Page 3 of Silver Linings

two

. . .

I’m elbows deep in our newest shipment, prepping it to go on shelves by logging the UPC numbers, inputting the quantity on hand, and actively trying not to go cross-eyed from the mind numbing task.

I love my job, and I’m distinctly aware a lot of people can’t say that.

The first time I walked into Brownstone Books as a freshman in college, an unenthusiastic Kena in tow, I knew in my bones that I wanted to work here.

I walked right up to Pat, not knowing she was the owner, and asked to interview.

I needed a job, and as it turned out, she needed a part timer.

It was the closest I’ve come to love at first sight.

I didn’t even have to regale Pat with my extensive knowledge of books.

She claimed she had a feeling about me, and she always followed her gut.

I guess she was right, since I’ve worked here for the better part of a decade.

With Holly gone for the day, I’m left logging the new releases into the system on my own when our part-timer, Carmen, comes out from the stockroom, caramel curls bouncing with each step.

“Okay, I organized the romance backstock by sub-genre so it’s easier for all of us to find things.

We have—” she pauses and takes a deep breath, counting them off on her fingers, “—rom-coms, rom- sads , mafia romance, regency romance, and last but not least, highlander romance.” I’m about to comment something along the lines of, is that all , when she pipes up again.

“Oh, and they are all organized alphabetically by author, and labeled with stickers for easy visibility. I’ll tackle thrillers tomorrow. ”

“You’re honestly terrifying sometimes.”

“You know label makers are like aphrodisiacs to me.”

Carmen joined our team last year after she moved from Arizona to attend Columbia. She is currently pre-law and terrifyingly smart. Plus, her compulsive need to organize everything here works to my benefit, so I don’t complain.

“We need more variety,” she continues, unable to sit in silence for too long.

“What do you mean?”

“The store… It needs more variety. The way it stands now, it’s kind of a dinosaur.

Oh, don’t give me that face.” She must read my expression, but she perseveres.

“I love this place. You know this is like the family I never had. That’s why I care so much, and I know you do too.

Silver, this place has been a part of you for so long, but it needs a facelift and a better business model that will bring in customers.

I’ve heard you and Holly talk about it before. You need to talk to Pat.”

I look around the store, the place I’ve called my second home for a decade.

Ten years ago, it used to be charming and worn in. Now, though…even I admit, it’s looking a little ramshackle. It could use a good clean out, fresh fixtures, and a good coat of paint. At a minimum .

She was right, I have thought about it, but I never wanted to rock the boat.

If Pat was happy with her shop, who was I to suggest changes?

But the fact that Carmen is noticing our slowdown in business is alarming.

Maybe she’s right, and this is the wake up call we need to do something, fix the place up a little and curate a collection of books that will sell, not just a few obvious bestsellers while the rest collect dust.

“You’re right. I’ll talk to Holly and get a game plan together for the next time Pat is in. We can talk to her about it together with ideas already in place. You know how particular she can be.” I take a sip of my cold brew resting on the counter.

“Monster smut!” Carmen shouts, jumping up and down and clapping her hands.

“Uh—” I’m not even sure what to say, but she doesn’t give me the chance before launching into her bid for horny monsters.

“Don’t knock it till you try it, Silver.

I know you’re a freak .” She wiggles her eyebrows.

“It’s really taken off on TikTok the past couple years, and there are so many good monster romance books out now.

Plus, I know you like those fantasy books, the ones where the men have wings.

This isn’t really that far off. I have so many recommendations for you already.

There’s a particularly delicious one, a mashup of an Indiana Jones-type quest with shapeshifters. ” She beams at me.

Admittedly, that does pique my curiosity quite a bit.

“I’m not sure monster romance is the way to get Pat on board, but let’s start a list of potential genres we’re missing out on. I know we can use more fantasy romance and more thrillers from this decade. Oh! Hockey!” I exclaim.

“Hockey?” Carmen parrots.

I groan just thinking about it. “God, yes. Hockey romances are the pinnacle of a wet dream.”

“Don’t hockey players have missing teeth?”

“Not the fictional ones.” I sigh dreamily. “The men are beefcake sex gods who dominate on the ice and in bed.” Now it’s my turn to waggle my eyebrows.

“I don’t like sports, but I’m titillated enough to ask for a recommendation.”

A smile stretches across my face. “I’m actually getting really excited by this.”

“Well yeah, beefcake sex gods get my engines going too, but we’re at work, so…”

“No, not that—well yes, always that—but I meant the idea of fixing this place up and curating our stock.” But the more I thought about it, the more nervous I got that Pat would think me foolish and say no.

Carmen pulls out a piece of printer paper, and we start taking notes on anything and everything we can think of—updates to be made to the shop, genres we’re missing, things we could house by the cash wrap for easy add-ons. The list grows longer and longer the more we volley ideas back and forth.

A feeling of purpose swells in my chest. It’s a feeling I haven’t felt in a while—maybe ever. I can’t actually remember the last time I had a goal to focus on. Have I been going through life so aimlessly for that long?

Something about that thought doesn’t sit right with me, but I shove it to the back of my mind and refocus on the list at hand.

The day progresses in an endless stream of tourists coming in, looking around, and buying nothing before leaving, interspersed with a couple regulars popping in to see what’s new on the shelves.

I’m setting aside a couple books someone called to put on hold when a particularly disgruntled man comes up to the counter, looking visibly put out.

“Hi. Can I help you?” I try to imbue my voice with cheeriness, even though judging by the scowl settled over his mouth, that same respect is not about to be reciprocated.

“I want to return this book.” He slams it down on the counter, shoving it towards me.

I glance down at the book that has clearly been read cover to cover, because the spine is cracked in multiple spots, the corners are bent, and I can vaguely see—yeah, those are coffee rings on the cover.

I shove the book back towards him and give him a simple “No” with the same cheery smile I know men love .

He scoffs. “Get your manager, girl I want to speak with him.”

“Sure thing.” I imbue my voice with false saccharine sweetness and do a slow one-eighty, turning to a stop with a flourish. “Brownstone Books manager at your service, sir.” I tip an invisible hat to him. “Now that the formality is over, the answer is still no.”

He huffs. “You clearly don’t understand. This book was terrible . It was predictable, derivative, and a complete waste of my money.” His fists are balled now, and he bangs them on the counter, thinking if he gets angry enough, I’ll cave to his whims out of fear.

“I actually do understand that you didn’t enjoy this book.

” I lean forward, as if I’m about to share a secret with him.

“Believe it or not, I’ve been known to crack a book open from time to time, and while I am sorry you were disappointed in the plot, that isn’t an acceptable reason for return.

” I’m trying to be respectful, but I’m reaching the end of my patience.

From the corner of my eye, I can see Carmen standing next to a shelf of thrillers, ready to throw hands if needed. I stop her with my right hand, gesturing for her to stand down for now.

“This is unacceptable!” Spit flies out of his mouth, and I step back from the splash zone.

He looks me over from head to toe, taking in my pale blonde hair and pale yellow sundress.

It’s about to get ugly. “What kind of establishment would hire you to run this place? You look like a vapid airhead who doesn’t know how to balance a checkbook. ”

There it is, the thing men do when they realize they can’t bulldoze a woman into giving them what they want. They attack their looks. Unfortunately for my new friend here, Nan raised me with a healthy dose of self-confidence and I’m not easily cowed.

Her steady voice floats through my mind now, strong and sure.

There are people in this life, buttercup, who are going to try to dull your shine. They will do whatever they can to shred your self-worth and your identity, especially if you’re unapologetic about it. That’s a reflection on them, not on you. Shine bright for all to see.

With her words ringing in my memory, I turn my focus back onto this man. I’ve hit my limit.

“What a weird insult. No one knows how to balance a checkbook. It’s an antiquated way to budget, you fossil.

” I hear a snort from the corner of the room where Carmen lurks.

“I don’t know who pissed in your oatmeal this morning, but what we aren’t going to do here is continue arguing.

It’s embarrassing for you and annoying for me.

I will not be returning your money because you read the book front to back, which is apparent by the copious amount of visible damage.

Check your receipt for the return policy if you don’t believe me. ”

He tries to interrupt me, but I’m on a roll and can’t be stopped at this point.