Page 38 of Fireworks
Fraser snorted and looked at Eiley. “Itisa great idea. And there’s no reason you couldn’t be flexible with it. Head out in the morning while the kids are at school, be back in time to get Saff from nursery. Maybe even park upatschools. You always said you wanted to get books into more kids’ hands.”
In an ideal world, yes, that sounded wonderful, but this wasEiley. She didn’t do scary things; scary things did her. All the time. Not in a sexy monster romance way, either. She was a disaster magnet, and a nervous driver, and this certainly wasn’t what she’d agreed to when she took the job.
“I wouldn’t expect you to jump straight into it, what with all the festival celebrations coming up,” Maggie said, gentler than Eiley probably deserved. “Just think about it, aye? Something for when the weather turns.”
She regarded the van like it was a bus-sized tiger, backing slowly away. Shewouldthink about it. Too much. Until it kept her up at night, probably, just like Warren and the flood and everything that had come before.
Yet she already knew she would have to try – for the bookshop. For Maggie. And maybe for herself, too. If she wanted people to stop coddling her, it was time to prove that they didn’tneedto.
For now, all she could offer was: “I’ll have a little nervous breakdown about it and then get back to you.”
It seemed good enough for Maggie.
16
Harper sidled into their beloved corner booth in the tavern, placing down their glasses of white wine on beermats. The first rule of book club: every meeting must begin with a mandatory “cheeky bevvie”, as Harper called them. The second rule of book club: do not talk about book club, especially when one or both of them got wine-drunk on a Wednesday evening. Eiley had volunteered as tribute on this particular occasion, downing half of her glass before Harper’s bottom had even touched the seat.
She raised her brows, half-impressed and half-concerned. “Bloody hell, are you that nervous about the bus?”
“Among other things.”
Leaning closer, she popped a roasted peanut into her mouth. “Tell me more.”
“No. I’ve had enough of being miserable,” Eiley groused. “Let book club commence.”
Harper banged an imaginary gavel on the table. “’Tis commenced. So, did you and Hercules fuck in the stockroom or what?”
“Harper!” Eiley’s face seared, and she shrank in her seat. “No, we didnot. And we’re not talking about him!” She was quick to riffle through her canvas tote bag, pulling out the rebound books she’d been working on for several days. “We’re talking about books!”
“We never talk about books. In fact, we talk about books everywherebutin book club. And I really want to know the juicy goss!”
“There is no juicy goss, because Hercules” – she corrected herself quickly – “Warrenis a sleazy jobsworth who doesn’t know when he’s not wanted.”
Harper’s face crinkled in confusion. “Context, please.”
“No. Look at this instead.” Distraction tactics, Eiley often found, worked on her children, but she found they worked on Harper, too. She slid the books onto the table, bashful at the sight of her rustic work. With a few more practices, she might be able to get the foil lettering straight and the pages better aligned, but this would do as a starting point.
She didn’t expect too much from Harper. Perhaps a placatingwowor a politethank you. But Harper’s chin wobbled as she carefully drank in the front page, and then the spine and the back. “Eiley, are youkidding?”
“I know it’s a bit homemade, and not at all straight, but I couldn’t let all your books go to waste.”
Harper’s eyes flooded with tears, taking Eiley aback.
“Oh, no, is it really that bad?” She made to snatch the books back. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have touched them—”
“It’s perfect, you beautiful ray of sunshine! I can’t believe you did this for me!” Harper exploded, almost knocking over her wine as she stopped Eiley from taking them.
The relief emptied out of Eiley in a whooshing exhale, her own sinuses beginning to sting. “I just felt so terrible about the books. You’ve worked so hard to get here, and the flood ruined it all.”
Harper expertly dabbed her waterline to avoid smudging her winged liner. “It wasn’t your fault, silly goose. And besides, you know we’d have ordered more.”
“I do know, but your first ones are supposed to be special. You were meant to have your signing and feel like a proper author.”
“Well, these are far better.” Harper traced over the purple thistles decorating the first cover, a perfect symbol of the Scottish-inspired fantasy forest she’d created. “They can be our limited-edition copies. Ooh, and we could have people bid for them! The donation can go to saving the bookshop!”
“I don’t think they’re good enough to sell yet. Besides, the royalties should be yours.”
She shook her head, blonde waves whipping across her face. Eiley suspected Harper was already a bit drunk, and so was she, head buzzing like a ringing phone buried far into a duvet. She giggled, overcome, suddenly, by how lucky she was to have people like Harper around her. She’d never had many friends – okay,any– so when Harper had barrelled into her life and swept Fraser off his feet, Eiley had worried she’d be forgotten. She was so quiet compared to Harper; boring, she sometimes thought. She’d been wrong. Harper had beennothing but kind and loving, and she’d gently prodded Eiley out of her shell, convinced her she deserved better than Finlay and his drunk tantrums and part-time parenting. She’d been the first person outside of Eiley’s family to help her realise that she was worth something.
