Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
STELLA
My family and I descended on Blissful early afternoon.
We’re a caravan of four trucks, three minivans, and two cars, full to the brim with my belongings but also people.
Every member of my family has come. Little Joel will not remember the day his aunt Stella moved into her bookstore, but he will have pictures to prove he was there.
On an Apple Jamboree weekend, there isn’t any parking along the street.
Drew made sure the lane behind the hardware store and the art gallery (located on the other side of the bookstore) are empty so we can park all our vehicles and unload.
It’s something I didn’t think about in the midst of everything else on my mind.
The moment I unlock the bookstore’s back door, Lola and Trevor push their way through. With the backroom cleared out, there’s actually somewhere for all twenty-four of us to go.
Dad, my brother, and my brothers-in-law go upstairs to look at where to move the furniture. I follow my sisters and niblings into the bookstore. The kids run around the aisles. It’s a mess, but they don’t seem to mind. Half of them clomp up the stairs to the soon-to-be children’s book nook.
Dora peers through the banister slates and yells from above. “Look at me!”
Kit turns in a circle, taking it all in. “This is a lot of books.”
“If you can believe it, I had more books yesterday morning,” I say. “The backroom was stuffed full. You should see the dumpster.”
“It’s amazing.” Naomi pulls me into a side hug. “I sort of hate to admit it, but this feels like the right place for you.”
“Thank you.” It means a lot that she can feel what I feel. That she understands why I made this big life change.
“I think so, too,” Mom says. “Though there is an awful lot of work to do to get this place ready for your grand opening. Tell me what your plans are.”
I describe my vision. The bookshelves are all eight feet tall, packed close together.
It makes the aisles shadowed and dark, and no one can reach that high.
I’ll keep the tall shelves around the walls, but sell the ones in the middle.
They’ll be replaced with shorter shelves and heavy wood tables, so the space feels open and inviting.
A knock comes at the front door. It’s not a random passerby, but Lana. She waves through the glass and holds up a large pastry box. I unlock the door for her.
“I thought your family might like some of my donuts.”
“Lana, that’s so sweet.”
I’ll have to tease Drew about my getting donuts without needing to promise hours of labor in return. Delivered in the afternoon and not early morning, no less. Judging by the line out the door at the bakery, there are a lot of people who would pay for these pastries.
Lana pats my cheek as she comes inside. “You’re the sweetie. We love how happy Drew is now that you’re in his life. The least I can do is feed your family.”
I hope my family didn’t hear that middle part, but Roe scowls, as if she thinks there’s a story I haven’t shared with her.
She steps closer and whispers, “Is there something you need to tell me about, Drewella?”
“No!” I whisper back. “We are not a couple. Do not say a word to anyone about what Lana said. She is mistaken.”
She harrumphs before turning away and grabbing her own donut.
I introduce Lana around, then call up to the second floor to my niblings. “Does anyone want a donut?”
They stampede down the stairs, racing to be the first to the pastry box.
“These are delicious!” Naomi tells Lana. “Are you open to recipe sharing?”
They have a quick, whispered conversation as everyone chows down and spreads cinnamon sugar all over the wood floors. When Lana says goodbye, she gathers promises from all the adults to visit her across the street the next time they’re in town.
She’s good. Offer a free donut and have customers for life. I’m not sure if I’ll get the same outcome when I start handing out books. I’ll find out soon enough.
Theo comes into the store after looking in the loft. “We should divide and conquer. The stairs are narrow and we’ll have a lot of traffic jams if we’re all unloading. Aaron, Conrad, Joel, and I will move everything up to your loft.”
I’m sore from all the lifting and carrying I did yesterday cleaning out the backroom. “That’s fine by me. Put all the boxes in the smaller bedroom. I’ll worry about sorting them later.”
I send Avery and Naomi to clean the office and employee break room. Mom and my niblings are tasked with covering the bay windows with butcher paper. Kit and Roe clean the staff area. Dad and I sort books out front.
With my whole family helping, everything moves quickly.
When the windows are covered, my niblings take books I’ve piled, either to the front to add to the give-away books, or to the back dumpster.
They’re like worker ants. Except for Little Joel, who runs around until his battery dies and he zonks out in the middle of the floor.
It’s a while before I realize Mom’s disappeared. Dad’s gotten into the rhythm of scanning and sorting, so I leave him to it and go to the back. I expect to find her there with my sisters, but the staff area is empty. Though very clean.
I head upstairs. When I push the door open, I’m surrounded by conversation and laughter. My brothers-in-law are in the kitchen unpacking boxes of dishes. Avery is directing them on where to put everything.
“You guys!” I say. “I was going to unpack all of this later. All you had to do was move up the boxes.”
Theo shakes his head. “We’re your family. Not paid movers. We’re here for all of it.”
In the living room, my furniture is just where I want it. My sisters and Mom are in my bedroom.
My brand new queen sized bed is set up. The bed’s made, with the quilt Mom made me spread across the top. The one I was waiting to use until I got married. It’s right where it should always have been.
Most of my clothes have been unpacked and put away. Again, I expected to do all of the unpacking.
“What is this!” I say. “It looks so good.”
“You need somewhere to sleep tonight,” Mom says.
“I thought I’d throw my sleeping bag over my mattress and call it good.”
“Not if I can do anything about it,” Mom says. “That sounds awful.”
I don’t mention that two nights ago I slept on the floor.
My phone buzzes with a text.
DREW: I’m finished with work. Can I come help or will I get in the way?
STELLA: Come over! We’re wrapping up for the day and heading to the fairgrounds for dinner and the concert. Please come with us.
DREW: I parked at my parent’s house. Walking over now.
I tell everyone to wrap-up and meet downstairs, then go down myself and wait outside for Drew.
The sun is low on the horizon giving everything a dusky glow.
A smattering of wispy clouds are pink from the sun’s lingering rays.
I’m in a paved lane with buildings on one side and a tall fence on the other and the view is still breathtaking.
Drew walks around the corner, with the glow of the pink sky behind him. It’s already been a good day, but now it’s even better.
“How’s the move going?” he asks when he’s in speaking distance.
“Really well. We’ve gotten so much done. Come meet everyone. Beware, there might be some teasing.”
My sisters give Drew a good-natured ribbing for all the stuff he pulled when he was a kid.
Drew apologizes, though he doesn’t need to.
Everyone can see he isn’t the same kind of person as when he was ten.
Mom, of course, hugs him as if he’s part of the family.
Dad sizes him up as if they’re meeting across a boxing ring.
I can’t help but roll my eyes. It’s not like I’m bringing him home as my boyfriend.
Many of the niblings are now playing tag, so it’s hard to catch them all, but I do my best.
Once we’ve rounded everyone up, and washed hands and faces, we head to the fairgrounds. We’re like an ameba as we walk along the street, flowing in and out as we latch onto different people, talking and laughing. Through it all, Drew is right beside me. It does funky things to my heart.
I’ve always been the third wheel. Or the fifth wheel, seventh wheel, even the eleventh wheel; just the odd one out. Now I have someone, even if he is only a friend. I’m part of a pair and not alone. It means more to me than I want it to.
Our first stop is at the pumpkin patch. They have hay bales set up for pictures, and of course we take tons.
All together, with Drew behind the camera, then as families, and couples.
I stay far away from Roe, afraid she’ll pull Drew and me together for a “couple” photo.
It’s one thing for me to think of us as a pair.
I don’t want other people thinking of us that way.
As we head to the food trucks, I catch a glimpse of the Mickey-look-alike with his daughter in his arms, walking with Claudia from Triple B and a few other kids, all with red hair.
Unlike when I saw him at Apple Jamboree a month ago, now I do live in the same town as he does. I might be running into him a lot.
Unfortunately, when my book boyfriend and his group pass my family, he looks over at exactly the wrong time and catches me hiding behind Drew’s shoulder. He winks at me! In trying to avoid him, I’ve made the situation that much more awkward.
I move forward to walk with Drew.
“What was that?” he asks. “Were you hiding from Miles?”
I should probably start thinking of the man with his real name and not the name of the book character. Miles, not Mickey.
I don’t want to explain why I was avoiding him. It’s not a big deal except I keep making it one. “Let’s pretend that didn’t happen.”
We grab dinner from the multiple food truck options, then lay out blankets for the concert.
I didn’t think to ask Drew or Diane to save us a spot closer, so we’re way in the back.
It’s probably for the best with so many young children.
They have room to run and play without disrupting too many other people.
It’s a wonderful evening, surrounded by my family in the place I love and now reside. Especially with Drew sitting next to me. The concert ends too soon, and with no fireworks tonight, we head back to the bookstore earlier than I want.
Once there, my siblings pack up tired children into their vehicles, and we say goodbye.
Drew stands next to me as I wave them away.
As happy as I am to be in my new home, the minute they disappear from view, I miss them as if they live states away and not just an hour drive.
I’ve looked forward to this moment for weeks, but now that it’s here, I feel such a loss.
“Welcome to Blissful, Stella.”
He opens his arms.
I fall into the hug as if I’ve run a marathon and I’ve finally reached the end. His hold is firm and secure. Every worry settles. Every hope increases. I tuck my face into the crook of his shoulder. He doesn’t seem to want to let go, and neither do I.
Everything is going to be okay.
Sunday morning I set out for a run. I don’t know any of the areas beyond Second Street and the fairgrounds, but I figure this will be a great way to learn more of Blissful.
There’s a slight incline to the north as the ground climbs towards the mountains.
I head that way so it’s downhill on the way back.
As I run, the quiet surprises me, though by this point it shouldn’t. Especially on a Sunday morning. I don’t need music because there isn’t any traffic noise to drown out. A few cars pass, some dogs bark, and many birds twitter. Mostly, I hear the rhythmic fall of my feet against the pavement.
When I arrive at the outskirts of town, the vista opens up. Rincon Peak is right there. It’s majestic.
Three miles out, I turn back. When I reach the neighborhood, I jog over a few blocks to Fifth Street just to see more of the town.
I approach a house with a gabled roof, a wraparound front porch, and faded blue siding.
Window boxes grow wild with flowers. There are no blinds covering the windows, and I have a direct view into the house.
It's empty of furniture and life of any kind. It’s a beautiful, but sad, house.
For a few seconds I run in place, then my curiosity gets the better of me. This is the exact kind of house I dreamed about before buying my bookstore. Now I live in a loft and have no plans to leave during my lifetime. And yet, I want to get a closer peek anyway.
I look both ways to see if anyone is around. Across the street is an empty lot. The houses on either side are far enough away I don’t think I’ll start any gossip. I jog up the driveway to the porch and peer through the front window.
It’s the living room with a cased opening that leads to what I imagine is meant to be the dining room. Glass doors lead out into the backyard.
The juncture where the wood floors meet walls are lined with blue tape. A drop cloth covers half of the room. Unopened paint cans sit in the middle of the floor.
Whoever owns this house, they’re in the middle of fixing it up. I wonder what colors they’ve picked for the walls. Hopefully not something boring like white. Or gray.
I’ve only just made it back to the road when a car passes me coming from the opposite direction and pulls into the driveway.
I run backward and watch as a woman with long blonde hair steps out.
She looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t figure out how I might know her.
Her clothes and hair give her a sophisticated, city look.
She punches in the code to the garage door and pulls her car inside. Before the door shuts behind her, she grabs a suitcase from the trunk.
The owner might be from the city like me. When I get the chance, I’ll have to stop by and introduce myself. We city transplants should stick together.