Page 12 of Stars Shine In Your Eyes

Josie’s eyebrows rose at that new piece of information. “Did you know he was a writer?”

“I had no idea. I only knew that he lived on Elderflower Island and owned the bookshop, because of research I’d done on the internet as a teenager. But no one knew he was writing. No one except Mathilda Westcott.” Josie smiled then. “He never tried to get them published while he was alive, but the stories are wonderful, so I pursued publication on his behalf. Kind of a way for us to be together, I suppose. Actually, I just got the very first copies from the publisher today, and I’ve been dying to show someone.”

Mari walked over to a cardboard box on the counter by the store’s cash register. She pulled out a hardcover children’s picture book. “My father wrote stories about the two of us. About things we did before he left and things he must have wished that we had done as I grew up. When I found his journals with the stories and illustrations, I knew they needed to be read by more than just me. Fortunately, Owen works in publishing, and he was able to connect me with a fantastic children’s picture book publisher. These are the very first copies of Mars at the Beach.” She hugged the book to her, glowing with happiness, before handing it to Josie. “If this book does well, there’s an entire series of them. Like Flying Kites With Mars and Playing Conkers With Mars.” Her voice grew husky. “Mars was his pet name for me. He even named the black cat who comes in and out of here Mars. It’s like a whole series of activities he’d have loved to do with me that we never did, so he wrote and illustrated these beautiful books.”

“I’m honored to be the first to see your father’s book.” Josie looked down at the charming illustration on the cover—a father and daughter building a sandcastle. “He was a good illustrator too. You don’t mind if I take a few minutes to read it?”

“Of course not. That’s what I live for. Later, we’ll talk about the space I’ve got to set up reading retreats in, but I need to go send a couple of quick emails anyway. So why don’t you enjoy reading for a while, and I’ll check back with you in a bit?”

It felt so perfect, Josie thought, curling up on this cozy leather armchair and getting to read a story that was so precious to someone she had just met. Soon, she was completely enthralled by the story. While the book never used the word divorce, it was clear Mars and her father didn’t live in the same house, but shared a special bond. They built sandcastles and skimmed stones on the water, and then the sun got low, and it was time for Mars to go home. Her final line was, “See you again soon, Dad.”

After hearing Mari’s history with her father, Josie’s eyes prickled with tears.

The story was sweet, the illustrations were adorable, and she loved every page of the book. If she had a child, she would love to read this to them at night. She could imagine a child whose parents had split up would find a lot of comfort in a book like this.

Her chest squeezed, but she briskly told herself that there was no reason to feel that pain. No men didn’t have to mean no children. She could have a kid entirely on her own if that’s what she wanted. After all, she was bold and brave and out living life on her own terms, wasn’t she?

A few customers came in, and Josie took the opportunity to read the book again slowly and really savor it the second time. When she finished, she decided it was time to get on her feet, stretch, and then browse this lovely bookshop. She was happily looking through shelves and making notes of a few titles that she thought Mari might like to order for the retreat, when an older woman said, “Excuse me? Would you happen to know if this is any good?”

Josie glanced at the book she held. It was a nice-looking coffee-table book about the history of the domestic cat. However, when she saw the woman’s red-rimmed eyes and the air of dejection about her, she didn’t think this was a lady who wanted to read about the history of cats. Taking a guess, she asked, “Did you recently lose your cat?”

“How could you possibly know that?” The woman sounded stunned. Then she nodded slowly, and a tear slid down her cheek. “His name was Buttons. I know I shouldn’t be so silly over a cat, but you see, after I lost my husband, Buttons was all I had left.” She reached into the pocket of her cardigan and pulled out a damp tissue, dabbing at her eyes.

Josie’s heart went out to the woman. “I’m so very sorry for your loss,” she said softly. Then she led her to a couch, where they sat. “I would like to recommend several books that you might like to read. Nothing will bring back your husband or Buttons, but reading about those who have also suffered a loss can be helpful.”

At that moment, a black cat slipped in the door on the heels of a customer, paused to peer around the bookstore, and then strolled over to where Josie and the customer were sitting and jumped up to sit beside them. Josie knew that animals sometimes had a strong sense of human emotions, and this cat obviously sensed that the lady needed comfort.

The woman stroked the black cat. “Oh, aren’t you a beauty?” The cat nudged her and then promptly curled up in her lap.

Josie overheard one of the ladies, presumably from the Mathilda Westcott Appreciation Society, say, “Look, that’s Mars. He’s in the Bookshop on the River mysteries that Mathilda Westcott wrote. Of course, she renamed him Cocoa, but everyone knows Mars was the model.”

“This is a very famous cat,” Josie told her new friend. “I’m Josie, by the way.”

“Emily Soames,” the woman answered, still giving Mars all her attention.

“When did you lose Buttons?”

“Only last week,” she said on a sniff. “And Bernard—that was my husband—passed away six months ago. It’s all been such a shock.”

“Let me pull some books that you might find helpful.” Josie was so pleased she’d toured the bookshop and had discovered some of her favorite titles on the shelves. There were others in her suitcase, but that was on the houseboat. She’d manage. She chose four titles and returned to where Emily was looking better for spending time with Mars.

“If you read these books, see if they make you feel better, or at least help you understand that grief has stages and it won’t always be this painful.” First, she handed Emily On Grief and Grieving: Finding the Meaning of Grief Through the Five Stages of Loss by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross and David Kessler. “This will help you realize your reactions are normal and part of the healing process. I learned so much from this book about grief, large and small.”

Emily nodded and accepted the book.

“The second book I’d recommend is A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis. The author documents losing his wife, and the book is both beautifully written and intensely personal.” Then she added two more. “And this is Mathilda Westcott’s first Bookshop on the River mystery, Miss Fernsby Investigates. Her bookshop is based on this one, and the cat the sleuth sometimes talks to when she’s solving a crime is called Cocoa, but according to one of the Mathilda Westcott fans, he’s based on Mars here.” Josie was fairly certain that Emily was a little hearing impaired and hadn’t heard the woman telling her friend about the cat. “My advice is to have a nice cup of cocoa while you read the book. And for something completely different, try T.S. Eliot’s Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats.” She presented the slim volume with the colorful cover. “They are fun, light poems all about cats. I’m sure you’ll see Buttons in there somewhere. Andrew Lloyd Webber was inspired by these poems to write the musical Cats.”

“Why, these are all lovely, Josie,” Emily told her. “I can’t thank you enough. I’ll take all of them, and if I come this way again, I hope you’ll be working so we can discuss the books.”

Josie smiled. “I don’t actually work here, but Mari, who owns the bookstore, will always be able to get hold of me if you’d like to talk.”

With a final pat to Mars, Emily Soames got up and took her books to the register. Only then did Josie become aware that Mari was standing off to one side. She came forward now and said, “I think I just overheard a bibliotherapy session.”

They both glanced to where Emily was chatting with Clare as she rang up her books. “It was a short one, but yes, that’s what I do.”

“I loved how kind you were. She’s so much happier now, and I can imagine we could help a lot of people if we incorporated personalized book recommendations.” Her eyes were shining. “I know you’ve barely got off the plane and I already have your plate piled high with things to do, but could you maybe come in one or two afternoons while you’re here? People who want personal recommendations for themselves or a friend could spend an hour with you. If we don’t have the books you think they should read, we could order them. What do you think?”

Josie laughed. “I think you’re one of the most energetic people I’ve ever met.” She loved how enthusiastically Mari was embracing her new role as a bookseller. Then she leaned closer, feeling Mars purr against her thigh. “And I’d love to.”

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