Chapter Forty

“ARE YOU A ninny?” Immaculata pulled a blackened pepper from the gas flame and put it into a brown paper bag with the others to soften.

“Not that I know of.” Nan handed her the cutting board full of the raw red peppers she had been halving. Her mind was preoccupied; had she cut the peppers the wrong way, causing Immaculata’s ire?

“A man gives you a building, you take it.”

Nan dropped her knife on the floor. “Who told you that?”

Immaculata pursed her lips, shrugged. “I hear things. A man hands over a business to you, you take it. A place to live, no rent, all yours. Snap it up.”

Nan picked up the knife and put it in the sink. She wasn’t going to stand there and take this.

“Don’t be stupid. That’s all I’m saying.” Immaculata ripped the burnt skin off the pepper and dropped the warm pepper into a bowl with garlic and olive oil.

“It’s absolutely none of your business.” Nan turned to leave.

“What’s wrong with you? Is your head up your ass or what?” Immaculata picked up a roll and threw it at Nan.

Nan screamed at the surprise of it. “You crazy old broad.” She grabbed the bag of rolls and aimed them one by one at Immaculata’s head. Immaculata ducked and thwacked the rolls back at Nan with the cutting board.

When they stopped laughing and sat down to face each other across the table, momentarily exhausted, Nan said, “I don’t need you to tell me what to do. I know exactly what to do.”

She surprised herself with that, but it was very clear. She could feel the pulsing inner guidance directing her. Unmistakable.

*

NAN ORDERED A Virgin Mary at the diner, batting away the memory of the giant Mary statue rolling down Main Street. This was just a lovely mocktail, seasoned tomato juice with no vodka but with extra olives and celery, exactly what she needed. If there was ever a day to keep her wits about her, this was that day.

Her brain was as lit up as a pinball machine, her thoughts racing around like those little balls; when they landed in the right spot, she felt her eye sockets light up and her eyeballs roll around just like a real pinball goddess.

She and Chuck faced each other across their favorite highway diner booth. He felt so familiar to her, the brother she didn’t have in real life. As if they had spent many meals together in previous lifetimes.

A baby in the next booth popped up suddenly and shrieked at them, clearly thrilled by his newfound ability to pull himself up to standing. His laugh was so mirthful and irresistible that soon the whole corner of the diner was laughing with him. Chuck played peekaboo to egg him on.

Then that silly, dear man jumped out of his seat and knelt right on the floor, blocking the aisle, with both hands crossed over his heart. The servers froze. The other diners stopped talking. The cashier craned her head to see them more clearly, waving people away who were waiting to pay. It was clear to Nan they thought this was a marriage proposal. She laughed out loud at how far off base they all were.

The crowd looked at her and then at Chuck, heads swiveling as they held their collective breath, waiting. Nan had never before considered how extremely embarrassing it would feel to be in the actual position of being proposed to publicly.

“Will you do it, Nan? Will you open a bookstore with me?” Chuck pleaded.

Their server, two plates lined up on her arm, burst out of the kitchen and headed for them. When she saw Chuck on his knees, she stopped so fast her shoes screeched like an old car when the brakes were slammed on.

Nan shook her head emphatically NO, and the whole diner said Ohhhh in sad unison and picked up their forks. Chuck got up from his knees, rubbing them, and slumped back in his seat. The server laid their plates down hard, glaring at Nan.

“It’s not me,” Nan said. “I’m not the one.”

He simply listened. He had a wife and daughter; he knew better than to try to argue her out of it. That was obvious.

“Your offer is so generous, Chuck. Your vision is so clear. But my heart isn’t in it. Because I am suddenly possessed with my own vision and a counterproposal for you.”

He nodded, waiting.

First things first. “I love the apartment so much. I want to rent it, make it my home,” she said. “I do NOT want to own the building. It’s too much. It makes me cringe thinking of it.”

“Yes. The apartment is all yours. I would love for you to live there,” Chuck said instantly.

The joy of that. The absolute rightness of it too. This was the first time in her life she had fallen in love with a place, walked into a space that put its arms around her and plainly said You’re home.

Now for the rest of it. Nervous excitement mounted, a bubbly combination that made her feel as high as champagne.

“Chuck, what this town desperately needs is a new library building. You know all the reasons, I’m sure. For one, it’s a former jail and still looks like one. Sends the wrong message. A library is the heart and soul of a town; it deserves the very best.”

She went on to describe her vision of Brand New! Glass front! One story! Welcoming! Fully accessible! Zippy front door that whooshed open automatically, signaling Hello You, Come Right In! Gorgeous, light filled, art filled! Where community groups would flock to meet. Where every reader had a seat. Where fantastic programs would be held. Where books could twirl around and strut their beautiful selves on ample shelves. A computer lab! Information literacy and English as a Second Language classroom! A Children’s Room with no bars on the windows! An outside reading room in a sculpture garden! She caught her breath finally and stopped.

“But what does this have to do with my storefront?” Chuck looked bewildered.

Nan laughed. She had been getting ahead of herself in her excitement. “I propose that it become a non-profit fundraising arm for the new library. The Friends of the Library can run a giant used bookstore there and donate all the book proceeds to the building campaign. I know the perfect person to run it—Lolly. She needs a job, and you need a manager. She can organize volunteers to keep it open seven days a week, just like a real bookstore. It’s largely symbolic, of course. There’s no way a bunch of used books can bring in enough money for a new building. But it would make everyone aware of the building campaign and get people involved in a tangible way. In the meantime, I’ll be writing grant proposals for federal and state construction funds for ten years or so and begging the town council to get on board and all that jazz.”

Chuck’s eyes bulged; he took a big gulp of air and choked out, “I have the land.”

What was he talking about?

“I have the perfect lot for a new library. Right in town. An abandoned factory burned down there years ago, leaving an empty lot a whole block long just sitting there. I’ve been holding on to it for years because I knew it was destined for something really important. I just didn’t know what. This is it. I will donate the land.”

And just like that, years were knocked off the timeline. Land was so expensive and rare around here, in a town that had been built up since the 1800s.

“I was going to sink a lot of money into my bookstore idea,” Chuck continued. “So instead, I’ll get the accountant to funnel it to the new library fund. It will be a good chunk of what we need to get us started anyway. I have buddies who will contribute too. They always need tax deductions.”

Nan had always thought that jaws didn’t really drop open—what a stupid expression—but her jaw had dropped open as if it was hinged. She forced her mouth back together before she asked, “You have secret millionaire buddies?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that.” He grinned.

A wild elation began to build in her body, rising up from the core of her. “But what about your bookstore dream?”

“Dreams are not all meant to come true, I guess.” He sighed. “I’m an addict, so it’s probably for the best anyway. Libraries I can handle. But if I had a whole store full of fresh new books, I’d never go home. I’d be one of those bookstore guys who lives there, wearing out the best chair in the place, high from new book fumes.”

“This won’t be easy,” Nan warned. “We have years of work ahead of us to pull this off. Are you in?”

“Oh, I’m all the way in,” he said.

“One more thing.”

He leaned forward, took a sip of coffee.

“Can I have a cat in my new apartment? I need cat. I want cat. I must have cat,” she said.

He spit out his coffee, laughing, and nodded. Just then, Sophia walked in; how unplanned and absolutely perfect. As Nan waved her over, the baby in the next booth shrieked with glee and hurled a syrup-sticky coin that landed smack in the middle of Nan’s forehead and magically stayed there. Chuck pointed to it, named her Nickel Nan.

In the future, he would shorten her nickname to Nickel and claim that when he saw money fly across the room and stick to her, he knew the library building project was a winner, and that was when he donated the land. It all happened but not in that order and not for that reason, but such was the nature of all good stories, which morphed with each retelling and got better as they grew.

As for the coin on her forehead, well, Nan had begged the universe for change. She just had no idea the vast intelligence that runs the world was quite so literal. Amazing.