Page 38 of The Sandy Page Bookshop

Eudora

What was it about a group of women gathering together, with nothing between them but a few balls of wool and knitting needles? As she and Alfred walked to the Sandy Page Monday morning, Eudora couldn’t help but wonder at the magic of it.

The first lesson she’d taught had turned into a second, and then a third.

Admittedly, the group had whittled, but there were now six solid regulars.

Most of the women present already knew as much, if not more (looking at you, Carol!) than Eudora, but that was beside the point.

The two beginners, a young mother looking for a small haven from her newborn’s nursing schedule, and Lucy, who joined when she could, gave Eudora conviction to continue teaching.

In truth, it was a social clutch where Eudora suddenly found herself thrust into making conversations, airing grievances, exchanging recipes, and for a few brave if ill-advised moments, talking politics.

Really, Eudora was not teaching anyone anything.

She was learning to connect, to feel alive. It felt good to feel alive, again.

It was also nice to have Alfred in attendance.

That said, he was not as compelled to engage.

Alfred, in all his wisdom and disinterestedness, staked out a hiding spot near Eudora’s feet beneath the little red table where Leah left a pitcher of iced tea for the group.

Whenever someone served themselves the table vibrated softly with growling noises. Still, all were welcome.

As invigorating as Eudora found the Sandy Page studio, there was trouble afoot in the storefront.

She felt it in her guidance counseling bones the moment she walked through the door that morning, a vibrato emanating from Leah’s office and extending to Brad at the register.

Lucy had not yet arrived, which was a good thing.

Eudora wanted to speak to Leah about the Hart family’s tragedy.

Poor Lucy was going through a lot and somehow holding it all together.

One thing Eudora knew from her career: no one could hold it in forever.

First, though, she’d deal with Brad. The read she was getting on him that morning was troubling.

“How did the Paint and Sip go?” she asked. Eudora had hoped to attend, but she was still pacing herself. Despite the joy of the knitting group, she needed a recovery day in between.

“Fine,” Brad said, dully. Was he being sarcastic? When he did not elaborate, Eudora pulled up a chair. The store was quiet, and she had an hour until her group arrived.

“I wish I had been able to come. What kind of turnout did you get?”

Brad looked at Eudora over the screen of his laptop.

When he realized she wasn’t going anywhere, he closed it.

“I don’t know. Maybe twenty-five people?

” Brad was a numbers guy; he was also a stickler for accuracy.

She waited while he checked the sign-up slip on the clipboard by the register. “I stand corrected. Twenty-eight.”

“That’s a robust group! Did your grandmother join, too?” Brad’s grandmother, Maria, came in twice weekly with her pastries. He’d mentioned bringing her along.

“She came,” Brad said, his face clouding. Brad glanced back at Leah’s half-open office door and lowered his voice. “And then Ethan did, too.”

“I see.” Eudora knew Brad was gay. Through various conversations, she’d surmised that his grandmother did not. “Did they meet?”

“God, no. Thankfully it was a big group. But she saw us talking throughout the evening, and she recognized him from one of her pastry drop-offs. On the ride home she had a lot of questions.”

Eudora’s heart heaved. She wanted to reach across the counter and give Brad a hug.

“That must weigh heavily on you, having someone new in your life that feels so special, and not being able to share it.”

“I’ve thought about telling her, but each time I come back to what my parents say: Why cause division in the family?”

Eudora wanted to say that it sounded like it already had; here was poor Brad suffering silently, keeping an important part of himself in the dark. Instead she got him a cup of coffee and added a little extra sugar. “Families are complicated. I don’t have answers, but I’m always here to listen.”

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Brad said, already brushing his feelings aside and opening the laptop. “As it is, Ethan’s vacation is over. He’s leaving tonight, so it won’t be an issue anymore.”

“Ethan leaves tonight?” Leah joined them, holding a thick binder that she dropped on the register counter with a loud thunk. “You guys are still going to see each other though, right?”

“Yes, yes,” Brad said, rolling his eyes. “He’ll be back or I’ll go there; we’re still figuring it out.” That part made him smile, Eudora was heartened to see. “What is all this?” he asked warily, eyeing her overstuffed binder.

“Ideas.” Was Eudora imagining it, or did Leah also look about as wrung out as Brad? There were deep circles under her eyes. “I haven’t been sleeping much, so I’ve been going over ideas for the shop space.” She opened the binder and spun it around for them to see.

“Here we go,” Brad said, meeting Eudora’s eyes.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” Eudora asked. She was perhaps overstepping, but Leah had offered it up.

“Business stuff,” Leah said, without elaborating.

Eudora didn’t believe her. When she’d seen Leah on Friday, she was leaving to get ready for her high school reunion and sounding half-hearted about attending. Maybe it had been a bigger event than she’d been prepared for. “How was your reunion at the Wequassett?”

Leah made a face. “It was fine.”

Her second fine of the day. Clearly it had not been, but luckily Brad swooped in. “What did you wear? Did Luke go? Any cute high school crushes show up?” Like Eudora, Brad sensed something there. Unlike Eudora, he was not afraid to pry.

Leah was having none of it. “A boring sheath dress, yes, and no.”

“That’s it?” Brad had hoped for more.

“I reconnected with my friend Marcy.”

“Marcy?” Brad’s nose wrinkled. “You’ve never mentioned a Marcy. I want to hear more about Luke.”

“Actually,” Leah said, redirecting their attention to the binder, “my latest idea involves him. Eudora, I could use your help, too. What do you both think of carving out a café area here in the shop?”

By the time Leah had finished explaining her vision, Eudora felt she might need a nap. The girl had so many ideas. This time she got herself a cup of coffee. “I think it all sounds very interesting,” she said.

Brad was more skeptical. “You want to open a café and serve food in a bookstore? Why don’t we just invite that crazy old man to come back with his tomatoes?”

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Willet is the one who gave me the idea.”

“I don’t cook,” Brad said, holding up a hand like a stop sign. “I drew the line at kids, but I need to add cooking to the no list.”

“Relax. We could sell coffee, like we already do, but on a larger scale: I’m thinking lattes, iced drinks, that kind of thing.

And a few pastries, like your grandmother makes.

If that goes well, we could add a simple sandwich or soup of the day.

Imagine Willet’s heirloom tomatoes for a specialty grilled paninis!

” Leah looked between them. “I know you think I’m crazy, but I’d keep it small and only sell things locally sourced.

And let’s not forget, this place used to be a general store.

We’d be bringing back that chapter of the house’s history. ”

Eudora was getting hungry just listening.

And nostalgic. How many times had Milton told her about the penny candy and ice cream he used to buy here?

She loved that Leah was honoring all of the captain’s house history and its many lives.

A café was a lot to take on, but Leah had a point.

Look at the big chain bookstores: they had cafés that drew in business.

If she kept it small with a local flair, it could be brilliant. She voted yes.

By then Lucy had arrived. She, too, voted yes. “People like to eat,” she said matter-of-factly. Brad was the lone holdout.

“We’ve talked about this, Leah.” Eudora could see him putting on his financial advising cap. She couldn’t blame him. “Grow the business slowly and organically, like a garden. You’re basically dumping in genetically modified fertilizer and lighting it on fire.”

“That would smell pretty bad,” Lucy said.

As predicted, Leah remained stalwart. “We’ve got a big empty kitchen with a window that opens into the studio space. The house is practically crying out for it. I’m just listening.”

“You do realize how that sounds, I hope.” With all three women staring him down, Brad threw up his hands. “Fine. You’re going to do what you want.”

Which made Leah smile. “And you’re going to help me.” She paused, her expression growing serious. “And hopefully Luke, too. With the kitchen.”

“Why wouldn’t he help?” Brad mused, already returning to his laptop. Lucy drifted off to the children’s section and Leah to her office, leaving Eudora standing in the swirl of their wakes.

There was that vibrato again, coming through the walls of the old house.

Eudora felt it in her chest. Something must have happened with Luke and Leah at that reunion.

Eudora would have to find out what. For now, she’d fill her in on Lucy’s situation at home.

And she’d follow up later with Brad, to wish him a nice evening with Ethan.

When Eudora’s knitting group arrived and settled in, her nerves were twitching.

Only this time it was not an incoming panic advisory.

There was no anxiety; this time it was something else.

Something uncertain and not entirely comfortable, but definitely not panic.

As Leah arrived with iced tea and Alfred scooted under his table with minimal growling, suddenly Eudora knew what it was: anticipation.

Her head and her heart were buzzing back to life, out of retirement and back to work once more.

Unpaid as it was, she’d not felt so rich in a long time.