Page 15 of The Sandy Page Bookshop

“She said she was looking for heart. That you were a sign.”

“Whatever. I think she was just being nice.”

“Or crazy.”

“Or that,” Lucy admitted. They pulled their bikes to a stop at the sign and paused to catch their breath. “I don’t know. She seemed nice. And it’s a bookstore .”

Both of them loved bookstores and were used to having to drive all the way to Hyannis for the Barnes & Noble. Now they’d have one in their own town.

“I just hope she actually opens,” Lucy said, realizing that she really wanted this job.

The interview, if it could even be called that, had consisted of Lucy and Reya being invited inside.

The first thing that happened after introductions was Leah inviting them inside and shouting for someone named Brad.

“You’ll have to excuse Leah,” Brad said, rolling his eyes sympathetically.

“She’s been looking for two things to make this store happen.

Hands.” Here he pointed to a good-looking guy walking by in construction attire.

“And heart. Which, kiddo, seems to be you.”

“Lucy, do you live in Chatham?” Leah had asked.

When Lucy told her she’d grown up there, Leah seemed overjoyed. “I grew up here, too. So you know this old captain’s house has been around a long time.”

Lucy couldn’t say she remembered the old house as anything other than an eyesore. “It’s always been empty,” she said, trying to be polite.

“Exactly. Which is why we are bringing it back to life. Follow me.” Lucy wondered at the word we , but Reya was as entranced as she was nosy, so she followed Leah like a puppy, leaving Lucy no choice but to do the same.

While the back of the first floor was divided into tiny old rooms, the front was completely open. And huge. And for the first time, Lucy believed it was actually going to be a bookstore.

The floors were brightly polished. Old schoolhouse lanterns cast a dreamy glow overhead.

Even with the paper covering the windows, sunlight slipped in over the tops highlighting row after row of tall wooden bookshelves.

The source of the machinelike sound turned out to be a drill that the so-called hands of the operation was using to affix the last of a series of floor-to-ceiling shelves.

The front shelves, nearest to the store’s front door, were already lined with books.

A pedestal table set up at the entrance held an array of new releases.

An old-fashioned school desk boasted stacks of beach reads.

Right in front of the double wooden doors, the floor was a mosaic of blue-and-white checkered tile.

“That’s a remnant from the fifties, when it used to be a general store,” Leah said proudly.

She pointed to a beautiful wooden mantel over the fireplace Lucy hadn’t noticed.

“And that was added when it returned to an inn.”

“And now it’s a bookstore,” Reya said. Leah looked at her like she could hug her.

“That’s the plan.” She turned to Lucy. “I assume you’re a book lover?”

Lucy was busy walking between the small tables of books, each one a different color and style, adding to the mismatched magic. She stopped at a table of classics and ran her finger along the spine of a leather-bound Anne of Green Gables and swallowed.

“She lives for books,” Reya said breezily, and Lucy threw her friend a warning look.

“I read a lot,” she told Leah.

“Excellent. We could use someone to help with YA literature recommendations.”

Lucy didn’t know why, but suddenly she couldn’t speak. Standing in that sun-spilled room teeming with freshly unboxed books was too much. It was a world away from the strained quiet and pulled shades of Bay Street.

“Are you okay?” Leah asked. She was intuitive and pretty. Lucy would have to keep her guard up. In that moment, she decided that if Leah hired her, she didn’t want to bring Bay Street with her here.

“Yes, I’m just happy I stopped here,” she admitted. It was the truth. She could not recall the last time she felt happy about anything.

“Well, I’m happy you did, too.” Leah put her hands on her hips. “We open this weekend. Think you can handle a cash register?”

Now, as they pedaled single file along the tourist-clogged stretch of Shore Road, Lucy felt her chest open up.

At the crest by the Chatham Bars Inn, they swung left and zigzagged their way through the neat grid of streets, down Seaview and onto Old Harbor Road, the large summer cottages with sprawling yards and ocean views giving way to slightly less grand houses as they moved away from the shoreline.

They coasted by the old elementary school playground and the Chatham Fire & Rescue Department and down Tip Cart Drive where the houses were snug, the yards mere postage stamps.

These were local neighborhoods, the homes separated by the occasional boat marina or bike rental outfit.

The Cape Cod Rail Trail snaked throughout, a scenic bike path surrounded by wetlands, parks, and fields.

“Want to come over?” Lucy shouted over her shoulder. Reya’s house was only a couple streets away from her own.

“You sure your parents won’t mind?”

After the initial onslaught of casseroles and get-well bouquets, it seemed everyone was giving the Hart family a wide berth. “They’ll be fine,” Lucy said.

Spirits buoyed by her new job, Lucy was excited to share the news with her parents.

They were almost home when they approached Parsons’s Garage.

How could she have forgotten? Since the accident, she’d gone out of her way to take side streets to avoid it.

Lucy slowed, a pit of dread filling her stomach.

Jep Parsons’s father was a mechanic, and the auto repair shop had been in the family forever.

Lucy knew that Jep worked there. That was common knowledge.

What was not common knowledge was that Jep’s father, as a graduation present to his son, had gifted him part of the business.

Ella had slipped into Lucy’s room one night after graduation.

“Can you believe it? Jep is half owner now!” For a girl going to Tufts in the fall, she was not at all put off by the fact that her secret boyfriend was not college bound himself. She was happy for Jep.

Now, without realizing it, Lucy stopped her bike along the roadside abruptly.

“Whoa, what’re you doing?” Reya cried out, narrowly avoiding crashing into Lucy and skidding past her to a halt. “Some warning would be nice.” But when Reya looked up at the garage, she understood.

Lucy stared at the gray shingled building, the two open bays where cars were up on lifts. Through the office window someone was talking to a client, but it wasn’t Jep.

“What’re we doing here, Lucy?” Reya whispered.

But Lucy couldn’t answer. Her eyes had traveled to the side of the shop, where a bunch of cars were lined up.

At the end of the row, tucked neatly against the wall of the building, was a vehicle nearly covered in a dark green tarp.

The red nose of the car peeked out from beneath the edge of the tarp, the chrome Mustang motif sparkling in the afternoon sun.

Lucy sucked in her breath, her hands shaking on the handlebars.

“Shit,” Reya said under her breath. “Is that the car?”

There was a clang of metal on pavement. Jep Parsons emerged from one of the garage bays, and bent to scoop up a spanner that he’d dropped. When he stood, his eyes landed on the girls.

“Let’s get out of here,” Lucy said, jerking her bike back toward the road.

“He’s coming over…” Reya began, but Lucy was already pedaling off as fast as her legs would pump.

She didn’t stop until she sailed into her driveway, her quads like lead and her lungs on fire.