November (New Orleans #11)

CHAPTER 1

Reading hadn’t been something everyone was taught or could do up until then, or even for a while after that.

Wealthy people and members of the clergy could read and often read in different languages, but the everyday people, that came later.

When her family moved to New Orleans from Pennsylvania, all the way back in the seventeen hundreds, they had bought two plots of land.

One was long gone now. It had been right next to the one where Chapter she was pretty sure of that.

And while Maisie knew she would never sell, those cousin’s children might if they took it over after her death because she didn’t have another plan.

Without the landmark protection, anyone could put in an offer, and her cousin or his kids might want to take the money and run.

With it, the building and the family’s legacy in this community would be safe.

It weighed on Maisie constantly these days.

Her family hadn’t ever applied or campaigned for the status, and she often wondered why.

It wasn’t something that had even existed for a long time because there hadn’t been any history at first, obviously, but her grandmother could’ve asked for it.

Maisie hadn’t known to ask her about it while the woman was still alive, but now that she was gone, it felt like the whole family was watching her from heaven or hell or wherever they’d each ended up, waiting for her to fail.

Maisie had tried twice already. The city council was the group in charge of issuing that status, but even after she had presented her reasoning points and historical significance of the building two times, they had denied her both times with no real reason for their denial.

That was why, nine months ago, when Maisie had realized that there was a city council position coming up for re-election, she’d decided to run.

It wasn’t just about her shop. It was about the community.

She had not seen much good coming from the council recently.

They had allowed several old shotgun houses to be demolished simply because a new corporation in town wanted that space for their fancy office, forcing families to relocate basically overnight.

The council had then also rezoned that part of town for commercial use, rather than residential, causing other families to have to find new homes, too, as businesses began to move in.

Maisie was watching the New Orleans of old turn into the new New Orleans, and while it might have appeared to be happening slowly, to her, it was very fast. Near-constant hurricanes and major storms weren’t helping.

It seemed that every year, more and more people were leaving after a hurricane destroyed their home or small local business.

Something new always popped up in their place, but while parts of the city were protected and would always be historical, the rest would soon be lost to modernity.

That wasn’t entirely a bad thing. Maisie wasn’t clamoring for the past or anything.

But history was part of the appeal to tourists who spent time and, most importantly, money in what was essentially a sinking city.

If those changes caused the city to lose its vibe that made it so unique, tourists would go elsewhere, and that money would dry up.

Some of that money went to her bookshop, but not much.

While the shop was on a few tours, it was local money and online orders that kept her in business.

Maisie wasn’t running for a city council spot to save her business.

She was running to help save her city in whatever small ways she could.

If she could protect her shop at the same time, she’d sure try.

“Thanks,” she said to the old man as she handed him the paper bag with the book he’d ordered inside. “Have a good rest of your day.”

He was a regular and had placed several orders with her over the past few years.

Before that, he’d placed orders with her grandma, and Maisie had always believed that Mr. Barnard had a bit of a crush on her.

Back when Grams had still been running the shop, he would come in almost daily, never going more than a few days without a visit.

He hadn’t bought a book each time. Some days, he would come in with a special-order request, so Grams would make it for him, and he’d pick that book up a few weeks later.

Other times, he’d come in and buy one of the bookmarks or a pen they had at the counter.

He hadn’t always talked to Grams, but on the days when they hadn’t been busy and she could spare some time, he’d stay for a few minutes, and they’d chat.

He used to leave with a smile on his face, but now, he came in once a week, at most, and when he did, he always seemed so sad.

Maisie didn’t know much about him. She had his name, phone number, and home address for orders, but he hadn’t provided an email address.

She guessed he’d probably never even had one.

He was likely in his eighties or early nineties but could still get around just fine.

He never drove to the shop, always getting off at the bus stop instead that was across the street and down the block just a bit.

He rarely said more than a few words to her, but she knew he was unmarried because her grandmother had told her as much.

After Maisie’s grandfather had died some twenty years ago, Maisie had hoped her grandma would find someone else, but she never had.

She’d been content to run the shop, be a good grandma to Maisie, and knit to keep her dexterity.

She had told Maisie that her late husband had been the love of her life and she had no need for anyone else.

Maisie hoped they were together now, wherever they were, reunited and happy.

She herself had never felt that before, whatever they had felt for one another.

She had grown up watching her grandparents and knew what love looked like, but nothing even close to that had ever presented itself to her, and she wasn’t sure it ever would.