Chapter 4

The next month was a blur of finalizing my plan, setting up the business, and purchasing, receiving, and displaying the inventory. I knew I had to start small, which fit the cozy size of the store. The oak shelves Allen left behind were perfect for books. One wall lined with tall shelves anchored the room. The opposing wall had shorter shelves that I filled with recently released books or authors I wanted to feature. I moved a few overstuffed club chairs from the Atlanta house into the center of this room, along with a rug that used to be in Meredith’s room. The dark indigo color was perfect for this setting and the room’s natural light brightened it without being harsh. The rug did not cover all the reclaimed wood floors, and I was happy about that.

I loved the small kitchenette in the back, where I could brew the hot and iced tea that was a defining feature of my new shop. The dining manager at the Inn connected me to his beverage distributor. It was through that connection I met a specialty tea vendor who supplied me with my first inventory. The worn wooden counter at the back of the store would hold the cash register. I found the perfect, old-fashioned model at an open-air antique market in Savannah. Along the counter, there also was plenty of room for my carafes of tea.

In addition to the farm table and chairs, the back room also had a few shelves that would be perfect for book trades. In two corners of the room that everyone had started to call the Trading Floor, I put oversized pillows I had toted along to Mongin from Nicholas’s and Meredith’s bedrooms. Maybe someone would curl up there during their visit.

On another whim, I added a bell above the main door that would twinkle every time it opened. The sound made me smile with nostalgia, thinking of an identical bell from my own childhood outside my favorite penny candy store on Cape Cod. I was surprised by how little I had to alter from Allen’s years in the shop. One favorite feature I inherited was the metal roof over the store and its front porch. The rhythmic sound of rain on the roof automatically made me want to curl up and pull a favorite volume from a nearby shelf. This was the kind of store I wanted—a comfortable place that was inviting and built memories people would smile about for years.

To personalize Books & Brew with my own island story, I pulled out the fifteen-year-old issue of South Carolina Shores from my keepsake box. I had the pages professionally matted and set in a bleached wood frame I could hang above the shelves along one wall.

The bell rang.

“Carr, this is amazing! You’ve done so much! You’re about ready! When do y'all officially open?” I recognized Helen’s voice, heavy with a creamy southern accent, from the doorway. “It’s just the perfect blend of old and new!”

I did not feel ready.

“Helen, you truly are this island’s cheerleader! Look around, I still have a way to go.” I laughed nervously. I knew I had made progress, but that did not change the fact I had a lot to learn about running my own bookstore.

Helen was now standing in the room with me and smiled. She took my hands, “You are amazing. You came here and made yourself part of our fabric. You know as well as I do that we could just continue ordering our books online. But you are making this part of the community and making sure everyone can be a part of it. This is a blessing for us. You are a blessing!” She looked deeply into my eyes and her sincerity bolstered me, the melody of her voice gave me some confidence. I wanted this to work for the island and for me.

“By the way, I am already planning to host our book club here, does that work for you? We won’t take up too much room, but there are four of us who are die-hards and maybe two or three others who join on and off depending on the season. How about we use this table in here?” she asked over her shoulder as she studied the back room. Her small, sun-freckled hands were wrapped around the tall chair back and her copper-colored hair shone under the dark bronze forged-iron chandelier hanging above the table.

“How can I refuse you?” I asked, and we both laughed. I already had regular customers and the store wasn’t even going to open officially for a few more weeks.

I heard tires crunch and soon enough the bell rang again. That was definitely a sound I could get used to, I thought to myself, smiling.

“Hey Carr, good to see you again,” Carl said over the top of an armload of boxes. “Brought a few boxes. Should I put them in the back room?”

“Carl, thank you. Yes, the back room will be great. Tripp has been sorting through some donations and I know he will love to dig into your boxes. And—who is this little guy?” I bent down to get a better look of Carl’s sweet companion, a young black pup with a white fluffy chest and brushes of white on three of his paws.

Carl called over his shoulder, “That’s Buddy. Don’t worry, he loves people.” I could see that was true. Buddy was lying on his side with his paw in the air, allowing me to give him a thorough belly rub.

In a minute, Carl was back in the main room and walked over to the wall where my Shores article was hanging. I wanted to be able to see it from multiple vantage points so I put it near the center of the store as a reminder to me that it all started from this. “This is the article that you read—that started your Mongin Island journey?” Carl asked and he looked at me, grinning.

“Yes! The very one. I had it framed on the mainland and thought it would be something others would enjoy, too. Have you seen it before?” I replied.

“I have actually, Carr. And, I have to come clean. I am one of the people who was interviewed for this story. I am ‘Coastal Carl’—the real estate broker they mentioned, along with some of the other longtime islanders,” he laughed as he looked at my astonished face. “You look like I could knock you over with a feather!”

“This is both a strange and wonderful coincidence. You’re a celebrity, I guess.” I smiled at him. “I had never really put those pieces together. I read that story for all the information about the resort, including the Inn and the amenities, and all the nature, and the island as a whole. I guess the real estate piece never sunk in.”

We spoke for a few more minutes about the circumstances of this particular magazine story—and how this piece was a big boost for his sales, which he needed after the real estate market had crashed in 2007.

Buddy had come to stand with us and I bent down to pet him again. I noticed Carl was now quiet and he shifted in place as I looked up at him. “What is it, Carl? You look like something is on your mind. Can I help with something?”

“You can, actually. And, I know, you might say no and that’s okay. But I thought I would start with you. It’s a big ask and I know that, but—” he replied.

“Carl, for heaven's sake, what is it? It can’t be all that bad, can it?” I prompted him.

“Look, I adopted Buddy about three months ago. Now, he is a little under a year old. He is a black lab mixed with who knows what. The vet thinks he is likely fully grown. I am going to be spending some more time on the mainland and maybe doing some traveling. There are some deals I am exploring, some people I want to meet. These people, well—I guess the thing of it is, with some of these people, I have to be flexible with their schedule. Would you mind if Buddy kept you company? Maybe he could stay with you while I travel and get through this deal. Is this too much—too big of an ask? He really is a good boy, he is trained and all. Doesn’t have much to say, really, just a good boy who wants to be with people.”

“Carl, honestly, I hadn’t thought about getting a dog yet, I just—” I broke off, surprised about how emotional this topic was for me. It was still hard to talk about even though it had been a few years since my own sweet dogs had passed. I felt tears stinging my eyes. I still missed them every day, those lovable, goofy girls who took such good care of our family in their own ways.

He said immediately, “You’re right, it is too much, apologies. I guess I just got carried away with what you told me before about your dogs. You know—how you used to bring your two ‘girls’ here with you and how much they loved the beach, how important they were to your family. I knew you were a dog lover, like me. Buddy here has already been abandoned by his previous owner; I just want him someplace where I know he will be happy. If I knew this project was coming, I may have waited to get a dog, but then I would have missed knowing Buddy.”

And that’s how I adopted Buddy. I found myself assuring Carl: “Of course Buddy can stay with me and I will take excellent care of him. I can’t imagine him thinking he was abandoned again. No dog should know that heartbreak. I can tell he is a sweet baby. But honestly, even if he wasn’t, I would still take him. Don’t give it another thought, yes. I would be happy to.”

Turning to Buddy, I gently stroked his little square head. “We are going to be great pals, right Buddy?”

Buddy gave me a gentle kiss on my cheek.