Page 7 of Kissing the Beach Town Fire Chief
It’s a message from Lyla.
How’s the reunion with Campbell going?
I snort, quickly typing back,As expected. Bumping into him, literally. Save me? ??
I slip my phone back into my pocket and push open the door to Salty Pages. The bell jingles merrily, announcing my arrival. The scent of aged paper and leather-bound volumes welcomes me. It’s a comforting smell that reminds me of countless afternoonsspent lost in the world of books. This old bookstore sure has played an integral part in my love for reading and writing.
This magical place is a treasure trove of literary wonders. Every nook and cranny is filled with shelves that reach up to the high, tin-tiled ceiling. The shelves are a haphazard collection of mismatched wood. Some are painted in faded pastels and others are left bare to show their natural grain.
Each shelf is crammed with books of all shapes and sizes, their spines worn and titles barely legible from years of eager hands reaching for them.
There are sections devoted to every genre imaginable. From mystery to romance, fantasy, history and whatever you can possibly think of. Each genre is marked by a hand-painted sign hanging from the ceiling. I remember Aunt Maggie and my mother carefully painting them years ago.
The light in the store is soft and golden, filtered through the large, dusty windows that overlook the bustling street outside. Fairy lights are strung along the tops of the shelves.
And oh, I really love the little reading nook, complete with a pair of overstuffed armchairs and some crocheted blankets which invite visitors to sit and stay awhile. I spent many hours in this little spot. It was great comfort for me, especially while I was grieving for my parents, but even more. The books I read here took me to faraway places and adventures. It’s where my love of reading began.
The centerpiece of Salty Pages is the old wooden counter at the back, where a brass cash register sits like a relic from another time. Behind the counter, Aunt Maggie is busy sorting through a stack of new arrivals, her glasses perched on the tip of her nose.
I take a deep breath, savoring the familiar scent of books, coffee, and a hint of vanilla.
“Hey, Aunt Maggie, I am…”
But even before I can finish my greeting, something furry and fast launches itself at me.
I yelp, flailing as a ball of fur lands squarely on my chest, with its claws digging into my shirt. “What the…?!” I stagger backward, trying to detach the creature that’s currently using me as a scratching post.
A pair of wide, green eyes stare up at me, and a loud purr fills the air. “Help! Aunt Maggie! I am under attack!” I shout, doing a little dance as I try to shake off the feline assailant.
Aunt Maggie appears from behind a bookshelf, and her laughter echoes through the store. “Oh dear, I see you have met Dusty. Her real name is Dusty Pages and Covers, but Dusty for short.” “Dusty? More like Bombardier!” I retort, finally prying the cat off and holding her at arm’s length. She dangles there, looking utterly unbothered by the chaos she has caused.
Aunt Maggie approaches, taking the feline from me. “She is our newest addition, and she is still getting used to new people.”
“Clearly,” I mutter, rubbing the claw marks on my chest.What a way to start the day. I bumped into Ethan first, and now a cat.
“Oh, she didn’t mean any harm. She’s just a little... enthusiastic.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“Enthusiastic? I think she mistook me for a climbing frame.”
Aunt Maggie chuckles, scratching Dusty behind the ears.
“Well, she likes you. That’s a good sign. She is usually quite picky.
“Lucky me,” I say dryly, adjusting my shirt and smoothing my hair.
Aunt Maggie sets the cat down and pulls me into the most comforting hug I’ve had since the last time I was home.Did I just think “home” right then?
“So, what’s the plan for today?” “Just the usual, Sweetie. Sorting through some new arrivals, rearranging the fiction section, and we have a local author coming in for a signing later.” It’s going to be a full day, already feeling more at home. There is something incredibly soothing about the bookstore's routine. “I’m here to help, so put me to work.”
"First, how about a coffee? You look like you could use another cup because the one you came I with had a close encounter of the Dusty kind." Aunt Maggie suggests, as I realize the coffee cup was no longer in my hand. “Bless you, Aunt Maggie,” I say, following her. We head toward the small café area at the back of the store.
After my chaotic morning, I need all the caffeine I can get. We settled into the cozy corner of the store where the café was set up. Aunt Maggie brews a fresh pot while I sink into a plush armchair, again taking in the comforting ambiance. The walls are lined with shelves crammed full of books about animals, and the air hums with a soft jazz tune playing in the background. Aunt Maggie hands me a steaming mug, and I take a grateful sip.
“So, what’s new around here? Besides the attack cat.” She laughs, sitting across from me. "Oh, you know, the usual small-town gossip. But there is something more I want to tell you. I am contesting town municipality elections."
I stare at Aunt Maggie, my coffee halfway to my mouth. “You’re running for the town municipality elections?” I repeat, incredulous. “Yes, I’ve been thinking about it for a while. There’s a lot that needs changing around here, and I thought it was time to take matters into my own hands.”
