Collette bustled around the shop the next morning, starting the coffee and straightening up stacks of books here or there. Precisely at nine, she flipped the sign in the window from closed to open. She placed a sign on the sidewalk near the door announcing it was sweet tea and cookies Saturday.
Soon the shop filled with a steady stream of customers. She looked up to see Emily Foster breeze in, all excited. “I got the email that said my book is in. I can’t wait to read it.”
Collette reached under the counter and pulled out the book on the history of Florida. The girl loved history and worked part-time at the history museum when not working at Parker’s General Store for her grandmother. “It looks like a good one. And lots of footnotes in the back. Might lead you to other research.”
Emily took the book and opened it to the table of contents, her eyes running down the list. “Oh, I can’t wait. I’m so glad you found this one and suggested it to me.” She pulled out cash from her pocket and paid for the book. “Thanks so much, Collette. You’re the best.”
The girl twirled around and swept out of the shop. Collette grinned. Emily was filled with energy. She never seemed to just walk. She always was twirling or racing. Ah, to be that young again with your whole life stretching before you.
Though she had plenty of life enough ahead of her. Many plans of things she wanted to do. Places she wanted to see.
The day sped by, filled with regular customers and people visiting the town. She had to admit she was a bit disappointed Mark hadn’t stopped by. She’d thought he might after she’d invited him. He’d looked a little lost at Violet’s happy hour last night. She just wanted to make sure he felt welcome during his stay.
It started to darken outside, some from the approaching evening and some from the promised rain. She peeked out the window and dark storm clouds, an ugly bruise color, gathered in the sky. Not a customer had come in during the last twenty minutes or so. Not surprising. Floridians knew to head inside when a storm like this was brewing.
She turned back to the counter to check on some orders when the bell jingled over the door. She looked up to see Mark step inside, looking every bit as uneasy as he had last night.
“Mark, welcome,” she called out to him, motioning him over.
He crossed the distance and stood looking around, his hands jammed into his pockets. “Uh, your store. It’s nice. Bigger than I thought.”
“Thanks. I did clean out a large storeroom and expand the shop area into it. Made a kids’ reading corner. Opened a coffee bar.” She glanced out the window. “I was just going to head out to the courtyard to bring in the remains of the tea and cookies. Looks like this storm is going to hit any minute.”
“It does. I wasn’t sure I’d make it here before it hit.”
“You can just browse around. I’ll be back in a jiff.”
“Here, let me help you.”
He followed her outside, and she handed him a large tray with just a few cookies left. This week she’d gotten almond sandies from The Sweet Shoppe over on Belle Island. They’d obviously been a big hit. She grabbed the glass urn with a bit of tea left in it. They headed inside with their load, then back out to take off the tablecloth, close the sun umbrellas, and gather up a couple of trays of paper plates and cups. Just as they were finishing, large raindrops splattered onto the flagstone patio in the courtyard.
“Just in time.” They raced inside. “Just set the tray over there on the coffee bar.”
The sky opened up and rain poured down with such a vengeance she couldn’t even see across the street when she peered out the window.
“Quite a storm.” Mark walked up beside her.
“Florida is known for that.”
“I know.”
She turned to him. “Oh, have you been to Florida often?”
He laughed and gave her a rueful smile. “I live in Florida. Have all my life. Summerville. Only about an hour or so from here. Inland.”
“Oh, really?” That surprised her. He just didn’t look like a Florida native. He was pale and… but really? What was she thinking? Like a Florida native looked a certain way? Since when did she categorize people like that?
“Really.” He nodded.
“You’re used to our storms then.” She turned from the window. “How about I find you a book to read while you’re on vacation? What do you like to read?”
“I… I’m not sure. I don’t read much.”
“A local writer, Rob Bentley, has a new book out. It’s really good. He’s actually Violet’s brother. Or there’s another almost local author. He lives up in Wind Chime Beach, a bit north of here. Gabe Smith. Both are talented writers.”
“You choose.”
“Okay, let’s start with Rob’s newest. Then, when you finish that, we’ll see if you like Gabe’s.”
Mark smiled weakly. “Sure, great.” Not that he could imagine getting through one book, much less two, in his time here in Moonbeam. He was the slowest reader ever. You know, if he ever read. Which he only did when he had to. He’d buy the book and that would be that. Collette would be pleased, and he’d give it away when he got back home.
“After you read it, I’d love to talk to you about it.” Collette smiled. “I have… thoughts.” She laughed. “I always have thoughts and opinions about every book I read.”
Now what would he do? Panic slowly crept through him. He could try to make his way through the book, but it would take him forever. To say he was a slow reader was like the world’s biggest understatement. He hated to look not so smart to her.
“I listened to it on audio. Great narrator.”
A smile slipped onto his face. That would work. He’d buy the book from Collette, then go back to his cottage and get it on audio and listen to it. She’d be none the wiser. Wonder how many hours it was on audio? Well, he had plenty of time to listen to it.
He bought the book and glanced over at the window. “Still coming down.”
“It is. You can’t go out in that.”
He agreed with her on that. He’d be drenched within seconds. But Florida storms had a way of blowing through and ended as quickly as they came in.
“How about I close up the shop early? I can’t imagine I’ll have more customers with this storm.”
“Oh, don’t close up early on my account. Besides if you do that, I’d have to go out in this storm.” He held up the book, pointing to the window.
“I thought I would invite you to my place.”
He still thought they’d get soaked going to her place…
“I live upstairs above the shop.”
“Oh.” That explained it.
She walked over to the door, locked it, and flipped the sign to say closed. “Come on, follow me.”
He followed her through a door in the back of the store, then up a steep flight of stairs. She opened another door, and they stepped inside. Full-length windows filled the wall overlooking the street. The walls were red brick, and an old wooden floor, weathered over the years, poked out around the many colorful scattered rugs. A kitchen with cherry cabinets and stainless appliances sat to one side.
“This is nice.” He turned to her. “Really nice. I love the high ceilings.” He glanced up to see a smattering of fans strategically placed along the ceiling. It was all one big room and very inviting. A long set of bookshelves ran the length of one wall. Of course. He would have expected no less.
“Mrs. Wetherby used to live here. That’s who owned the shop before me. When she sold me the shop, she moved north to be by her kids. So I moved in here. Been here ever since.”
The room was decorated simply. A small wooden table with four chairs near the kitchen. A couch and two overstuffed chairs centered in the room. A teal rug covered the middle of the floor and two lamps spilled soft golden light into the room.
She walked over and flipped a switch, and ceiling lights poured down light into the kitchen area. “How about a drink? I have some red wine or a few beers in the fridge.”
“A beer sounds good.”
She handed him a beer, taking one for herself. He wandered over to the bank of huge windows looking over the street. The streetlamps had come on, throwing small pools of light on the wet sidewalks. A roll of thunder sounded in the distance.
She walked up beside him. “I never tire of this. I often sit up here in the windowsill and just watch the world go by outside.”
So different from his place. He lived in a small house on the edge of town. Very small. Two bedrooms, one bath. No view. But it was private and down a long country road. He liked his privacy. But he could see how a person would like a view like this. Sitting up above it all.
She turned. “Come. Let’s sit.”
He followed her over to the sitting area, and she sat on the couch. He took a seat on an overstuffed chair across from her and took a swig of his beer. Now, what should they talk about? Hopefully not books.
“So, two weeks off from your work. That’s a nice break, isn’t it? I find two weeks the perfect vacation. Long enough to relax, but then I get anxious about the shop and I’m ready to head home.”
“I don’t know. I haven’t ever taken two weeks off.”
“Never?” She raised an eyebrow.
“No, I haven’t even taken a full week off. Just a long weekend here and there.”
She sighed. “That doesn’t make for a very balanced life.”
“I like my work,” he said defensively.
“Oh, I didn’t mean it like you’re doing something wrong. I work a lot, too. It was more of a commentary on my life. I used to take my two weeks off, but nothing else. I work six days a week. The shop is closed on Mondays. But then I hired Jody and I try to take another day a week off. Jody suggested I take Tuesdays off, so I have two days off in a row. I don’t always manage it—I really hate being away from the shop for two days in a row—but I try.”
He relaxed a bit, realizing she wasn’t criticizing him. “My boss nags at me to take more time, but I usually end up going in for at least part of the day on my days off. Mr. Mason—that’s my boss—has given up on me taking time off.” Except for this trip. This one was more than suggested. It was required. And set up for him. And paid for by Mr. Mason. And there was no way to refuse. It wasn’t a suggestion at all.
But this was only his first full day in Moonbeam and he was worrying about the store. Did the order of sealer come in for Mr. Greenway so he could seal his deck this week like he wanted? Had Mr. Mason remembered to run the weekly reports at the end of the day on Saturday?
They were short of help now, too… And that was his fault.
He took a sip of his beer, ignoring the guilt threatening to crash through him.
“So, would you like a sandwich? I have leftover roasted chicken and I could make us a salad.” Collette interrupted his thoughts.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”
“It’s no trouble. Was going to have that for my dinner anyway and there’s plenty.” She got up and headed to the kitchen, rattling around and fixing their meal.
He got up and went over to the window again, looking down on the street. The rain was letting up a bit. Two kids splashed in the puddles at the edge of the sidewalk, their mother laughing at their antics and keeping a close eye on them. A woman hurried past, carrying an umbrella. A man walked along with his dog. Neither seemed bothered by the light rain.
“It’s ready.”
He turned and walked over to the table. She set it with colorful placemats and napkins, and a small bowl with a few flowers graced the center. Often he just ate standing at his sink. This was nice.
They sat down and he took a bite of the sandwich. “Oh, this is good.”
“I can’t take much credit. I got the roasted chicken from Parker’s Cafe—I mean Sea Glass Cafe.” She shrugged. “Hard to remember to call it Sea Glass. I always think of it as Parker’s. The Parker family owns it and the general store in town. And I got the bread from over on Belle Island from The Sweet Shoppe when I picked up the cookies for today.”
They finished their meal, and he helped Collette clear the table and do the dishes. It was comfortable just chatting a bit and doing the work. Not something he’d ever imagined himself doing. Chatting while doing dishes. And it strangely felt… natural.
Oh, he could talk to customers. There was always talk about their repair project, or advice on how to fix something, or his best suggestion when they were trying to choose between two options. Customers were easy. Other chatting? Not so much.
When they finished, Collette took out a plate and filled it with cookies. “I saved some. I love the cookies from The Sweet Shoppe, so I squirreled some away for me.” She smiled as she led him back to the sitting area. He took his same seat, reached for a cookie, and took a bite.
“Oh, these are good.” Great. He was starting to repeat himself. At least it wasn’t uh again.
“They really are, aren’t they?” Collette said as she reached for a cookie. “I sometimes bake the cookies for my Saturday cookies and sweet tea, but I didn’t have time this week so ordered from Julie—she owns The Sweet Shoppe.”
Silence drifted between them. What happened to his newly found ability to chat? He finished the cookie and stood, ready to escape the awkward silence. “I should probably go. I’ve taken enough of your time. And thank you for dinner.”
“My pleasure.” Collette rose and led him to the stairway and downstairs. She opened the back door.
The rain had ended, and a few stars peeked through the clouds.
“You know your way back?” she asked as he stepped outside.
“I do. And thank you. For dinner and the book suggestion.” He held up the book.
“I hope you enjoy it.”
As he headed around the building and out onto Magnolia, he glanced up and saw Collette in the window. She waved to him and he waved back. He turned and headed back to the cottages, eager to get online and find the audiobook for the paperback he’d gotten. Maybe he could even listen to some of it tonight. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do.
The moon broke through the clouds and spattered light through the trees. More stars lit up the sky. The trees and bushes sparkled in the light with their freshly washed leaves.
It was a cute little town. No wonder Collette liked it so much. A couple passed by and smiled at him. A friendly town, too. Not that his hometown wasn’t friendly—but the last few weeks people darted looks at him and whispered. Or at least it felt that way to him. Not that he really blamed them…
He pushed those thoughts away as he entered the courtyard of the cottages. Violet and Rose were sitting outside the office. “Hey, Mark,” Violet called out.
“Evening.” He called back and waved as he passed them. He continued to his cottage, unwilling to stop and have to deal with more social chat tonight. He’d done enough of that. Although, most of the night, it had been easy to talk to Collette. Until it wasn’t. Until he’d gotten all tongue-tied and wrapped up in his thoughts. He never could quite get out of his thoughts these days.
He pushed inside, flipped on the light, and set the book down. He took out his phone and searched for the audio version of the book.
Success. He downloaded the book and hit play.
Soon he was engrossed in the story, hardly noticing the hours slipping by.