Page 4 of The Library of Second Chances
“No sir, I won’t. I’m sorry,” the boy said as he glanced up at Lucy for a quick second before turning and walking back up the sidewalk, head bowed, skateboard tucked under his arm.
“Who knew the sidewalks of Heron Isle were so dangerous?” The man smiled wide, revealing what seemed like an endless string of gleaming white teeth.
Lucy hadn’t realized she’d dropped her bag in the chaos until the man reached down and scooped up the young adult book that had fallen out. He studied it as he handed over her purse.
“Advanced reader copy, huh? Are you an editor or book reviewer or something?”
She laughed nervously. “No. I own the bookstore right over there.” She pointed behind her. “Thank you,” she said quietly as he handed her the book.
“You’re welcome.” He tipped an imaginary cap. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”
Smiling and giving a little half wave, she turned just in time to avoid tripping over the curb, although she did manage to lose her slide-on sandal in the process. Shoving her foot back into it, she nearly darted across the street to get away from him, willing herself not to look back to see if he’d noticed. She had always been a tad on the klutzy side, but did she have to do it right in front of the most attractive man she’d ever seen in her life? She shook her head as she crossed into the park that bisected Main Street, pausing moments later when a crazy thought popped into her mind, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Slipping right out of her shoe. Wasn’t that what happened when Cinderella met her prince?
Two
Lucy
With a safe distance now between her and the green-eyed man, Lucy walked down the path that ran through the town square, the towering branches of live oaks that were more than one hundred years old creating a canopy that shaded her from the late-afternoon sun. Spanish moss dripped from the branches and danced in the breeze coming off the ocean at the end of the square.
Tourist season had begun, and the sidewalks were crawling with families, small children running ahead to get closer to the fountain in the middle of the town square. The park extended north and south from the fountain, creating more of a rectangle that ran nearly the length of Main Street. Despite its shape, everyone still referred to it as the town square. Townrectanglejust didn’t have the same ring to it.
Reaching down to pick up a piece of crumpled paper on the sidewalk, she saw just enough of the image on it to know it was one of the pro-development posters the last developer hadput up around town. Never mind that town ordinances didn’t allow them to be plastered on light poles. The developer had disregarded that rule just like they’d completely ignored the valid concerns the locals had expressed about the plans. Lucy balled up the paper in her fist and threw it in the next trash can she passed.
Lucy and some of her fellow business owners had been accused by those who’d presented previous plans of being anti-tourism because of their objections to the waterfront development, which was ridiculous given that they all depended on locals and tourists alike to stay in business. But that was what developers liked to do—pretend everything was black and white. Either the town wanted progress and supported tourism, or it wanted to remain stuck in the past.
The planning board had reviewed three plans submitted for the waterfront development meant to replace the docks and restaurant that currently sat at the north end of Main Street and add additional commercial space in new buildings on either side of the marina. Lucy, who had been nominated president of the Downtown Business Owners Council when she missed the annual meeting earlier in the year, had attended every town council meeting and combed over every plan. Not only were they all aesthetic nightmares, but they were also completely devoid of any concern for their impact on the environment or the people who lived and worked downtown. From building a seawall that would disrupt native fish and plant life to shutting down the thirty-year-old family restaurant that currently anchored the marina space, the development plans were all a disaster from start to finish. She was so glad they had all failed to get through.
The sight of the Little Free Library standing just north of the fountain eased the tension in Lucy’s shoulders as she approached it. She marveled once again at the perfect miniature replica of an old Victorian mansion that used to sit at the end ofMain Street. When Lucy first had the idea to add a Little Free Library to the town square, Bob had volunteered to construct it, and done a wonderful job, producing a dollhouse-size replica of the mansion on top of a post, like most Little Free Libraries were. With the town library then closing, however, it quickly became clear that dollhouse version wasn’t big enough to meet the demand. So Lucy and Bob got the proper town permits and constructed a small walk-in library. Shaped like a miniature Victorian house on the outside, the interior was a six-by-eight-feet room lined with shelves and just big enough for two or three people to enter at a time.
Lucy opened the door and was glad to see she was alone. A small ledge in the back was marked for people to leave their books so she, as the steward, could shelve them in the correct section. She’d tried to fit a used-book exchange into her bookstore, but people liked being able to use the Little Free Library at any time, day or night. She visited it almost daily to organize the new books.
She grabbed one of the index cards and a pencil from the wooden box on the ledge. Leaving the notes always reminded her of when Annie would walk her around the store, pulling books from the shelves and telling Lucy why she loved each one. Lucy never had enough allowance money to buy more than one book, but Annie often slipped a second one into her bag with a wink. She’d say,“Let this book take you away, and when you come back, you’ll be someone new.”
As a child, Lucy hadn’t really understood what she’d meant, but by the time she was a teenager she longed for the escape and tore through books so quickly that sometimes she’d take one back to the library the day after she’d borrowed it. Little Free Libraries had become popular around the country in the past several years, but Lucy liked the unique touch of leaving noteswith the books. It was her ode to Annie, her way of passing along the wisdom Annie had given her.
Lucy’s latest read about two best friends who grew apart in middle school, told in alternating viewpoints from each girl, was perfect for tweens inevitably going through all the awkwardness and adjustment of those middle-school years. Lucy penned her note and signed it Once a Teenage Girl.
Next, she pulled out the book she wanted to leave for her new reading friend. It was a little-known account of Zelda Fitzgerald she thought he might enjoy. She’d long since gotten rid of the copy she’d read, so she’d ordered this new one from her distributor. She didn’t want Gatsby’s Ghost to know that though. It felt a little weird to buy a book for a stranger. As she’d left notes in the margin for him the evening before, she’d flicked through the pages and cracked the spine to make it look used.
As she riffled through it now, one of the passages she’d underlined caught her eye.
“To reinvent oneself demands an embrace of metamorphosis, a wistful longing for a world in flux, rather than a self in constant alteration.”
The passage had spoken to her because she knew firsthand how difficult it was to reinvent yourself. Gatsby’s Ghost had marked something in a previous book about how failure can sometimes be so big it liberates a person to reclaim their individuality. She’d been trying to figure out what that meant for days now. It certainly wasn’t what failure had felt like to her. When she’d failed at publishing her novel, she’d just felt like a big fat failure.
Gatsby’s Ghost had her wondering what it would be like for failure to be liberating. How did that work exactly?
With a sigh, she closed the book she was leaving for him and set it on the ledge where he’d hopefully see his name on the sticky note she’d affixed to the front. She looked through the other books that had been left recently and put them in alphabetical order by the author’s last name on the appropriate shelves, which were labeled for a dozen or so categories such as Biographies/Memoirs, Romance/Women’s Fiction, Thrillers/Mysteries. A few titles caught her eye, and she stopped to read the notes before organizing them.
Imagine if every store in our town catered to the wedding industry and the whole island was dedicated solely to destination weddings. Wouldn’t that be dreamy? That’s what this book is all about!
Enjoy,
Wedding Bells Are Ringing
Lucy shook her head and smiled. Only Caroline Cassidy, the town’s resident wedding planner, would think an island that exists solely to make bridal dreams come true would be paradise.
The next book Lucy chose was a beach read. She loved all books and read across virtually every genre so she could make recommendations to her customers, but kicking back in an Adirondack chair on her back porch looking out at the ocean reading about summer romances was one of her favorite pastimes. Lucy pulled out the index card to read.
