Page 27 of Almost Home
“You know? I haven’t. Just that he’s not from here. I’m so intrigued.” She flashed her eyebrows up and down, a genuinely curious glint in her eye.
“Well, shall we?” I stepped to the front door and held it open for her.
“We shall indeed.”
The familiar scent of books and coffee welcomed us inside, and immediately, I felt at home. Funny how such a thing could happen in an instant, but the space simply reached out and embraced me upon entering.
Shelves lined all of the outer walls, and shorter stacks created delightful little aisles for browsing. Nestled into each corner or nook sat high-backed, upholstered chairs with pillows. I caught Jane’s eye right after we saw the checkout counter that looked as though it’d been made of neatly stacked hardback books in rainbow colors.
“It’s adorable,” she said, a pleased grin on her lovely face.
“It’s just perfect. Now I know what I’m doing on every lunch break.” It almost felt more like a library than a store—like you were welcome to curl up and read rather than feeling like you must purchase and exit to make space for the next person.
“Oh, yes! You should. Now the real test will be whether they have an actual romance section.” She widened her eyes, and I knew exactly what she meant.
How many local bookstores had I snuck into, searched high and low, and found a small handful of romances buried within the popular fiction or bestseller shelves? The town where I’d lived with my parents had featured one local bookstore that stocked nothing but the tear-jerker love stories that’d been made into movies and always featured someone dying, and basically nothing else. Spoiler alert: not romance.
I’d long since stopped apologizing for reading romance, and I wouldn’t start now. Of all the problems in the world, not having locally stocked romance novels wasn’t a real one, and yet I couldn’t help but say a small prayer that the owner of the store got it.
A gasp made me glance behind me at Jane just in time to see her point.
Oh.
In the far corner of the quaint store sat an archway made of books. Jane stood just outside that arch, and even from fifteen feet away, I could see why she’d gasped. The entire curve was a shelf, save the books somehow stacked together to make the top, and inside that archway were all romances.
I hustled over and followed her through the arch to discover neat little signs denoting subgenres.RomCom. Historical Romance. Sweet romance. Young Adult. Contemporary. Sports. Romantic Suspense.And on and on. Several more small categories I wouldn’t have imagined. Those smaller ones didn’t have but ten books in them, but this was a love letter to romance books. Especially for a small town like Silverton…
And yet, no. Because romance novels sold more books than anything else, period. It’d always driven me insane that they were relegated to one rotating display of mass market paperbacks. But here? They were celebrated—delighted in.
There had to be a romance lover involved. There just had to be. I glanced around, still not seeing anyone. Not great customer service, but again, small town. There was probably only one employee working at a time.
“This is just delightful,” Jane said, pleasure oozing from her tone.
“Agreed. I love it. I don’t even read paperbacks much anymore, but I love them, and this makes me want to buy them all.” And after I got paid next week, I would actually be able to afford one every now and then.
“I mostly read ebooks, but I love holding a paperback in my hand. I can’t give them up,” she said, then reached for something from the historical shelf.
We browsed for a solid twenty minutes before a man’s voice stole our attention. “Can I help you ladies with anything?”
“Oh, thank you, we’re—”
Jane’s voice cut off when she caught sight of the man—fairly tall, middle-aged, nice salt-and-pepper beard, and a full head of hair, in a cozy-looking cardigan sweater and glasses. She blinked like she couldn’t believe her eyes and shifted back on her heel like his presence had stunned her.
I jumped in to cover whatever it was that had happened with her. “We’re good. This is the first time either of us has been in. We’re just loving your romance section.”
“Glad to hear it. My daughter insisted I make it appropriately fancy.”
Jane finally spoke up at that. “Oh, are you the owner? And does your daughter work here with you?”
He offered a cheesy little bow. “Darcy Malcom, at your service. I am the owner of All Booked Up, and my daughter is a student at University of Utah, but if you stop in often, you will see her at some point.”
Jane grinned. “That’s nice that she’s close enough to visit. Will we see your wife, too? We’d love to welcome her—and you, of course.”
“Ah, no. I’m not married. But I appreciate the kind offer.” His cheeks pinked, and odd as it may sound, it was adorable.
I do think the man was flustered by dear Jane Saint, and he could join the club. She was just so darn forthright sometimes.
“I’m sorry if I pried. I’m Jane Saint, and this is Sarah James. You might as well get to know both of us because we’re voracious readers.”
