Page 15 of Love, Lacey Donovan
I slowed the car as we pulled up to Hyperbole’s. Summer spied the window display, and her eyes went wide.
“Oh!” She pressed her nose to the window. “It’s Obsidia.”
“You know the books?”
“Sure. Doesn’t everybody?”
I laughed. “Everybody who counts.”
Summer looked at me from under her bangs, and I swear I saw the glimmer of a smile.
“What else do you like to read?” I asked, maneuvering into a parking spot.
Summer listed out her favorite books as we headed into the best bookshop in the world. I wasn’t biased just because I worked there. The shop was a slice of heaven for any book lover. Tucked between a yoga studio and a chocolate shop, Hyperbole’s Bookshop rose tall and narrow from the herringbone sidewalk of Main Street. The gleaming windows featured ever-changing displays of book worlds, inviting readers to step inside and escape between their pages. Comfy reading nooks nestled between the aisles, begging bookworms to curl up for a page or a dozen.
I’d worked at bookstores across the country, but none of them compared to Hyperbole’s.
As we strolled over to Thatcher’s latest window display, Summer finished her long list of books she liked to read. Things had sure changed a lot since I’d read middle-grade fiction.
“My mother would have freaked out if I’d read apocalypse stuff when I was your age,” I told her.
“My mom doesn’t pay attention to what I read. I mostly check books out at the library, or Uncle Kit gets them for me. He got me the best Christmas present last year,” she said. “Signed copies of the Warrior Clan series. All eight books!”
“Uncle Kit?” A tingle raced down my spine at the thought of her uncle. “Is that what you call him?”
Her cheeks turned pink. “It was easier to say when I was a kid,” she admitted.
I refrained from pointing out that shewasstill a kid. “Your uncle likes to read?”
She gave me a strange look. “Doesn’t everyone?”
Summer couldn’t suppress her smile when she saw Thatcher’s masterpiece up close. Thatcher went all out for his displays, going so far as to replicate entire fictional towns complete with functional fountains and shooting stars.
His latest display depicted the craggy lilac mountains and cloudless fuchsia skies of Obsidia, home of the clan of Cat Warriors. The middle-grade series featuring battle-ready cats willing to defend their realm at all costs dominated the best-seller list.
“What do you think?”
I turned and saw Thatcher standing a few feet away. Eyes pinned on Summer, he barely acknowledged me. Thatcher took his window art so seriously that a negative review from his target audience could ruin his day.
Summer transferred her wide eyes to Thatcher. “It’s amazing.”
“Thanks.” Thatcher studied his masterpiece with a critical eye. “I couldn’t decide if I should add the lake or not,” he said. “What do you think?”
“You’ve read the books?” Summer’s eyes were brighter than the cat’s eyes in the display.
Thatcher nodded. “I’ve read every book in here.”
Summer’s mouth dropped open as she surveyed the crowded shelves climbing to the ceiling.
“Don’t listen to him,” I said. “Thatcher wishes he had time to read all these books, but he has to work for a living. This is his shop.”
Summer’s eyes fixed on Thatcher with renewed admiration. He’d just been elevated to superhero status.
“Have you ever shopped here before?” he asked Summer. When she shook her head, Thatcher reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. “Here. This is good for one free book of your choice.”
“Any book?” Her eyes were huge in her tiny face.
“Sure.” Thatcher made a sweeping gesture to encompass the entire store on his way back to the register. “Anything you like,” he called over his shoulder.
