Book Lover, The (29 page)

                            
30

T
HE DAY BEFORE HER FLIGHT BACK TO FLORIDA, Lucy couldn’t concentrate on anything. Each time she’d drifted off last night, images flashed before her, and when she finally got out of bed as dawn rose over the lake, she was exhausted. Luckily she didn’t have to get ready for her morning paddle beside Colin, because she doubted she had the energy. He was probably up already, too, getting ready for the memorial service for Danny, a two-hour drive from there. As she sat at the table in front of the window with a cup of tea and a pad, pieces of her dreams were still swimming in her head and she began a poem.

She kneels in her garden
in the gray light of early
morning, in a circle of pines
her tools lined up beside her.

While mourning doves sleep
wet brown stains spread
across the knees of her faded jeans
as she plunges her rusting
spade into an empty bed.

Her hair, long slivered bits
of white, caught in a comb,
curls like a weathered nest
on the white flesh of her neck.

She digs hole after hole
searching for bulbs
in earth empty as her
womb, building a mound
of dirt that swells soft
and fertile, as the sun
climbs over the pines.

Bulbs, white, dirt crusted,
clustered like grapes are
soon uncovered. She pulls
them out into the warming
air and tenderly plies them apart

It was sad but beautiful, filled with fragmented pieces of her life now: Ruth’s hair, Colin’s birds, the garden she once loved in Mendham, where she finally had what her father had always talked about, a little patch of earth. Although she wasn’t very good at gardening, Lucy loved being outside in the early mornings while the world still slept, breathing in the smell of the earth, even marveling at the mysterious bugs crawling around her knees and hands.

It awed her that a packet of dry, hard seeds could become a green shoot, a living thing that would grow toward the sun a little more each day and create petals and flowers in the most gorgeous colors and scents. It was like a miracle.

In St. Augustine her brown thumb didn’t matter, everything grew. In just one summer a bougainvillea, jasmine or hibiscus could take over a wall of house and climb through gutters, snaking underneath the roof tiles. She pictured those flowers now, in that lovely yard with the smell of the bay on the wind. And the beautiful house that she’d tried so hard to make feel like home. But even now, when she thought of home, she always thought of the house in Mendham.

She closed her eyes and saw another image that had haunted her dreams last night—David in the pouring rain cutting the grass after work. Drenched, yet pushing the lawnmower in circles around that house, again and again. Opening her eyes, she picked up the pen and wrote a title at the top of the poem:
Barren.

Then she turned to a clean page on her legal pad and began a grocery list. She was not going to spend the rest of the day moping about the past.

* * *

RUTH WAS FIVE MINUTES EARLY FOR HER MEETING with Chuck Bradley, her accountant. She sat back in the frigid waiting room, feeling her overheated skin turn to ice. It was stupid walking six blocks in the blistering heat.

She folded her arms for warmth and stared out the window. Thomas’s letter, which she had finally worked up the nerve to read last night, came back to her, word by word.

Dear Ruth,

I wanted to send you one last letter, to apologize for even suggesting that there might be a place for me in your life. You’re so kind, I can only imagine the anxiety I must have caused you. That wasn’t fair.

You’re also a lot smarter than I am, Ruth, and you probably already knew what I’m quickly finding out. That life for a paroled felon will never be an easy road. It’s not so hard for me to see now how so many end up back in prison.

The only thing I can do is to continue trying to learn. I’ve enrolled in a class at Warwick Community College starting next month. Isn’t life really all about learning? Thank you for bringing a love of books into my life. It’s made all the difference.

Take care, Ruth. I wish you all the best life can bring.

Thomas

Once again she wondered about the Albany postmark. If he was going to take a class at Warwick Community College, he certainly couldn’t do it from there.

“Hey Ruth, sorry to keep you waiting.”

She looked up and Chuck was standing there with his glasses halfway down his nose and his tie askew.

“That’s all right, Chuck,” she said, following him. “How’s the family?”

His office was no doubt the most disorganized-looking place she’d ever seen. Piles of papers sat on every surface, and all over the floor. She couldn’t imagine how he got anything done, or kept anything straight, but somehow he did. He’d been doing her books since she bought the business.

“We’re all good. Heading to the Jersey shore in a few days,” he said, as he somehow found her papers amidst the mountains.

After a few more pleasantries, Chuck sat back in his chair and gave her a smile she knew didn’t hold good news.

“Just give it to me straight, Chuck, okay?”

“Your sales revenue is down more than eight percent from last summer. I know it doesn’t sound like much, but…” he shrugged.

He didn’t have to tell her. The profit margin on books was so miniscule that any loss of profit could be devastating. And hardcovers had taken a huge hit, with people opting for the more affordable paperbacks lately.

“Now,” he said, picking up a different file, “the second mortgage you took on your house is going to adjust next month. It was interest only, but now you’ll have to pay principal as well. And the rate is going up, so the payment will jump considerably, Ruth. I wish I had better news. You know I didn’t want you to take that mortgage in the first place. I can’t imagine why Lynn advised you to do such a thing.”

Lynn at the bank really hadn’t wanted her to do it, but Ruth had insisted, “Find me the lowest payment possible.” There’d been the flood damage, of course, and then she’d had to modify the store for Colin, as well as a ramp to the side door of her house. She’d had no choice.

“Well, there are a few bright spots. I almost forgot to tell you, I’m getting some rent for the lake cabin,” she admitted. “I’m not putting that on the books, is that okay?”

Chuck shrugged. “Don’t worry about that.”

“And hopefully in about three or four months I’ll be pulling in some additional money in the store, renting out a corner to Hannah for a café.”

Chuck nodded, listening.

“Oh, and best of all, the new Stephanie Meyer vampire book comes out soon. That’s our biggest money maker every year now. We’ve got a record number presold and Megan’s holding a midnight release party, which should bring in more sales. That’s usually a lifesaver.”

Chuck smiled. “Put me down for five. I’ll give them as gifts.”

“Thanks, Chuck. And who knows, maybe this year I’ll win the Independent Bookseller’s Essay Contest. I was a finalist last year. That would be a thousand bucks. Or maybe I should buy some lottery tickets, eh?”

Chuck laughed.

“How many years have we been doing this? It’s always the same story, isn’t it? You must think I’m crazy.”

He shook his head. “Nah. You’re doing what you love, how many people can say that?”

“So we should be all right for a while?”

“Somehow, Ruth, you always manage to pull through.”

She got up to leave.

“You know, if you sold that cabin, you could pay off the second mortgage, maybe even have some money left over.”

She stood there a moment, then sighed. “It’s not that simple. Bill wanted that cabin to stay in his family. Always.”

* * *

LUCY HADN’T REALLY COOKED MUCH SINCE MOVING into the cabin, living on sandwiches, omelets and salads. Suddenly, though, she wanted to make something nice, a kind of farewell dinner. In a few days she would officially be starting a new life. She was also excited by an idea she’d come up with for Colin’s program for wounded vets and couldn’t wait to tell him. She knew he’d be feeling low after Danny’s memorial service.

As she sliced onions, peppers, and lots of garlic and chopped tomatoes, then sautéed them with butter, the cabin filled with the delicious smells. There was something so cozy about cooking inside with all the windows open and listening to the distant rumbles of thunder. She was making a primavera sauce to go with pasta and shrimp, something that suddenly made her stomach roar with hunger. She also had a bowl of fresh strawberries, washed and sliced, and a quart of vanilla ice cream.

She stopped and slammed the knife down as her absentmindedness hit her. Colin wouldn’t be able to come to her cabin and eat. Not without a great amount of difficulty. There was no ramp. There were five steps up to the porch, and even if he could manage that, she doubted the door was wide enough to accommodate his chair.

It was nearly dark when she heard Colin’s jeep pull in next door. She waited for him to lift his chair out of the car and push himself up and into it, and then went outside and called over to him. He turned his chair as she walked over. She suddenly felt awkward. He was still in his green uniform, but his beret was on his lap. His shaved blond hair made his blue eyes even more startling in his tan face.

“Hey,” he said with a small smile, looking up at her.

“Hey. Are you hungry?”

He looked out at the lake a minute. The earlier storm hadn’t panned out, and now the water and sky were just a flat grey. “Actually, I am hungry. What did you have in mind?”

“Well, I’m making some pasta primavera with shrimp. I could bring it over.”

He looked at her cabin. “I really hate to make you bring everything over.”

“I don’t mind. I could actually toss it all in one big bowl. You can supply the rest.”

He turned back to her. “I thought you’d be packing for your trip.”

“I can do that tomorrow. My flight’s not until late.”

“Well, in that case, I’ll go get changed and set the table.”

“Okay, be over shortly.”

                            
31

H
EADING TO THE A&P ON HER WAY HOME, Ruth drove past the new mall, which was about to have their grand opening. As she sat at the stop light, she glanced over and saw BookWorld, a wide brick building that looked to be more than 30,000 square feet, no doubt filled with more books than she could ever dream of. She thought of her own space, which was barely 2,000 square feet. And soon a portion of that was going to be Hazel’s Café.

Pulling into the A&P parking lot, she was relieved that Hannah was still going through with her plans, despite the lost shelf space. It would bring more people into the store, and even if they didn’t come in for a book, hopefully they’d be irresistibly drawn to buying one.

She turned off the car and gave Sam a treat while she went to shop. She should have made a list because she was out of so many things. Instead she simply wandered the aisles, slowly pushing her cart, promising herself she’d stay under the “20 Items or Less” so she wouldn’t have to stand in one of the endless lines. Hannah was right, she was tired. She had to admit, this year she finally felt her age despite the new Centrum Silver vitamins she took every day now.

She ran into Bertha Piakowski, picking up the ingredients for more pierogies. Ruth wondered how she did it. At nearly eighty, Bertha seemed to have the energy of a thirty-year-old.

In the pasta aisle, Lynn Anderson’s daughter, Melissa, stopped her. Melissa looked like a younger, blonder version of her mother.

“I wanted to thank you for giving my mom that book,
Still Alice.
We’ve all read it. At first it almost made it worse, knowing how she’s going to get. But when the Alzheimer’s reaches that point…at least we’ll understand it better. It’ll still be
her.”

“Oh, Melissa, how are you all doing?” Ruth reached over and gave her a hug.

“Okay for now.” Melissa’s big dark eyes filled with tears.

“Please tell Lynn I was asking for her.”

As she finished the aisles, nearly forgetting dog food, the whole reason she’d come, Ruth thought to herself that whenever you thought your own problems were too much, there always seemed to be something or someone to remind you how lucky you were. Her heart broke for Lynn, and her family.

She pushed her cart to the front of the store. The “20 Items or Less” line was already seven deep and Ruth found herself behind Elaine.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she called over her cart.

“Oh, hey Ruth,” Elaine said, turning with a surprised smile. “We have to stop meeting like this.”

“I for one would rather be home in my PJ’s, with my feet up.”

“Well, maybe they should just start making this a Happy Hour, you know? Serve some drinks and munchies and…Ruth? Ruth, are you all right?”

But Elaine’s voice faded as Ruth stared past her, forgetting about their complaints, and Lynn Anderson, or even the snail’s pace of the line. She didn’t hear what Elaine was saying because her head was suddenly filled with a roaring noise. There on the shelves in front of the register, where everyone was destined to spend a few bored moments, sat stacks and stacks of the new Stephanie Meyer vampire book, due out next week.

Ruth’s jaw dropped. The on sale date was sacrosanct to booksellers. Didn’t she have two hundred copies sitting in the back of the store, waiting for the midnight release party? When she could in good conscience sell them at one minute after twelve? What the hell was the A&P doing selling it? And a week early? Then she saw the sign above it, and a surge of hot anger bubbled up in her chest. They were charging less than Ruth paid for the book wholesale. They would actually
lose
money on it.

But Ruth knew what this game was all about. It was a “loss leader”—even though they’d lose money selling the book, it would bring customers in the door. And that explained why the reservations for the midnight release party were suddenly shrinking.

She picked up her purse, pushed her cart aside, and walked out of the A&P.

By the time she put her copies on the shelf in front of her store, half the town would no doubt already have theirs—from the A&P. Her biggest money maker of the year had just gone out the window, thanks to a grocery store.

She didn’t even remember the drive home. But when she opened and closed the freezer, then stood in front of the near-empty fridge, it hit her that she’d cut off her nose to spite her face, leaving her cart. She needed the food more than A&P needed her money. She didn’t even have eggs. She opened the freezer again and took out a pack of leftover hot dogs, defrosted them in the microwave, then browned them on the stove, her stomach growling with hunger. She’d forgotten to eat lunch again. She sliced two up and slid them into Sam’s bowl. Sam looked up at her in happy astonishment. Then suspicion. This was forbidden fruit.

“Eat your heart out,” Ruth grumbled.

She tossed hers on a plate then dove into the depths of the fridge for a jar of pickles. She knew they were there, she remembered seeing them…oh…oh sweet Jesus, she couldn’t breathe. She straightened up and her heart began to race, thudding so violently beneath her ribcage it seemed to vibrate in her ears. Clutching the handle of the refrigerator door, she forced a slow, deep breath. On her second slow breath, something heavy seemed to push on her chest. She let out a little groan. Sam stopped eating and turned to look up at her.

“Eat,” she said, but her voice was a shaky whisper. “I’m fine.”

Sam turned and continued eating just as a tiny twinge went up her neck. She walked to the phone and dialed Jenny. The answering machine came on in the same instant her entire body seemed to lose all strength.

There was no hesitation this time. Ruth grabbed her car keys and left without a backward glance at Sam.