Page 10 of The Holiday Grump
“It’s just big and bulky and… so ugly.” She clamped her mouth, horrified. “Sorry. I meant, it’s big. It makes the room so dark.”
“Tell me what you really think,” I mused.
What the hell was wrong with my shelf? It had always been there, doing its job. Which was to block the view into the store.
Sure, the store was barely getting by. But so was I. We were both in survival mode. It had been nearly two years since the worst tragedy of my life. For the first twelve months, everyone had been supportive and understanding. During my first Christmas as a widower, nobody had asked me to put up lights or redecorate. They’d given me space and made excuses for me. They’d bought books to support me. But now it seemed the grace had run out, and everyone was out to give their two cents on the store, my appearance, and my lack of dating efforts. Was two years some sort of cutoff for moving on?
Of course, tourists made comments and asked stupid questions, which earned them stupid answers, but it was different when it came from people I knew. And now, from a woman who lived without a toilet or kitchen.
“Thank you for your feedback,” I said, yanking open the front door.
I needed her out of here, confusing me with those giant brown eyes, challenging the way I chose to live my life. I couldn’t entirely ignore my mother or sister, but I could ignore this one.
“I didn’t mean to offend!” she piped as I guided her down the steps. “I’m just saying if you wanted to move more copies, you could try to spruce it up a little and add some new titles.”
Irritation coiled in my gut. “I specialize in classics. Thereareno new titles.”
“Maybe you could mix it up a little? To get more customers.”
I’d spent most of the day behind my desk, doing a crossword puzzle, watching tutorials for making things I was never going to make, browsing an old poetry book, and snacking on a platter of dried fruit and nuts Felicity had dropped off when picking up her daughter. My niece, Kailee, hung out at my store after school. My sister said it was good for her to “get out of the house and hang out with people,” but the girl mostly sat in the corner reading her dragon books. We coexisted in silence, which suited me just fine.
“Are you going to be okay?” I asked, diverting attention back to her. “I’ll be back before ten o’clock tomorrow.”
She smiled, and the reflection of streetlamps danced in her eyes like fireflies. “I’ll probably be waiting for you out here. Cross-legged.”
I took a deep breath. “I can give you the key.” I pulled my keys from my pocket and started detaching the right one. “There’s an alarm system, but I hardly ever turn it on. It’s off now.”
“Why?” She narrowed her eyes.
Because I don’t care if I get robbed.
I shrugged. “I’m lazy.”
“If you show me how it works, I’m happy to use the alarm system.”
“Just use the key,” I said, thrusting it into her hand.
“Are you sure?” Her baffled eyes peered at me from under the rim of a pink beret.
Steal everything. Burn it to the ground. Put me out of my misery.
I nodded. She couldn’t put me out of my misery. Nobody could. But she needed to pee, and I needed to make sure she didn’t pee in the street.
Still, her grateful smile made me feel something. Like a shot of whiskey on an empty stomach. A lingering warm glow.
“Thank you so much! You have no idea what this means!” She held the key with both hands ceremoniously, like accepting a tiny award. “I promise I won’t knock over any more books. I’ll move through your store like a ninja. Or like a ghost.”
“Just turn on the light. There’s a switch by the door.”
“No! I don’t want to draw attention. I’ll use a flashlight or something. I think my phone has one.”
“Okay.”
“Thank you, Fredrik. I’ve only been here for…” She took her phone from her pocket. “Three hours, and I’ve already made a friend! Can I hug you?” She was already hugging me, her arms wrapped around my waist, her woolly hat tickling my nose. Something smelled of raspberries and vanilla, like a dessert.
I patted her shoulder rather awkwardly and staggered backward. “It’s nothing. Good night!”
The last thing I saw was the little bounce she did, waving the key in her hand. I’d probably made a huge mistake, but it had been a long time since I’d seen that kind of excitement. It felt good. For the first time in weeks, I felt like smiling.
