Page 28 of A Second Chance Christmas Kiss

We parted ways, and I followed the men into the bookstore. Christmas music played in the background, creating a festive feel.

I hadn’t been in the bookstore since Gretchen and her husband had taken over. The walls were white, and the bookshelves were gray. It was sleek and modern.

The older men hustled toward the newspaper section of the bookstore. “I wanted you guys to look at this,” one of them told the others.

There was a whole section with couches to sit and read the paper. The men picked up what they wanted and sat in that area.

One of the men called out, “Hey, could we get a couple coffees?”

I turned and saw that behind the counter, there were some refreshments on display—coffee, donuts, and different eclairs and cookies. “Of course.” I hung up my coat on the little hook and immediately set about pouring coffee. The other men said they wanted some too, so I brought each of them a cup.

One of the men said, “Could we all get glazed donuts too, if they have any. Sometimes they don’t have any.”

I wanted to comment that they were probably a little too old to start their glucose levels so high in the morning, but I only smiled. “Of course.”

I put together the donuts on separate plates and took them over. They were engaged in talking about some political thing that was in the newspapers. Looking at the front of the store, I saw that Gretchen and Kent had set up a bunch of children’scandy and toys. Was this a sound business model, generating a lot of income? I didn’t know, but I liked the laid-back feel of this place.

I moved from behind the counter and surveyed the collection of books. There was an adult section with fiction, which included romance, westerns, and nonfiction.

The door opened, and in walked a man, his wife, and a boy who was probably twelve. The father said, “Hi. I’m glad you guys are open. It’s cold out there.”

I pretended like I owned the place. “If you want some hot chocolate, let me know. Or some coffee.” Wait. Was there hot chocolate? I turned to check, and to my relief, there was. “What kind of books do you like?” I aimed my question at the young boy.

He was already headed toward the young adult sci-fi section.

The mother said, “He knows exactly what he wants for Christmas: a box set of books that he saw the other day.”

I grinned, acting like I knew what they were talking about. “Perfect.”

The father cocked an eyebrow. “You weren’t here the other day. Where are Gretchen and Kent?”

“I’m not sure. I’m just covering for a bit.” I didn’t want to say too much. Gretchen probably wouldn’t mind, but it was the attorney inside me. Everything was confidential.

The father nodded and moved toward the nonfiction books. “I’ll take a cup of coffee.”

I poured it for him and brought it over.

He was standing beside the World War II section. “I was just looking, and there’s a lot there.” He took the coffee and gave me a wide grin. “We’re just in town for a couple days. We’re here for the fundraiser for the cancer wing. We thought it would be nice to spend a couple days in a beach town. Not that the weather is great.”

It didn’t feel right to say something like ‘my family is the one that’s funding the whole cancer wing.’ Instead, I said, “That’s nice. This is a great beach town to get away. Even if the temperatures aren’t that great, it’s cozy and perfect for families.”

I had loved coming back here for December while I was growing up. Smiling, I returned to the front of the store. While everyone was busy, I pulled out my phone and typed in Melody’s phone number, creating a contact. I texted her.Where do you want to go tonight for dinner?

I knew she wouldn’t answer right away, so I put the phone down, picked up the little Windex spray and a rag, and began cleaning the glass case.

A text came in about a minute later.I don’t care.

I had to smile. She had always been bitter when I bested her, even when we were young.Don’t worry; I’ve got it covered. What time can you go to dinner?

It didn’t take long before the phone buzzed.The shops don’t close until five.

One of the older gentlemen sauntered back to me and took the liberty of going around the counter and pouring himself more coffee. “If I would care to bet, I would say that you are texting a girl.”

I had to smile. “A lady, but yes.”

He chuckled. “Is it one you like?”

“I feel like I’m fifteen when you say it that way, but yes.”

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