Chapter 10 Taylor
TAYLOR
Once I decide I’m going to give myself a chance to get to know Roan, I start to feel excited, and not just about him. I’m feeling more at home in town, the shop is shaping up, and suddenly the week starts to fly.
Meg comes straight to me after school the day after my chat with Grammy and we have a blast organizing books with Christmas music playing on the radio.
We decide we’ll keep it up all week, and when Roan asks me privately if she’s in the way, I tell him honestly that she is helping, even when she stops to read a book or trots back to the lot to check on her dad.
It feels like I’m not alone, like someone is rooting for me.
An electrician shows up on Tuesday and goes to work in the basement for hours. Something about the panel and Roan insisting that everything be one hundred percent for me.
On Wednesday, Roan surprises me, showing up with paint and supplies. It turns out that his brother and dad are going to work the lot for the day, so he can paint the bookshop.
“It’s just a fresh coat of the light green you mentioned,” he tells me. “We don’t have time for more than two coats, so we can’t go dark.”
But I’m thrilled, and when he opens the paint and I see a pale green with the barest hint of yellow, just like I imagined, I actually squeal and jump up and down a little.
Roan grins at me and then gets down to work, and I wind up joining him. By the following morning, the shop is warm with soft color and he’s painting all the trim a pretty cream.
I try to return the favor, at least in part, by hand-painting a pretty sign for the tree lot. It’s a simple thing, but when I bring it over he thanks me profusely, and I catch him through the window later, gazing at it like I’ve given him the crown jewels.
Meanwhile, shipments of books are coming in, and I’m realizing the shop needs a few more things to look its best.
“Would it be possible for me to borrow your truck for an hour or two?” I ask him on Friday morning.
“Of course,” he tells me. “What for?”
“I wanted to grab some furniture so people can sit while they browse,” I tell him. “And I heard that the thrift shop at the church has good stuff at this time of year.”
“Oh sure,” he says, nodding. “Anyone getting new things for the holidays typically donates the old stuff to the church. I’ll bet they’re swimming in options for you.”
We end up going together, which is great, because I can’t really carry everything out by myself.
I score a pair of orange velvet wingback chairs that look like they were made for a bookshop, and a great big sofa that I can just picture by the front window.
With light spilling in from outside, it will be the perfect spot for customers to curl up with a book or two.
By the time I choose a few side tables and snag some accessories and a café table and chairs, Roan is just about due to open the tree lot. He helps me get the larger pieces where they belong, leaving me to enjoy playing around to get everything else in the right spot.
When Meg arrives after school, she’s so excited she can’t seem to stand still.
“You have furniture,” she squeaks. “You have plants and stuff.”
“The plants aren’t real,” I admit. “But maybe in the springtime I’ll try to find a few real ones that are super easy to take care of.”
“My dad can help you,” Meg says. “He’s really good with plants and trees.”
“Of course,” I say, nodding.
“Look at this,” Meg says, surveying the shop. “It’s like a bookstore out of a movie.”
Now that I’m finally stopping to catch my breath, I look around too and I feel a surge of pride.
I’ve worried a lot about my budget, but honestly the place looks beautiful.
The pine floors have a pumpkin hue, and the shelves look much nicer now that they’re better organized and mostly stocked.
The pale green walls light up in the sunlight and the furniture looks cozy and welcoming in a way brand-new pieces never could have.
And I have to admit that I love the collection of knickknacks I’ve got here and there—a couple of nutcrackers, a snow globe with a tiny Paris inside, a few small framed paintings and prints, a few Foster’s Figurines from the shop in town, and a dozen or so more things that make the place look lived-in and fun.
The big, potted faux ferns and arbor vitae will look great when we dress them up with the strings of white Christmas lights I still have under the counter.
“It is coming together,” I agree. “And a lot of that is thanks to you and your dad. You two have been incredible.”
“Are there new books to unpack today?” she asks me excitedly.
“There sure are,” I tell her. “Come on back. We have new stuff for the little kids today—a whole bunch of picture books. And then maybe we can talk more about the fantasy series.”
“Yes,” Meg says. “I finished chapter fourteen during lunch at school.”
By the time we’ve got all the books put away and we’ve thoroughly dissected our book-club-for-two book, it’s almost eight o’clock, and Roan is stepping in the front door.
“How’s it going?” he asks.
“Great,” I tell him.
“We finished putting the books away,” Meg announces as she runs over to greet her dad. “Can we order Chinese food and eat it here? It’s Friday night.”
“Hmmmm,” Roan muses. “I think we could order Chinese food, if Taylor doesn’t mind sharing her shop.”
“Of course not,” I tell him. “And look, we can eat at our little table.”
The small dark wood café table that came with three chairs is set up by one of the side windows. I put a lace doily from the thrift shop on it and it honestly looks super cute.
“You’ve really made this place into something special,” Roan says.
I feel myself blushing with pleasure. He’s not one to fill in pauses in conversation with empty statements. If he’s saying it looks nice, he means it.
“That’s what I said already,” Meg puts in.
“I had a lot of help,” I remind them both. “From two very special people.”
“We like helping,” Meg says right away. “Especially Dad. He said he wants everything to be perfect for your big opening.”
“He did, huh?” I ask her.
“Yeah,” she says. “He said he wants you to be happy here, and never leave.”
When I turn to Roan, I expect to find him looking anywhere but me. Instead, his intense blue eyes are searching my face, like he wonders if I can handle that.
“That’s the nicest thing I’ve heard in a long time,” I say, keeping my eyes on his even though butterflies are swarming in my chest. “I’m glad you want me to stick around, Roan.”
“Will you?” Meg asks.
“Where else am I going to go?” I ask playfully. “I’d miss you too much.”
Meg smiles at me like I hang the stars, and I feel like she’s got a hook through my heart and she could tug on it and send me flying in any direction she wants.
And somehow, I’m okay with that.
“So, Chinese food?” Roan asks.
“Yes,” Meg yells.
He slides his phone out and places an order while Meg skips around the store with a big smile on her face.
“They’ll bring it over in fifteen minutes or so,” Roan says.
“Can I read my book?” Meg asks suddenly. “I’m almost done, and Taylor already finished it.”
“Of course,” he tells her. “Maybe we can talk about it while we eat dinner.”
“Can I sit on the sofa?” she asks, eying me hopefully.
“Definitely,” I say. “That’s what it’s for. I’m so glad you’ll be the first reader to try it out.”
She dashes off to grab her book out of her backpack and then heads for the sofa, kicking her shoes off and putting her feet up when she gets there.
I’m totally charmed, and she looks so pleased and comfortable, she could be a kid in an ad for a bookshop.
“I don’t know if Taylor wants your feet on her couch,” Roan says gently.
Meg looks up in alarm, like she thinks I’ll be mad at her.
“Oh, it’s fine,” I tell her right away. “Thank you for taking your shoes off first.”
“That’s the rule at home,” Roan says, nodding.
Meg’s nose is back in her book two seconds later, leaving Roan and me to carry the conversation ourselves.
“How was the lot today?” I ask him.
“It was great, actually,” he says. “The lights help, and so does the new sign. Business is picking up, more than last year even, and people have started telling me they like the new location.”
I nod, feeling proud that I helped. I’ve noticed the lines from over here. And I’ve seen that Roan’s brother, Buck, and his dad are taking turns covering for him here and there so he can take a lunch break without closing.
“I just wish I had more parking,” he says.
“Do you want to hear something that doesn’t make sense, but is true?” I ask him carefully.
“Sure,” he says.
“Well, first off, I have a business degree,” I tell him, wondering what he’ll think of that. “But that’s not the interesting part.”
“You do?” he asks, looking surprised.
“My parents made me double-major,” I say. “So I’d have something practical to fall back on.”
“No wonder you’re so good at this,” he says, gesturing at the store.
“Not yet,” I tell him. “I need to open before we’ll know how I’m doing. Theory is one thing, practice is another.”
“I get that,” he says, nodding. “So, what doesn’t make sense, but is true?”
“Not having ample parking is good for business,” I tell him. “It’s actually called the parking lot theory.”
“How?” he asks.
“Buyer psychology,” I tell him. “People want what other people want. And so it stands to reason that if there’s plenty of open parking customers might drive on by, even if they mean to come back another time. But if the place looks nice and it’s fairly crowded—well, they don’t want to miss out.”
“Interesting,” he says, frowning. “I don’t think people here follow trends like that though. We’re mountain people. Except for the city people, that is. No offense.”
“None taken,” I say, smiling at the idea that he seemed to have forgotten for a second that I’m a city girl. “But I don’t think they know they’re following something that looks hot. I think it’s just human nature to want to be part of the group.”