“Hey, sweetie.” Mama’s voice pulls me back. She’s still standing in the doorway, her hesitant eyes appraising me. “Is that my present?”
“Um.” I clear my throat and tuck a curl behind my ear. “Yeah.”
I hand it over, and she oohs and aahs as she opens it and then hugs the books to her chest. “I can’t wait to get into these. Winter is the perfect season for cozying up with a good romance, isn’t it?”
“Mm-hmm,” I agree.
“And I have a little gift for you.”
“Really?” I ask, brightening a little.
“Really, really.” Mama winks. “Follow me.” She beckons me forward with a crooked finger, and we walk through the living room and out back to the screened-in porch.
It’s freezing out here. The space heaters are off, and I’m only wearing my pj’s and mermaid slippers. But there, on Mama’s easel, in gold lettering and a midnight-blue background, is my present, one of my favorite quotes from Time Stands Still:
I fear I will need an eternity to express the vastness of my love for you. Thank goodness, an eternity is exactly what we have.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, hugging Mama. “I love it so much.” Her hair smells good, like her coconut sea-salt shampoo. Mama hugs me back tight, and I inhale.
* * *
I arrive at Once Upon early. The all-staff meeting doesn’t start for another twenty minutes, but I needed to get out of the house. Despite Mom leaving for work and Mama’s gift, tension clung to the walls. Maybe I can fix it, sweep away the small things stressing them out. Like the groceries. I make a note in my phone to run by the store after work. Yes, I’m budgeting to repair Barbra, but I’m a thrifty shopper, and I’m sure a stocked-up pantry will relieve some tension. I smile as I imagine Mama and Mom chatting over a fresh jar of marmalade and a carton of blueberries. I hold on to that image as I walk back to the children’s section, the only place large enough for our entire fifteen-person staff to gather.
Even though I’m early, Sophie-Anne and her boyfriend, Arjun, are already here. As always, they’re both dressed in a lot of black, metal, and fishnet. He’s leaning against a bookshelf, and she’s tucked into him, his arm cinched around her waist and playing with her chain belt. Sophie-Anne tilts her head at me and asks, “Why are you smiling?”
I shrug. “I guess I’m just a smiley person?”
She narrows her eyes. “It’s weird.” Then she glances back at Arjun. “Tell her it’s weird, honey.”
“It’s weird,” he confirms with a nod.
I raise an eyebrow. “Y’all have matching tattoos of Hello Kitty with fangs, and you’re calling me weird?”
“Yes,” Sophie-Anne replies in all sincerity, seeing nothing odd about their taste in tattoos. From the neck up, Sophie-Anne reminds me of Mama, strawberry-blond hair and pale rosy skin. And her voice even has that sweet Southern drawl.
But that’s where the similarities end.
Sophie-Anne pulls out a silver Sharpie, grabs Arjun’s hand, and begins to draw what looks like a decapitated unicorn on his brown skin. Romantic. I turn away from them and snag a seat at one of the little tables as Daniel walks into the store. I wave him over, then smooth out my polka-dot dress and tug down the sleeves of my cardigan. Daniel gives me an easy grin as he sits next to me, his knees practically hitting his chin in the kid-size chair. “Coffee?” he asks, sliding his cup my way.
“Yes, caffeine always.” I pick up the cup. “Is there cream and sugar in here?”
“There is one cream and one sugar.”
I wiggle my nose. “Gross. You know three of each is the minimal acceptable amount.”
“Right, I’m the gross one.” Daniel laughs and takes his cup back. We chat about what we’ve been reading and the holiday rush and the ridiculously rude customer who had Daniel recommend her books for thirty minutes and then ordered them from a massive online retailer right in front of him. As more people arrive, Daniel glances up, directing his attention at someone else. “Hey, Jake!”
Jake walks toward our table, his brown curls perfectly sleep-rumpled, his jaw arguably sharper than yesterday if that’s biologically possible. He grabs the seat next to Daniel, not even glancing my way as he says, “Morning.”
He has on jeans and another flannel shirt, this one checkered red and black, like he just came back from a hike in the woods. I catch his eye. “Chop some wood this morning?”
He pauses, confused, then says, “Yeah, actually.”
“Wait, really?” I ask.
But then Daniel turns to him and pulls a graphic novel out of his bag. “Here you go. This is the one we were talking about yesterday.”
“Cool, thanks,” Jake says, grabbing the book.
“It’s awesome. You’re going to love it. Or not. You know, no worries if not.” I stifle back a laugh at the nerdy excitement in Daniel’s voice. If there’s one thing he loves more than graphic novels, it’s introducing people to graphic novels. He leans forward, arms flexing under his Waterston College T-shirt. “Can’t wait to hear what you think.”
“What book?” I ask, leaning forward as well.
Daniel glances at me with surprise, almost like he forgot I was here. My shoulders tense. Daniel is my friend. Not just my friend—my work husband. Staffing a second holiday season together is basically as serious as saying our vows. But I feel a kernel of unease as he replies, “Sleepwalker.”
“Ooh, awesome!” My voice is too high-pitched, too enthusiastic. “What’s it about?”
“Actually, I recommended it to you last year. You never read it.”
“Oh.” The ground feels shaky again, like it did this morning at home. I scratch my neck. “Sorry.”
“No worries,” he replies, returning to his conversation with Jake.
My gut constricts. I work in a bookstore. I get book recommendations all day every day, and it’s my job to be enthusiastic about all of them. Also Daniel literally, and I mean literally, recommends graphic novels in his sleep. His girlfriend, Lola, told me so. And he said “no worries.” So I should feel no worries about forgetting his recommendation. And yet…
“Morning, y’all!” Myra calls us to attention. The children’s section has filled up. The full staff seems to be here. Myra holds a mug that says BOOK BABE as she speaks. “Thank you for coming in. I know it’s early.”
“Very early,” Sophie-Anne says. She inspects her fingernails, which are now covered in silver Sharpie.
“You’ll live,” Myra responds dryly. She then goes over all of the standard meeting stuff—schedules and shelving systems and an updated return policy, which will hopefully prevent people from returning books they’ve already read, like you dog-eared the page, and you want a refund? I’m not prejudiced against those who dog-ear, by the way. I believe in a well-placed dog-ear. But you can’t return books with bent pages and expect us to think they’re unread.
After about ten minutes, Myra says, “And if you haven’t met him yet, please be sure to introduce yourself to our newest employee, Jake Kaplan.”