CHAPTER1
Chapter & Versewas one of the oldest independent bookstores in the country. Well, technically, it was older than the country in its present borders. On its worn wooden sign, hanging out over the sidewalk, it read,‘Chapter & Verse, est. 1790.’In a city like New Orleans, that might not have been all that old – the city itself had been founded in 1718 by French colonists and had a rich history all on its own – but when Maisie Lincoln’s family had moved to the city in 1789, they’d had a goal of starting their own bookstore. It hadn’t even been the US yet when they’d bought the land and planned to build one of the first bookstores in the French-owned territory.
Reading hadn’t been something everyone was taught or could do up until then, or even for a while after that. Wealthy people and members of the clergy could read and often read in different languages, but the everyday people, that came later. When her family moved to New Orleans from Pennsylvania, all the way back in the seventeen hundreds, they had bought two plots of land. One was long gone now. It had been right next to the one whereChapter & Versestill stood, and it had been the family home, demolished in the early nineteen hundreds to make room for more businesses.
Currently, one large business was located on that plot. Southern Roastery was a local coffee company that had been spreading far and wide recently, growing bigger and bigger by the day, it seemed. In fact, when Maisie had taken a trip to Baton Rouge not all that long ago to pick up some old books from a seller she knew personally, she’d passed at least ten signs on the highway indicating another Southern Roastery café off the exit. They were becoming the new Starbucks, and their main office also seemed to be expanding. Trucks and vanswith construction workers had been coming and going for weeks now, and that only meant one thing to Maisie: pretty soon, they would be coming for her shop.
Chapter & Versewas an old, red-brick building that some people mistook for a library or an old schoolhouse. Immediately behind the building was a parking lot where most of her customers parked, but to the right was a name-brand clothing store that was three stories high and always played loud music, which she could hear through the brick if she listened for it. With all of these new businesses all around, her shop looked very much out of place in a modern world.
Still, her shop was doing okay. She made decent money, but it wasn’t enough to expand or save up anything. Maisie’s father had died years ago, and her mom had left before that, so it had just been her and Grams up until her grandmother had passed away and left it to her in her will. Now, Maisie was all on her own, but it had always been known to her that she would inherit this place. It was in her DNA. Her grandma’s father had run it before her, and his father before him. It was Maisie’s turn, and it would be her child’s turn after, assuming she ever had one. She was already thirty-two, though, with no prospects for a wife, and she hadn’t dated anyone seriously in over four years, since she and her best friend, Lainey, had broken up after six months of dating. The two of them were better off as friends, but while Lainey had met her current girlfriend about a year after that, Maisie had only been on a handful of lackluster dates.
As it stood now, she had a cousin whom she hadn’t seen or heard from in years, who was next up to take over the shop after her, and he had two nearly-grown children, so she had a little hope that they would keep it in the family. If she could just get the building protected as a historical landmark, she’d have a lot less to worry about. Historical landmark status would make it nearly impossible for another company, such as her next-door neighbors, to try and buy it out from under them. Her cousin didn’t want the place; she was pretty sure of that. And while Maisie knewshewould never sell, those cousin’schildren might if they took it over after her death because she didn’t have another plan. Without the landmark protection, anyone could put in an offer, and her cousin or his kids might want to take the money and run. With it, the building and the family’s legacy in this community would be safe. It weighed on Maisie constantly these days.
Her family hadn’t ever applied or campaigned for the status, and she often wondered why. It wasn’t something that had even existed for a long time because there hadn’t been any history at first, obviously, but her grandmother could’ve asked for it. Maisie hadn’t known to ask her about it while the woman was still alive, but now that she was gone, it felt like the whole family was watching her from heaven or hell or wherever they’d each ended up, waiting for her to fail.
Maisie had tried twice already. The city council was the group in charge of issuing that status, but even after she had presented her reasoning points and historical significance of the building two times, they had denied her both times with no real reason for their denial. That was why, nine months ago, when Maisie had realized that there was a city council position coming up for re-election, she’d decided to run. It wasn’tjustabout her shop. It was about the community. She had not seen much good coming from the council recently. They had allowed several old shotgun houses to be demolished simply because a new corporation in town wanted that space for their fancy office, forcing families to relocate basically overnight. The council had then also rezoned that part of town for commercial use, rather than residential, causing other families to have to find new homes, too, as businesses began to move in.
Maisie was watching the New Orleans of old turn into the new New Orleans, and while it might have appeared to be happening slowly, to her, it was very fast. Near-constant hurricanes and major storms weren’t helping. It seemed that every year, more and more people were leaving after a hurricane destroyed their home or small local business. Something new always popped up in their place, but while parts of thecity were protected and would always be historical, the rest would soon be lost to modernity. That wasn’t entirely a bad thing. Maisie wasn’t clamoring for the past or anything. But history was part of the appeal to tourists who spent time and, most importantly, money in what was essentially a sinking city. If those changes caused the city to lose its vibe that made it so unique, tourists would go elsewhere, and that money would dry up. Some of that money went to her bookshop, but not much. While the shop was on a few tours, it was local money and online orders that kept her in business. Maisie wasn’t running for a city council spot to save her business. She was running to help save her city in whatever small ways she could. If she could protect her shop at the same time, she’d sure try.
“Thanks,” she said to the old man as she handed him the paper bag with the book he’d ordered inside. “Have a good rest of your day.”
He was a regular and had placed several orders with her over the past few years. Before that, he’d placed orders with her grandma, and Maisie had always believed that Mr.Barnard had a bit of a crush on her. Back when Grams had still been running the shop, he would come in almost daily, never going more than a few days without a visit. He hadn’t bought a book each time. Some days, he would come in with a special-order request, so Grams would make it for him, and he’d pick that book up a few weeks later. Other times, he’d come in and buy one of the bookmarks or a pen they had at the counter. He hadn’t always talked to Grams, but on the days when they hadn’t been busy and she could spare some time, he’d stay for a few minutes, and they’d chat.
He used to leave with a smile on his face, but now, he came in once a week, at most, and when he did, he always seemed so sad. Maisie didn’t know much about him. She had his name, phone number, and home address for orders, but he hadn’t provided an email address. She guessed he’d probably never even had one. He was likely in his eighties or early nineties but could still get around just fine. He never drove to the shop, always getting off at the bus stop instead that wasacross the street and down the block just a bit. He rarely said more than a few words to her, but she knew he was unmarried because her grandmother had told her as much. After Maisie’s grandfather had died some twenty years ago, Maisie had hoped her grandma would find someone else, but she never had. She’d been content to run the shop, be a good grandma to Maisie, and knit to keep her dexterity. She had told Maisie that her late husband had been the love of her life and she had no need for anyone else. Maisie hoped they were together now, wherever they were, reunited and happy. She herself had never felt that before, whatever they had felt for one another. She had grown up watching her grandparents and knew what love looked like, but nothing even close to that had ever presented itself to her, and she wasn’t sure it ever would.
After Mr.Barnard left the shop, Maisie returned to reshelving. Customers didn’t always buy, but they rarely, if ever, put the books back in their right place. The bookshop wasn’t overly large, but it did have a lot of shelf space, and there were rolling ladders that only the staff could use. Sometimes, Maisie thought of Belle fromBeauty and the Beastwhen she climbed on a ladder at the bookshelves and looked so happy. Other times, she felt a little bit alone. As the shop’s only full-time employee, she was often here on her own. They got busy for about an hour a day, so while that was hectic, it at least kept things interesting. The traffic would pick up right before closing on some days, too, and other times, Maisie could’ve closed early, and no one would’ve noticed. Owning the land outright helped because it kept her overhead costs relatively low, and having to pay two part-time employees, including her best friend, wasn’t all that expensive, so that meant that even on days like today, when she only sold three books and one bookmark, she knew she’d get to live another day.
“Hey,” Lainey said when she walked through the door, letting the bell jingle as the door closed on its own behind her. “Dinner?”
“I thought you had practice tonight,” Maisie replied as she pulled the cash drawer from the register.
It had the same amount of money in it from that morning when she’d pulled it out of the safe because people paid mostly with credit cards or even their phones these days. Still, she probably couldn’t ever go cashless in the shop, and she didn’t want to, even though it could be depressing every day to see no additional money in the drawer when she pulled it out for the night.
“I wrapped them up early. They have a dance this weekend, so all of them were talking about what dresses to buy and who they were going with. They weren’t focused on soccer, which means injuries are more likely. When we ran a few drills, one of them sprained her ankle, so she’s now out for a minimum of a few weeks, and I sent the rest of them home to look up dresses online or something.”
Lainey was a high school soccer coach for one of the local public schools. Despite a lack of real funding and resources, her team was one of the top teams in the state and had a chance to make a deep run in the upcoming tournament.
“Where’s Paige?” Maisie asked, carrying the drawer toward the back office. “Can you lock up?”
“Yeah, sure,” Lainey replied before she walked back to the door, turned the sign around to indicate that they were closed, and locked the three locks on the door. “She’s not feeling great. She even skipped practice today.”
“Why aren’t you at home, taking care of her?”
Lainey followed her into the office and said, “Because she told me to stay away. I’m not allowed to go to her place. If she’s sick and I get sick, we’re down two coaches for the next match.”
Paige was Lainey’s girlfriend and also the assistant coach for the team. They’d met that way, and it hadn’t taken long for them to figure out that they were meant to be more than just colleagues and friends. It had caused a controversy at the school, but they kept their relationship private and focused on the girls.
“I guess that makes sense, but I’m sure she still wantsyou to stop by and drop off some soup or something. Wear a hazmat suit.”
Lainey leaned against the doorframe and said, “Please; I’m not going to listen to her. I’m going to bring her food from wherever you and I go and stay the night. If I get sick, I get sick. I’ll still coach, and she’ll be better by then anyway.” She shrugged. “I must really love her if I’m willing to risk a cold.”
“Youdolove her,” Maisie said as she locked up the cash drawer. “What do you want to get?”
“Something light. Maybe that sandwich place we like, and I can get her the gumbo. She loves that.”
“Gumbo for a woman with a cold?”
“What? If it’s spicy enough, it’ll clear her sinuses.”
