Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Yesterday I’d been too busy to really let myself take much in. The bookstore was definitely outdated. There weren’t many reading spaces. I didn’t really get why people liked to read in public, but I knew that was a thing. Or they came to bookstores to drink coffee and talk to their friends, and Little Beach Books wasn’t set up for that. Were bookstores without coffee even a thing anymore? I figured they were, but probably not a very popular one.
Her book stock was good, though. It was your typical small store, with a little bit of every genre. It appeared she had a lot of the popular, newer titles—the ones that released before she passed away, at least.
I’d always been good with money and had some saved. My brain told me it was stupid to invest a lot of money into a business I wasn’t sure would ever be profitable. It wasn’t as if I’d wanted a bookstore all my life, but again, I was pretty sure I did now.
Mom would think it was a terrible idea. She would fill my head with all sorts of reasons why I should sell and come home, but…how would I know if I didn’t try? When had anything in my life really been my choice? I wanted this to be.
So I sat down, pulled out my planner, and started with a list. Lists were awesome, just like labels on a key chain full of keys.
When I was done with that one, I made a second about the first, because really, you could never have too many.
I was just about to look at the time when there was a knock on the glass door. I glanced up to see a woman with braids in her dark hair, and she was smiling at me. I’d gotten so busy making plans, I forgot Rachel was coming.
I went over and unlocked the door. “Rachel?”
She gave me another kind smile. “That’s me.”
“I’m Milo Copeland. Please don’t call me Mr. Copeland.”
“Right? It makes me feel old when people do that…and…I don’t know, it’s too professional. I’m afraid of saying or doing something wrong.”
I was pretty sure hearts shot out of my eyes. Not the romantic kind because while I could see that Rachel was beautiful, I was only attracted to men, but that one statement had been plucked right out of my head. “Exactly. I know it’s a respect thing, but it’s also respectful to call people what they’d like to be called.”
“I agree. It’s so funny you said that. Wilma was the same way.”
A confused feeling washed over me, one that was both happy and sad, because while it was cool to hear we had something in common, it also hurt that we hadn’t been able to discover that together. I wished I knew why she hadn’t been in Mom’s life. There had to have been a good reason.
But then I couldn’t help wondering if it mattered that I called her Wilma Allen, which I did because…well, because that’s who she was to me. I didn’t know her, and calling her Wilma or Grandma felt too close, as if we’d had a relationship when we hadn’t.
“Come in,” I said belatedly.
She did, and I locked the door behind her. Rachel looked like she was about my age, with smooth skin that was a creamy, light brown like maybe one of her parents was Black, but the other wasn’t. She wore a spaghetti-strap shirt and had a couple of tattoos on her arms, ear piercings, and a hoop in the left side of her nose.
“Did Gideon do your tattoos?” I asked, even though he likely hadn’t. It wasn’t as if he was the only tattoo artist in Maine.
“He did this one.” She pointed to an Alice in Wonderland tattoo with Alice, the cat, and the man in a top hat. Around it was the quote about being mad and bonkers and how the best people were.
“You know, I’ve never actually read it…or seen the movies.”
Rachel nudged me with her arm, as if we’d known each other for longer than five minutes. “Good thing you own a bookstore. You should read it, and then we’ll watch the movie together. The Tim Burton one.”
My pulse danced excitedly against my skin. “I’d like that…I think. If I don’t like the book, I might not want to watch the movie.”
She laughed. “You just let me know.”
I nodded. “You helped W—” It felt peculiar to call her Wilma, but now I couldn’t help but worry about calling her Wilma Allen. It made my head spin a bit, so I found a way to switch direction. “Here a lot?”
“I did. I love this place. I live with my parents, and I go to school online. I got pregnant at seventeen, and while I wouldn’t take it back because Cammy is the best little girl in the world, it’s made things difficult. This was my first job at sixteen, and Wilma had always been supportive. My parents too. They help while I’m working on getting my degree. I don’t know what I’d do without them.”