Chapter 27
Fable
“That was unhinged,” Theo announces, popping a pink Starburst into his mouth.
“Right?!” I pause the closing remarks of the podcast and unwrap another Starburst. We’ve been on the road for almost three hours now. Destination: Unknown (by me at least), but we did pass by a Welcome to Oregon sign a few minutes ago.
“How was that podcast any less creepy than Scream? This shit really happened!” He shivers and I laugh. “She re-gifted the belongings of her previous victim to her new victim!”
“Hence why she’s called the Re-Gifter. And it’s not less creepy .
. . it’s just more fascinating. It’s fun to figure out the puzzle of it all.
The whole time you’re wondering why she would do that, and then you find out it’s because her aunt had been doing it for years before and taught her.
Like the family business!” I say excitedly.
He side-eyes me. “You scare me.”
“Good.” I set my feet on the dash and pop a Starburst into my mouth—a red one. As kids, we would fight over the reds, but I guess Theo’s tastes have changed because he left them on the console between us. “How much longer do we have?”
Scanning the next sign, he says, “About five minutes.”
A disappointed hum. “No time for the next podcast episode, then. It’s called ‘The Tailor of Taylorsville.’” I give him a wicked grin.
“Sadly, no,” he says, not sounding very sad at all.
“Oh well. We have to save something for the drive home.” I look down at the pile of red Starburst and offer him one. “Why are you skipping the red? You used to love them.”
He cuts me a look before taking the next exit. “Because you love them. Saved ’em for you.”
Unwrapping the last red, I offer it to him, and he takes it with a smile.
He turns left at a sign proclaiming that Glendale, Oregon, is one mile away.
That name ricochets around in my brain for a moment before I can place it.
Then it settles—Gramps’s cursive on the back of a photo coming to mind.
Glendale, Oregon, is the home of Barb’s Books.
My throat goes dry.
“Theo. What are we doing here?” I croak.
His gaze shoots to mine. For a beat, he takes in my expression, and it must be giving away my thoughts, because his hand lands on my thigh. “We’re going for a visit.”
A colorful blanket of wildflowers lines the road on both sides as we enter the city limits. Theo steers us toward downtown, and when the brick building comes into view, with Barb’s Books written in blue above it, my heart beats out of my chest.
The truck comes to a stop as we park on the street, and all I can do is stare out the windshield at the bookshop.
It’s warm, welcoming, bright. Benches and plants line the sidewalk.
There are books displayed in the bottom of the window, flowers painted along the edges, and a huge Pride flag hanging across the top.
When the door opens, a man pushes a stroller out, and two kids follow him with books in their little hands.
An older Black woman catches the door from inside and waves goodbye to them. She has short, curly gray hair, bracelets lining her wrists, glasses hanging from a beaded chain around her neck, and she’s wearing a long, flowy skirt with an oversize cardigan.
“That’s Barb,” Theo whispers.
I force my shoulders to relax. She looks kind. Absolutely huggable. She’s probably never met a stranger.
Dammit, I want to be her best friend.
“We don’t have to go in if you don’t want to,” Theo says gently. “I got us a place to stay tonight, and we could just explore Glendale instead.”
Barb’s eyes meet mine through the windshield, and I don’t know what she can read on my face, but her smile hitches wider in response. And I feel that smile urge me forward. “No, let’s go in.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I decide, unbuckling my seat belt.
By the time we make it to the sidewalk, Barb has gone back inside and Theo holds the door open for me. Stepping into the bookshop is like walking into a dream. It’s even more magical in person than the pictures online. Cozy, colorful, with the perfect scent of old books and coffee.
“Welcome in,” someone sings from the back of the store.
The wood floor creaks in the most nostalgic way. Somewhere between the shelves, a child is giggling. I want to live here. I could sleep curled up in that sunny armchair.
Winding my way through the shop, I slip my hand over the edges of shelves and lines of spines.
I soak in every detail I can, trying to view the shop as a reader but also as a potential bookseller myself.
I note the way it’s organized, the end-cap displays, the little trinkets like key chains, bookmarks, and decorations on display.
Half my mind is overwhelmed by it all—like I could never absorb enough information. But the other half is inspired. The thought of creating a space like this, with community and overflowing warmth, feels possible.
By the time I reach the children’s book section, I realize I’ve lost Theo somewhere.
But all thoughts of trying to track him down vanish when I spot an older man in the corner of the shop.
He has a young girl in his lap, a book held before them.
I can’t see the cover, but as his words filter to me, I recognize what he’s reading.
I remember the first chapter of The Hobbit like I heard Gramps read it to me yesterday.
Instead of looking at the book, the little girl is peeking up at the man adoringly. I feel like I’m intruding on a private moment, but I can’t make myself look away. My heart pinches behind my ribs.
Sometimes my grief is dark and hollow. A hole in the middle of my chest. But other times, like now, it’s warm. It’s a sweet, achy memory that I can’t repeat, but at the same time I’m so grateful I got to have it at all.
A tear slips down my cheek, and a steadying hand caresses my back. The smell of summer and sunshine hits my lungs.
I press my lips together. “Gramps”—a tight swallow—“would’ve fallen in love with this place.” His instincts were right. This spot made a perfect bookshop.
A melodic voice sounds from my other side. “You two need help finding anything?” I turn to see Barb, a stack of romance books in her arms and a friendly, crinkly-eyed smile on her face.
Before I can answer, Theo reaches for the books and offers, “Do you need help?”
“Well, thank you, young man,” she says, handing him the stack.
“I’m Theo, by the way.” He shifts the books to one arm so he can shake her hand.
“Theo!” She brightens like they know each other. Then she turns to me. “So you must be Fable.”
“I am.” I shake her hand as well, giving Theo a look that asks, How do you know each other? His returning wink reveals very little.
“Well, I’m Barb, and it’s so lovely to meet you.
” She waves for us to follow as she heads down the narrow gap between two shelves.
“Theo called yesterday and said you’d be stopping by.
” She pauses at the romance shelves and pulls the first book from the stack in Theo’s arms. “Let me get these shelved, and then we’ll chat all things bookshops! ”
My gaze meets Theo’s and his brows bounce excitedly. While Barb neatly slots books into place—murmuring authors’ last names as she goes—Theo and I have a silent conversation with our eyes.
What did you do? I ask.
Go with the flow, he insists.
Where is it going?
Relax, Fabes. We’ve got this.
When all the books are sorted, Barb clasps her hands together. “Okay. So, Theo told me you’re in the early stages of thinking about opening a bookshop?”
I manage to hold back the wince that naturally wants to come out. This feels incredibly uncomfortable to admit out loud, but I push through the awkwardness. “Yes. Very, very early, but yes.”
Excitement practically billows out of her. “Well, first of all, congratulations. Even realizing that dream is a huge step.”
I don’t know that I’ve fully realized that, but I thank her anyway.
“Should we do a tour?” she asks.
“I . . . guess?”
“Perfect! Let’s grab a drink first.” She leads us over to the small bar on one side of the shop. “Elliot’s working today. They make the best tea and coffee.”
We place our orders with Elliot, and when I pull out my wallet to pay for our drinks, Barb stops me. “Oh, no. This is on me.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Theo insists.
She gives him an unimpressed look. “And yet, I am.” Theo thanks her as she turns to me. “Now, Fable. What makes you want to open a bookstore? Other than the fact that your name is perfect for it.”
I bite my lip, suddenly nervous and put on the spot. I don’t have a reply prepared for this. But . . . something feels soothing about Barb, like she isn’t going to judge a single thing that comes out of my mouth.
Elliot offers my cup over the counter, and I take it, letting it warm my palms. “It was my grandfather’s dream. Growing up, he was always talking about the bookstore we would open together one day. But he passed away a couple of years ago, without that dream coming true.”
Her eyes are full of sympathy. “I’m so sorry.”
“That’s okay. It’s just always lived in the back of my mind—but I’ve never felt like I could do it on my own.”
“Ah, but then this guy came along,” she says, patting Theo’s arm.
I tip my head, smiling up at him. “He did. I also found some pictures of my grandpa’s. Every trip we took, he would photograph places he thought would make a great bookshop. And this building was one of them. We have a picture right out front, from maybe twenty years ago?”
She gasps, a hand to her chest. “Here?”
I nod. “It’s the only location we could find that actually became a bookshop. I wish he’d been able to come see this place. He would’ve loved it.”
Surprise jolts through me when Theo pulls the photo out of his back pocket and offers it to her.
Barb inhales a sharp breath and slips her glasses on, gawking at the image. “Oh, my goodness. This is wild.” Flipping it over, she takes in the words on the back, then looks at me, eyes glittering. “So you’re opening a bookshop?”
I shuffle on my feet. “I’m still not one hundred percent. I’m thinking on it.” Barb and Theo exchange a knowing look. Doubt wraps its grubby hand around my lungs. “I don’t know. What if I can’t do it?”
“Oh, honey, you won’t know until you try.” She waves around the store. “Things could go belly-up at any moment, but the important thing is: Did I have fun while I did it? Was my heart happy? And if the answer’s yes, then I have no regrets.”
Damn, Gramps would’ve loved her.
“Can I give you a hug?” Barb asks, spreading her arms wide.
I don’t even need a second to consider. I barely know this woman yet hugging her seems like the most natural thing in the world. She squeezes me just shy of too tight—the kind of embrace you can feel all the way down to your bones. My eyes fall shut, and I hug her back with the same strength.
And it’s inside the arms of a stranger that I miss Gramps more than I ever have. He used to hug me like this, wholeheartedly—like he might be able to fix all my worries with that hug.
Tears spring to my eyes and I shudder a breath.
“Oh, honey. It’s okay,” Barb murmurs, holding me for a few more moments.
When I pull away, I shake out my shoulders and try to smile. “Thank you. I needed that.”
Barb squeezes my arm. “Anytime. Hugs are my love language.” She grabs her drink from Theo, then waves us toward the shop. “Shall we?”
There’s a pep in her step as she guides us through the store, first to the seating area tucked in the back corner, then to the community room where they host story time, author signings, and other events.
We thread our way through the children’s area, where there’s a giant forest animal mural on the wall, along with a few toys and tables with coloring supplies.
Then Barb leads us through the shelves, where she explains why she laid them out the way she did and what she’d do differently.
The books are amazing, the collection enviable. But what makes this place really come to life is the atmosphere. It’s the people and the community space and the inclusive warmth. What makes it shine is everything besides the books.
Once our tour is over and we’ve said goodbye to Barb—with the promise of being back soon—Theo and I step outside.
The warm, spring air caresses my cheeks as I turn to look back at the shop.
I can easily see Gramps falling in love with this place.
It’s exactly what he described to me every time, and Barb has turned it into a reality without even knowing him.
There are so many things to figure out, probably an endless to-do list and a roller coaster of emotions ahead of me, but for the first time, the possibility seems within reach. And I wonder if I really might be able to do this.