Page 9 of The Midnight Book Club
“I don’t know about that,” Aurelia said, rubbing at a muscle in her neck that was still sore from last night’s cramped sleeping position.
“No, you’ve got to give yourself credit,” Mark scolded, though not unkindly.“Taking on the shop all on your own… I know Marigold would have been so impressed.She was lucky—she had her aunt to lean on for help when she first started.”
“Mmm… I’m trying, anyway,” she said with a half-hearted laugh.
“This place is very special to me—to a lot of people.”Mark stooped to catch her eye and then nodded.“It means a great deal to us, knowing it’ll always be here.”
After Marigold’s death, Mark had stopped visiting the shop, leaving Aurelia to worry over him.A few weeks after the funeral, however, he appeared on a Monday morning, just after Aurelia had opened for the day.They didn’t exchange a word; she just walked over and threw her arms around him.They’d shared a long hug that both of them needed, then she made him tea and let him wander.After that, he’d made it a habit to stop by on Monday mornings and Aurelia always looked forward to seeing him.
“I’ve spent so many happy hours here,” he continued.
“Lately it feels a bit… like a place to clock in each day,” Aurelia said quietly.
“I’d hate to think that were true.”
Aurelia saw the concern in Mark’s face and felt guilty for not sharing his enthusiasm.
“I think I’m still just settling in, getting used to running it myself,” she said, repeating what had become her now-constant refrain.
“You’ve got to find a way to put your own stamp on the place,” Mark said knowingly.“This carpet, those curtains—that was all Marigold.And she was very particular about the books she set out on the table,” he added, nodding to the Recommended Reads table.
“I keep meaning to rearrange those,” Aurelia admitted with a frown.
“Well, I’m going to need a new recommendation one of these days,” Mark said kindly.“When you’re ready.”
8
Duringalullthatafternoon, Aurelia stood in front of the Recommended Reads table.Marigold used to swap out the table’s display of books once a month, but Aurelia hadn’t changed them since her aunt died.It had been three months of keeping the status quo for Aurelia’s own sake, but maybe Mark was right and it was time to think about the shop’s customers instead of herself.
Marigold had a ‘system’ for picking books for the table.She’d told Aurelia that she chose the books based on whether she thought the characters would get along.Keeping in mind that system, Aurelia wandered the shelves to make her selections.Family lore was unclear on exactly when or why it had happened, but the shop only carried novels written by authors born before 1900 and books about those novels and authors.Her aunt had sometimes dabbled in rare books and first editions, but even those were by the authors she carried in stock.Aurelia had come to love the shop’s limited inventory and had lots of favorites, but the table’s small size meant she would have to be choosy.
Anna Kareninawas an obvious choice as it was Aurelia’s favorite book.The first time she’d read it was the summer after her first year at university.Reading that book, she could almost feel the flakes of snow against her cheek as Anna said goodnight to Count Vronsky in St.Petersburg; she could feel the sun beating down as Levin sowed clover at his country estate; and, most of all, she remembered feeling the heartbreak of Anna’s doomed romance with Vronsky.
Her mother had seen Aurelia reading the novel that summer and admitted that she’d never read it herself.She then bought her own copy from Marigold so they could read it together.Each week, one of them would read ahead before the other eventually caught up, but they both finished the book on the same day in August.They were forlorn that day, sitting outside in the shade in an unsuccessful attempt to escape the stifling heat, their hearts still in Russia with Vronsky as he mourned Anna’s death.Aurelia remembered her mother had shivered as though there were a chill in the air as she said, ‘You never get over a love like that.A love that powerful is written across the heart in indelible ink.’Looking at the book now, Aurelia put her hand to her own heart and tried to ignore the prickle of tears in her eyes.The truth in her mother’s words seemed just as applicable to the pain Aurelia had experienced over the past year.
She gathered a few copies and put them on the table.
Antonia had just reminded her of their mother’s favorite book,Little Women, and that was Aurelia’s next pick.Their mother had read it to them when they were in primary school; each night they had burrowed onto the sofa together, ready for a new chapter in the adventures of the March sisters.With her natural bent toward writing, Aurelia felt her heart swell with pride when her mother said that she reminded her of the second-oldest sister, Jo.Aurelia had started calling Antonia ‘Meg,’ her mother ‘Marmee,’ and her father ‘Papa,’ driving the family to finally ban the book for a solid year.It was only with Aurelia’s solemn promise not to try to live out the story that her mother agreed to read it to them again.
An armful of copies went on the table.
Sense and Sensibilitywas a must.Aurelia had been in secondary school when she first read it.She’d been assignedEmmain her English class and her mother, seeing the book amongst Aurelia’s school things, had complained that her favorite Austen novel,Sense and Sensibility, was often overlooked.Aurelia had fished out her mother’s copy from the family bookshelves and read it over a bank holiday weekend, succumbing to the lure of Elinor and Marianne Dashwood and the sisters’ triumphs and woes.
On the table it went.
There was room for one more title.Aurelia looked at the spot where her next selection would go, which was now occupied by two copies of one of her aunt’s last selections:The Moonstone.It had been her aunt’s favorite book, and it had frequently made an appearance on the Recommended Reads table.Aurelia hadn’t read it until Marigold, shocked to learn this, sent her home with a copy and refused to let her return to work until she’d finished it.Aurelia liked it, though she had to admit it wasn’t a favorite, even with its quirky old detective, Sergeant Cuff.She didn’t know what the allure was for her aunt and, much to her regret, she’d never asked what her aunt liked most about it.Aurelia hesitated before deciding that maybe she’d made enough changes for one day, and she leftThe Moonstoneon the table.
After arranging the books just so, she stepped back and surveyed her work.She smiled, knowing Mark would be happy to see she’d taken his advice.Glancing up at the mantel clock, she saw it was a quarter to five.It occurred to her that she might go upstairs to make her mark on the flat too, and she started toward the shop door to close a few minutes early.But as she turned the lock, she remembered standing in that same spot hours earlier when she’d gotten the call from David.
“Oh no!”
She’d forgotten about his call, the random date he’d planned for her, and her own plan to call him back and refuse to go.She barely had her head on straight these days—how was she supposed to pretend to be normal on a date?She’d probably break down in tears, driving another man away with her ‘too much’-ness.
Phone in hand, she paced in front of the shop windows as she waited for David to answer.
“Need help picking an outfit?”was his greeting.
“No—no, I don’t because I’m not going.You’ve got to cancel.”
