Page 41 of Booked for the Holidays
The bay windowat the front of the store is covered in spray paint, adding a frosty look to the glass. Snowflakes are etched onto the rest of the surface, trickling from the roof to the ground. A wreath made by Chandler sits on the front door, small books overlaid in the branches. Inside the shop, tall candles line the windowsill, fake flames flickering in the waning afternoon sun. It’s festive. Merry and bright. You can see the foundation of our theme as the store transforms.
I took a walk yesterday, interested to see what kind of designs the other participants were implementing. People, like I assumed, are going all-in on big ticket items. I found train sets looping around the floor of the flower shop. Outside the men’s warehouse store, there was a ten-foot tall inflatable Santa, towering over the roofline. Cove Jewelers’ window display had enough glitter and diamonds to rival the shops on New York’s 5thAvenue.
All the stores were beautiful. Elaborate and detailed, they caught your eye from a block away. The twinkling lights and flashing signs drew you in, wanting to see more. When I came back through the door of our place, I grinned. I might be biased, but the subtle scent of chocolate and balsam hitting my nose was sweet and savory rather than overpowering.
The Christmas music playing over the speakers was calm, a quiet background noise to tap your foot along to the beat instead of an ear-splitting concert dominating the room. We draped holiday blankets over the backs of the recliners, the slight dip in temperature encouraging shoppers out of the cooler air and into the store.
There’s no inflatable man out front greeting patrons and pedestrians, but we have a table for making your own gingerbread cookies, complete with sprinkles and chocolate candies for toppings. It’s been a hit with kids, parents thanking us profusely for giving them an activity to do while Mom and Dad browse the store.
Our space doesn’t look like it belongs in the pages of a holiday catalog or magazine. It’s more personable than staged or precise, an easy design one might do in their own home. It’s a soft hint of festiveness that brings less impressed gasps of surprise and more nostalgic smiles.
It’s exactly what we’re going for. Maybe it’s the wrong direction to take. Maybe we should add a touch more gaudiness to the garland sitting atop the large wall bookshelf. Maybe we also need a choreographed light show synced up with a string quartet one of the owners had said they were hiring for the judging. Our store feelsspecial, though, a continuation of ourselves. So we’re sticking with it.
My knees crack and creak as I lower myself from the loveseat I’ve occupied for the last hour to the floor. A string of white lights frame the window pane, making it look like it’s snowing, blending with the stenciled flurries.
It’s perfect.
“BB!”
Mac is charging through the doorway. A backpack is slung over her shoulder, and she heads toward me at full steam. Since Theo introduced us, she’s been in and out of the store five or six times. Whenever she stops by, she asks for new book recommendations, nodding along while I rattle off a list of ideas I think she might enjoy. She’ll jump onto a stool at the café counter, eating the piece of brownie I slide her way before hurrying back to the hardware store, wiping incriminating crumbs away from her mouth.
She’s a great kid. Smart, funny, and kind, she always offers to help me unbox new arrivals or asks questions about why I pick certain books for the featured displays. Her presence is never cumbersome and always welcomed. I look forward to spending time with her, even if it’s small quantities when Theo is running from place to place, his daughter hot on his heels. He’s been bringing her around more frequently, and I still can’t believe I went for so long without knowing she existed.
“Hey, kiddo. What’s up?”
“My dad is on his way over. He said something about a crisis–a delivery arrived ahead of schedule. He’s freaking out.”
“Uh oh. That doesn’t sound promising. Want to hang out with me until he gets here?”
Mac follows me to the café. Plopping onto a stool, she rummages through her backpack and pulls out a folder labeledMATH. “Normally I hang out with Grams and Gramps after school. Today Gramps is taking Grams to the doctor, so Dad had to pick me up.”
“Is everything okay with your grams?”
“Yeah. She’s fine. It’s a routine thing.”
“Glad to hear it. Are you hungry? Do you want a snack or some hot chocolate?”
“I’m starving,” she declares.
“Awesome. Are cookies before dinner allowed?”
“Definitely allowed.”
“Should I pretend to feed you hummus or something that’s way more nutritious and not tell your dad?”
“Tell me what?”
Theo’s voice travels from the door to the counter. He lumbers across the floor. His feet drag as he moves, haggard steps lagging behind their usual tempo. His hair is standing up on its ends. The closer he gets, the more details I can spot. There’s a bead of sweat rolling down his cheek, falling into the dip of his neck. One sleeve of his shirt is rolled up above the elbow. The other isn’t rolled at all.
“What the hell happened to you?” I ask. My eyes bounce to the smudge of dirt on his forehead. I notice the downward curve of his lips. The exhaustion radiating from him and how long it takes him to reach us at the counter. “Are you okay?”
Theo hangs his head. His hand snakes through his hair, attempting to tame it, and lets out an exasperated sigh. He’s admitting defeat, I think, in a battle I’m unfamiliar with. “Besides still feeling the aftermath of ice skating days later? No. Many things are going wrong, and I’m far from okay.”
I shuffle toward him. “What can I do to help?”
“I know this is a huge ask, and I hate to even bother you with it, but would you mind watching Mac for a bit? A couple hours, tops? A huge shipment came in and I don’t want her in the stockroom when there are nails everywhere. I forgot my parents are busy today and I wasn’t planning on spending the rest of my afternoon–”
“It’s not a problem,” I interrupt. “We can do some homework and decorate the first tree I brought in. It looks pathetic standing there without any lights.”
