AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The database didn’t take into account the love behind the gift of a book. The database didn’t care.
Somehow she did, though, and the emotions baffled her.
She didn’t focus on emotion, and she certainly didn’t want to care for these books. There were so many, and they were just sitting here, collecting dust. No one wanted them anymore. No one seemed to need them.
Determined to be ruthless, she grabbed a pale green book from the bottom of the box. Altemus’ Young People’s History of the United States, and flipped open the cover.
To Geo A Potter
September 08, 1905
From Pop
Happy Birthday
No.
No.
She wasn’t going to do this anymore. She wasn’t going to care. The books could go. The books could all go. She was too sensible to become caught up in this impossible task. There was no reason to fall apart over a collection of old books.
The books only mattered if someone was willing to pay for them. They would only be saved if they had measurable financial value. That was it. There was no room for sentimental decisions. No room for wistful feelings. The past was the past, and the only way to survive was to be realistic about the future.
The bell on the front door tinkled as the door swung open. Zane walked in carrying a large cardboard box. He placed the books on the counter where Rachel had been working. She lifted an eyebrow. “More books?”
“Lesley’s personal Christmas collection. They’re from her house. I used to bring them over for her every year to display, and figured you might want to use them in your windows, too.”
He didn’t like her windows, either. “I’m not done with my windows,” she said. “I have a plan.”
“Well, maybe these will help. They’re mostly children’s books. Classics as well as contemporaries. She’d display in the windows, and read from them during story hour.”
Rachel’s spirits sank. She couldn’t even imagine reading out loud to a bunch of restless children. “Let’s see this collection,” she said, forcing a cheerful note into her voice.
He opened the box and lifted out stacks of books, and yes, they were nearly all children’s books, mostly picture books along with some illustrated classics, ranging from ’Twas the Night Before Christmas, to books from her childhood like A Charlie Brown Christmas, Santa Mouse, and Frosty the Snowman, and then there were newer books she’d never heard of, including A Christmas Card for Mr. McFizz and Mouse’s Christmas Gift that had her leafing through the pages right away.
“These will be really fun to display,” Rachel said.
“Lesley has more at her house for other holidays. I should ask her if she wants to hang on to them,” Zane said, lifting a picture book called Mortimer’s Christmas Manager and opening the cover. “My kids love this one. I should get them a copy.”
“Why do they like it?” she asked, curious.
“They love the stories with mice and animals,” he said, flipping through the pages quickly, “and this one has exceptional illustrations. See?” He turned the book around for her to see. “The illustrations are big and bright, which appeals to children, plus it has a Christmas message. My wife’s a speech therapist and she likes to find things for the kids that are entertaining, but also educational.”
“Thus, the popularity of children’s books,” Rachel said.
“Parents will spend money on their kids that they won’t spend on themselves.”
“I should be carrying a lot more children’s books,” Rachel said thoughtfully. “Lesley used to have a huge children’s business, but over time she stopped ordering in as much stock, which is a shame because at one point she was going to move the children’s section from upstairs where it’s tucked behind the adult fiction into a dedicated children’s room down here in that big back room.”
“That would actually be a good place for it. There’s a lot of space.”
“And it’s close to the only bathroom.”
Rachel reached for Mouse’s Christmas Gift and studied the cover which featured a mouse dressed in a green vest lighting a candle in a frost-covered window. “Why didn’t she?”
“That’s a good question.” Zane restacked all the picture books except for the one in front of her. “But if this was my store, I’d create that dedicated children’s room and fill it with children’s books, have regular story time, and let everyone know.” He tipped the brim of his cowboy hat. “If you need anything, let me know.”
“Thank you,” she said. “You’ve been a big help.” And he had, she thought, as the door closed behind him because Mouse’s Christmas Gift had just given her an idea.
What if she frosted part of her windows? Why not hire someone to come and paint sparkly snowflakes on the corners of her two big windows, filling some of the vast space, creating a scene in the middle? She could then use that middle space to highlight Lesley’s children’s books. She needed a tower, or some big boxes, something to give height, but it was certainly doable.
She paged through Mouse’s Christmas Gift, reading the short, simple story and found herself blinking back tears as she reached the end. It was not a complicated story but it was beautiful, and moving. Maybe she could display the book next to a Nativity set as the Nativity figured prominently in the story.
Where could she find an inexpensive one? Would that store on Main Street specializing in shabby chic items carry something like that? She’d have to find out first chance she got.
Chapter Six
The door chimed again and Rachel glanced up from her computer hoping to greet her very first customer. It was Atticus. He’d returned.
Like yesterday, he entered the store with his briefcase and cup of coffee. He walked to the chair that he had claimed as his own the day before and removed his coat. Just like yesterday, he pulled the side table close and set up his laptop next to his coffee and pulled out fat folders from the briefcase, the folders filled with paper. He got out a pen, and his phone, and settled down to work.
Yesterday she’d been exasperated.
Today she was amused.
She didn’t know why he kept showing up and yet she was secretly glad, grateful for the company. He was surprisingly good company.
She reached for yet another book from the box, this one a thick book with a crumbling red leather binding. Greek Mythology, the title read. As she opened the book the front cover fell away from the spine, and loose pages fell out. Not good. She probably needed to dispose of this one, too, and it didn’t make her feel terribly bad because there was no one’s name inside.
“You know what you need?” Atticus asked, his deep voice breaking the quiet.
“Besides good Wi-Fi?” she said, looking over at him.
He slid on his dark-framed glasses. “An espresso machine.”
“Oh, Atticus, no.”
“If you had the ability to make espressos, business would skyrocket. I guarantee.”
“I have no desire to be a barista. Besides, I don’t think Java Café would appreciate the competition.”
“They can handle it. They’re busy, too busy, and too noisy to be able to focus. This is much better here.”
She fought a laugh. She couldn’t reward him. It would be so wrong because it would just encourage him and he was already a whole lot of lot. “You mean, because no one is here?”
“It is very peaceful,” he agreed.
“I do get customers.”
“Really?”
“Zane had just dropped by. And you’re here again today.”
“Did Zane buy anything?”
“You haven’t yet.”
“Well, you know what I want to buy.”
“Do you torture everyone?”
“Lately, it’s just been you.”
“Lucky me,” she said, but she was smiling.
