Page 2 of Embers in Autumn
“Or maybe stubborn,” I said quickly, forcing a smile. “Depends who you ask.”
His mouth curved slightly. “Sometimes those are the same thing.”
Before I could answer, the bell over the door jingled, letting in a gust of cold October air and a woman bundled in a red scarf. She gave me a quick smile as she moved toward the display near the front, running her gloved hands along a stack of new releases.
“Excuse me,” she called after a moment. “Do you have the new mystery from Eliza Crane?”
I stepped out from behind the counter, my cardigan brushing against my knees. “Yes, it just came in yesterday.” I pulled a crisp copy from the shelf and held it out. “She’s at her best in this one—twists until the very last page.”
The woman’s eyes lit. “Perfect. I’ll take it.”
I rang her up, slipping the book into a paper bag and sliding it across the counter. She thanked me, the bell jingling again as she disappeared into the chilly morning.
When I turned back, Dean was watching me. Not intrusively—just that steady, observant way of his.
“You make it look easy,” he said.
“What, selling books?” I lifted my cold mug, wishing it held fresh tea.
“Making people feel like they belong here.”
The words caught me off guard. I cleared my throat, reaching for safer ground. “So… do you live in town?”
He hesitated, weighing what to share. “Yeah. Been here a few years. Work keeps me busy.”
There was something careful in the way he said it, not closed off but measured, like he wasn’t used to handing out pieces of himself.
From the back of the shop came the sound of Lana’slaughter, bright and unguarded. Dean’s eyes softened instantly, that storm-gray focus easing into something warmer.
The sight tugged something sharp and unexpected in my chest. I looked away quickly, fingers curling around my mug as if it still had any heat left to give.
“Coffee?” I asked, blurting it out before I could stop myself. “I keep a pot on for customers. Or tea, if you’d rather.”
He studied me again, those storm-colored eyes flicking to the mug in my hand, then back to my face. And when the corner of his mouth curved up, just slightly, it felt like the first spark catching in dry kindling.
“Coffee,” he said. “Black.”
I poured him a mug of coffee from the little pot behind the counter, the aroma filling the air, sharper than the spiced candles burning near the windows. He took it with a nod, his hand brushing mine just for a second. Heat shot up my arm, though his expression gave nothing away.
Before I could say anything else, Lana’s voice rang out.
“Miss? Could you help me?”
I followed the sound and found her in front of the middle shelf, staring at a stack of bright paperbacks with her arms folded like she was about to negotiate a serious deal.
“Of course.” I crouched down beside her. “What are you looking for?”
She shrugged, but her eyes shone. “I like stories that feel… big. Like adventures. Or when there’s magic, but also regular kids who just find themselves in the middle of something amazing.”
I smiled, because that was exactly the kind of reader I’d been at her age. “When I was your age, I loved The Secret Garden. It isn’t magic in the wand-and-spell kind of way, but the way the garden transforms feels magical all the same.”
Lana tilted her head, polite but not entirely sold.
“AndAnne of Green Gables,” I continued, pulling a copy down and brushing my thumb across the cover. “Anne’s a dreamer. Sometimes people think dreaming is a weakness, but she proves it’s her greatest strength.”
Her lips curved, though her eyes darted toward another shelf stacked with glossy covers. “Those sound good, but I’m kind of into stuff that’s… bigger. Worlds that feel endless. LikePercy Jackson. OrKeeper of the Lost Cities. Or those sci-fi adventures where kids end up in space stations fighting aliens.”
“Ah, you’re a galaxy-sized dreamer. That tracks.” I crouched lower, scanning the shelf with her. “In that case, have you readAmari and the Night Brothers? It’s got secret societies, magical gear, all kinds of danger.” I slid the book out and handed it to her. “Or, if you want something that leans more sci-fi,The Last Cuentista. It’s about carrying stories into the future when everything else is gone.”
