I looked around while she poured the coffee. “You know, if you moved some of these shelves, you could fit in a few small tables. Maybe a comfy chair or two and turn it into a kind of gathering place.” The more I talked, the more the idea of a little café in the back of this bookstore bloomed in my mind. Then I looked over at Chris, watching me with a smile, and my face flushed with embarrassment. It was her bookstore, not mine.
“When I first opened this place, everyone thought I was crazy. Small businesses don’t last, and everyone buys their books online, right?” She gestured back to the front of the shop, where her laptop was set up. “But the great thing about small towns is people here want you to succeed. So I have enough loyal customers that they’ll make the effort to order through me. I mean, I’m not retiring to Jamaica anytime soon, but I’m able to stay afloat.
“But a café . . .” She sighed. “After I got divorced, I decided to renovate my kitchen. New appliances, floors, granite countertops. But I ran out of steam before I got to the walls and the backsplash. The holidays were coming up, and I told myself once the new year came, I’d get back to work on it.” She took a long sip of coffee. “That was almost four years ago, and I still don’t have a backsplash.”
My eyes widened. “That’s a long time.” I hated the idea of leaving things unfinished, but I had no room to criticize, given my academic background.
“This store is kind of the same.” She put her mug down and leaned her elbows on the counter. “The bookstore side of things is doing great. But my original plans for this place were almost exactly what you described. I’ve got it all lined up: permits, food service license. This could be a coffee shop if I’d just get off my ass and do it. It always seemed like a lot to take on all by myself.”
I tried to make my shrug casual, my voice unconcerned. “You wouldn’t have to do it by yourself. You know, if you wanted help . . .”
“I’d love help.” The front door chimed, and she turned her attention to the front of the shop. “Let’s survive this first weekend of Faire, but why don’t you come by on Monday. We can talk more about it then.”
“Hello in there!” April’s voice filtered back to me from the front door. “Anyone around?”
I grabbed for my phone in my back pocket. Had I missed her text? I was the worst sister ever. “I’m sorry!” I called. “I didn’t hear my phone. Did you get a ride or . . .” But there weren’t any texts. I hadn’t missed anything.
I followed Chris to the front of the store, where April leaned against the counter, her face flushed and a little tight with discomfort, but mostly triumphant. I stopped short when I got a good look at her.
“Where the hell’s your boot?”
“I don’t need it anymore!” She swung her right leg to and fro, still clinging to the counter, like a ballerina at barre practice. “It feels amazing, Em! I can walk again!”
“So you walked here?” I was going to kill her. “What the hell’s next, you doing a 5K this weekend?”
“Har.” She pushed off the counter, and while she had a little bit of a limp, she was steadier than she’d been since . . . well, since the day I’d come to Willow Creek. “It was only half a block. I wanted to surprise you.” Her face fell a little, the triumphant smile dimming under my scrutiny.
“You did.” I rushed to her, not sure if I wanted to hug her or hold her up. I’d been holding her up for months now. It had become a habit. I settled for hugging this time. “You really did.”
“So were you surprised?” April asked as we left the bookstore and started down the sidewalk to where my Jeep was parked.
“Of course I was. You scared the shit out of me.”
“Good. That’s what I was hoping for.” Her voice was cheerful, but her smile was tight, and when I glanced at her I noticed her limp had become pronounced very quickly.
“Okay, you’re trying too hard. Here—” I ushered her to a nearby bench and made her sit. “Stay there, I’ll get the car.”
“I’m sorry.” She pressed her lips together hard; I could see white around them. “I thought I could make it.”
“You could,” I said. “And you did. It’s just making it back that’s the problem. Now wait here.” I jogged down to get the Jeep and drove back to where she sat. I threw the Jeep into park and got out to help her in, but she waved me off.
“I can do it myself.”
I recoiled a little at her snapping tone. “I know. I’m just—” But I stood aside and let her get in on her own. I bit back a sigh as I got behind the wheel, and we drove off in silence. Same as ever.
“Sorry,” she finally said about halfway home. I glanced over in time to see her hunch forward, burying her face in her hands. Her dark brown curls cascaded around her head. “God, I can be a bitch, huh?”
“It’s okay. You just overdid it. Don’t worry. I won’t tell your PT. Or your doctor.”
“God, please don’t. They’ll make me put that damn boot back on.” She was quiet for a moment, and I almost reached over to turn on the radio when she spoke again. “I’ve been meaning to thank you.”
“For what?” I kept my eyes on the road. The air between us was too charged for me to look at her.
“For everything. Moving in, helping out. You’ve been here almost four months, and I haven’t thanked you nearly enough. You dropped everything for Cait and me.”
I shrugged. “There wasn’t much to drop. Besides, that’s what I do, isn’t it? Drop everything. Help people. Fix things.” My laugh was a little more bitter than I wanted it to be. “At least it was for family this time, instead of a guy.”
“Hey.” She reached out and laid her hand over mine on the gearshift. Squeezed a little, and I felt that squeeze in my heart. “What he did was shitty. An absolute douche move. That’s not . . .” She blew out a breath. “You shouldn’t be treated like that. Ever. Not by that dickhead you lived with, and not by me. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” It was a good thing we were almost home because I had to blink hard to see the road.
“It’s not,” she insisted. “You’ve done so much for us these past few months, and you don’t know how much I appreciate it. And that’s my fault.” She waved off my protest before I could even voice it. “These appointments are kicking my ass, but I’m doing my best. The sooner I’m better and back to work, the sooner I can get my life back. And then maybe we can figure out yours.”
“Trying to get rid of me, huh? I guess you want your guest room back.” I was joking, but my stomach dropped as soon as the words came out of my mouth. Maybe she did want me gone. Wanted her life back. “I’ll figure something out. I can probably get an apartment or something. I don’t have much saved yet, but hopefully soon I can . . .”