It took grit, and perseverance, and everything she had, I write, but in the end, the store opened. It opened its doors to a community starved for stories, and in return, its stories were read.
I end the paragraph with a smile on my face. For the first time in months—in years—the writing is practically flowing out of me. Word after word, chapter after chapter, the story living in me, like it’s bubbling beneath my skin. It should be difficult, considering the uncertainty in my life. I should probably not be writing at all, hunched over my desk in the evening darkness.
But ever since we got the demolition news, I haven’t been able to stop.
And the best part is that my writing isn’t about Cole at all. It’s not even really about Between the Pages itself, but more about what the bookstore represented. About what Eleanor was to me—and to Karli—and to so many others who needed a quiet place of reflection.
When I glance at the clock, it’s past midnight. I’ve been writing for hours again. It’s funny, that. For years I thought I didn’t have the words in me, and now they won’t stop flowing.
I close my laptop and stow away the folder on my desk. It contains a set of printed CVs and a list of potential employers. Brooks & King is at the top of the list, including the business card I received from the department head Edwin Taylor.
I climb into bed and try to still the spinning of my mind. Tomorrow will be another day of closing up shop. Packaging books and packing away memories. I turn over on my side, and in the stillness, my mind circles back to the one place I don’t want it to go. When the words stop flowing, the thinking begins, it seems.
Cole.
He sat right there, on the other side of my bed, leaning against the headboard while I was sick. Somehow, that’s the image I can’t get out of my head, night after night. His sleep-deprived eyes. The murmured conversations, where my fever removed all attempts at pretense or wit. When it was just the two of us—without a game or an agreement between us.
Our casual relationship had been an adventure, and it came to an end. Just as it should’ve—just like all ill-considered adventures do. He’d been quick to say that it was over the last time we spoke. And since then, he hasn’t contacted me, nor I him.
On my nightstand, my phone is lying innocent and quiet. Like most nights, the impulse to text him is strong. And like most nights, I fight it. Not that I’d know what to say, anyway.
I turn over on my back. “It’s over,” I say out loud. If I hear it enough times, maybe I’ll start believing it. “He’s tearing down Between the Pages.”
That should be the final page of our book, the little gold lettering of a fairy tale stating the end. And yet… I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet. For the finality of it.
The next day, Karli comes through the front door with a package of homemade cupcakes. “Look,” she says, holding them up for my view. “Some carbs for comfort.”
I hold up the portable speaker I brought. “I couldn’t agree more.”
We turn on some ’90s pop and work in silence. Shelf after shelf of books get put into moving boxes, all of them clearly marked with author and genre. An entire store packed up, a legacy dismantled.
“Are you sure John is okay with this?”
Karli snorts. “No. He said just yesterday that he liked the garage as it is. But where else can we store the inventory?”
I sigh. “Nowhere. But hopefully a few bookstores will respond to my email and take some of it off our hands. If not, I already have an idea for selling them online. We should be able to recuperate most of the purchasing cost.”
“Thank God,” Karli says. “I might be able to sell some of the children’s books to my son’s school, too. They always need more books.”
“That’s perfect.” I look down at the book in my hand, at the Art Deco font and the beautiful cover. An American classic, set in the roaring ’20s.
Karli sees me pause and leans over. “Ah. Eleanor’s favorite.”
“Yeah.” It had been a book I hated at first, mostly because I couldn’t get into it. It had been assigned reading in school and nothing kills a good book more than being forced to read it. But Eleanor had helped me through it—and her commentary and insight had opened a door to reading that I’d raced through headlong. She’d set me on the path.
Maybe Karli sees my thoughts on my face, because she sinks into the old armchair. “Stop it,” she says.
“Stop what?”
“What you’re doing. Overthinking. Reminiscing. Beating yourself up, I’m guessing.”
I reluctantly put the book into the moving box. “Maybe a little bit.”
“We didn’t fail her.” Karli’s voice is strong. “We didn’t. I don’t believe that for a second, Skye.”
My answer takes time, because as much as I want to believe her—for both of our sakes—I’m not quite there yet. “No,” I say slowly, “you might be right about that. She wouldn’t be angry at us.”
“Not in the least.”
“But she might be disappointed. Not in us,” I say hurriedly, seeing Karli’s face. “But in the city, in Porter Development. In the fact that bookstores aren’t as valued anymore.”
“But they are,” Karli says fervently. “It’s just not the right time for this one. Everything has its time.”
I reach for another stack of books. All around us, shelves are empty, the store echoing with our words. “How can you be so calm about this?”
Karli’s smile is apologetic. “I know I should be angrier. But I’ve been angry for so long, Skye. For months and months, ever since we got the first notice.”
“I get it. It gets old.”
“It does,” she says with a nod. “I don’t have the energy for it anymore. We have to look to the future.”
“Have you managed to do that, then?”
Her smile is back, but it’s excited this time. “Yes. I’ve started looking at shopfronts for a bakery.”
“Really?”
“Yes. It’s early still, but… I’ve always wanted to try.”
My smile is entirely genuine. For as long as I’ve known her, Karli has been a baker, her favorite section of the bookstore the recipe one. “That’s amazing!”
“John is excited, too. Says he can help with website design, not to mention taste-testing,” she says, laughing.
“Karli, that’s perfect. You could cater. You’re already well-known in this area—people love you!” My mind is racing ahead, and Karli laughs again, the glint in my eyes familiar to her.
“You’re already thinking about what opening gift to get me, aren’t you? We’re not there yet.”
“But you will be. I’m so happy for you, Karli.”
She grins. “Thanks. I was afraid to mention it to you, you know.”
“You were?”
“Well, maybe you’d think I was moving on too fast. Accepting the bookstore’s fate.” She looks around, at the beautiful old wood, at the place that has been a second home for the both of us. “Between the Pages was my grandmother’s life. But it can’t be mine, not any longer.”
I reach over and put my hand on hers. “Oh God, Karli, I’d never think that. You’re doing the right thing.”
Her smile is bright. “Thanks. And so are you, by the way, focusing on your writing. Are you still going to apply to Brooks & King?”
“Yes. But I don’t have a background in editing or in publishing, and I’m competing with people who do. At the same time—” I’m broken off by my phone’s familiar tune. “Sorry.”
Karli smiles and gets up to continue packing. Fishing my phone out of my bag, I nearly groan when I see the name on my screen. Isla.
“Hi,” I say. “What’s up?”
There’s an annoyed sigh on the other end. “You won’t believe what a day I’m having.”
“Oh?”
“I overslept. Timmy was late to school, and then we had an accident on the way home.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, yes, it wasn’t a car accident. I didn’t have enough gas in the tank.”
“It stalled? Oh my God, Isla…”
“I know, it was awful. Well, Dave helped me, all is good now. But, and here’s the thing, he has a car show tonight.”
Ah, I think. Here it comes. “Is it out of town?”
“Yes. I’d love to go, but I know it’s too late for Timmy. He has to be in bed by nine. But then I thought, Skye!”
This has to stop. “You know I love spending time with Timmy, but—”
“Perfect!”
“—I have plans tonight. I can’t handle this on such short notice, not continually, Isla.”
She huffs, and the sound is indignant. “You have plans?”
“Yeah. Even if I didn’t, I’d appreciate a bit more advance notice. It’s already four in the afternoon.”
Isla’s voice is glacial when she speaks again. “Fine. That’s fine. I’ll just have to figure something out.”
“Yes, you will,” I say, not unkindly. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
She hangs up. I stare at my phone for a few more moments, a smile slowly spreading across my face. Wow. That was… exhilarating.
Karli grins at me. “Well done,” she says.
“With what?”
“With saying no.” She unfolds another moving box with sure, practiced hands. “It’s hard with family, I know. But you’re getting better.”
Her words echo Cole’s, when he listened to my call with Isla a few weeks ago. Karli has known me forever and never asked me the reasons behind it. Cole saw our dynamic immediately. He encouraged me to stand up to her. To speak my mind.
I miss him. It’s hard to admit, but it’s there, every day. I miss his voice and his opinions, his teasing smile, the glint in his eyes when he sees me. I even miss his obnoxious way of thinking he’s always right.
While I always said I hated him, I don’t anymore. I don’t hate him at all, not even when he’s set to tear down this place.
And somehow, that’s what hurts the most.
