“Oops,” Delilah said, then snapped a picture of the alcohol-and-glass mess at her feet.
* * *
DELILAH DIDN’T BOTHER getting any more shots after that. She helped the staff clean up the mess—the least she could do, as this disaster was her fault and one hundred percent worth it. Even better, the accident had brought the brunch to an abrupt close. When the floor was once again pristine, however, she didn’t want to deal with Astrid or Isabel. As guests began to get up from the tables and Isabel pasted on a smile again, Delilah grabbed her camera bag from under the table, packed it up, and all but sprinted out Vivian’s front door, desperate for some non-perfumed air and some liquor.
She spilled outside and sucked in the warm, early-summer breeze. In New York, it was already stifling hot, but here in Oregon, the weather still felt like spring, blue sky peeking between light gray clouds, the piney scent of evergreens. She sped down the sidewalk and headed straight for Stella’s.
Unfortunately, the idyllic spring weather didn’t change the fact that the bar didn’t open until six. She slapped her hand against the rough wooden door and headed back to the Kaleidoscope Inn, where she turned off her phone and took off her pants before ordering a club sandwich from the inn’s kitchen. Snuggled in the huge king-size bed, chintz be damned, she binged six episodes of a show on her laptop about a gay teenager in Georgia.
Eventually, though, when the sky started to go lavender, she got antsy. She was used to nights out on the city streets, waiting tables or keeping her hands busy by working on a piece, going to art events, or just hanging out in a bar until she found someone she liked. It didn’t always end with a hookup—sometimes it was just nice to sit with someone and talk about nothing, anything.
She didn’t like the quiet, the nights alone.
She flipped her laptop shut and slipped her pants and shoes back on. Five minutes later, she was heading down Main Street toward Stella’s, the globed streetlights casting a golden glow over the cobblestone sidewalk. There were a few people out, couples and families, annual vacationers who’d come to stay in one of the few huge houses lining the river. Most of them were white, straight-looking, a weird number of them licking vanilla ice cream cones like they were posing for candids in Good Housekeeping.
Delilah sped up, ready for the noise and activity of Stella’s. She was about halfway there when she spotted a messy bun through a store window, purple glasses catching the soft light. Books filled the window display, lots of colorful paperbacks promising summer sun and romance, a few thick cookbooks featuring lemony grilled chicken and watermelon salad with cayenne pepper on the covers.
River Wild Books, the sign said.
Of course, Delilah knew the store well. As a kid, it was one of the few places she could go in Bright Falls where she could breathe freely, disappearing in a way that felt like a choice rather than being ignored, happily spending hours reading fantasy novels and comic books in the back of the shop.
She paused, stepping closer to the window. Claire stood at the counter next to the register, flipping books into a stack, pausing to type something into the computer every so often. Inside, it was dim, a single Tiffany lamp on the counter and a strand of fairy lights around the store’s perimeter the only light.
Before she could overthink it, Delilah pulled at the door, a relief she couldn’t explain filling her chest when it swung open easily. A little bell chimed.
“Hey, sorry, we’re closed. I meant to lock—”
Claire’s words cut off as soon as she saw Delilah.
“Oh. Hi,” she said, setting down the book in her hand.
Delilah glanced at her phone, the open door resting on her backside. “Closed at seven o’clock?”
Claire’s mouth twitched. “Small town. But we get really wild and stay open until eight on Friday and Saturday.”
“Whoa, edgy. Next thing you know, Stella’s will be putting on a drag show.”
Claire laughed. “If only.”
Delilah laughed too, then they both fell silent. Claire hadn’t told her to get the hell out, so Delilah took that as a good sign and came all the way inside the store, the door closing behind her. The smell hit her first—paper and glue, the faint whiff of something citrusy and fresh. It nearly knocked her back a few steps, the scent of her childhood. But unlike the perfumed aroma of Wisteria House, the store’s clean air reminded her of safety, belonging.
The shop had changed a bit since she was last here. The dark shelves had been lightened to a blond wood and went all the way up to the ceiling now, with extra stock at the top and two matching blond wooden ladders, one on each side of the store, attached to an iron pole. The carpet used to be this thin industrial stuff, the kind you’d find in insurance offices and schools, but now smooth hardwood stretched the entire length of the small space. Fairy lights dangled here and there, and in the middle of the store, nestled between display tables and freestanding shelves, four dark brown leather chairs were arranged facing one another, a book-covered coffee table in the middle. A light fixture hung over the reading space, small round light bulbs hanging amidst glistening silver leaves on chains.
The effect was no small thing, brightening the shop in a way that made Delilah smile.
“This place is gorgeous,” she said, running her hand along the counter where Claire stood. “It didn’t look like this back when we were in high school.”
“Yeah, I know,” Claire said, fiddling with the books at her side. She stacked and then restacked them in a different arrangement, over and over. “When my mom remarried a few years ago, she and her husband wanted to travel, so I took over.”
Delilah leaned her elbows on the counter. She remembered Claire’s mother—Katherine. She had soft brown eyes and round hips, and she had been one of the few adults in this town who had treated Delilah like a normal kid as opposed to a nuisance. There was no Mr. Sutherland. He had taken off when Claire was around nine, right before she and her mother moved to Bright Falls, if Delilah’s memory served.
“You did all this?” she asked.
Claire met her eyes and stared for a few seconds. Delilah wasn’t sure Claire was even aware she was doing it, and she watched Claire’s throat bob in a hard swallow.
“Hello?” Delilah said, tapping the back of Claire’s hand softly, just once before drawing back.
Claire jolted, then cleared her throat and looked down, fiddling with the book stack again. “Um, yeah, I did. I want to do more. Add a café, get some local art on the walls that people can buy, but that takes money.”
“Most things do.” Delilah took the top book off of Claire’s stack and pretended to look at it. In truth, she was just thinking up ways to keep the conversation going, reasons she wouldn’t have to leave. She felt weirdly at ease in here. Plus, she was enjoying the way Claire got all flustered around her a little too much. “Your mom still traveling?”