Page 113 of Book and Ladder
Dear M&M,
I haven’t responded to your email because I couldn’t think of what to say …
Chapter 30
Daisy
Grief is the price we pay for love.
~ Queen Elizabeth II
Noelle and Liamstand at the counter. Our last customers—not only for the night, but forever.
Noelle squeezes my forearm. “Thank you, Daisy. We’re going to miss this place so much. I don’t even have words.”
“Thank you,” I say, choking back the next wave of tears.
“I wish we could do more,” Liam says.
“I know. Me too. We had a good run.” I stare around at the shelves, still full of books for now.
They smile at me and walk out, holding hands.
I walk to the front window and turn the sign from OPEN to CLOSED. We’re officially closed. I’ll do a yard sale in the spring to offload as much of my remaining inventory as possible—before Home Mart opens, or maybe after. Some defiant part of me likes the idea of doing it the day they cut their ribbon.
Silence hums through the shop, as if time itself is caught in a tug-of-war between years of memories and what comes next.
My friends start to show up. Winona is already here. Cass, Carli, Emberleigh and Sydney all arrive over the next few minutes.
“Why did I think having a farewell book club meeting would be a good idea?” I lament to Sydney and Emberleigh while they lay out the treats they brought on top of one of the lower bookcases in the back room. “I haven’t stopped crying all day. I’m a mess.”
“It’s not a farewell book club meeting,” Winona corrects me. “We’re just moving locations.”
I nod. I wish I could mainline her optimism and resilience.
“What are you going to do?” Cass asks me. “Win told me she’s going to work at the tea shop.”
Winona interrupts us. “I’ll give new meaning to bull in a china shop!”
I laugh despite the melancholy clinging to me like a film.
“I’m going to work at the library,” I tell Cass.
“Oh! That’s perfect.” She smiles. “Not perfect, obviously. Perfect would be a sinkhole appearing on the lot next door, sucking Home Mart into the depths of Hades from whence it came.” She wags her eyebrows.
I smile faintly. My eyes burn and my head throbs with that dull ache that comes after too many tears.
“What I mean is, you’ll be an amazing librarian and they’ll be lucky to have you. And you can still work with books and help people fall in love with reading.”
“I knew what you meant,” I assure Cass. “And I’m happy about the opportunity. I won’t officially be a librarian—no degree in library sciences.”
“Do any of our librarians have one?” Cass asks.
“Probably not. Around here, experience counts more than diplomas. They’ve been doing this so long they’d run circles around the big-city librarians.”
“In the librarian Olympics?”
I let out a stilted laugh—the kind that momentarily punctures sadness. The tightness in my chest eases for just a second.
