Page 13 of The Bookshop By the Loch

“Right. I see.” He gestured around himself. “And you mentioned giving the place a freshen up. So, what would you do there?”

“I’d repaint the walls and the front door, something bright and eye-catching, have new shelves installed, have the floor revarnished and remove the Formica tables and chairs you have.”

“Oh?”

“I’d have a few chairs around, but not replace the beanbags, because the children always like those. You want people to feel welcomed and be fascinated with the books, but not treat Book Ends like a café by sitting down and not buying anything.”

I pointed to the once-cream bean bags. “Maybe go for ones in primary colours though, rather than that shade, which can look dirty in no time.”

I suspected I knew the answer, but I decided to ask Trevor anyway. “Do you still employ Esther and Wilf?”

Trevor nodded.

I dropped my voice, even though there was no one around. “Please don’t think I’m being harsh, but I’d suggest you rethink your current staff.” Esther Potts and Wilf Mackie were both retired, pleasant people and former members of the Bracken Way community council. They’d been helping Trevor out for years in the shop on an ad hoc basis, serving and replenishing the bookshelves.

“I know they’re both long-time friends of yours, but if I were you, I’d think about taking on a couple of new members of staff.”

Trevor looked anguished.

“I don’t mean straight away,” I clarified. “I think you’ll need at least one full-time person and maybe another on part-time hours.”

I tried to stem the hot lava of ideas that were coursing through my head all of a sudden. “Sorry. I’m going on rather a lot.”

“Not at all, Lexie. You’re enthusiastic. Anyway, I asked you.” He reddened. “To be honest, it’d be a relief to escape from Esther’s tales about her musical theatre grandson.”

I turned to drink in the view from the bookshop windows. Nothing ever stayed the same.

Trevor narrowed his eyes at me. “Are you alright?”

I cleared my throat. “Yes. Thank you. I’m fine.” I gathered myself together. “I’ll be sad to see this place go. It can’t have been an easy decision for you to make.”

My eyes swept up to the ceiling. “I know Naomi loved this place every bit as much as you do.”

He looked troubled. “Yes, she adored it.”

I offered what I hoped was a sympathetic smile. “Then she would understand why you feel like you’ve no option.” I bit back a lump in my throat. “Sorry again for wittering on like that.”

I took one final forlorn glance around and then hurried out of the shop and back down the high street. I marched past the florist’s, its window wreathed in sunshine-coloured blooms. Despite my frantic suggestions for improving Book Ends, I got the feeling I’d been wasting my time.

No more Book Ends in Bracken Way. The very idea seemed preposterous.

Chapter Five

Iarrived back at my mum’s house.

I was glad to be returning to somewhere comforting and familiar. The news about Book Ends had thrown me.

Grandpa was pottering about in the kitchen.

Mum was always out on a Friday morning, when she would pop by for a coffee with a disabled, elderly lady, Fiona, who lived round the corner.

“Only me!” I called, after opening the front door with my spare key, clattering it shut behind me and shrugging off my denim jacket. I hung it up in the hall and made my way into the kitchen.

The familiarity of home wrapped itself around me, like one giant hug.

“Aye, it’s only you,” beamed Grandpa, planting a bristly kiss on my cheek. “Want a cup?” He indicated to the kettle.

“No thanks.”