Page 9 of Silver Linings

five

. . .

“Wait a minute.” Holly stares at me like I’ve sprouted three heads right before her eyes. “You’re telling me I was off work for a couple days … and now you own the store?”

Well, when she says it like that, I guess the decision to buy Brownstone Books did come out of nowhere.

“I expect my ’Sexiest Boss Ever’ mug to arrive within five to seven business days,” I say with a nonchalance the moment absolutely doesn’t call for.

“That’s a violation, and I’m calling HR.” There’s mirth in her gaze before she wipes it off her face and levels me with a no bullshit stare. “What’s going on? How did this happen?”

I understand her shock and hesitation. It’s exactly how I felt for days after I heard the words “I’ll buy it” come out of my mouth a week ago. Since then, I have felt apprehension, excitement, nausea, certainty, and a lot of fear.

I had my meeting with Pat a few days ago to crunch numbers, and it’s going to be really tight.

The money from my dad’s life insurance was substantial, but in the New York real estate market, it doesn’t go as far as one would think.

Pat bought the store back in the late seventies, when property was a lot more affordable, and because of that, she’s able to sell it to me for under current market value and still make a profit.

We also agreed I would make monthly payments to pay off the rest, but she insisted on far too small a sum, telling me to take the extra money and use it to turn the store into something I could be proud of.

I’m proud of it now, but there’s no denying it needs some updates.

“To be honest, I sort of…blacked out and offered to buy the store. I don’t know, Hols. It seems crazy, but it feels right. I can’t explain it.”

“Carmen has been freaking out, going on about how you must be affiliated with the mafia.”

“I think I’m going to start using that theory. That sounds much cooler than the ‘my dad died and I got a lot of money’ story I’ve been operating off of.” I finger the necklace settled around the base of my throat, the one I’ve worn every day for over twenty years.

“Oh,” she exhales. “You’ve never mentioned… I mean you never talk about your parents. I didn’t realize. I’m so sorry.” The pity in her gaze is one of the reasons I never brought it up.

Only Kena and Nan know my whole sordid past. It’s not something worth dwelling on or talking about, and I’m not going to start now. The day I lost my dad—and by proxy, my mom too, is a wound that’s still raw, even twenty years later.

Shaking myself out of my morose thoughts, I paste on a forced smile. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to make it all doom and gloom there,” I chuckle, but I can tell from Holly’s face that it sounds fake to her ears too.

Before she can try to pull me into her comforting embrace, I deflect.

“So, basically, I run this shit now, and we’re bringing in monster smut, updating everything from the look of the store to the inventory.

It’s too dark in here and too outdated. We need to liven this place up, start hosting events, and tailoring to more people. I want to build a community.”

“Monster smut?” She gives me a quizzical look.

“You know, aliens, gargoyles, dragons, krakens?—”

She cuts me off before I can continue. “What the hell can krakens do?”

I smirk. “What can’t they do is the better question. Multiple tentacles and unlimited sucky things, Hols. Think about it.”

She gives me a horrified look that morphs into intrigue the longer she thinks about it.

“So, will you stay with me now that I own this place?” I have a knot of anxiety in my chest that she might say no.

It’s not like working at a bookstore pays a premium salary.

I don’t want to assume that just because we’re friends, she’ll want to stay around as everything changes.

She has to look out for her own best interests, and the people around me do have a tendency to leave eventually anyway.

It’s for the best that I never get too attached or expect too much from anyone.

“If I stay—” she leaves the question open, and my anxiety expands like a balloon— “do I have to read the monster smut?”

The anxiety ebbs, and a smile stretches across my face. “It’s not required, but it is very much encouraged.”

“I’m in,” she says right before pulling me in for a tight hug. “This might be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.” She pulls away and surveys the shop. “Where do we start?”

I tell her about the plans I’ve been making in my head for the last week. “Clearly, this place needs a facelift.” She nods in agreement.

“It has its charm, but it could definitely use an overhaul if we want to compete with the big box bookstores in town.”

“Exactly. We still have some time while all the papers are finalized before I can start on anything that’s cosmetic, so I think the first thing we need to assess is our inventory.

We’ve been barely surviving on selling cult classics and new bestsellers, but we’re sitting on a lot of old inventory, things that have been in this shop longer than I have.

We need to clean up the stock and donate a lot to libraries, shelters, and schools. ”

She looks at me contemplatively. “I’ve gotta say, it’s pretty hot when you go into boss lady mode. So confident and assertive.”

“Stop it. I’m saving myself for your wife.” I laugh. “I’m going to pull reports of our inventory so we can go through and see what we can relocate to a new home. That way, we can clear space to bring in new titles and appeal to a wider demographic.”

Holly nods. “That’s where the monster books come in, I presume.”

I walk over to the computer system at the cash wrap and start punching in dates from the past two years, pulling reports, from our bestsellers to our slowest sellers.

“Amongst other things, yes.” As the list prints, I admit, “I’ve been diving into the numbers now that I have full access to them and,” I hesitate, “it’s pretty bad. Pat never said anything, but as a whole, the store was barely breaking even. It seems miraculous she only decided to sell now.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” I step out from behind the register. “We need to really expand our selection, bring in more genres, host events and mixers for authors and our community. We need to set ourselves apart.”

My mind is whirling a million miles a minute, and Holly doesn’t even have a moment to contribute before I’m rattling off more things and pacing the length of the store.

“Author signings, launch parties, trivia nights.” I stop my pacing and turn to Holly. “Are you getting this down?”

She jumps into action and murmurs what sounds like yes, master to the tune of Igor , but I don’t have a moment to entertain it before I’m on to the next thought.

“Monthly book clubs. Oh! It can be interactive. We’ll hold polls on Instagram for people to vote on the book for the next month.

Oh my God—A SINGLES MIXER!” My abrupt shout scares the bejesus out of Holly, but she nods and continues writing down everything I’m saying.

“What would be better than hosting a singles mixer for book lovers when ninety percent of this city is aggressively horny all the time?”

“It’s probably all the monster erotica,” she deadpans.

“Definitely a contributing factor for sure.”

Holly surveys the shop with her hands on her hips. “So, inventory first. What comes after?”

That is something I’ve been thinking about for days.

How exactly do I want to make this place look and feel?

Brownstone Books definitely has a rustic sort of charm to it, though some would describe it as dilapidated.

It definitely needs upgrades. About half of the shelves are in need of repair or total replacement, cracked or sagging in the middle.

The stairs leading to the top loft have been roped off and out of commission for years .

Those will need to be fixed so we can use the second floor again.

There’s a lot I want to do. I didn’t realize how many ideas I have been storing in my mind for what this place could become—what it would become.

“While we wait until I get everything finalized with Pat and the property lawyers, we’ll take care of all the excess titles. After that, I’ll start looking into DIY-ing versus hiring a contractor.”

“You’re thinking of doing this on your own?” Skepticism is clear in her tone.

“If the cost of a contractor is out of budget, yes.”

“I really don’t think you should attempt this alone without some sort of…supervision.”

“I cannot believe what I’m hearing. What kind of feminist are you? Women didn’t endure the suffrage movement for me to hire a man to do what I can do myself,” I scoff in mock outrage.

“You are one hundred percent going to break something.”

“Yeah, probably, but emergency room visits are all a part of the adventure!”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m telling Makena.”

“Go ahead. I’m not scared of him.” I absolutely am.

“You absolutely are.”

“Don’t be a narc. I’ll tell him myself; he’s going to ask when I get his advice on styling for the store anyway.”

She chuckles. “Good, because you need adult supervision for this.”

I level her with a stare that conveys I am not amused as I walk back around the cash wrap and grab the report I printed. I split them in the middle of the stack, handing half the pages to Holly.

“Help me go through these so we can figure out what we should and should not donate.”

We work in companionable silence, only the sounds of Folklore floating from the speakers of the store. We start by referencing the list and grabbing the books off shelves or out of the stockroom when my phone pings with a text notification.

Unknown

It’s Hendrix the maintenance tech. Will you be home tomorrow for me to start repairs on your ceiling?

Flutters erupt in my stomach. That’s…new.