them a new home.”
“I think that’s a great idea.”
“Yeah? I also thought I could put out instructions for how to fold books into a pumpkin shape. They might not want to read the book, but they could take some for a craft. It would be a good way to let people know about the store opening in November."
“It’s brilliant.”
I’m relieved he thinks so. “Do I need to get permission to put tables on the sidewalk?”
“Probably. I can help you with that.”
The timer goes off and only as we walk into the kitchen do I remember I don’t have any plates or utensils. Before I can say anything, Drew opens one of the cupboards and pulls out paper plates and plastic forks. He and his family thought of everything. We dish up and go back to the living room.
I’m hungry and impatient, so even though the food burns my tongue, I savor the bite. “This is delicious.”
“It’s one of my favorites. It tastes different with the lentils, but I like it.”
“Your mom is really kind to make me a vegetarian meal.”
“People will stop by with food to welcome you to the town. We’ve made sure to get the word out that you don’t eat meat.”
Again, with the thoughtfulness. So different from Krystal.
As we eat, he helps me write an email to the town council about giving away books along my storefront. I hit send.
“I know you said you want to clean out the backroom,” Drew says, “But you keep eyeing your bookshelves. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather paint them tonight instead? They’ll be that much closer to being ready for books.”
He reads me too easily.
Still, I resist. “I have a detailed plan and doing anything up here is on hold until after the bookstore is ready. I only have seven weeks until opening day.”
“It’s one night,” he wheedles. “I’ll come over tomorrow morning to help with the backroom.”
I gaze longingly at the shelves. “I don’t have any paint.”
Drew chuckles. “You have a hardware store next door.”
“You close early on the weekends.”
“I think you know the manager. You could call him up and ask. I hear he’s a nice guy.”
“Nice? That isn’t what I heard,” I tease.
“Haha.”
“Fine. I may as well ask, right?” I pull out my phone and call Drew.
He takes his phone from his back pocket and answers. “Hello?”
“Hey, manager of the hardware store next door. I’m wondering if you’ll reopen so I can buy paint.”
He purses his lips and hums. “I don’t know. Who is this again?”
I tilt my head and glare. It isn’t easy to squash my smile, but I manage it.
He laughs. “That look of yours really would melt the paint off the side of a barn. Claudia was not exaggerating.”
I hang up on him, which only makes him laugh harder. He calls back. I drop my phone on the floor and eat a bite of mashed potato. He picks up my phone, swipes to answer, and holds it up to my ear.
“Stella, of course I will open the doors of my place of employment so that you can buy paint.”
“On one condition,” I say after swallowing. “You have to let me buy the paint.”
“I should hope you will. We prosecute shop lifters.”
He hangs up before I can.
Against my will, my built up laughter tumbles out. “You are a meany,” I tell him. But then I look back at my beautiful shelves. “A thoughtful meany,” I amend. “And a talented carpenter. And a really good friend.”
“But not nice?” he says with a wicked gleam in his eyes.
I give him a begrudging nod. “Fine. You’re nice.”
“Thank you.”
After we finish eating, we head over to his store, but first I stop at my car. The wallpaper I ordered for my loft arrived yesterday, and I threw it into my trunk so it didn’t get lost during the move. It’s lucky I have it. Or unlucky. I should be cleaning the backroom, not painting bookshelves.
With the wallpaper roll in hand, I follow Drew in through the back entrance.
He flips on lights as we go to the front and grab a cart.
The hardware store is much larger than my bookstore.
Drew goes directly to the paint supplies and starts throwing stuff in my cart.
As he does, he tells me about the different kinds of paints with their pros and cons.
When my cart is full of blue tape, plastic sheeting, and paintbrushes, he asks, “So what kind of paint do you want?”
I got lost a long time ago, but didn’t stop him because I enjoy watching him in his element.
“What do you think would work best?”
“I recommend the acrylic enamel. Satin or semi-gloss; not flat. Too hard to clean.”
“Then let’s do that.”
It’s surprisingly fun to have Drew show me how to use the computer to color match from my wallpaper. Once the drops of color are added to the gallon of white paint, I bang the lid on with a mallet and stick it into the shaker machine.
“The first time I did that,” Drew says, “I didn’t put the lid on tight enough and paint went everywhere.”
His story does not instill confidence in my lid closing skills.
I reach forward. “Let me check—”
But he pushes the button and the machine twirls. Instinctively, I raise my hands in front of my face, but no paint goes flying.
“You’re a tease tonight,” I say through my laughter. “What is up with you?”
“Just happy I guess.”
Because the registers are closed, he writes down everything I have, so I can come and pay tomorrow.
Back in my loft, with no walls shared by neighbors, I blast a playlist my sister Roe sent me titled New Beginnings.
Drew’s fast at taping the walls surrounding the bookshelves.
We pull back the carpet a few inches. He had to cut out a section for the base of the shelves and hadn’t tacked it back down yet for this very reason.
Hours later, we stretch and yawn. The shelves are a gorgeous shade of blue. It’s thrilling to have my vision come to life. He grabs plastic wrap from his loft, and we wrap the paintbrushes in plastic and put them in my new fancy fridge.
“We’ll get the second coat tomorrow,” Drew says at the door.
“Tomorrow I have to start on the backroom.”
“Right. Well, we’ll get it painted when there’s a free hour. The second coat will go quicker than the first, especially when all the prep is done. I’ll be here tomorrow at eight to help with the books.”
I don’t know how to tell him how grateful I am for everything he’s done for me. I keep it simple.
“Thanks, Drew. Everything is amazing.”
I squeeze his arm, afraid that if I hug him, I’ll never let go.
“I had to make you want to stay. Can’t go giving you a reason to flee back to Tucson.”
As if I will ever leave Blissful, but he’s gone before I can tell him so.
I roll the sleeping bag out in my new bedroom. I open the window, allowing the cool breeze inside. It carries the hoots of owls and the chirp of crickets. It’s so much better than the sounds of traffic on a busy street.
Before turning off the light, I pull out the list I made all those weeks ago after my first phone conversation with Drew.
I make a check mark next to finding a home and another next to finding my passion.
As for my second item, being an even more involved aunt, I’ve taken a huge step back from that.
Not sure what to do about it, if anything.
The third goal, starting a social group, is in the works.
I really will start that book club. Hopefully some people here will be interested in reading Hockey My Heart as our first book.
Maybe I can convince the author to visit a small town in southern Arizona for a reading.
The thought makes me shiver with delight.