Page 114 of Book and Ladder
This has been one of the hardest days of my life. I never dreamed I’d be closing shop. I always assumed Moss and Maple would live on beyond me. Maybe I was naive.
I glance at the sign over the window that looks out over the back lawn:EVERYTHING 50% OFF. Did I jump the gun? I wish I had more time. But I’d always feel this way. Business was slumping. I could have made ends meet, kept the shop open. Knowing we’re closing in less than a year meant sitting with my dad and going over my options. Closing now is the best financial decision. I won’t go into the red this way.
“We took a vote,” Cass says once we’re all seated with dessert plates full of goodies and Harney’s tea or cocoa in our mugs.
Emberleigh’s hand lands on my thigh.
“You guys …” I say.
“We had customers and people around town write notes,” Cass explains.
“It’s awhat Moss and Maple means to metribute!” Winona exclaims.
I don’t know if I can actually survive this. “If I have to say goodbye to this shop, I’m so glad all of you are here with me to do it.”
The next few hours are spent with each of us grabbing index cards and stationery out of the pile in the basket Emberleigh brought.
I burst into tears when Carli reads a note from five-year-old Benny:I learned to read at Moss and Maple. He drew stick figures on the card along with his hand-scrawled testimony.
“It looks like one is holding a book,” Cass says.
“Or a very square ham,” Winona says, squinting at the card.
We all laugh and I want to freeze this moment in time and stay here, curled up in a cozy chair, surrounded by my friends, sipping a warm drink and soaking in the appreciation of the community I’ve devoted my life to serving.
We make our way through the pile of notes. Hours later, we’ve all laughed and cried. A silence settles over the room. I glance around at each of my friends, then at the bookcases and the inky blackness outside the windows.
“I’ve got one more thing,” Winona says, her voice softer than usual.
“No more!” I say, half joking. “I don’t think I have any tears left.”
“I found this tucked in a book in the storage room earlier this week.”
She hands me a note. I open it and recognize the handwriting right away.
Gran.
My breath hitches mid-inhale. I release it on a shaky exhale. I rub at the faint ache in my chest. All this time, Gran’s words were here with me in the shop—hidden in a book.
I take another breath and start to read the note out loud.
“Dear reader,” I laugh softly. She didn’t even know it would be me.
“You found this note, and I don’t know if I’m still here or not. I just thought it would be fun to tuck a few surprises in these shelves for whoever stumbled on them. Maybe you’re facing down a mountain right now. Or maybe life’s smooth sailing. If so, tuck this away for a rainy day.”
I look around at my friends, their eyes are wide. Not one of us speaks.
“I’ve had my share of highs and lows—same as anyone. We don’t make it through life without our share of speed bumps. Don’t let the hard days define you; let them teach you. Life will toss you a curveball or two, but you’ll be okay. The toughest seasons usually bring gifts we never saw coming. If I’m still around when you find this, come by for a hug or a cup of tea.”
My eyes overflow with tears. I hand the letter to Emberleigh. She nods and picks up reading where I left off. Cass stands, grabbing a stack of the paper napkins from the dessert area and handing them to me. I grasp them and blot my cheeks.
“And if I’m not, find someone. Don’t go through the hard stuff alone. Keep your chin up, sweetheart. Everything passes—eventually.
With all my heart, Joyce.”
There’s not a dry eye in the room.
The air feels different—lighter and heavier all at once. The scent of cinnamon, cocoa and old books lingers. The faint creak of the rafters above us feels like the shop itself letting out a long breath. My heart thuds with a longing for one more hug from Gran, and a quiet sense that this letter was just that.
