AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I don’t respond. I’m not great at chit chat.
She nods, smiling. “But then again, we’ve never had such excitement here in town before.”
I make a face. “It wasn’t anything that anyone else couldn’t have done.”
“I couldn’t disagree more. What happened with you and Emmy was special.”
Special?
“What happened was her house caught on fire, and I helped her out.”
“You carried her out,” she says. “There’s a difference.”
“Okay, but do we have to recreate it in a calendar?”
She narrows her eyes. “It’s not what you think! This calendar is a well-loved tradition. And it’s good for the whole department. I don’t know if people actually realize how much you men and women do. Or risk. But when something happens like you carrying our local bookstore owner out of her burning house, well, it puts your job in the spotlight. And we want to keep it in the spotlight for as long as possible. This calendar will help raise money for all kinds of extra things that will help make your job easier.”
“Like an espresso machine?” I ask, straight-faced.
“My husband said you had a dry sense of humor.” She smiles. “I like it. I won’t even ask you to smile in the photos, that’s how nice I am.” She winks at me as a blond woman I don’t recognize pushes through the door that leads to Emmy’s back room.
“Ah, Char, have you worked your magic?” Liz asks.
“She was like a blank canvas,” Char muses. “She sent me out here to make sure nobody could see her. Said she doesn’t want anyone seeing her ‘all dolled up.’”
“She knows we’re going to splash her picture all over to promote this calendar, doesn’t she?” Liz sounds amused.
Emmy, I’m guessing, is not.
“Oh, she knows,” Char says. “And she’s not happy about it.”
She’s not the only one.
“I’m thinking she’s going to need a little hand-holding.” Char disappears back through the same door she came from, and Liz walks off to talk to the photographer, whose name I still don’t know.
I spin around on the chair and glance out the large front windows of the shop.
When I lived here, this little bookstore was old and uninviting—and smelled weird. Emmy bought the business three years ago, and she must’ve instantly gotten to work on putting her fingerprints on it.
The books are arranged in a way that even makes me want to take a stroll down the aisles, and the addition of the locally brewed coffee and pastries was genius. There are couches and mismatched armchairs for reading, along with tables for working or chatting or, in at least one case, Scrabble-playing.
It’s got a moody vibe. Cozy, I guess. And it feels like it was made by someone who put a lot of thought into it. And a lot of love.
She turned this passion she had for books into a genuine lifestyle, and it’s kind of inspiring.
Emmy’s done well for herself.
“Oh. My. Goodness! Look at you!” Liz’s words pull me back to reality and reminds me that I’m about to pose for photos. Dread shocks my flesh, making my skin crawl a little.
But then, I turn back toward the door and see Emmy standing there.
I like the plain, simple version of Emmy. She’s my friend, and she probably still knows me better than everyone (at least according to Lindsay). But the version standing in front of me right now is having a completely different effect on me.
Let’s just say long talks aren’t what’s on my mind.
I stand up and try not to stare.
I absolutely fail.
