Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Hadley
My hands shake, and the letter flutters to my lap.
My grandma’s loopy cursive handwriting was still impeccable when she wrote this letter.
I pick it back up, and tears well in my eyes before I even read the first line.
To my dreamcatcher granddaughter,
Hadley, my dear, I’m sure you’re confused right now, and I don’t blame you. You can be mad at me if that’s your wish, but remember, I’m gone from this life, so your anger is pointless. I’m with your grandfather now, living my eternity in bliss.
I know how much you love The Story Jar. I do, and I love it as well.
It’s the reason I’ve kept it going when I should have closed the doors years ago.
Gosh, maybe a decade ago. But I love books and stories that take me to faraway worlds I’ll never visit.
I love watching a book capture the magic of a child’s imagination and that it happens in these walls.
The selfish part of me wants to keep it going. I think about the little kids out there being born into a world where their imaginations are slowly stolen by phones and social media.
The fighter in me isn’t ready to quit, and let’s face it, the second-best fighter in the Hargrove family is you. Yes, you’re second to me, sweetie, deal with it.
I’ve always admired your love for travel and adventure, being out there and finding the stories and making them your own.
I’m sure you have wonderful memories of your explorations, and I have loved hearing about them in your postcards and emails and little videos you’d send me.
I’ve seen parts of the world through you that I never would have otherwise.
I don’t regret the fact I rarely ever left Chicago. I love this city. But I do wish I had traveled with you at least once just to watch you discover something new. Every time you returned and told me a story, I felt every noise, every smell, every detail you described.
You’re a natural storyteller, Hadley.
So, you’ll have to excuse me for doing one more selfish thing and leaving you a failing business. I know you can revamp this. You have the ability to captivate people. You spark a desire in people, and they can live through you.
If you must sell The Story Jar, I understand.
Don’t worry, I would never come down and haunt you.
I promise. I know the demand I’m placing on you.
Asking you to establish roots, to find a man, fall in love, and marry him.
It’s ancient and something we’d read in a book, right?
But you know most of those books have a happily ever after, and I want you to find your own.
I have no idea how it will go for you, but I wish I could see you fall in love.
I’ve said enough.
I know the choice is unbearable.
Roots or exploration. It’s a tug-of-war many have played for generations. I know your reasons for not wanting to stay in Chicago. But it’s a big city, and there’s a lot waiting for you to fall in love with.
I love you, Hadley, my dear sweet grandchild. Some of my fondest memories were the ones of you tucked into a corner, nose in a book, while I watched your expressions morph as your eyes scanned the pages.
I think this life was meant for you, but what do I know? I’m just an old woman with bad knees and arthritic fingers. I lived a great life here, and if you give it a chance, I think you will too.
You’re my last hope, Hadley. Save The Story Jar for the little girls like you who might never have found their love of adventure and the books that spurred your imagination.
Love,
Grandma
P.S. You’ve spent your life chasing adventures across the world. Don’t forget sometimes the greatest one finds you right at home.
I fold up the letter and slide it back in the envelope before stuffing it back in my bag. I press the crease flat as if I can keep her words from escaping.
A knock lands on the door, and Vera peeks her head in. “Hey, you, while you’re here, do you mind watching the store? I just want to go check that Pete ate his breakfast.”
“Sure, Vera, no problem.” I get up off the chair, leaving my favorite bagel in all of Chicago on the desk and picking up my coffee.
As I step out in the hallway, the front door chime rings. I slap on a smile and let myself be seen.
Then I see who it is and remember that I never texted Easton back. I could use him to get my mind away from all this shit right now.
“Hi,” I say to the two women—one strawberry-blonde, the other brunette. With them are two little girls and two strollers.
“Hi,” they both say enthusiastically.
It’s weird knowing who someone is when they have no idea who you are.
Especially when you’ve slept with their husbands’ teammate multiple times.
So even though he’s told me about them and filled me in on gossip every now and then, Leighton and Callie have no clue that I’m Easton’s fuck-around friend.
Honor’s head is buried in her phone, probably laughing inside that I’m in this awkward situation. I try to get her to look my way, but she doesn’t even spare me a glance.
“Anything I can help you with?”
The two little girls who are maybe eight or so run over to the tree, sitting under it and grabbing the books available to read.
“Oh, is there not a story time today?” Leighton asks.
I look at the sign on the board and almost tear up. My grandmother’s handwriting says that story time starts in ten minutes. “Yeah, she’ll be right back.”
Both women smile and get situated at the back of the room.
I glance toward the door where Vera disappeared.
Another group of moms comes in, and strollers are being put on the side of the register as kids are filling the mat.
Okay, Vera, you can get back anytime now.
I keep checking the clock that hangs over the tree with the line, “There’s Always Time to Get Lost in a Story.”
Some of the moms glance at me as the kids get restless. The carpet isn’t nearly as full as it was back in the day, probably only half filled, but it’s enough that if I cancel, it’s a bad look.
“I’ll be right back.” I raise my finger and head to the back.
Honor follows me down the hall. “Want me to go upstairs and get her?”
“No—”
Vera rushes in, holding Pete.
And Whit wasn’t kidding.
I feel bad for the little guy. He looks as though he’s one breath away from joining Grandma.
“I have to take him to the vet.”
“Definitely,” Honor says, and I throw her a look.
“He threw up his meds. Can you cover for me?” She looks down the hall. “Oh, story time. Sorry. Felix will be here in an hour, and he can take over.”
I tell her to go, of course, and I’ll figure it out. She leaves, and the door shuts with a bang that jolts me out of my stupor.
I’m actually in charge.
When is the last time I was in charge of entertaining anyone, much less a room filled with kids?
“Hey.” Honor stands in front of me, putting her hands on my shoulders like I’m about to get in the ring with the heavyweight champion. “You got this. This is why you want this place, right? Go out there and kick ass.”
I nod and she laughs.
“I’ll stay behind the counter, okay? You get nervous, just look at me.”
I nod again, and she laughs, circling me around to head back down the hall toward all the kids and parents.
Most of the moms are watching me. I nod and realize this is all on me. I rush into my grandma’s office, swipe a book off the shelf, and head down the hall, a knot in my throat the entire time. Then I sit in my grandma’s rocking chair under the tree and try to ignore all the eyes on me.
“Good morning, everyone.” I clear the hoarseness in my throat, my eyes finding Honor. She gives me two thumbs-up. “Please give me a little grace, this is my first time doing story time. There’s been a cat emergency.”
“Cat emergency? What kind of cat emergency?” Monroe says.
“Monroe, it’s not our business,” Leighton says from the back.
“Well, Pete is twenty-one years old. He lives in the apartment above us, and he needed to go to the pet doctor to make sure he’s okay.”
“He’s old.” Monroe’s eyes widen.
“He is.” I smile at Leighton, who has the look of a mom who is embarrassed by her child. “And Vera really loves him.”
Monroe scoots closer to me. “She’s not as good as Mae,” she whispers.
Leighton’s cheeks are completely red, and next to her, Callie is laughing.
“Well, she tried her best, right?”
Monroe nods, and next to her, Hazel agrees with a nod of her own.
“Let’s see how I do.” I cringe and show the book to everyone. The pages creak as if the book hasn’t been opened in a really, really long time. “This is one of my favorites, and I really hope it will become one of yours too.”
I start to read The Little Engine That Could, and all the kids quiet down, as if they’re used to being here and know my grandma’s rules that you will be excused if you ruin the enjoyment for anyone else.
After the first two pages, I get more comfortable, crossing my legs and making the voices as different as I can. How can I fall into a book all over again, one that I’ve read so many times and relived in my head over and over again?
But as I finish the last page, a tear slips free and runs down my cheek.
I forgot how easily books give me the warm fuzzies.
As I look at the small gathering of kids, who seem just as exhausted from the story and not quite ready to run off yet, I realize I have to keep this place going. For these little ones. And the ones who will come after them.
But to do that, I’m gonna need a husband.
Only one person comes to mind—Easton Bailey.
The problem is he’s about as pro-marriage as I am, so I’ll have to give him a reason to say yes.
Lucky for me, trading favors isn’t exactly unfamiliar territory for us.
The kids leave, and Honor helps me check out a few of the customers. After that rush, it’s back to being dead again.
Honor slides up to the counter and glances at her watch. “I have to go in five to cover for the nurse.”
“Oh, I feel horrible. How is Grandma doing?”
Honor waves her hand. “Same as last time. I’d rather hear from you. So… what did Mae’s letter say?”
I lean against the wall. “She gave a convincing argument, which I assumed.”
“Top that with you crying after reading the book.
“I wasn’t crying.”
“You were crying.”
I shake my head.
Her phone vibrates, and she takes it out of her purse, her two thumbs running over the screen. “Grandma’s friends’ text thread should be made into a book. One of them just commented on their own garden picture, not realizing she posted that yesterday, and it’s her garden.” She shakes her head.
“How are you on it?”
“Because my grandma can’t keep up with it, and she doesn’t want to either. I’m her CliffsNotes.”
I nod and give her a sad smile that I’m sure doesn’t help her.
“So back to you.” She’s always so quick to not talk about her grandma, which I get. It takes up her entire life.
“I think I figured it out.”
Felix walks by the window, and Honor follows my line of sight.
“You gonna clue me in?”
“I’m going to ask Easton Bailey to marry me.”
She doesn’t say anything but her widened eyes and hanging jaw suggest she’s shocked.
“Why? You think that’s a bad idea?” I ask.
“No, I just didn’t see that coming. I thought you just hooked up with him. I wonder if you should pick someone you could have more of a future with.”
I can see her point, but there’s no one else for me to ask on this short of notice.
The door chime rings, and Felix walks in, pointing to Honor. “That’s not a chair.”
Honor slides down and grabs my hand before I can get away. “Had?” I see it on her face—the one that says this is a very, very bad idea.
“Relax, I got this.”
Felix returns from the back, complaining about a book that didn’t come in and how we’re going to disappoint the people who preordered.
Honor leaves, with a call me signal to her ear with more urgent flair, but I’ll be honest, I probably won’t. She’ll just try to talk me out of it.