Page 59 of Stony Point Summer
When her own cell phone dings, she hurries to her dresser. Cliff must’ve forgotten something. So she puts on her leopard-print reading glasses, taps the phone and sees a text message … from Mitch Fenwick.
Not Cliff.
Mitch.
It happens automatically then, the way she holds the phone to her heart, walks to the unmade bed and sits on it before reading Mitch’s words.
Sun’s rising on your special day, Elsa. Not sure if you’re up and about at this early hour, but hope it’s not too much to ask a favor.
twenty-two
— Then —
10 Years Ago, Early June
The Bookstore
JASON, DO ME A FAVOR.”
The two men are riding in a dusty pickup. The truck bed is filled with tool belts, a ladder, power saw, looped heavy-duty extension cords, two-by-fours, plastic buckets, belt sander—the works. These guys are on their way to some construction site, ready to reno, or demo, or swing hammers.
“Do you a favor?” Jason lifts a coffee tumbler from the cup holder in the console. He wears a long-sleeve tee over black jeans and boots. His dark hair is still damp from a shower; his face, whiskered. He sips that coffee while driving. “Like what, Neil?”
“Pull in at the bookstore before we hit the road.”
“Book Buoy?”
“Yeah.”
Jason looks across the seat at Neil. “For what?” He takes another swallow of coffee, then sets it back in the cup holder. “Because I’ve got to go in front of the zoning board in an hour and can’t be late. They’re giving me hell on the twenty-foot setback we need for the Tyler addition.”
“You’re meeting with the board dressed like that?”
“After I drop you at the site, yeah. I brought a jacket.” Jason hitches his head to a black blazer hanging behind his seat.
“Well, I won’t be long.” Neil points to the small plaza just past the Stony Point train trestle. “So pull in. I’ll be five minutes, tops.”
“Why?”
“Jesus, you ask too many questions,” Neil says as Jason turns into a parking space outside the store. Its front window is lined with blue-colored twinkly lights. And colorful buoys are strung around a banner reading:The Book Buoy – We Keep Used Books Afloat. “Be right back, Jay.”
“Suit yourself.” Jason cranks down his window and grabs a pack of cigarettes off the dashboard. As he taps out a cigarette, Neil unbuckles his seatbelt and hops out of the truck. “Hey, wait!” Jason calls before Neil closes the passenger door. “One smoke,” Jason warns him. “One smoke, then I’m outta here. Seriously. So you’re either with me or not. No extra time today.” He lights the cigarette, then gives a long exhale. “And I ain’t waiting around, bro.”
Neil waves him off, slams the door shut and hurries toward the bookstore.
* * *
There’s a certain quiet inside. It’s the quiet emanating from pages and pages of books. From silent stories waiting in words. From covers holding mysterious and fantastical and sad tales between them. In that quiet, Neil’s construction boots clump on the creaking wood floor. He glances around the store as if looking for something in particular. Bell-shaped pendant lights hang from the ceiling; center tables are covered withLocal LoreandPopular Fiction. At the checkout counter, an older woman’s talking on the phone. Glasses are propped on top of her head as she stands there, watching him as well.
“Can I point you in the right direction?” she asks, pressing the phone to her shoulder.
Neil steps closer, glancing down another aisle as he does. “Yes. Do you carry any … journals? Writing journals.”
“We do.” She raises the phone then and says into it, “Hold on one moment, please?” Setting the phone on the counter, she steps away from the register and takes a look down the nearest aisle, then the next. “Lauren?” she calls. “Could you assist this gentleman?”
“Sure,” a distant voice comes back. “Just a sec.”
Neil waves to the woman at the register and heads down that aisle. A younger woman, someone in her late twenties, is holding a book in one hand as she carefully descends a rolling ladder there. She wears a cropped cardigan and fitted tee over whiskered boot-cut jeans. Chandelier earrings show beneath her blonde hair pulled back with a scarf headband. She’s watching her step, too, being careful as she descends.
