Page 4 of Wish You Were Her
There was only one computer in the expansive bookshop and it was older than the booksellers who worked there. A large, chunky thing sitting on the cash desk. Jonah had a tempestuous relationship with it and its slow speed.
But after some recent, pleasing email exchanges, he was growing fond of the old thing. The last week had been full of sweet missives from a stranger and he now found himself looking forward to checking the work inbox.
“Jonah?”
“Yes, Simon? Speak while helping me open this delivery, please.”
Simon joined Jonah by the large blue boxes full of new books and helped his friend to scan them into the system, all without losing his enthusiasm.
“Heard the boss’s exciting news?”
“Nope. He barely speaks to me anymore.”
Jonah did not mean for the words to sound embittered, but that’s how they came out. He had been working in Brooks Books since the age of sixteen. Almost three years on, and his once warm relationship with the bookshop owner and general manager, George Brooks, had cooled.
He did not know the reason, and he had never been skilled at reading other people and their changing emotions.
“His daughter’s coming here for the whole summer.”
Jonah could feel himself making a face. “Didn’t know he had one.”
“Not just any old daughter.”
Jonah looked up at Simon, who was positively salivating. “You’re being weird. What’s wrong?”
“It’s just too good, Jonah. I can’t believe he’s never milked this or even mentioned it. His daughter is—”
The shop door opened and their employer came striding in. He had a newspaper tucked under one arm and, in a first since Jonah had met him, he was humming.
“Morning,” Jonah said.
“Morning, lads.”
“I was just telling Jonah that your daughter’s staying with you this summer, boss.”
The words were volleyed with sunny familiarity. Jonah had always marveled at that talent of Simon’s. Whenever it was just the two of them—and they had been friends since they were kids—Jonah saw all of Simon. Savvy, sarcastic, sometimes a little bratty. When he was around other people, he turned into sunshine. It always took a little while for people to see the real Simon, and George still got the sunshine version five days a week. Jonah wished he could do the same.
The bookshop owner smiled and looked younger in the process. “Yes. She had a break in her schedule so she’s coming home.”
“Home?” Jonah said. He had never even heard George refer to Lake Pristine as home, let alone a mysterious daughter that none of them had ever seen.
“Well, she’s never visited here before. But it’s always home for her if she needs it,” George clarified. “Which is a good segue to this: I want her to enjoy the festival. I thought she might like to work it alongside the both of you.”
That was enough to stamp out all of Jonah’s good humor and curiosity. “Our festival? The one we’ve been planning for months. That festival?”
“Yes, Jonah,” said George, a little curtly. “She’s smart. She’ll be an asset.”
“Definitely an asset on the PR front,” Simon said, a joke laced into his voice that Jonah did not understand.
“We have a packed program! We don’t have time to train someone new,” Jonah insisted. “And when I say ‘we,’ I mean me, because Simon doesn’t know the half of what I do.”
“When it comes to this place, true,” Simon conceded. “To life outside of it? You’re an old man and you need me.”
Jonah smiled. He and Simon were the same age.
“She won’t need any training. Books are in her blood and she’s a hard worker. She’s taken on more than a small-town book festival in her life, son. She’ll be fine.”
The use of the word “son” softened Jonah’s irritation and he decided to drop his protestations.
