by H L Bur
I breathed a deep sigh while my eyes were still closed, then forced myself up to a seated position. “Fine! I’m up, I’m up.”
“I’ll watch the front while you go through your shipment,” I groaned. I pushed myself upright and dragged my feet as I sleepily shuffled over to the counter.
I was still there working on the daily crossword puzzle when the front door chime went off. I looked up to see my Aunt Lydia, Quinn’s mom, walk through the door.
“Good afternoon, my lovely niece. How are you this fine day?” she greeted me.
“Hey, Aunt Liddy! I’m good. How are you?”
“Well, I am goo-ood,” she sang out. “I just came from lunch with your mother and now I’m looking for that daughter of mine.”
“Hey, Mom! What’s up?” Quinn asked, walking towards us from behind one of the many bookshelves lining our shop.
“Well, dear, I was hoping to get your help with something. I need a little bit of yard work done this weekend.”
“Okay, well I can probably shoot out to your place Saturday morning before we open the store. We’re having a booth at the Town Center and a huge sale for Autumn Fest that day, so I will have to be here a little early. What are you working on in the yard?” Quinn asked, as I sat back and waited for the action to happen.
Aunt Liddy didn’t ask for small favors and you also didn’t say no to Aunt Liddy. I couldn’t wait to hear what this was going to be about.
“Well, I need you to mow the lawn and dig up the little birch tree on the side yard and replant it in the backyard next to the gazebo. I want to spruce up the area for next summer and I heard that it’s best to transplant trees in the fall.”
“I’m sorry, what? You couldn’t possibly be referring to the little birch tree that is like ten feet tall. You want me to dig up a ten-foot tall tree? I don’t know the first thing about digging up trees,” she shrieked. “I don’t even know how deep the roots are. Why can’t you and Dad do it?”
“Honey, your father put his back out and I know you don’t expect me to do it by myself. I’m no spring chicken.” She tapped her perfectly manicured nails on our stone countertop.
“No, of course not, but did you consider maybe hiring a professional? Like maybe a gardener or a landscaper?” Quinn suggested, rolling her eyes.
“Don’t be silly. They would charge me an arm and a leg for something like this. Don’t worry! Birch roots don’t grow very deep, only about two feet down…I think. Oh! I have an idea! Cady can help you!”
Oh shit. “Oh, well…um…you know I would love to, but I’ve got this thing coming up this weekend.” Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Oh no, don’t even try it. You are helping me. There is no way you are weaseling your way out of this.” Quinn rounded on me.
“Ugh, okay fine.” I slumped down on my barstool. “But I will not be held responsible if this goes south.” I held up my hands in defense.
“Now that’s a good dear. I knew you girls would pull through for an old gal like me.” She turned and headed back out the front door.
“You’re fifty-five, not eighty-five,” Quinn grumbled under her breath. “Oh. My. Gosh. She is out of control! How the heck are we supposed to transplant a tree?”
“I guess we better pull a couple of books on gardening and horticulture, maybe there will be something in one of them that can help us. You know we can’t say no to your mom. The last thing we need is the wrath of Aunt Liddy raining down on us. I still feel sorry for Bobby,” I reminded her.
Bobby is Quinn’s cousin on her other side of the family. At the last family wedding, Bobby was a groomsman. During the dance where the bridesmaids and groomsmen all dance together, Bobby was found outside smoking a cigarette instead of on the dance floor. Aunt Liddy literally broke down the front door of the venue and yelled, “You ruined everything!” then pulled him back into the venue by his ear. He was thirty-two years old at the time. I shuddered at the memory. I was just glad it wasn’t me. We were also pretty sure Bobby got a girlfriend just so Aunt Liddy would stop asking him if he was gay.
“Ugh, you’re right. But seriously, why do we live this close to our parents again?” Quinn asked.
“Yeah, I ask myself that on a weekly basis. But this is what we chose. You know we are self-loathing masochists. It’s who we are. We can’t change it.” Oh boy, this was going to be a long weekend. Happy Birthday to me!
“I know,” Quinn whined. “And don’t get me wrong, I have no idea where I would be if we had not inherited this place from Gigi.”
“You’re telling me,” I replied.
Oh yeah…she said inherited. Did I forget to mention that Gigi is dead? And yes, we do still live with her.
Yep. That’s right, Gigi is a ghost. And she’s as feisty in death as she was in life. And no, her passing had nothing to do with my nursing care. I swear!
Chapter Two
Ξ
We don’t really know why Gigi’s ghost has been sticking around, and she sure as heck hasn’t spilled the reason. Personally, I think that she went to wherever it is people go when they die and was immediately banned. So instead, she came back here to haunt us for eternity, causing nothing but misery in her wake. Gigi can be quite cantankerous and demanding for being dead.
I suppose there were some perks of having your dead grandmother hanging around, though. For one, you were never lonely. For another, you never had to think too hard about your past failures because there was always someone there to point them out for you.
We had about an hour until closing time when Quinn finished sorting her new shipment.
“Okay, Cade, I’m going to take off and get ready for my dinner date.” Her green eyes lit up with excitement. “Oh! And I found the manuscript that Brent was looking for! A place in Petoskey has it in stock, so they’re going to ship it out to me tomorrow. It should be here Friday morning,” she said excitedly.
“Nice work! I still don’t understand why Brent wants a book on the old milling industry. Isn’t he a realtor? What’s he going to do, start clearing forests in order to build homes?” I griped. “Besides, I thought for fun his side hobbies included tormenting women and torturing souls.”
“Ha ha, very funny.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “Well, as the saying goes, everyone has to be good at something,” she joked back. “I really don’t know, though. I did notice that the manuscript is supposed to contain the original plans for the old sawmill out on the lakeshore from back when it was first built. I’ll try to find out at dinner tonight.”
“All right, well have fun. Well…not too much fun.” I winked at her as I picked my crossword puzzle back up. “I’m going to close up in a little bit and grab some dinner from the drive-in on the way home.”
“See ya later, don’t wait up.” She winked back at me as she walked out the door.
I went and fed Henri her supper. I always feel bad leaving her at the bookstore at night. I wanted to keep her at home, but Gigi said she was allergic. I had told her I didn’t think ghosts could have allergies, but she threw a fit and screamed, “How would you know? I’m the one that’s dead!” and then pretended to cry. I was also going to mention that I didn’t think ghosts could cry, but I decided not to press the issue. Sometimes, it’s just best to let things go. And besides, Henri seemed to like it here at the bookstore and I liked to think of her as my guard kitty.
I picked one of the comfy overstuffed lounge chairs to sit in by the café and settled myself in, filling in a clue as I sat. It had been a slow day, usually mid-week was pretty slow for us and we picked up over the weekend. In this day and age, it can be challenging to run a successful bookstore. E-readers and online news sources have taken over, but we’ve tried to keep up with the trends to keep our customers coming back. So far we’d done pretty well. We dedicated the whole south wall of the store to computer stations stocked with laptops and plug-ins, and we offered free Wifi. We boasted free 2-day shipping and with Quinn and my computer and research skills, it was easy to track d
own pretty much anything a customer could want. We had a Kid’s Korner in the northeast section of the store where we hosted weekly activities for the kiddos. We also held weekly yoga classes, monthly writing workshops, and we had a room in the back of the store that we used for bi-monthly paint nights. You know, the ones where you get drunk on wine and paint a picture. We called it Zin & Zen.
As I worked on my crossword and jotted down ‘EMCEE’ for 42-Down, Sajak or Trebek, the front door chime went off. I looked up to greet the customer.
“Hi, welcome to Gigi’s Boouch?” the last word caught in my throat and I started coughing and choking on my spit as I glimpsed the man who just walked in.
“Woah, are you okay there? Gonna make it?” said the tall, handsome man. Did I mention he was tall? Very tall. Did I mention he was handsome? Very, very handsome. I stared blankly at him. He was well over six feet tall and had the greenest eyes I had ever seen, chiseled cheekbones, and the sexiest dirty blonde hair. His textured locks fell slightly over his forehead. His rugged jawline was complete with coarse stubble.
“Hello? Are you okay?” he asked again.
I came out of my reverie and noticed my hand had been reaching out to touch his hair. I quickly dropped my arm to my side. Jesus Cady, get ahold of yourself!
“Hi! I’m sorry, I guess you startled me.” I glanced at the clock, which read ten after six. I’d been so engrossed in my crossword I hadn’t even noticed it was past closing time. “Can I help you find something?” I asked, as I caught myself staring at his bicep that happened to be bulging from the sleeve of his t-shirt. Dammit! Focus Cady, focus.
My newfound customer smiled at me, trying to suppress a little laugh that threatened to escape his lips. Oh wow, he had nice lips.
“Yeah! Well, I hope so. I didn’t know if you were still open, but the door was unlocked,” he said.
“Yes, but of course!” I responded, just a little too enthusiastically. Oh God, did I just talk with a British accent? I cleared my throat and steeled myself. I didn’t know why a complete stranger would be having this effect on me.
“Yes,” I tried again. “Yeah, I lost track of time. Normally, I close at six on weekdays, but that’s fine. I’d be glad to help you,” I replied, cheerily.
“Thanks! I really appreciate it. I’m new to town and I’ve been staying with my grandfather helping him out. His ninetieth birthday is coming up and he has always loved books and reading, but his vision isn’t what it used to be. He has a hard time seeing the pages,” he empathized. “I was hoping to find something with extra large print that he might be able to make out a little easier.” He smiled.
I’m pretty sure I melted. Cute and loved his grandpa. Could one man get any better?
“Well, I have several large print books. You may want to consider an audio book, too. Some people really like those. Although, if he’s anything like my grandmother, he might be too stubborn to admit that he can’t see the small print anymore,” I teased. That’s it, just keep it chill, you’re fine, you’ve got it together.
“Oh yeah, that’s actually a great idea.”
“Okay, perfect. What genre of books is your grandfather interested in?” I asked.
“Well, he’s a big history buff and he loves anything World War II era and anything about local history.”
“Awesome, I’ll show you what we have.” I stepped forward to show him to the correct aisle and my foot caught on the base of the lounger. My momentum flung me forward and I twisted mid-fall, tried to recover, flailing my arms around looking like what could only be described as a dancing penguin, and…thud…my shoulder slammed right into his chest.
Mr. Perfect reached out to steady me. He eyed me with what I would call part pity, part amusement. His smile reached his eyes and I knew he was trying not to laugh. Again. I felt a flush creep up my neck and into my cheeks. I silently cursed myself for rearranging the furniture today. Oh. My. God. Okay, okay, it could be worse. I’m sure somewhere, somehow, it could be worse…right?
I took a deep breath and let out a half laugh. “Haha, sorry about that.” I managed to upright myself and quickly turned so he wouldn’t see my beet red face that now felt like it was on fire. “Okay, let me show you the books I have that I think your grandfather might be interested in.”
Fifteen minutes later, I had helped Mr. Perfect pick out two large print books, one on World War II history and one on shipwrecks of the Great Lakes. I had also informed him about the K-FNB app that he could download for his grandfather. The app, created by the Kurzweil - National Federation of the Blind Reader, made it possible to take pictures of pages, articles, nutrition labels, whatever, and the app could read it out loud for you. It was really a great technology for people with visual disabilities.
“Well hey, thanks for helping me out and staying late. I really do appreciate it,” Mr. Perfect said.
“Oh, no problem at all! That’s what I’m here for,” I replied, as I flashed him a smile and shrugged my shoulders. I was finally starting to feel back to my normal self.
“You know, I never caught your name,” Mr. Perfect smiled.
“Um, my name? My name is uh, um, um…” Oh God I forgot my name! “My name is Cadence!” I practically shouted. “My name is Cadence, Cadence Kline, but everyone calls me Cady.” So much for normal.
I’m pretty sure I caught a smirk toying at the edge of his mouth. I refused to make eye contact at this point. Actually, I was just ready for him to leave…that way I would never have to see him again and my pure and utter mortification could be over.
“Well, it was very nice to meet you, Cady. I’ll be seeing you around.” And with that, he walked out of the store and most likely my life, forever.
I slumped down over the counter and exhaled the breath that I was pretty sure I had been holding in since he first walked through the door. Oh God, please don’t ever let me see him again, my pride couldn’t handle it. Besides, I’ve sworn off men and am focusing solely on my business. The last thing I need is some perfectly handsome, perfectly chiseled man coming in and ruining everything. He’s probably a player anyway. Nope, not interested. An image of his large bicep flashed through my mind. I couldn’t help but think about how his light hair and eyes made a stark contrast with my own dark brown hair and dark eyes. Also, I hadn’t noticed it at the time due to my humiliation, but when my shoulder slammed into his chest it was basically like slamming in to a brick wall. Man was he buff. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen a pair of jeans look so good. Nope, stop it! Not thinking about that…don’t care. Ugh, I never even got his name.
When I finally stopped arguing with myself and came to terms with the fact that I would likely never see him again - which was a good thing - I got up to lock the front door and glanced up at the clock. Six forty-five…my stomach grumbled. It was definitely time to grab some food and head home to unwind and forget about this horribly embarrassing evening.
I grabbed a burger and fries from the local drive-in on the way home. They seriously had the best food ever! As I drove down Main Street, I took in all the beautifully decorated street lamps and the red brick, tree-lined sidewalks. The wrought iron Victorian style lampposts each had two plantar hooks extending from either side. Hanging from each of these plantar hooks were beautiful displays of fresh mums in autumnal hues of orange, red, and purple, spilling out over the sides of their hanging baskets. Warm white string lights twisted their way up towards the glow of the lanterns. The feeling of fall was definitely in the air. To my right, I could catch glimpses of the Holbern River between the buildings and trees, winding its way through the sleepy town. The setting sun was reflecting off the meandering water. It was getting dark out earlier these days. Pretty soon it would be dark by five o’clock. I shuddered to think about it, my least favorite day of the year is when we ‘fall back’ for the end of daylight savings time. The river followed Main Street to the north and then opened up into the mouth of Lake Huron. I made a left at the end of Main Street and followed Old Maple Way a
bout two miles west out of town and made a right onto my road, Elderberry Lane.
Our house was situated on three acres of land with the house itself perched up on a little hill. The house was two stories with a multi-gabled roof. Weathered stone reached about a third of the way up the exterior with nautical blue vinyl siding going the rest of the way, finished off with bright white trim. There were two ancient maple trees that were situated on either side of the front yard, which provided much loved shade in the summertime. There was a sitting area on the east side of the lawn near one of the maples, which consisted of a weathered oak picnic table and some additional seating by a wishing well fountain. Flowerbeds lined the front of the porch, which wrapped from the front of the house along the east side of the house. In the backyard, there were two additional large maple trees and three large oaks scattered on the east side of the property, while the west side of the property sloped down the gentle hill. We had a small vegetable garden in the backyard during the summer; the remnants of buttercup squash vines still visible in the quickly dimming light. There was a fire pit with seating near the back of the property. Our property line butted up against the woods. There was a worn path that led through the woods, which had been created from many years of family walks to the edge of Lake Huron. It was there at the lakeshore that I did my best thinking.
I pulled into the drive and killed the engine. I sat there for a few minutes gathering my strength. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my grandma and I somehow felt blessed that even though she wasn’t technically alive, she was still around and I was fortunate to have extra time with her, but boy oh boy, could she be a handful. I sighed and grabbed my #adulting tote bag and my takeout and climbed out of my white GMC Acadia.
As I opened the door to the house, I could hear the Wheel of Fortune contestant choosing his letters for the bonus round. I dropped my tote bag on the hall tree in the entryway. I made my way to the kitchen, which opened into the living room. Gigi was sitting on her beloved brownish-orange 80’s rocking recliner leaning forward while shouting “SMORE ON THE WATER, SMORE ON THE WATER, you idiot” at the TV. I glanced at the television to see the Wheel squares ‘S M O _ E O N T H E W _ T E R’