Page 44 of Absolutely Not in Love
Book repair—or book replacement, really—that can be my job. And if I happen to improve or expand her library while I’m at it, who’s going to stop me?
I find a parking space right outside of Book Smart. Downtown Harvest Hollow is decked out in all its fall glory, and the front windows of Book Smart are no exception. Everything is pumpkin spice and fall leaves and splashes of red, yellow, and orange. I push through the front door, a bell jangling above my head as I do.
A woman behind the checkout counter smiles warmly and says, “Welcome to Book Smart. Let me know if you need help finding anything.”
My first impulse is to ignore the woman’s offer of help, to browse the store myself and talk to as few people as possible. That’s how I functioned when I was a kid. But years of experience managing my anxiety has taught me that isn’t necessarily thebestthing for me, even if it does feel easier. Besides, I still want to stop by the grocery store to grab a few things for dinner, and letting this woman help mewouldbe faster.
I walk right up to the counter, setting the wet books down in front of me. “Hi. I could definitely use your help. These books were damaged when a pipe exploded in my neighbor’s apartment yesterday, and I’d like to replace them for her if I could. Could you help me find them all?”
“You’re Felix Jamison,” the woman blurts.
“Oh. Yeah. Hi?”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make that awkward.” The woman, Emmy, her name tag reads, smiles warmly. She has nice eyes and long brown hair and a face that looks vaguely familiar. “I mean, I’m a fan, but also, you volunteered at my house a while back. There was a fire, and the fire chief recruited volunteers, and I remember seeing you among them.Thank youfor helping.”
“Oh. Yeah, absolutely. I’m so sorry about your house.”
She waves away my concern. “It could have been so much worse. Anyway, I’m making this all about me, and you need help finding these books?” She scans the titles, her brow furrowing. “Huh,” she finally says. “Is your neighbor Gracie Mitchell?”
My eyebrows lift. “You know her?”
Emmy smiles. “She comes in here a lot. Normally, I wouldn’t remember a random book stack, but this one is curated from a new list of recommendations that was just published in the New Yorker. She had the article with her when she came in, and a gift card she’d just gotten from one of her students. We picked out the books together, and I remember her being so thrilled when she had enough on the gift card to cover it.”
“Perfect. Hopefully you still have copies in stock?”
She taps her chin. “Pretty sure. Let’s see what we can find.”
I follow behind her as she meanders through the bookstore, pulling books off the shelf and dropping them into my waiting hands. “The latest romance by Amelie De Pierre,” she says, adding another book to the growing stack. “I’ve heard amazing things about that one.”
She turns down another aisle into what looks like the historical fiction section. It’s generously stocked, and I have a sudden itch to browse, but I’ll have to come back later for that. Right now, I am a man on a mission.
“How long have you and Gracie been neighbors?” Emmy asks.
“Um, six months or so?” I say.
“She’s great, right?”
“So great,” I say, a little too eagerly, based on the knowing look Emmy tosses over her shoulder.
She drops one more on the top of the stack, bringing the total up to ten. “Okay. That’s all of them.”
“Perfect. Thank you. I’m going to grab a few more. Do you mind holding these for me for a minute?”
“Not at all.” She lifts the book stack out of my hands. “I’ll have them at the register for you. Just come on up when you’re ready.”
It takes about ten minutes to pick out three more books for Gracie, one I’ve read before and loved, one I’ve never read but it’s about a cellist and the reviews are great so it feels like a safe bet, and a copy ofA River Runs Through It,because it feels fitting considering what just happened to her apartment.
I quickly move to the counter, anxious to get home and see Gracie, and set the three additional titles in front of Emmy.
She picks upA River Runs Through Itand smiles. “Because her books were ruined by an exploding pipe?”
“You think she’ll get the joke?”
“She definitely will,” Emmy says. “It’s really nice of you to replace the rest of these.”
“It’s a long story,” I say as she rings up the books, “but the pipe exploding in her apartment was sort of my fault. This feels like nothing.”
“It’snotnothing,” Emmy says. “I’m sure Gracie will be touched.”
