Page 1 of Bookstore Bliss

1

KRISTEN

I step inside the small bookstore and instantly dozens of childhood memories come rushing back. The cozy emerald green velvet chair in the corner sits on top of a faded rainbow rug. The welcoming sight reminds me of all the time I spent in my grandmother’s store growing up. It was my safe space. I’d do my homework, check out the latest books people brought in, and spend time chatting with my grandmother before begrudgingly heading home.

As I got older my time spent with her started to dwindle. I had friends and a boyfriend I was madly in love with, the whole classic teenager package. And the moment I left it seemed like I turned into a different person. I didn’t mean to be away from Kastle Harbor, Maine and my family for so long.

It just happened.

I went to California for college and never looked back. My dad died from a heart attack when I was in elementary school. Despite my mom being physically around while I grew up, she was never the same after his death. It was difficult to be home. Hence the numerous hours passed at my grandmother’s bookstore. A few years back my mother died in a car crash and I found that all I had left was my grandmother Elise. I should havemade more time to visit, but there was always some excuse like exams or work. The bad memories seemed to outweigh the good ones.

Unfortunately, in the midst of planning an extensive vacation to spend a few weeks with my grandmother, Elise, I lost her last summer. My vacation time turned into bereavement and I only came back to Kastle Harbor long enough to organize and attend the funeral and sign some documents with her lawyer.

Now I’m a thirty-two-year-old woman who lives alone. I have a life built in California and a bookstore in Maine to try to sell.

It’s a lonely life. All I do is work and read books. I have a few friends, but nobody I’d ask to pick me up from the airport. I don’t even own a cat. I do have a few plants. They don’t need much attention from me though.

Still, I get to do work that I enjoy, that’s at least a bonus.

My grandmother left me her old bookstore in her will and I’m finally able to take enough leave from work to fly out and deal with everything. I took a couple of weeks off and then depending on the situation I’ll continue to work remotely. Being a graphic designer means I just need strong Wi-Fi and I can get work done. Ideally the store would be ready to sell in a week or less.

I look around and notice a bunch of little things that will all need sorted out before I can get photos done for the realtor to finish the listing. Every aisle I turn down has layers of dust covering the shelves. The books seem haphazardly stacked or shoved into random places. I walk around, inhaling the musty scent that lingers in the air. It’s going to take a lot of work to get things straightened out here.

I want to sell it quickly and head back to the consistent sunshine that’s hundreds of miles away from all these memories soaked in grief.

Might as well take a coffee break before calling the realtor for guidance.

I turn the lights off and lock the shop. It may be a small town, but April can be the start of tourist season for some out-of-towners. The Mainstreet is already bustling with small crowds of people milling about. Since I haven’t been back in ages, I don’t know who’s a townie or a tourist. They’re all strangers to me.

I head down the street to get some caffeine. The neon cupcake sign is too cute. My high school friend, Bethany McFarlan, runs Sprinkles Bakery & Café and my other old friend, Violet Barlow is the head baker. Both are happily married now, which I discovered yesterday when I stopped by the bakery. Our friendship seemed to pick up right where it left off as if nothing changed.

I walk in the bakery with the intention of just getting a large coffee, but I can’t help but eye all the colorful and delicious looking pastries in the display cases. My long hair is curtained around my face, I pull a scrunchie out of my bag. I start to pull it up into a ponytail when I accidently elbow the person the behind me.

“Oof,” the stranger exclaims in a deep, baritone voice. I turn to apologize and audibly gasp. As he rubs his nose, the bright green eyes staring daggers at me are all too familiar. Like the moment you taste a warm cookie and you’re transported back to your grandparents’ house.

“Seth?” I squint. I wonder how the nerdy guy I dated in high school turned into this statuesque figure in front of me.

I know it’s Seth, before he even confirms. My heartbeat increases like two hummingbirds trying to race. It’s been years but his eyes draw me right back to those days we spent together.

I let my eyes slowly wander over him. It’s the first time seeing him since my mother’s funeral. And even that was just briefly. My grief clouded over every interaction I had during those few days.

He grew out of the nerd phase and into his jawline. He’s so well put together. Seth’s navy, short sleeve shirt seems like it’s doing its best to restrain his biceps. His grey slacks look tailored just for him. Overall, his outfit is unlike anything he wore back then when we dated.

I wonder if he still hates me.

I bite my bottom lip, hoping the slight pain will pull me from falling deeper into his eyes.

2

SETH

As I’m looking over the menu trying to figure out what drink to get, I get elbowed in the nose by the woman in front of me. I knew I should’ve made coffee at home.

Riley just had to have a cake pop.

The woman instantly starts apologizing before she says my name. As I look down at her, questioning how she even managed to hit my nose as I’m at least six inches taller than her, she mutters my name. Between the light freckles across her nose, the strawberry blonde hair, and her gunmetal blue eyes, I instantly know that the mystery woman is Kristen Morris.

My high school sweetheart.

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