Book Lover, The

by McFadden, Maryann

  “But there is a real world out there. And maybe yours is going to change.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I hear the buzz in the store. And I’ve heard customers coming in and talking about how wonderful your book is.” He shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe she didn’t get it. “Lucy, one day soon you may find a publisher knocking on your door, offering you a whole new world of possibilities.”

  “From your lips to God’s ears,” she laughed, but she could see he was serious. “If by some miracle that happened, none of this would change.”

  Then he said that while she was gone he was going to talk to Gloryanne one more time and hopefully convince her that she needed to finally move on. She was still calling him, he said, and he felt bad for her, but he’d been up front with her for weeks now. Again, that little dagger of guilt jabbed at her. Like Ruth, Gloryanne had no idea about her and Colin.

  “I think she still loves you.”

  He looked at her quizzically. “You’ve heard that from Jenny, no doubt, or my mother. She doesn’t love me. She’s just confused and guilty. It’s time to let go.”

  “Was she your first love?”

  “The only one, really. Until now.”

  “And if you hadn’t met me, do you think you’d be with her?”

  He shook his head. “Why is it we always seem to be talking about me? What about you, have you let go?”

  “I didn’t think I could ever get over losing Ben. And truthfully, I didn’t want to. As long as I was immersed in grieving, he was somehow still with me. It felt wrong to let it go. As if I were somehow letting him go.” She felt the familiar sorrow building in her throat. “But after a while, I learned that there’s a limit to how much grief you can endure. One day you wake up and you just want to be, no you need to be, normal, and have a day like everyone else. So you let it go for five minutes, then an hour. Gradually you let go of what you think you never could, until one day there are more normal stretches than grieving ones.”

  Colin’s fingers had stroked her hair over and over as she talked, a soothing gesture, and she’d felt like a little girl whose bruises were fresh, as were her tears. She saw tears in his own eyes.

  “Of course you understand all this,” she said, knowing that’s how he’d finally made peace with his own loss. “But there’s still the guilt, that one day I won’t think of him at all, for a day, or two days, and it’ll be as if he never existed. I see now that’s what held David and me together. And finally really opening up completely when I was there, about everything, enabled me to see that it was okay to let go.”

  “It must have been painful, all that talking about such a sad time. I understand how he could have a hard time letting go.”

  “It was painful, but…he’s doing better.”

  David seemed to be making strides letting go of so many things, except for her. She’d e-mailed him several times, assuring him she wasn’t going to change her mind. He thought that deep down she was still angry and hurt, that it was only natural it would take time for her to trust him again. What he couldn’t understand, he kept writing, was why she was unwilling to just give it a little time.

  “I think when you have a long history with someone, as you and I both had,” Colin said then, breaking into her thoughts, “it’s easy to just hang on. You get used to the familiar, you know? And I think that’s what’s going on with Gloryanne.”

  He’d pulled her close, holding her for a long time, and she couldn’t help remembering what Ruth had said way back in the beginning when she was falling apart. That the Chinese word for crisis has two characters: danger and opportunity. Maybe you needed to face some kind of crisis to really open your eyes. If it hadn’t been for losing Ben, she might not have rediscovered her love for writing. While she’d have given up everything to keep Ben, there wasn’t a choice.

  And if David hadn’t lied and betrayed her, she wouldn’t have found Colin. If he hadn’t been paralyzed, Colin would no doubt have been married to Gloryanne by now.

  She’d pulled away from him in that moment and looked deep into his eyes, feeling that somehow, everything had turned out as it was supposed to, despite the agonies along the way. That was life.

  * * *

  THE MOMENT SHE PULLED INTO THE HOTEL PARKING LOT for the convention, Lucy’s nerves kicked into high gear. The lobby was crawling with people wearing name tags and she peered at them as she walked past, wheeling her huge suitcase stuffed with books. There were booksellers everywhere, but also well-known authors and publicists from some of the largest publishers in the world. They were clustered in groups, laughing and talking, and she suddenly felt like turning around and bolting.

  This would be a hundred times worse than doing a book signing. She was walking into an inner sanctum of the publishing world, and to most of these people she’d be viewed as that most dreaded person—a self-published author. How was she going to go through with this? Simply walk up to people, introduce herself, and hand them her self-published book, along with her carefully crafted brochure? Suddenly that seemed like the most embarrassing thing in the world.

  She checked in and headed to her room, passing the convention floor along the way. She stood there a moment, looking into the gargantuan room filled with tables and booths and stacks of books everywhere. In an hour she’d have to walk in there along with hundreds of others, and she almost laughed, picturing them all running in the other direction when they saw her. How she wished that Ruth was with her.

  She went to her room on the twentieth floor, opened the drapes, then scanned the minibar. She grabbed a small bottle of Jack Daniel’s because she was shaking so badly. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she took the tiniest of sips, with deep breaths in between, trying to calm down. Praying she could work up the nerve to go back down to the convention floor. When she finished the bottle, a warm buzz pulsed through her. Then her hand flew to her mouth, realizing she probably reeked like whiskey. Great, now she’d be seen as a self-published pariah AND a lush.

  She went in the bathroom and washed her face with cold water, rinsed with mouth wash, then looked in the mirror. If Ruth were beside her she’d no doubt say: You can do this, Lucy. You can. Your book is wonderful.

  And that’s how she managed to get into the elevator, carrying a tote bag filled with books and brochures, with Ruth’s voice echoing in her ear. Your book is wonderful. Your book is wonderful. Your book is wonderful.

  Whatever happened next, she told herself, she’d get through it. More than anything, she longed to go back to Colin. She hoped it went smoothly when he talked to Gloryanne, that she could move on without too much pain. She seemed like a nice woman, and Ruth seemed fond of her. But more than anything, Lucy couldn’t wait to go back and see Ruth again. She couldn’t wait to tell her that she was in love with her son.

  44

  IN THE THIRTY YEARS SHE’D OWNED THE BOOK LOVER, Ruth had never been away from the store for more than a day, perhaps two. The first time she walked back through the door, she felt as if she were coming home. This had been her world for more than three decades, she thought as she opened the door and the bell tinkled cheerfully. This had been the center of her universe, the long shelves of books, readers drifting in and out over the course of a day, all the magic and discovery right here at her fingertips. It had been hers to share with the world.

  Megan looked up from behind the counter and gave her a tight smile. “Welcome back, Ruth.”

  Before she could answer, she caught a movement in the back of the store.

  “Hannah’s packing up her things,” Megan said.

  She hadn’t expected Hannah to be there, but this actually would be better. She could tell them all at once.

  Ruth walked to the back and as she did, her mouth fell open in disbelief. The walls were now a bright cherry red, the black bistro tables covered with red and white checked table cloths, and of course the mirrors painted like windows overlooking the countryside. It was stunning, the entire area trans
formed to feel like a French café. Hannah sat at one of the tables, wrapping cups in newspaper and putting them in a box on the floor.

  “Ruth, you’re back,” she said, standing and coming over to give her a hug. “You look better. Not so tired.”

  “I’m getting there,” Ruth said. “What are you doing?”

  Hannah said nothing for a moment. “I need to get back to the real world, as Eddie puts it. I didn’t want to bother you while you were getting better, or burden you with my problems. I know you were just doing me a favor here. But I know you have to do what’s right for you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s all over town, that you’re going bankrupt and closing down.”

  Megan had been right. She’d bet money that Eddie was at the heart of it. But it didn’t matter who’d started the rumors. The front door opened and she turned to see Harry walk in, then just behind him Kris. She hadn’t asked Colin. She’d talk to him later.

  “Wait here just a moment, Hannah,” she said.

  She walked to the front of the store where her three employees looked at her expectantly. How loyal they’d been all these years, working for a pittance, not just because of their love of books, but because of their devotion to her.

  “How about we talk in the back, where we can sit down?”

  She was startled to see Megan’s lower lip begin to quiver. Kris and Harry just exchanged glances. Ruth locked the front door, and turned the open sign around.

  A moment later, they sat with Hannah at two of the bistro tables.

  “I missed all of you,” she began, “and I can’t thank you enough for pitching in even more while I was out sick. There’s no way I can ever repay you for all that you’ve done for me, as well, over the years.” She hesitated a moment. “I can tell by the looks on your faces that you know what I’m about to say.”

  There was a heavy silence. It reminded her of being in school years ago, after someone was severely disciplined, the pall of discomfort, and how no one could make eye contact.

  “That I’m in financial ruin, that I’m closing the store, and that I’m giving up.” She took a deep breath. “Well, you’re wrong.”

  Megan looked up as if she’d heard a gunshot. Kris and Harry exchanged puzzled looks. Hannah frowned skeptically, wondering if she’d heard right.

  “When Megan came to see me right after I got home from the hospital, I was exhausted, and yes, I felt defeated. But she said something else that got me to thinking—that I’m too much of a control freak. Well, she’s right. As the days went on and I started feeling better, and getting really bored,” they giggled at that, and she could see their faces brightening, “I realized that the one thing I never really controlled was this store. Because I didn’t own it. If I want to keep going here, that has to change. So…I’m going to buy the building.”

  “But…” Hannah’s voice faded, unable to voice what she knew they were all thinking.

  “But how can I buy the building when I’ve barely been able to keep the store afloat?”

  They all nodded.

  “I’m selling my house. I’m going to live in the apartment upstairs. And I’m going to fix this place up. Maddy Akin gave me a price on my house—what it’s worth if I do a little sprucing up, and I made Jeff an offer. Because the building is in such poor shape, my house, surprisingly, is worth more.”

  “What did he say?” Kris asked.

  “Maddy convinced him to say yes, and to give me thirty days to sell my house. As we know, he’s been thinking about selling, that’s why he wouldn’t renew our lease. And no one’s going to offer him as much as I have, there are other buildings they can get for less. I’m his best bet.”

  “I just want to be clear, Ruth, you’re not closing the store? For real?” Megan asked.

  “For real. I’m making you assistant manager, Megan. I need to have some balance in my life. A little more life, a little less work. And I think you’ve got a good grasp on the future of bookselling.”

  “Oh, Ruth, I’m gobsmacked!” Megan jumped up and came over and hugged her.

  “And Hannah,” she said, when Megan stepped back, “please don’t pack up. I know Megan will back me up on this. We can’t be just a small bookstore anymore. You’ve got a real talent that’s been untapped. And let’s face it, in retail Christmas is around the corner, so let’s start stockpiling Book Lover Gift Baskets. I’m hoping we have our best holiday season ever.”

  “Ruth,” Kris said, standing and looking at her curiously. “What kind of medicine did they give you?”

  Ruth looked at them all. “Nothing more than another chance at life.”

  * * *

  WHILE SHE CLEARED THE COUNTERS IN HER KITCHEN that afternoon, Thomas began painting the cabinets. The old maple was chipped and scratched and Ruth had seen enough HGTV in the past to know Mandy was right—she’d make more by simply sprucing up a bit here and there. Thomas had jumped on board last night when she told him her plan to keep the store and buy the building. He was pretty handy with a paintbrush, he’d insisted, after painting everything that didn’t move in prison during his time. Besides, she’d done so much for him over the years he wanted to do something for her. The old Ruth, the control freak, would have refused. She’d simply said “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  Now as she packed up boxes of clutter, making her counters appear more spacious, Thomas stood on a ladder, brushing a soft antique white on the cabinet frames. It was going to transform the room, and she lamented that she hadn’t done things like this sooner, so that she could enjoy them. But it didn’t matter. She was more than ready to move on.

  “Thomas, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” she said casually, as she tucked her old blender into a cardboard box, “how old are you?”

  All along, she’d assumed he was close to her age, but last night she’d really studied him, his hair not so severely short anymore, his face somehow softened since he left prison. He suddenly looked much younger.

  “I’m fifty-seven.”

  She waited for him to ask her the same question, but he didn’t. The radio played on in the background as she thought about this new information. He was nearly eight years younger.

  “Do you really think age matters, Ruth?” She heard him coming down the ladder and turned to face him.

  “I’m older than you. Not by a little bit.”

  “I don’t care. We’re both somewhere in late middle age. Isn’t that close enough?”

  She had to smile. “I could argue with that, but I won’t. I like to fool myself that I’m still in that category.”

  “I remember when my grandmother turned eighty, she told me she still felt eighteen inside.”

  “I think my mother said something like that.”

  “I don’t think we should argue with them.”

  The music changed suddenly on the radio, to an old Righteous Brothers song, “Unchained Melody,” one of her favorites. Thomas reached over and turned up the volume. Then he turned to her and opened his arms.

  “May I have this dance?”

  “Oh…”

  A beat later, she slowly walked into his arms. One hand took hers, his other circled her waist, pulling her toward him, then stopping at a respectable distance so their bodies weren’t touching. Last night they’d held hands, but nothing more. Now as they swayed from side to side he drew her closer and she looked up to see him staring down at her.

  “I’ve been wanting to kiss you, Ruth Hardaway, for years.”

  “Oh,” she said again, her heart kicking into high gear as he lowered his mouth and touched her lips.

  “Mom?”

  They broke apart as the front door slammed, and she pushed Thomas back toward the ladder. A moment later Jenny was standing in the kitchen doorway.

  Ruth turned to the box on the table, hiding her crimson face as she spoke. “Oh, honey, hi. I’m packing up some clutter, and this is Thomas. He’s doing some painting for me.”

  A pause. “I see.”
<
br />   She heard Thomas climb down the ladder again—how had he gotten back up there so quickly? Just as she turned, he and Jenny were shaking hands.

  “Mom, could I talk to you?” Jenny said then, and nudged her head toward the dining room.

  Oh no. She hadn’t wanted them to meet like this.

  Once they were in the dining room, Jenny’s smile disappeared and she looked at her mother with blazing eyes. Before Ruth could say a word, Jenny launched into a tirade about Lucy. And Colin. And the conversation she’d just had with Gloryanne.

  Lucy, apparently, had been playing them all for fools.

  * * *

  ON THE SEAT BESIDE RUTH WAS THE BOOK she’d told Lucy about long ago, Max Perkins, Editor of Genius, that she’d finally ordered last week and had been anxiously waiting to give her. It was a valid excuse to drive out to the lake. She insisted to Jenny that there had to be a mistake. She was quite certain Lucy was reconciling with her husband. Even so, Lucy would never be so devious. She tried to calm herself as she drove the winding roads, remembering the last time she’d made this drive back in the spring for Bill’s birthday. So much had changed in her life since then.

  The wind kicked up suddenly and a few leaves fluttered to the road from the woods on either side of her. Already there was the occasional tree turning red or yellow. Soon Applefest would be arriving again, and then the anniversary celebration. And she’d be sharing all of it with Thomas.

  Before she knew it she saw the flash of water sparkling through the trees and the road narrowed as she wound around the lake. Minutes later she pulled into the gravel drive, coming through the tunnel of pines, which swayed in the wind. She was relieved to see Lucy’s car, having taken a chance she’d be back by now. She hadn’t called ahead. She wanted to catch Lucy completely unawares.

  Luckily Colin’s car was gone. He spent Mondays at the VA.

  She walked up the porch steps and knocked on the screen door. The inside door was wide open.