Page 1 of Just for Her
Chapter One: Allison
Istepped into thequaint little shop and scanned the interior, breathing in the scents of coffee and pastries and old books. That Miriam had chosen a mom-and-pop bookstore as her preferred working space wasn’t surprising. My sister wasn’t truly happy unless surrounded by towers of paperbacks and wooden shelves lined with leather-bound classics, and Cerasino’s Bookstore must have seemed like Valhalla to her. I wondered vaguely when I’d last read for pure enjoyment and realized it had been quite a while.
A sense of profound relief washed over me when I spotted her in one of the cozy-looking nooks, and I took a moment to appreciate the sight. Miriam’s nose was in a book, an enigmatic smile ghosting her lips and a faint blush painting her cheeks. To see her caught up in a story, so relaxed and unafraid, was a balm to my heart. She had suffered for far too long.
As if sensing my stare, Miriam tensed and swung her gaze my way. When she saw me, that ghost of a smile became the real thing, brilliant and sincere. My feet carried me across the space as she put her book down and stood, her arms opening to accept the embrace she knew was imminent.
It felt so good to hug her again without fear of exacerbating a cracked rib or inadvertently hitting a sore spot. She was still too skinny in my opinion, but she looked a lot better than the last time I’d seen her.
“You’re here!”
“I’m here,” I agreed, feeling a twinge of guilt for taking so long to visit my sister in her new place.
My job as a paralegal for a demanding and ambitious district attorney kept me very busy. Plus, it had taken a while to re-earn a few days off. I’d blown through my initial allotment quickly, battling Miriam’s abusive ex through legal channels. Putting in tons of overtime to get ahead and picking up extra work allowed me to extend my visit to a full week.
“Sit down and let me get you something to drink. The coffee and sfogliatella here are to die for.”
I chuckled and removed my coat. I was a sucker for a good sfogliatella, and she knew it. “Sounds perfect.”
My eyes tracked her progress to the counter in the back, where a woman with light-brown hair was arranging an assortment of pastries under glass-domed displays. After a brief and friendly exchange that I couldn’t quite overhear, Miriam was on her way back to me.
“Haven will bring everything over in a few minutes,” Miriam told me, settling back into the big comfy-looking chair. “You picked a good time to show up. Mrs. C just made a fresh batch, and they usually sell out quickly.”
“Must be good then, huh?”
“The best! She and her husband own this place, and she does all the baking from scratch.”
“Nice.”
I shrugged off my jacket and sank down into the chair adjacent to hers. I appreciated the semiprivate, intimate space of the nook. The chairs were close enough to each other to hold a quiet conversation and far enough away from the others to not be overheard.
“You look good,” I told her sincerely.
“I feel good,” she replied, her eyes sparkling. “I’m even writing again.”
Writing had been my sister’s passion for as long as I could remember, second only to reading.
“That’s wonderful!”
She nodded excitedly. “I know, right? It’s like a dream come true.”
I bit my tongue to refrain from saying any of the thoughts that came immediately to mind, like,That’s great, but how are you going to pay your bills when the money runs out?The modest divorce settlement wasn’t going to last forever. But I hadn’t seen Miriam in months. I wasn’t about to rain on her dream parade with a cold dose of reality in the first fifteen minutes.
Miriam’s gaze swung to the short stack of books on the small coffee table in front of us. It was only then that I noticed the titles. Each was a resource on the craft of writing.
“I’ve got all these stories in my head, and I’ve started putting them into words. I even splurged on a refurbished laptop,” she told me, reaching into the large bag beside her and extracting a notebook-sized computer.
I blinked rapidly, feeling the moisture begin to well up in my eyes. I was so proud of her. My gentle-hearted sister was finding an inner strength she hadn’t known she had, and I was her biggest cheerleader.
Before I could say so, however, the woman from behind the counter arrived and set a tray down on the table.
“Here we are. Two specials with fresh sfogliatella.”
Miriam thanked the woman with a warm smile and then introduced us. “Haven, this is my sister, Allison. Allison, this is Haven, and I’m telling you right now, you’re going to become addicted to her coffee.”
Haven beamed.
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
