Chapter Fourteen
“It’s all about chemistry.” Margot pursed her lips and nodded, a sage little professor lecturing Clara. “Either you feel it or you don’t. If there’s no chemistry, all you can ever be is friends.”
Clara slid another cookbook onto the bottom shelf. “And you have chemistry with Darcy?”
“Oh yeah.” Margot fanned herself with her hand. “Like, dangerous chemistry. Inflammable.”
Clara pushed a stray lock of hair out of her eyes and sat back on her heels. “But she’s leaving soon.”
Margot lowered her gaze, and her voice lost its sparkle. “Yeah, she is. But what am I gonna do, say no to a grand passion just because it’s not permanent? I mean, passion is never permanent, right? It fizzles out and you’re left with—I dunno, companionship? A nice roommate?”
Clara patted her assistant’s skinny shoulder through her vintage Ozzy T-shirt. “Jared and I had grand passion for seventeen years.”
Margot clapped her hand to her mouth. “Oh God, Clara, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay. We had a wonderful time together, and maybe…” She let her gaze drift back toward the red door. “Maybe someday I’ll find someone else to share a grand passion with. I mean, look at Harry. He’s seventy-four, and he’s in love.”
“Yeah, they’re so cute together. I wonder if they…” She raised one pierced eyebrow.
“I’ll bet they do. Like bunnies.”
Clara left her giggling assistant and went back to her desk to wrestle with the day’s pile of bills. Her own words echoed as she rifled through the invoices. This was the first time she’d ever expressed that possibility aloud—passion with someone other than Jared. Just a casual comment, but it carried a lot of weight in her heart.
And, of course, she pictured Nick’s face when she said it. Nick’s chiseled cheekbones and strong jaw, his tawny skin, his dark eyes with glints of fire, his husky voice, his strong shoulders, his—A pling from her computer signaled the arrival of yet another demand for payment, this time from the department of public utilities.
She moaned and slumped in her chair “How can we possibly spend so much on water? All we have is the one bathroom!”
Harry peered around the screen. “It’s highway robbery.”
“We’ve gotta find a way to up our profits, Harry.” She leaned onto her elbow and tapped on her keyboard.
He smacked his hands together and rubbed them vigorously. “Well now, I have lots of ideas for you.”
“I know you do, it’s just…” Every week, he came up with a new scheme to bring more customers into the shop, and most of them were utter flops. The haiku club brought in a grand total of three participants, and the poetry books she’d ordered for their meeting didn’t arrive in time. The indie comics party was scheduled the same weekend as a major comic event in Portland, so only a few stragglers too broke to attend Comicon showed up. And they were also too broke to buy comic books. The banned books club idea was a good one, but the big chain bookstore across town beat them to it. Meanwhile, the landlord was handing off the building’s management to his son, who was rumored to be planning a brew pub. As if their neighborhood weren’t already packed with pubs and taverns.
“I was talking to Arnie next door. You know he sometimes has wine events, right?”
“Right…” Clara squinted up at him.
He took no notice of her skeptical tone. “Well, what we need is a beer night, with books. We’ll call it Books and Brews! He can bring in a local brewer or two, and you can set up beer-themed books, maybe bring in a local author.” Harry paced back and forth in the little space, waving his hands.
“Beer-themed books, Harry?”
“Sure, why not?”
“Such as?”
“You leave it to me. And I have lots of beer steins at home. We can fill them with free pencils or bookmarks.” He resumed his pacing. Must be the running that gave him so much energy.
“Why don’t you find us some authors?” he said. “I’ll talk to Arnie about the beer.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Harry was still next door talking to Arnie, no doubt over an extra-large cappuccino, when Margot called for Clara’s help with a customer. A professorial-looking woman in a tweed blazer stood at the counter beside a carton of used books.
“I’m moving to a smaller place. Time to clear out the superfluous, get down to what really matters. You know what I mean?”
Clara didn’t. That was the problem. She’d filled her days with the bookshop for so long she wasn’t sure what else really mattered. The bookstore was her life now, and her livelihood.
When Clara handed over a check, the customer tucked it into her breast pocket. “Nothing like a fresh start, eh? I’ll use this money to buy curtains for my new place.” She winked. “Or maybe I won’t. Let the neighbors get an eyeful, maybe find a new lover to go with my new apartment. Nothing like a good romp to clear out the cobwebs, eh?”
Clara admired her playful attitude toward sex. Maybe a meaningless romp would clear her own cobwebs.
Could Nick be just a friend with benefits? God knows her body responded to his, and he was leaving town soon. Maybe his departure was a good thing. It put a limit on her expectations. Or was Doug the better choice? Clearly still working through his feelings about his ex, he probably wasn’t interested in love. Maybe a little friendly sex was just what they both needed. Her body was certainly ready for it, but her mind, her heart was another question entirely.
She shook off the question and went back to work shelving books.
Harry popped back into the shop fifteen minutes later carrying two large paper cups. “Black coffee for Clara, Hazelnut-Chocolate Latte with extra foam for Margot.”
Both women kissed his cheek. “You’re a peach, Harry,” Margot chirped.
“And Arnie’s going to look into beer vendors. Say, Clara, I had another idea while I was over there: how about we do something with the runners’ group? We could get a speaker from the college, maybe offer a seminar or something, and pile a table high with running books.”
“And rowing?” Margot suggested, with a wink at Clara.
“Sure, I suppose so.” Harry rumpled his forehead. “Anyway, since you’re a member of the club now…”
“Hold on, I’ve only been running with you exactly once.”
Harry squeezed her shoulder. “You’ll be back now that you and Doug are keeping company.”
She turned toward Margot and rolled her eyes, but Harry continued, oblivious. “Pomodoro, eh? Fancy place! Too bad you can’t come along on our trip this weekend.”
“You’re going on a trip?”
“Well, they are. I’m not.” He picked up a rag and polished fingerprints off the glass counter. “Big race in Tacoma.”
“You should go with them, Harry.” Doing without him on the weekend would be tough, but she’d manage if she had to.
He set down his rag and shook his finger like a grandfather gently scolding a favorite grandchild. “Absolutely not, Clara. You’re coming up on a tough time. There will be lots of other races. Once we get our sales up, you can hire another helper, and then I’ll go.”
Clara slid her arms around his waist and squeezed. “Thank you, Harry. What would I do without you?”
“Don’t give it another thought, dear heart.”
But she did. Harry was spry and fit, but how many more years of running did he have? She had to get her business healthy enough to spare her dear friend, so he could run his races and have some well-earned fun. And if that meant trying more kooky events, she’d do whatever it took.