“See? We could put these up around the neighborhood. The noticeboard by the grocery store, inside cafés, by bus stops…” I hold up one of the flyers I made for Karli to see.
“When did you make these?”
“Last night. I went to the copy shop this morning.” I put it down, two cups of coffee and determination making my skin itch with excitement. “You know the author we featured last week? She’s a Seattle native. Maybe we could organize a book reading and signing with her?”
Karli is laughing. “Did you get any sleep last night?”
“Yes. Well, a bit.” I’d stayed up late, doing everything from brainstorming ideas to watching videos on YouTube by prominent businessmen. The latter hadn’t helped at all—I wasn’t planning on building a multi-billion-dollar empire here—but it had definitely given me motivation. Never give up, never surrender. My plans of finishing my manuscript before the year is out have all been scrapped. Between the Pages is more important.
“The posters are fantastic.”
“And the mic night?”
“And the mic night.” She nods. Karli reaches across and puts a hand on mine. “Skye, what came over you in the meeting yesterday?”
I meet her earnest gaze with one of my own. “I honestly don’t know. I was so angry, and so… well. I couldn’t let it go down without a fight. I still can’t. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”
“Embarrassed me? Skye, we were sinking, and you bartered your way to a lifeline.”
“We can’t just let him win, you know.”
“Him?”
“Yeah, the titan of industry. Cole Porter. Big business. Corporate greed. Them.”
Karli shakes her head at me. “You’re starting to sound like a conspiracy theorist, but I like it. Give me a stack of these posters and I’ll hang some up during lunch?”
I grin. “This is just the beginning. I have so many ideas, Karli… This isn’t the end of Between the Pages.”
Her smile is excited, all signs of tiredness or resignation gone for the first time in weeks. “You know what? Even if it is, we gave it our all. Nana would have wanted nothing less.”
I spend the rest of the day immersed in the store. I look at every shelf like it’s the first time I’ve seen them. I stand outside for nearly thirty minutes and analyze our window displays, until Karli tells me to come back inside because I’m scaring away actual customers.
The bookstore can’t fail. It can’t. I walk through the second story, with the dark wood bookcases and the ratty old armchair in the corner, seeing it all like I’m twelve again. For years, this had been my safe place. My refuge from the world, from school and home.
I run my hand along the spiral staircase up to the attic. We never go up there, and the staircase is purely decorative now. A small sign hangs on it, the lettering artistic and flowing. The staircase to book heaven. Unfortunately off-limits (at the moment).
I’d put the sign there when I was fifteen, and Karli’s grandmother Eleanor never took it down. This store has a place in the community. In the city. There is magic living between these dusty walls. It’s a store that holds a thousand stories, a thousand characters, a thousand places just waiting to be explored. We just need to get the magic across more effectively.
And if I have anything to say on the matter, we will. Between the Pages will continue spreading its magic to tons of little girls and boys who need it.
“And you’re okay with me leaving early?”
“Yes, of course I am.”
“You’re sure, sure?”
Karli laughs. “Yes! John is coming by soon anyway, and he’ll keep me company before closing. Besides, it’s not like you’re going home and lying on the couch.”
I lift the stack of posters high. “No, not exactly. I’m going to plaster the city with these. Between the Pages will be everywhere. Not a single Seattleite will be missed.”
“Skye?”
“Yes?”
Her eyes soften. “I’m really happy to have you. I know you could do so much more than work here, with me… but I appreciate it.”
The lump in my throat is sudden, and I have to swallow around it. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. You know that.”
“Even so. Thank you.”
I walk up the street, as familiar to me as my own hand. There’s a notice board by the old bakery, now turned into a laundromat. Janice is seated outside with her little dog at her side. Yes!
“Hi there,” I say, putting up my poster.
She squints at it. “What are you doing there?”
“Protesting the new development.”
She gives a croaky laugh. “No good can come of that.”
“Oh, it might! If enough customers come to the store in the coming two months, we might be able to stay.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” I beam at her. “We’re inviting everyone in the area to pop in, as often as possible. We’re organizing a book reading, too.”
“Really,” she says again, softer this time. “Well, I’ll have to swing by then.”
“We’d be happy to have you.”
I say bye to Ms. Janice and her little dog with a smile. She talks to everyone in this neighborhood—anyone at all who will listen. She’s better than any noticeboard I could find.
I turn up Aven Street and continue on my poster quest. I ask cafés for permission to put them up. For the first time in weeks, there’s purpose in what I do. Save the bookshop. It runs on a loop in my head, over and over and over again.
What had I said to Karli? Captain of industry. Big business. I use my phone to search the internet for Porter Development, but all I find is their generic website. I shake my head and try again. What properties does Porter Development own?
Jackpot. There’s the Reese Hotel, with the Legacy bar, but I keep scrolling. I don’t need to be reminded of the night I spent there.
Flitwick Apartments is another one—and it’s nearby. I glance down at my remaining stack of posters. Well, Cole Porter. Maybe it’s time to show just how determined we are to keep Between the Pages running.
The next day is calm. We get a few new customers—all of whom credit my poster—but other than that, business churns on as usual. That is to say, it’s practically nonexistent.
By late afternoon, I’m alone again, working the evening shift. Karli has gone home to her husband and kids with a new cupcake recipe to try. I told her to save one for me tomorrow, and I’m already looking forward to it.
I turn up the radio and hum along as I scroll through Pinterest. Looking at bookstores and libraries around the world has given me a serious case of envy, but also a ton of ideas. Between the Pages has the same magical vibes—old-world charm, like Cole said—but we could definitely amp it up a bit.
I pause at a picture of a beautiful bookstore somewhere in Europe, a doorway between two adjoining rooms made entirely out of books.
I add it to the list next to me. Doorway of books. There are a ton of ideas there already. Heart of books is there, too. I saw that one on Instagram, with people traveling specifically to get a picture of themselves surrounded by books glued together in the shape of a heart.
Something like that would be perfect. Exactly what we need—a visual draw. A reason for people to come out to Between the Pages, to take their own pictures, to stay for a while and be enchanted. And, hopefully, to buy books.
I pause at another picture of little planters atop shelves, with green, flowing leaves hanging down. It looks gorgeous.
I copy it dutifully into my notebook. Plants. The list is half useful, half ridiculous. A picture of a beautiful old bookstore in Paris had a cat in it, so I had written Cat into my notebook. There was no way that was going to fly with Karli, but at least it was giving me something to do.
I’m interrupted by the jingle of the bell at the door. I drop my phone immediately, a welcoming smile spreading across my lips.
It dies the second I see who it is.
Cole is holding up one of my posters. Frustration has his jaw set into a hard line. “What the hell is this?”
I squint. “I’m not sure.”
“You’re damn sure, Skye. These were plastered to the outside of every single one of my buildings.”
“Oh. Those.”
“Yes, those.” He puts the poster down on the counter, anger in his eyes. A corresponding thrill runs through me.
“I’m trying to ensure we’re profitable in two months. Encouraging community support is part of that.”
“The Bluestone Hotel is halfway across the city, and its guests are from out of town. It’s decidedly not part of your community.”
I blink up at him. “I don’t know what you’re so angry about. We made a bet. I’m trying to win.”
“What you actually did was informing every single one of my employees about it.”
Shit. I hadn’t thought about that. “Whoops?”
“Fucking hell, Skye…” He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead. “There have to be other things on your to-do-list besides ruining my reputation. Or is that number one?” He snatches the notebook from behind the counter, his movements too quick for me. “Is this it? Let’s see, where is ‘Destroy Cole Porter’…”
“Give that back.”
He takes a step back, evading my arm, and I watch in horrified silence as his eyes rake through the list.
“Buy plants. Get a cat? This is your plan to save the store?”
A furious flush creeps up my neck. “They’re just ideas.”
“Your first idea was to plaster posters on all of my businesses, and your second idea was to buy a cat?”
I reach to snatch the notebook out of his hands, and this time, he lets me. The mirth on his face is only making my embarrassment worse.
“Look, I haven’t asked you to contribute your amazing business sense to this, all right? Besides, you work with buildings, not bookstores.”
“I work with people and profit,” he says, and the implication is clear in his words. And this is not going to make the cut.
Looking at him standing there in his thousand-dollar suit and smug smile, I want to sink through the floor. My ideas had been fun. They’d been a way for us to create a more magical atmosphere, to draw in more customers. They’d been a silly distraction from the all-too-likely scenario—demolition.
“Look,” I tell him. “People don’t buy as many books anymore. It’s sad, but it’s true. We need to bring customers here for another reason. Some of the most successful bookstores in the world have people queueing outside, and it’s because of their atmosphere and picture-worthy aesthetics. Instagram drives business these days.”
He holds up his hands. “If you can pull that off, I’ll be the first to admit that I’m wrong.”
“There’s a but in your tone.”
Cole nods at my list, a strand of his thick hair falling across his forehead. It’s silky to the touch—I remember.
“Going through your finances should be the first thing you do.”
I tap my pen against the notepad. “Oh?”
“Yes. Cut down on all non-essential expenses and halt all new purchases of books. See if you can slash prices. Do you have an accountant?”
“Yes,” I say, though in truth, I’m not sure. Karli always handles that part.
“Then meet with them as soon as possible,” Cole says, shaking his head. “Why am I giving you advice? I received a call from my assistant today who said we had a targeted attack on the company.”
“Wow. All because of my posters?”
“Yes. That’s what you unleashed, you little demon.”
“I’m not the one demolishing entire city blocks.”
His eyes narrow. “Sometimes you have to make space for the new. Now, will you stop attacking my buildings?”
“I can’t make any promises. And it was hardly an attack, Cole, I just put up some posters!”
“Skye.”
“Fine. Yes, I’ll stop.” I put my notebook back behind the counter and make a mental note to ask Karli about our accountant.
He raises a doubtful eyebrow. “You wanted to send a signal, and I don’t think it was to any of my employees. Well, consider it received.”
Cole’s right about that. I run a hand over my ponytail—when he’s around, I feel constantly underdressed. “I don’t exactly have your number, so it was the only way I could think of.”
“You could’ve had my phone number, you know. If that’s what you wanted, all you had to do was ask, that night at the hotel.” His voice has dropped an octave, smooth like crushed velvet and danger.
I produce an Oscar-worthy scoff. “I thought we agreed not to talk about that night.”
“I never agreed to that. And I wonder… you act like it’s all in the past. But I noticed something today.”
“Oh?”
Cole steps closer, my eyes in line with the collar of his shirt. The top button is undone, a few dark hairs visible. I know it continues down his chest, darkening and deepening down his taut stomach and further still.
“You went to every single one of my properties,” he says, “except Legacy. Was that another message, Skye?”
“No.” My voice sounds faint, even to my own ears.
“Why didn’t it get the same treatment, then?”
I wet my lips. “It has a pretty facade. I didn’t want to ruin it.”
“Of course. You’re unaffected.”
“Yes.”
A rough finger tilts my head up slightly, until I’m forced to meet his burning gaze. Cole looks exactly like he did that night at the Legacy bar. Charming. Powerful. A bit dangerous.
He bends his head softly, until his breath ghosts across my lips. “Liar,” he says. “I haven’t been back to Legacy either, not since that night.”
I’m like a rabbit, stuck in the headlights, unable to end this moment. My willpower is weakening. The part of my body that has been screaming for a repeat is roaring, preparing her arguments. His lips are so close.
“I hate you,” I whisper. “So much.”
He leans back with a sardonic smile. “Oh, Skye. I don’t think that’s true at all.” He pushes the poster toward me. “Keep this. I have about a thousand more where that came from.”
And then he’s gone, striding out as quickly as he came in, and I’m left trying to clear my head. What had he been about to do?
And worse… what had I been about to do?
