Chapter 11
Monday morning and Isla was delighted to be back at Finch’s, in her happy place.
The novelty of working in the shop hadn’t worn off yet.
She felt no dread or disappointment at the prospect of a new working week, just an eagerness and enthusiasm to get stuck in.
The building always welcomed her back into its fold, wrapping its cosy and inviting arms around her, making her feel safe and content.
She particularly appreciated those moments before the first customer arrived, or the phone started ringing, when she could mooch about the rooms, tidying away any stray books or picking up any bits of rubbish.
She turned on the fairy lights in the window and along the bookshelves, immediately bringing a festive glow to the store.
‘Hello, Heathcliff,’ she said when she went to open the front door to let the waiting cat inside.
He sauntered past her, still a bit stand-offish, but she’d grown fond of the bookshop cat who kept a distant eye on her and had become an unlikely ally; someone to talk to when it was just the pair of them alone together.
It made her wonder where he went and what he did when the shop was closed, but clearly, he was more than capable of looking after himself, even if he did seek out the warmth and comfort of the old building most days.
She would miss him now if she didn’t see him for any length of time, as she would Henry, who, now she came to think about it, actually hadn’t been in since the middle of last week.
Although she supposed he might have come in yesterday when Isla was off.
It was funny that in such a short space of time, she’d become so fond of her regulars, human and feline alike.
Today, Isla had a particular job in mind, something she’d wanted to do ever since she’d started back at Finch’s.
The selection of romance books was woeful; Jonathan had admitted as much and had given Isla a free rein to order some new additions that she thought might sell well over the Christmas period.
She didn’t need any encouragement on that front and luckily, the new books had arrived over the weekend.
At the moment, most of the romances were shelved by author name among the general fiction books and Isla wanted to change that and organise a dedicated space for them.
She chose a small table and shifted it into the front room, finding a perfect spot for it in the alcove beside the fireplace.
She was also able to clear a nearby bookshelf, redistributing those books elsewhere around the shop.
It wasn’t a huge space, but there was enough room to make a really cosy romance section.
Isla got to work, spending the rest of the morning arranging the books on the display unit and table, taking time to write a few notes on colour-coded cards, giving pertinent details about each one, then tucking each individual card into a book.
She knew that a lot of romance readers chose books based on the tropes within the stories so she wanted to provide as much information as possible.
She picked up a paperback with a bright-pink illustrated cover, the young couple on the front squaring up to each other, and she turned it over to read the blurb on the back, eager to find out more.
A forced proximity, small town, second-chance romance sounded right up her street.
She pulled out her phone and took a picture of it, or else she would likely forget, a definite addition to her Tbr (to-be-read) list.
Isla had always read widely and across many genres.
In her line of work, she had to, but she did it for enjoyment’s sake too.
She loved a tense psychological thriller, or a cosy crime, and could be swept away by a historical saga, or a modern contemporary novel too, given half the chance.
Non-fiction self-help books were something she picked up on a regular basis as well.
She was all about improving herself, and she loved a memoir or a biography, or a new hardback cookery book, even if she rarely got around to trying out any of the recipes.
Already, she’d given a list of books to her mum that she was hoping to find beneath the tree come Christmas morning.
But romance was the genre she always came back to if she wanted to completely switch off and escape into another world.
There was no better feeling than picking up a novel, becoming totally invested in the characters and the beautiful location, imagining herself in the setting as maybe a best friend to the heroine, knowing that it was the first book in a series and there would be several more to follow.
Bliss! Whether it was a dark romance mafia series or a high-action ice hockey story, or a cute animal-filled village romance, she was there for them all.
The only thing to make the reading experience more enjoyable was if one of her friends was reading the same series at the same time so that they could swap notes and discuss the hero and his motivations in greater depth.
Not that she’d been sharing any book recommendations with her friends recently.
She’d been deliberately keeping a low profile, replying to any messages with a breezy response, remarking on how busy it was in the run-up to Christmas and how she’d be in touch soon.
It didn’t make her feel good about herself, but she couldn’t face telling her story several times over and being met with her friends’ well-meaning concern.
Once she felt better suited to tell them, then she would.
Now, placing a selection of second-chance romances onto the shelf, she pondered over each one, something occurring to her.
Were her expectations for romance in her own life formed by reading too many romance novels?
Was she holding out for something that didn’t actually exist?
Had there been a small part of her that had thought she would get her own second-chance happy ending?
That one day she would run into her teenage sweetheart, Charlie, and they would live out their romantic dream that had been destined in the stars since they were teenagers?
She gave a wry shake of her head. Look how well that had turned out, she thought, as she neatened up the books on the shelves.
Not that it would impact her reading choices. Romance books shone a light on good and bad relationships, and why shouldn’t she hold out for her own happy ending? There was no way she was going to compromise or settle for second best.
‘Uh… hum.’ Someone gave a small cough behind her. She’d been so engrossed in what she was doing that she hadn’t registered the sound of the doorbell chiming. ‘Sorry, I didn’t want to spook you again. I could tell that you were lost in your own world there for a minute.’
Guy Madley had a distinct and warm tone to his voice that was instantly recognisable.
She turned around to greet him, hoping that he didn’t want to do any more measuring up.
That would definitely spoil her mood. She was momentarily taken aback to find him standing there with Heathcliff in his arms, gently running a hand over the cat’s fur.
‘He’s such a friendly fella, isn’t he? Jumped straight up into my arms.’
‘Heathcliff? He has his moments,’ said Isla, although she had never experienced such friendliness herself from the cat, who still looked at her mistrustingly ever since she’d tried scooping him up that first time she’d come across him.
‘I’m afraid you’re out of luck again. Jon won’t be in today,’ she told Guy. ‘Can I pass on a message?’
‘No, I’ve got something for you, actually. I’ve left it on the front counter.’
‘Oh okay, I’ll take a look,’ she said, wandering to the till with him, expecting it to be some paperwork for Jonathan and Miriam.
Instead, waiting for her on top of the counter were two large festive coffee cups brimming with whipped cream and chocolate flakes, from the fancy bakery down the hill.
The aroma of warm coffee mingling with the scents of Christmas spices wafted beneath her nostrils.
‘Now, let me get this right.’ He scrunched up his face, tilting his head to the ceiling, obviously trying to recall some important information. ‘It’s a spiced crème br?lée latte with caramel sauce, whipped cream, chocolate sprinkles and… caramel nibs. Enjoy!’
She’d just been about to make herself a mug of instant coffee, but that would have in no way compared to the tempting, creamy concoction in front of her now.
‘Wow! Is it really for me?’
‘Yep. It’s the weekly special, apparently.
I ordered one, and they gave me two! I have that kind of face,’ he said, clearly poking fun at himself.
‘And delicious though it is, there is no way I could drink two of these bad boys. I thought, who do I know around here that might be in need of a caffeine fix, and you were the first person to spring to mind.’
‘Right, well, thank you!’ She was taken aback by the gesture, warmed by the fact that he’d been thinking of her. Perhaps he felt guilty about scaring her in the woods that time. Or else he was expecting her to offer to pay for it. ‘What do I owe you?’ she asked awkwardly.
‘No, it’s on me.’ His brow crumpled as though it could never have been any other way. ‘My treat.’
‘Amazing! Thanks again. Certainly beats the sad coffee I was about to make for myself.’
‘Ah, there you go then. No need now. I must have known!’ He grinned, and she couldn’t help smiling in return.
He leaned forward to let Heathcliff slip out of his arms and onto the floor before picking up the other coffee cup from the counter.
‘Right, well I should be heading off. See you soon, Heathcliff. Isla.’
Before she’d even had a chance to say goodbye, the bell was chiming above the door to mark Guy’s departure, and Isla was left feeling bemused.
She picked up the cup and ran her tongue around the edge, scooping up a trail of cream, before taking a tentative sip of the most deliciously spiced coffee, the warmth hitting her insides.
It was the most romantic thing that anyone had done for her in years, even if Guy, clearly, hadn’t meant it that way at all.