Page 13 of Love Walked In
“I’m so sorry, Leo.”
I looked up at her. “What for? It happened long before you arrived.”
She said softly, “No, I’m saying that I feel for you. It sounds like things have been really tough for a long time, and you’ve been hurting. I’m sorry I made it worse.”
I felt my shoulders slump. She didn’t know the half of it. But still, letting Mari see some of my shame, and getting kindness in return? Despite the snow falling outside, I felt the smallest bit warmer.
“Mari, I’m sorry, too. I said such cruel things, and you didn’t deserve them in the slightest.”
“I kind of did, though,” she said with a sigh. “I was going about things the way I usually do. Which was dumb, because every bookstore is different, every bookstore owner is different. I needed to be in listening mode, not doing mode.”
“But you were in that mode because I’ve been moping around doing fuck all.”
“Can we say we’ve both been assholes and start over?” She reached out her hand. “Shake on it?”
I told myself that the rightness I felt was to do with having someone on my side in the middle of all the chaos. Not because of the softness of her skin, or the urge I felt to kiss her hand instead of shake it. “Yes. Let’s not be arseholes anymore,” I said, trying to joke the awkward feelings away.
She released me and I watched her pull down her mask to take a long sip of water. The truth climbed up my chest, and I let it out, unable to hide anymore. “Maybe if I can’t lead this place the way Alexander did, I should just give it up.”
She tilted her head. “Do you really want to quit? Without even giving it a shot?”
I straightened at her challenge. “No. But I don’t know how to be .”
After a moment of thought, she said, “I think you might know this already, somewhere deep down, but you don’t have to copy Alexander. You can be your own kind of leader, and I can help you change direction.” She looked me in the eye, determination in her gaze. “I want to help you, Leo.”
Her expression of faith—it was like a burst of light when I was fumbling around in the darkness. But I found myself asking, “Because you want to save the store?”
She studied me for a moment. “I mean, yes. I think the store can be great again, with some love and some ambition. But I also want to help because I’ve been where you are. I’ve been face down in the mud, lost and stuck, and Suzanne took the time to get me up and moving forward again.”
Gratitude and curiosity collided. It was a relief to hear that I was worthy of help, that I could hold out my uncertainty to her and she’d treat it respectfully, not dismiss it or try to coddle me.
But I also felt like Mari had finally let me into the entrance hall of her life, one that had furniture and carpets and a vase of flowers on the sideboard but that led to yet more locked-up rooms. The battered copy of Paddington with its inscription, the passing allusions to her stepfather, how adamant she was about being called Mari, not Marilyn: they were all hints at what lay beyond.
What were the keys that would unlock those doors?
Now Mari lay back and stared at the ceiling again. “We could try channeling the Muppets,” she mused.
I stared at her, bewildered. “Sorry?”
“Don’t apologize. I mean putting on a show, like when they tried to save the Muppet Theater.”
I laughed a little bit. “Please tell me I’m not Kermit in this scenario.”
“I don’t know,” she said teasingly. “I could see you with a ukulele, singing ‘It’s Not Easy Being Green.’”
I sat back in my love seat, not sure I wanted to play along. “Pity I can’t play any instruments at all and have a singing voice that makes dogs howl.”
She shook her head. “No singing, no dancing. You told me that this year is the hundredth anniversary of the store. Why not put on a festival? You guys must have so much goodwill from all the writers and readers who have come through here over the years. It’s a good moment to cash in any outstanding favors.
” She coughed, already sounding a bit less grim from the Lemsip.
“What kind of favors?” I asked.
She held up her hands. “Make a big list of every author who’s ever had a tie to Alexander, or to the shop.
Authors, editors, agents, other booksellers, even.
You had all those big names doing talks here, back in the day.
I’m sure you could convince the ones who are still alive to come support the store as it goes into a new era. ”
I couldn’t help my incredulous laugh. “See, you find it very easy to just accost someone and ask for things, but you need to remember that I’m British.”
She raised her eyebrows. “So what, you’re just going to hang around politely drowning because you’re scared of inconveniencing people?”
It was a very tidy summary, and I could hear how silly she found the whole concept. “Well, yes.”
She snorted. “Someone needs to explain to me how you all conquered and pillaged a quarter of the world’s surface, because I’m not seeing it right now.”
An appreciative smile grew on my face. For a split second, I felt like the fog around me had dissipated. She could see me, and I could see her. “Those weren’t my ancestors, but a good point all the same.”
After a moment, Mari said, “I’m not going to harp on this, because it’ll annoy you and bore me, but I’ll ask you just one thing.” She leaned forward and looked me hard in the eye. “If not now, when?”
The words echoed through me with a crystalline tone, a bell calling me. I had to answer it, had to see where it would lead. “I’ll talk to Judith. She came to parties here back in the day, she might still have information for some of those people.”
“Perfect,” Mari said, and for a fleeting moment, I agreed with her that it was.