Page 62 of A Novel Summer
She agreed to go to the restaurant. He headed for the bookshop.
Forty-Four
Shelby considered texting Justin not to come, that she had it under control. It was utterly irrational, but she didn’t want to deal with the awkwardness of being around him. She didn’t know why she’d had confused feelings the night at the fireworks, and she didn’t want to risk experiencing them again. But before she could contact him, Colleen called.
“Please tell me the shop is fine,” Colleen said, her voice catching in her throat. Shelby looked around at the water pooling on the floor, the books piled onto every elevated surface.
“Don’t stress,” Shelby said. “I’ve got it under control.”
She owed it to Colleen to do her best to save the store. She needed Justin’s help.
When he arrived, a burst of thick, humid air and more water washed in with him. He was soaked, his blue all-weather jacket and a baseball cap useless against the torrent of water. His dark eyes were shining, and she could tell he was adrenalized. It gave her a renewed surge of energy and determination.
“Thanks so much for coming,” she said.
“No problem. So what’s the game plan?” he said, looking around.
“I’m just trying to get the books from the windows and the lower shelves to the tables.”
He walked a loop around the store. When he finished, he asked, “Would you say the water level is rising since you first got here or holding steady?”
She looked down at her submerged ankles. “About the same. Do you think we’ll lose electricity?” she asked.
“No way to tell.” He turned his attention to the new-fiction section left of the entrance and ran his hand along the shelving. “But I have some bad news for you. There’s water leaking from this wall, so it’s not just the bottom shelves we have to worry about.”
Justin walked another loop around the store while she pulled novels from the compromised wall. They were already wet. She felt a surge of frustration, and felt like a failure, like somehow this was her fault. The thought of telling Colleen how bad it was made her move more quickly, piling the damp books on top of dry ones, knowing that she was making things worse but afraid to stand still, unwilling to accept defeat.
With a crack of thunder, the lights flickered off and then on again. Outside, something heavy crashed up against the door, pushed there by water.
“Shelby,” Justin said, appearing next to her. “It’s not safe in here. We have to go.”
She hesitated. “Maybe we can just—”
He shook his head impatiently. “You have to know when to cut your losses.”
Of course. Hadn’t she always? Letting go. Moving on. It was her specialty. Still, she hesitated. Seconds ticked by and the moment felt increasingly surreal, like the world outside the front door had disappeared and it was just the two of them. Dreamlike. Justin took a step towards her. The air felt charged, and the humidity and stress left her short of breath. Or maybe she was holding her breath. He put his hands on her shoulders, looking her in the eyes.
“Come on. Let’s go.”
Every cell in her body defied logic and instead urged her to stay. And she realized it wasn’t about the books, or the store. It was about him.
The lights flickered again, then died.
That was it. They were out of time.
Forty-Five
Shelby woke up in Hunter’s sun-filled guest room.
Last night, realizing she couldn’t stay in the apartment above the store, she’d reluctantly called Hunter. Her only alternative was to sleep at Colleen’s, and she didn’t want to face the conversations about the storm damage. She needed some rest, a full reset, before she dealt with that dose of hard reality.
Hunter had been surprisingly welcoming. Before Shelby could even tell her the full story Hunter insisted she stay over. Buildings east of Commercial had been spared the worst of the storm.
When she was settled in the guest room, Hunter joined her for a chat, curling up in the walnut armchair and wrapping herself in a chenille blanket.
“I’m sure the Millers have insurance,” Hunter said, seeing how worked up she was about the whole thing and trying to make her feel better. While there was nothing she could say to convince Shelby the storm wasn’t a total disaster, she appreciated the effort.
Maybe their contentious conversation at the baby shower—as painful as it had been at the time—helped clear the air. Maybe Hunter had just needed to get some things off her chest. It was impossible to know for sure. But something had changed. Something for the better.
