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“Need to make some calls,” Reid said finally into the silence that fell between us. I agreed. “I’ve got money; I’ll purchase that property, we’ll create this together, and I have more diverse contacts in England, and you have them here.”
“Yeah, we’ll get things started. Architect first. Then builders,” I responded in agreement.
“Estate agent first! I need to buy myself a shop.” Reid laughed, and I poked him with my finger. Reid snapped his teeth at me, and for the first time since Dad’s death, I felt better. Not alone, not lost. I had someone, and I had plans.
???
Three months later, Reid and I stood in the newly refurbished and finished Reading Nook. We’d kept the name of the shop to honour Dad. I looked towards the front of the store, the original part. In the window, the lead gleamed darkly against the bright bevelled glass. Father had a whimsical side, and he’d had a bay window installed many years ago with the leaded glass windows often seen in Victorian England. The window resembled something from a Dickens scene. It took up three-quarters of the original shop front. The door had been removed, and Reid and I had built a second narrow bevelled window.
Our builder had put in a third sizeable, identical window in the new part of the shop. More light now streamed into the store, which was fantastic as I was aiming for a well-lit, cosy atmosphere. In front of the original bay window was a large muddy brown leather sofa that could seat three, with a matching settee opposite. There were two cream reclining armchairs at either end of the sofas that were boxed in an ornate iron and glass coffee table. Behind the other chair was a huge wooden bookcase with romance books. Against the far wall was a further bookcase filled with thrillers.
The layout had changed completely. Knocking down the wall between the two shops had given us an extensive floor area. The free-standing bookcases had been saved, and we’d moved them around and, as I’d suggested, designed little seating areas hidden amongst them. Carpenters had built more bookcases, identical to the originals, as we were well short with the extra space. The older bookshelves had been restored, and their wood shone brightly in the lights of the stop.
Two-thirds of the additional space was given over to books. The remainder formed the café idea for the shop, which also held the new entrance to the Reading Nook. Dad’s wooden counter was a few feet from the door, with a modern cash register, although it was styled to look old-fashioned. Reid found it online and fell in love with the damn thing. Which was fine, but it was hard to use! Next to that, hidden discreetly behind a panel, was a laptop with an updated registry of all the works that the Reading Nook stocked.
Behind that, near the wall, sat a pastry counter and a serving refrigerator. Reid hired a lady who loved to bake and cook. Penny was a gem and helped design the kitchen to be what she needed. There was plenty of room to cook things like chilli and soups and bake pastries and cakes. Penny planned to make snack items, pork pies, sausage rolls, burritos, etc. Ten small round wooden tables seated two or four people were in front of the counters and backed onto a half wall full of books. Customers could gaze into the main bookshop without craning their necks.
Next to the chilled refrigerator was a second counter for hot goods. There were four hotplates and a microwave behind them. The hotplates would hold foods such as soup and chilli. The rear of the new store had been sectioned off into a galley kitchen that Penny helped design. Penny loved the chance to create her own workspace and was in heaven.
Reid hired two shop girls and a young man. Andy was a technical wiz and would be on hand for any issues arising with the twenty computers we’d set up. He’d used internet cafes and helped us set a reasonable charge for usage. Andy managed the advertising for the store and its new study areas. To my relief, Andy blocked the naughty sites that could be viewed. He also created links to the local colleges and universities. This caused me a headache, and so Reid took it over.
The two young girls would operate the cash register, stock the shelves, and help with customer queries. They were friendly, and Reid thought they’d manage customer queries very well. Honestly, they overwhelmed me with their friendliness, but it would work for a customer.
Both basements had been knocked into one lower level. A secure restoration area had been designed and built in half of the original store’s basement for the rare manuscripts we’d hold and sell. There were display cabinets with alarms attached to them for valuable works of literacy dotted around the floor. Bookcases lined the walls with books on history, research, etc. The most expensive pieces would be kept in what we called the Vault. There were other seating areas with dimmed lights, chairs, and coffee tables.
Of course, we still had bookcases down there with historical genres, but the basement was mainly about the Vault. The Vault was essential to our business. All in all, modernising but keeping the originality, the three levels of Reading Nook boasted had been hard, sweaty work. The result was fantastic, and I hoped beyond hope that this would work out for Reid and me. Dedicated to the shop, I’d quit my job two weeks after we’d done what we discussed.
I’d been scouring auctions and sales and store closures for rare works of literacy and been quite successful. In fact, Reid made me stop four weeks ago as I’d been so successful, but our name was out there now. However, Reid clearly enjoyed his own spending sprees! Dad, bless him, left a substantial life insurance policy, and I had money from Mom, which I’d never touched. Reid’s cash from selling his house in England and his own savings he’d squirrelled away meant we were in a comfortable position. And we’d opened without loans or mortgages against the shop. The decision had been made to sell my apartment, and I was amazed at the price it fetched. Reid and I were both living in Dad’s home.
Dad had looked after my future; I just hoped he approved of what Reid and I were attempting to do. Andy contacted the local colleges and universities, got lists of books that often had a waiting list, and stocked them upstairs. The upper level now resembled the Bodleian Library in Oxford, with dark plush wood, low lighting, green table lamps, reading nooks, and study tables. And, of course, more bookshelves. The desks nestled were in between them, giving privacy to the customers. It was a beautiful and relaxing area and gave me no end of nostalgia.
Reid and I spent a fortune on getting our vision right. While it severely dented our available money, we weren’t on the breadline. Internet sales kicked off six weeks ago and were building up steadily. Offering a loyalty card and anything from next day to a three-day delivery slot meant our business built up slowly but nicely.
Andy had the website up and running within a week. All of us had taken an inventory of the store’s books and entered them into easily clicked-on pages, each covering a section. The directory had pages for genres from romance to motor cars, history to fantasy and autobiographies to language. Every subject we could think of was covered, and if we could think of it, we made sure we stocked books on it.
Some, I guessed, wouldn’t sell well, and other genres would sell better. So, we’d monitor sales and condense or expand sections as the need arose. Security cameras were installed, although I thought Reid was paranoid. Reid purchased thin strips to cover the books’ barcodes that could be deactivated and peeled off at the cash register. I’d disagreed with Reid, but he’d insisted on discreet security barriers. Stock in the Vault was valuable and, therefore, could likely be stolen. I’d let Reid have his own way, and the three women and I spent two weeks tagging every book in the store. It had taken ages but had been worth it when Reid tested numerous times the anti-theft device.
Reid continued looking for a manager. We hadn’t found one that fit the Reading Nook. Several had been interviewed, but I’d refused them for various reasons. The rudest was a guy who’d inquired when the refurbishment was planned to begin. Clearly, he wasn’t a fit. Another began telling us how to run our business. While we wanted someone for that, we didn’t need her to challenge every decision. So yeah, we were still searching.
The improved Reading Nook was due to open within a week, and I was antsy. Reid, being the public face of the store, happily meant I was left to do what I did best. Find old stuff, value it, and then buy or sell as I wished. I’d found real bargains, a set of first edition Dickens books, a first edition of Jane Eyre rarely signed by Charlotte Bronte. A well-kept first copy of Yeats and several other items.
These were loaded onto the website but not yet published to the general public. Reid and I’d discussed holding rare book auctions, and he was looking into that field. He had to check if we needed further legislation or licences; I was excited at the thought of everything coming together. Reid bought several manuscripts from England that had come up for sale and had been undervalued. He knew instantly they’d sell for a higher figure, and he’d gone gung-ho and purchased them. I trusted him. Reid knew as much as I did, and he had numerous exceedingly rare finds and was lucky in their pricing.
Today, I wandered around the floors with Reid pointing out snags to the builder who’d joined us. There weren’t many, thankfully. A knock at the shop’s entrance echoed as we descended the spiral wooden staircase with its iron bannister. I glanced over and saw the figure standing outside. Hurrying over to it, I unlocked the door and faced Jett. He offered a slight smile.
“Oh, hi, Jett, I’m sorry we aren’t open yet,” I told him softly, growing awkward. I hadn’t spoken to Jett since my collapse in his lap and the floods of tears I’d shed.
“Not looking to buy honey, just wondered how you are. Not seen much of you around and saw you and your boyfriend come in earlier and thought I’d catch you,” Jett revealed in his husky, rumbly voice.
“Boyfriend?” I asked, sounding confused.
“The English guy,” Jett replied, frowning.
“Reid? Oh no, he’s not my boyfriend!” I said, horrified. I heard a noise to the side of me and spied Reid doubled over, pointing his finger at me and laughing hysterically. The builder stood beside him, looking confused as he and Reid said goodbye, and Reid turned back to me.
“Jeez, Sin, the look on your face.”
I blushed and began stuttering.
