Chapter Seventeen
“I should sleep with him. Just get it over with. Right?”
“Mew.”
Her lips still tingling from last night’s kiss, Clara paced up and down the aisle, muttering to herself in the empty shop. Lulu trailed after her, adding her wisdom to the debate.
“I mean, I’ve gotta take the first step sometime. Why not now?”
“Mowrr.”
“Nick’s here. He’s willing. He’s gorgeous.”
“Mew.”
“And he’ll be gone in, what, two weeks?”
“Mrrowrp.”
“And I’ll have crossed the threshold. Then I can forget about him.”
“Prrrupp.”
“I was this close, Lulu.” She held her forefinger and thumb a millimeter apart. “I could’ve just taken his hand, gone back inside, and…”
Images flashed in her mind’s eye: her hands sliding under his shirt, over his mocha skin, tugging at his belt, his hot breath on her throat…
“God, listen to me!” She plopped into the armchair at the head of the history aisle and knotted her fingers in her hair. “I can’t just use Nick. And if I did, which would be despicable, I couldn’t just snap my fingers and forget him.”
Lulu hopped onto her lap. She stroked the cat’s fur absently.
“That’s the problem. I like him too much. He’s too…” She sighed, and her vision slid into dreamy soft focus and her head rolled to the side, offering her throat to his imaginary kiss. Then she snapped upright, eyes narrowed. “I should call him, cancel our date for Saturday. I really should.”
The cat offered no comment beyond a swish of her tail.
Clara slumped back into her chair. “Maybe Doug?”
“Mrrrrrrr.” Lulu laid back her ears.
“What? He’s cute, he’s nice, he’s here. And he’s Harry’s cousin.” She giggled. “And he has a huge…”
The cat hopped down and stalked off toward her basket behind the counter, her tail held high.
“You’re right. I don’t have to have sex with anyone.”
“Of course you don’t have to. But do you want to?”
Clara squeaked and jumped up from her chair. Margot had let herself in through the back door, the one with no warning bell overhead.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt. Who were you talking to?” Margot peered down the aisles on either side of Clara, then clutched her Doctor Bacon T-shirt, eyes wide. “Oh. You were talking to your husband?”
“No, just myself.”
As if she weren’t already suffering enough, now guilt stabbed her, a reminder that she was being unfaithful to Jared, the love of her life, the one she still turned to for guidance. But how could she ask him whether to have sex with another man?
“This is impossible,” she muttered under her breath, and strode to the front door, where the UPS guy waited with a carton of books.
“Morning, Clara. I’ve got two more for you in the van.” He wore shorts today. Bobby was a bit young for her, but had beautiful, strong legs, covered with golden fur. She imagined how they’d tickle against her skin.
Great, now she was ogling the UPS guy. Clearly, she needed to get laid, clear up all this sexual tension, and get her head on straight. She needed to focus on her business, not her libido.
And Doug was definitely the safest candidate, because if just one kiss from Nick set her head spinning like this, imagine what a night in his bed would do.
“Here’s one more. It’s heavy. Show me where you want it.” The UPS guy’s biceps bulged under the weight of huge carton.
“On the counter, please.”
A second man trailed in, half-hidden by the oversized carton he carried. This guy wore long pants, but the rear view was very nice indeed: a firm, round behind, narrow waist, broad shoulders, curly dark hair…
“Thanks, Dude,” Bobby told his helper.
“Don’t mention it.” Nick set his load down on the counter and grinned. She gaped at him like a goldfish fallen from its bowl.
The UPS guy asked her a second time to sign for her packages. She did so, then scooted around the counter, putting distance between herself and the man who made her heart pound like a conga drum. No, a whole rhythm section.
Lulu saved the day. She trotted over from her favorite basking spot in the front window and, purring like a cement mixer, made passionate love to Nick’s ankles, twining round and round.
Clara exchanged a puzzled glance with Margot: Lulu usually waited for strangers to approach her, not the other way around. Not satisfied with a scritch behind the ears, she sprang up into Nick’s arms. Obviously, she was smitten with Nick’s smoldering eyes, his deep, velvety voice, his delicious touch.
He murmured sweet nothings to the cat, reminding Clara of a Greek god, a golden visitor from Mount Olympus.
Are there cats on Mount Olympus, she wondered?
Margot wiggled her fingers. “Good morning, Professor. Good to see you again.”
Nick carried the loudly purring cat to the window. “All the spaces on this side were filled, so I left your car over there, in front of the donut shop.”
“Donuts and books?” Margot called out from behind the counter, where she loaded books onto the rolling cart.
“We’re still working on the beer idea.” Clara inclined her head toward the back of the shop.
“I’ll put this invoice on your desk.” Margot disappeared behind the screen, no doubt to listen to their conversation.
Nick held out her car keys. Apparently satisfied with the arrangement of orange hairs she’d left on his dark shirt, Lulu leapt down, butted her head against Clara’s ankles, and trotted off.
He moved in closer, lowered his voice. “I hope you’re as happy to see me as your cat is.”
“Shall I rub my head against your ankles?” She bit her lip. She shouldn’t be flirting with him, especially since she’d almost decided to give up her widow-virginity to Doug. But with Nick standing so near, his dark eyes sparkling, her resolve melted and ran like ice cream in the Sahara. This would all be so much easier if she hadn’t kissed him.
He leaned on the counter, bringing his face level with hers. With one finger, he toyed with her scarf—actually, Jared’s, an antique silk aviator’s scarf he’d worn their first New Year’s Eve together. Its coolness soothed her overheated skin.
“So, are we still on for Saturday?”
Say no, say no, say no.
But the voice of reason had no power over her lips, which moved of their own accord. “Sure. I’m looking forward to it.”
A slow smile spread across Nick’s lips. “Good. My friend Carmen is performing at a wine bar near the campus, The Amphora. Do you know it?”
She shook her head.
His eyes flicked toward the wooden screen, then he moved in closer, lowered his voice to a near-whisper. “Clara, I’m so glad we’ve met on this trip. I didn’t come here looking for…”
He paused, as if searching for the right words. “For romance. But I want you to know, I feel a very special connection with you.”
Romance. Oh my.
“But Nick, you live so far away.”
“I do. I wish it weren’t so.” He fingered the fringe on her scarf, his hand hovered dangerously close to her breast, but not quite touching. “But my family is here. I have friends here.” He raised his eyes to hers. “I’ll be back. Often.”
“Oh.” The sound came out in a whoosh of breath. He’d be back. That changed things. A lot.
The shop phone shrilled from her desk. A moment later, Margot popped out from behind the screen, her face solemn. “Clara, I’m sorry. You’re going to want to take this.”
“I’ll let you go, then.” Nick ran his hand down her arm, his touch light. “See you Saturday at seven-thirty?”
“Yes.”
“Here?”
“My place.” With effort, she stepped backward, breaking his magnetic hold on her. “Twenty-seven thirty-nine Elm. Upper flat. Gotta go.” She spun away and darted behind the screen, before she did something foolish, like kissing him again.
Behind the screen, Margot covered the receiver with her palm. “It’s Lonnie.”
Lonnie Davenport owned the building housing Book Nirvana, along with Coffee Dreams next door. A jovial fellow of about seventy, he’d been very kind following Jared’s death. But now he was retiring and handing the management of the building over to his son, a forty-something, self-styled business shark with beady eyes. Between gossip from Arnie’s cafe and cryptic comments from Lonnie, she knew a big change was coming.
“Clarabelle.” His voice was rough today, phlegmy and ragged. “Kiddo, I need to set up a meeting. How about this afternoon?”
“Oh, um…” She tapped her keyboard, checked her schedule. “Sure. What time?”
“Let’s say two, at Arnie’s place.”
“Okay…” But he’d hung up before she could ask any questions.
“Can you stay until two, Margot?”
“Sorry, I have a class. Big graphics presentation. Harry should be here, though.”
She’d hoped Harry might attend the meeting with her, but she had no one else to man the shop during her absence. She’d have to face this alone. She hunched over her desk, her fingers snarled in her hair.
Margot’s hand fell lightly onto her shoulder. “Think he’s going to raise the rent?”
“At least.”
“End the lease?”
“Maybe.” She’d been keeping that possibility on the back shelf, carefully hidden behind daily business. The thought of losing her shop made her guts roil and her head throb. Surely Lonnie wouldn’t do that to them, to her. He loved the bookshop. He’d toasted their success when they cut the ribbon. He’d stood by her side at Jared’s funeral.
“Don’t worry, Clara,” Margot said, her pixie face grave. “We’ll figure something out.”
She patted her young friend’s hand. “I know we will.” She pointed to Margot’s colorful T-shirt, hoping to dispel the cloud of doom hovering over them. “Doctor Bacon? Never heard of him.”
Margot grinned. “They’re a really good band from North Carolina. Saw them in Ashville when I was visiting my cousin. The harmonica player is soooo cute.”
“Girl or boy?”
“Boy. Very boy.” She winked. “Gotta keep your options open. Makes life more interesting.”
The doorway bell tinkled, and Margot left to greet the customers.
Behind the wooden screen, her busy brain spun dire possibilities. Just a few more hours until Lonnie pronounced her shop’s fate. She rested her throbbing head on her folded arms and whispered, “Help me, Jared.”
A loud thunk from just outside the screen sprung her upright again.
“Lulu, what’s got into you today?” Margot called.
Tail twitching, Lulu perched at eye level on the shelf opposite her desk. On the floor, a used paperback: Coffee: The Story of the West’s Favorite Addiction. While she watched, Lulu pushed another volume to the floor. Coffee: A Love Story.
“Shoo, Puss.” She picked up the two books and lifted the cat down. Lulu orbited her ankles a few times, then strolled away.
That was Jared’s answer? Get a coffee? Must be a coincidence. She was already too jazzed up on worry and lust. Coffee would only make things worse.
****
“I’m sorry Clara, but it’s the best I can do.” Lonnie clasped his big, calloused hands on the table, his baggy eyes downcast.
Beside him, his son Darryl smirked over a pile of papers. An oily smile oozed over his sharp, pointy face as he commandeered the conversation.
“Pops has a big heart, but he doesn’t have a head for business. Me, I see things more clearly. It’s nothing personal, Mrs. Martelli. We’re in business to turn a profit, not to support charity cases.”
Clara’s guts roiled, and her hands curled into fists.
Beside her, Arnie narrowed his eyes and straightened his spine. “I call bullshit. We’ve both been paying our rent on time for years. You won’t find better tenants than us.”
“Remodeling the building will cost you a bundle,” she added. “Keep us and you don’t incur any new expenses.”
Darryl sneered. “A brew pub will bring in more customers in a week than all three of you do in a month. I already have an excellent offer on this property. My market research shows…”
“Whoever did your market research is an idiot.” Arnie’s face glowed an alarming shade of magenta. “Look out the window. There are already two brew pubs on this block.”
“And there’s a big coffee shop right over there.” Darryl leaned in, his face puckered. “And a huge bookstore six blocks from here. Face it, you two can’t compete.”
Her heart in her throat, she took a deep breath, forced her voice down into a calm, soothing register, and laid her hand atop Lonnie’s, ignoring his son. “Lonnie, please don’t sign the building over yet. Give us two months. If we can pay this higher rent, you’ll save yourself a lot of hassle.”
Arnie and Darryl spoke at once.
“There’s no way we can—”
“Dad’s not in charge, here, I am—”
Lonnie dropped his meaty fist onto the table, rattling the coffee cups. “Darryl, I still own the building. Clara’s made a good point. I want some time to think about it.” He stood, nodded to his tenants. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” He moved toward the door, then turned back. “Darryl.”
His son glowered, snatched up his paperwork, and stalked after his father, but not before whispering, “Start packing.”
They watched him go. She clasped Arnie’s clammy hand and squeezed. Her head buzzed, and her vision blurred around the edges, as if she might faint.
“Shit, Clara. How are we gonna pay that much rent? It’s nearly doubled. I’m barely making payroll as it is.”
“Me too. We’ve got to figure something out, though. What can we offer that those corporate stores can’t?”
He snorted. “Well, we’ve got charm, but you can’t eat that.”
“We’ve got personality.”
“History.”
“Connection with the community.”
Arnie’s laugh sounded hollow. “We’ve got bupkis, dear lady. Absolute bupkis.”
She pounded the table with her fist. “I’m not giving up yet, Arnie. Don’t you give up either.”
“Don’t worry,” he grumbled, swiping a hand across his gleaming gelled hair. “I’ll hang in there until the axe falls.”
****
Back at the bookshop, Harry chatted amiably with a couple of college students at the register. One look at Clara and his smile faded. “You have a good day, now. Let me know how you like this author.” The two kids left, each holding one slim volume of anime.
To keep the place open, she’d need lots more customers, each leaving with an armful of books. If Lonnie decided to let her try.
Harry scooted around the counter, took both her hands in his. “Clara. Tell me. What did he say?” He led her to one of the armchairs nestled in the front corner, beneath an overgrown potted ficus. “Is he renewing the lease?”
Her shoulders were almost too heavy to shrug. “He’ll let us know tomorrow. His son…” Her voice quavered, then broke. “He said, ‘Start packing.’ ”
“That greasy little rat!” Harry bolted to his feet, pulled out his phone. “I’m calling Lonnie right now.”
She held up her hand. “Harry, no. I think our best chance is to appeal to Lonnie’s loyalty, and I’ve done that.” She pushed herself up. “Meanwhile, let’s assume we’re staying put and think about how we can afford the new rent.”
When she told him the sum Darryl demanded, Harry ran a hand over his forehead and whistled. “It’s going to take a lot more than one beer night to pay for that.”
“Anything we can do to increase sales will help.”
A little past four, the doorbell tinkled, and Doug strode in, waving a check. He grinned at his cousin, then at Clara. “I’ll take that book on the curly beards if you still have it. Our librarian hunted up some extra funds we need to use up by the last day of school.”
He followed her down the aisle and reached above her head to pull the volume from the top shelf. “I’m so glad you still have this.”
“Me too.” She did her best to match his cheerful tone, but her reply came out flat.
Doug’s pale brows rumpled. “Clara, what’s wrong?”
“Oh, business stuff. Money troubles,” she grumbled, avoiding his gaze.
He set the book down and gently grasped both her shoulders, turned her to face him. “Is that all?”
“Yeah. Well, no.” Reluctantly, she gazed up into his pale blue eyes. They radiated kind concern, which made her feel even more like a heel. “Doug, I have to tell you, I’m sort of seeing someone else.”
“Sort of?”
She nodded. “We have a date on Saturday. I don’t know if anything will come of it, but it’s only fair to let you know.”
His gentle smile sagged. He dropped his hands from her shoulders and walked away, then pivoted, paced back to her. Then away, then back again. He opened his mouth, closed it.
Her chest constricted at the thought of hurting his sweet man who’d been nothing but kind to her. Did this mean she’d made the wrong choice? Should she have kept her date with Nick a secret? No, telling him was the right thing to do, the honorable thing.
“So, you’ve decided on him?”
“Well, no, I haven’t decided anything.”
Doug passed his hand over his face, covering his wide mouth for a moment, as if doing a difficult math sum in his head. When he dropped his hand, his expression was relaxed, almost unconcerned.
“Okay then. Thanks for telling me. So, we’re still on for tomorrow?”
“You still want to?”
At last, he smiled. He stepped closer, and his gaze lingered on her face for a long moment.
“Clara, you’re lovely. And funny. And kind. I’m not surprised I have competition.” He raised his hand, let it hover beside her face, then brushed her hair behind her ear. “But I think we could be really good together. Will you give us a chance?”
A flush of tenderness for this sweet, gawky man washed over her. “Of course I will. I really like you, Doug.”
“Well, that’s a start.” He picked up the book, slung his free arm around her shoulder, and they walked back up to the register.
Harry paced there, glowering and muttering to himself. He glanced up at their approach, his pale eyes full of fire. “Did she tell you?”
Confusion played over Doug’s features. “Well, she…”
“It’s criminal! After all these years of lining his pockets, now he wants to give us the boot.”
“Oh.” Doug turned to her. “Business troubles, right?”
“Yeah.” She sighed, suddenly weary. If she had to explain this again, she’d do it from a comfortable seat. She sank into the cushy armchair by the entrance. “The landlord is either going to raise our rent crazy high or end our lease. We find out tomorrow.”
“But this is the best bookstore in town.” Doug sat across from her, pulled his chair up so their knees were almost touching. “And I’m not just saying that because it’s yours.”
She flashed him a smile of gratitude. “He’s passing on the management to his son. He wants to replace us and the coffee shop next door with a brew pub.”
Doug’s pale brows shot up. “Another one?”
Hopefully, Lonnie would see things that way too.
Harry rang up the next customer, again, just one book, then sat town beside his cousin. “I remember when this place was bigger, before the coffee shop went in. It was always crowded.”
Clara perked up. “When was that, Harry?”
“Oh, maybe fifteen years ago.”
“I remember too,” Doug said. “I used to come here with my dad. He’d buy stamp magazines, and I’d buy comics. Why don’t you carry magazines, Clara?”
“We dropped them a while ago. Didn’t sell many, and when that big corporate store opened, it didn’t seem worth the trouble.”
“They don’t carry the really interesting ones, though.”
“That’s a thought.” She glanced around. The bookshelves and tables already filled every available space. “Where would we put them, though?”
“Let’s see. If I remember right, they were over there.” He pointed to the wall she shared with the coffee shop. “You’re right, Harry, the shop was bigger. When did that wall go in?”
“Not sure. Maybe Arnie knows.”
Doug rose, walked over to the wall, and knocked. He shifted a few steps to his right, knocked again.
Harry’s mouth hung open, and then slowly spread into a wide grin. “Right, we could…”
“We’d need the landlord’s approval, and the coffee shop guy’s…”
She leapt up and stomped her foot. “What are you two talking about?”
Harry beamed. “We could knock down the wall, combine the two businesses. Make it a book café, where people can wander back and forth from one to the other, like they do in the big chain store.”
She scratched her head. “But my appeal to Lonnie was how letting us stay avoids the costs of renovation. Now we’re gonna ask him to renovate?”
“Yeah, that is a puzzler.” Harry scrunched his mouth to one side. He turned to Doug. “Could we do it ourselves?”
“We’d need a permit.” He tapped on the wall again. “Maybe not. We’d only have to open a wide doorway here.”
“What’s your schedule like this summer?” Harry asked.
“Mostly free. It wouldn’t take very long, anyway.” He grinned at Clara. “My dad worked in construction. I know a thing or two about framing and drywall.”
Her heart thudded. It was a far-fetched idea but combining the bookshop with the coffee shop might give both her and Arnie a fighting chance against their corporate competition. Customers liked sipping coffee while they browsed books. The big chain stores made millions off that model. And together they could plan more special events to draw in thirsty readers.
“I’ll talk to Arnie. If we can put something together by tonight, we can send it to Lonnie.” She was talking too fast, grinning like a giddy teenager.
Doug stepped up behind her. “I’ll talk to Dad. He’ll know about permits.”
She whirled and threw her arms around him, squeezed him tight. “Thank you, Doug.”
He chuckled, unable to return her embrace since she’d pinned his arms. “I’m glad to help if I can.” He planted a soft kiss on top of her head. “I’ll call you later, Harry.”
Harry grinned, then moved off, giving them a moment alone.
Doug scuffed his big running shoes on the carpet. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Absolutely.” She stroked his cheek, scratchy with pale stubble, and then stood on tiptoe and kissed him softly. His lips were scratchy too, probably chapped from running, but warm and pliant.
“Wow.” He backed toward the door, flushed and grinning, then spun and loped away, graceful as a giraffe.
If this worked out, she’d be in Doug’s debt, which would complicate things with Nick. No time to think about that now, though. If she was going to get a proposal to Lonnie, she’d have to scramble.