“So, how good are you with a hammer and nail?”
“Well, I’d say this is your lucky day, because I’m pretty darn handy.” And then she realized how that must have sounded—of course how could this be his lucky day? He was unable to do this most basic thing for himself. She looked at him, mortified.
But Colin simply gave her an amused smile.
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER THEY STOOD LOOKING AT PRINTS of one gorgeous bird after another, lined up in a row on the dining room wall.
“These are just beautiful, especially the red one.”
“That’s a scarlet tanager. They’re actually all through the woods here. A photographer at The Raptor Center donates the photos to help raise money.” He turned to her. “So tell me, how’d you get so handy?”
She looked down at him. His blond hair was damp, pulled back in a small ponytail at the nape of his neck. His light blue eyes under those thick blond brows looked at her with interest.
“My father left when I was a kid, and my mother was just helpless. We were always moving, too, so pictures went up and pictures came down, and if you didn’t want to get docked from your security deposit, you had to fill in the holes and touch up with paint.” She shrugged, then smiled, noticing the prints were slightly off. “You know, we should have used a level.”
“Forget it. There’s nothing perfect in this world. Once you learn that, life gets a lot easier.”
She was surprised at the sudden seriousness of his tone.
“Besides,” he added with a grin, “I don’t have a level.”
He gestured toward the table, rolling his chair to the empty space where there was a chair conspicuously absent. She took a seat across from him, picking up her tea cup to take a sip.
“Here, let me warm that up for you.”
She nearly said she’d get it, but caught herself. “Thanks. I really enjoyed seeing all those birds at The Raptor Center. It’s an amazing place. Have you been going there for a long time?”
“I brought a bird in last fall and wound up staying all day. Then I joined the volunteers.”
He wheeled to the kitchen, opening the microwave, which was chest height for him, then pressed buttons. “Actually, it took a while for them to figure out where I could help without causing the kind of problem like you saw in the bookstore yesterday. I wanted to work hands-on with the birds, but there’s a lot of lifting and turning and,” he waved a hand at the wall where the pictures now hung, “height issues, shall we say?”
She couldn’t help smiling. He had that way of making self-deprecating remarks that made light of a situation, when it could have been so different. She recalled Ruth talking about him pushing everyone away in the first months after the accident.
“Anyway,” he said, wheeling back to the table with one hand, her mug in the other, “I could have managed, but I didn’t want to make waves. I’m involved in the educational programs now, which seems to cause no problems for anyone.”
“What kinds of programs do they do?”
“It varies. We do a lot of school programs for kids, plus quite a few senior events, teaching them about the bird behavior, and of course, why particular birds are at the Center. There are also special programs for the developmentally disabled, or those with emotional problems. Connecting with the birds, with their injuries, and how they’re still serving a purpose, really seems to work wonders.”
“And what programs do you do?”
“Well…I’m actually putting together something new, for wounded vets.”
“Really? What a great idea.”
“We’ll see.” He shrugged, and she sensed he didn’t want to share anything further.
“And your bird? The one you brought in?”
“A female cardinal. The contractor working on this cabin last spring took a tree down and with it came her nest, and her hatchlings.”
“Oh no.” She pictured it all too clearly.
“None of the hatchlings survived. The Raptor Center fixed her up and she was released a month later. I realized how careless we are. You never take a tree down during nesting season.”
“How awful about the babies.”
“Well, there are plenty that come to us and heal and live a good long life then die of old age. That’s all any of us can really ask for.”
“That’s true.” She wondered suddenly what impact his paralysis would have on his own life. Ironically, Colin was one of the most vital, and virile, men she’d ever met, but she imagined there were all sorts of complications that could occur.
“I’m going back this week. You’re welcome to come with me.”
She’d been planning to call her mother today and finally arrange a visit, plus stop at as many bookstores along the ride to Pennsylvania as she could. But she decided to put it off a little longer. Because everything about this place, from the lake and the woods to Colin and The Raptor Center, was intriguing her in ways she hadn’t imagined. Bits and pieces of a story were coming already at odd moments when her mind was still, or even thinking of something else. It was part of the magic of writing and she began to recognize it now as a familiar and necessary part of the process of creating a novel. Besides, if she was really serious about this, she was going to need a next book.
“Sure,” she said to Colin. “I’d love to, if you don’t mind.”
He looked at her. “Listen, about the last time we were there, I want to apologize—”
Just then a horn blared several times. He wheeled himself over to the door, and she got up to leave. As she followed him onto the deck, she heard someone yell, “Hey, super gimp!”
“Well, speak of the devil,” Colin said softly.
She looked down at a black SUV as its door opened, wondering who on earth would say something so rude. A wheelchair was suddenly thrust onto the lawn, and a moment later, a young man with a shaved head and arms lined with tattoos swung himself into the seat.
She turned to Colin, who was smiling broadly. “Super gimp is actually a compliment,” he explained.
“Oh,” she said, relieved.
“Danny’s the one I’m mentoring. And the reason I got all weird that day at The Raptor Center. He’s going through a rough time. I’ve been trying to convince him to be my relay buddy for next summer’s Paralyzed Veterans of America’s games. They’re kind of like the Olympics for guys like us.”
A moment later, the man came gliding smoothly up the ramp, his upper body thick and powerful like something out of a muscle magazine.
“Lucy, this is Danny, fastest man in a chair I’ve ever seen,” Colin said when he stopped beside them. “Danny, Lucy, my new neighbor.”
Danny eyed her up and down. “Sweet,” he said with a smile.
17
MEGAN OFFERED TO GO TO THE REVITALIZATION MEETING that morning after Ruth made the mistake of grumbling that she hoped they’d actually get something accomplished this time. Megan had tons of ideas, most of which involved spending money, and Ruth was tired of having that argument and catching Megan’s eye rolls when she thought Ruth wasn’t looking. But she listened to a few of the young woman’s ideas, amazed once again that someone fresh out of college, with a mountain of loans and opportunities to make real money, would choose to stay in her store.
Then she headed up Main Street to the Darress Theatre, one of the few remaining vaudeville theaters in the country where you had to walk under the stage to take a seat in the audience. It was a crumbling gem that Lloyd Barnes had been working on for more than twenty years while running his photography business out of the lobby.
Ruth walked under the old marquee and through the lobby photo shop, then into the theater. In the first few rows she saw Lloyd, Elaine, Hannah’s husband, Eddie, who had an appliance store, Dee from Shades & Shapes Salon, and assorted others. She was irked to see that Eddie and Dee were seated together and seemed to be deep in conversation.
“Okay, we’re all here now,” Lloyd said, standing just below the stage. “I guess I’ll go first. I’ve go
t some good news and some bad news.”
“So what else is new?” Eddie called out and everyone chuckled. Ruth noticed Dee watching him, laughing, with a look that caused her antennae to go up. She hadn’t forgotten Hannah asking if this meeting was being held in the evening.
“As you all know, I’ve been struggling with the camera shop. Well…I’m going to pack it in.”
Murmurs of surprise rippled through the group. Lloyd held his hands up.
“I can’t compete with the drugstores anymore, and everyplace else you can get your pictures made. Not to mention online. Look, we all know this has been coming.”
“I’m really sorry, Lloyd,” Ruth said.
“So what’s the good news?” Elaine asked.
“I’m going to put all my effort into making the theater viable again. My son just finished college and he’s going to help me. We’re going to offer concerts, plays, anything we can.”
“Well, I don’t have a Plan B to fall back on,” Eddie chimed in. “Foot traffic is down, which isn’t surprising since the morons on town council decided we needed parking meters on Main Street. I mean why come here and pay to park when you can go to the mall and park free?”
“But then you’re paying for gas, so that’s a wash,” someone in the back called out.
“It’s not parking, it’s the fact that we can’t compete with those big box store prices,” said Gloria, who had the office supply store.
“I think we need to make Main Street more of a destination, you know?” Elaine suggested. “People need a reason to come here. Look at Applefest, that’s everyone’s best weekend every year.”
“Yeah, we need people to want to shop local, not drive all the way out to the malls.”
“Well good luck, because now it’s not gonna be such a long ride,” someone else said. “Did you know that new mall they’re building just outside of town is designed like a downtown? I was at one in New Jersey, and it was beautiful. And mobbed.”
“That’s a low blow, building a mall but making it feel like a Main Street.”
Ruth could see this was going to dissolve into another pity party and she didn’t have two hours to waste.
“Look, I’ve got a few ideas. As my youngest employee, Megan, keeps telling me, we’ve got to get with the times. There’s a book that came out a few years back, Who Moved My Cheese, that hits the nail on the head. We’re mice, or rats, take your pick.” She got a few hoped-for chuckles. “For years we knew exactly what we needed to do to find that cheese so we could eat and survive. Okay, someone moved it. We have to figure out how to find it again. If we don’t—”
“We’re going to starve,” Elaine finished for her.
“Exactly. We have to change with the times and figure out how to get our cheese. I don’t like it any better than the rest of you. I want people to keep reading real books, not scrolling lines on a cell phone, but some things are out of our control. We can’t stop progress.”
“So what are you suggesting?”
“According to Megan, we’re overlooking some good opportunities. We should take our buy local idea and brand it with a catchy phrase or slogan, then get it on social networking sites like Facebook and Twitter and…” She stopped amidst a chorus of groans.
“Look, I don’t even text,” Dee called out. “And I don’t wanna spend half my day putzing around on the computer. The kids have time to waste like that, but we don’t.”
Dee was always throwing out objections without solutions and Ruth felt like pinching her. Instead she said with false calmness, “I understand, but kids go to malls, their parents take them to malls. So all the money is going to the malls. We need to give them a reason to come to town. Plant the seed.”
“My son was saying something similar,” Lloyd said. “I think we’re acting like old farts if we don’t at least give it some consideration. My son is already working on the web and networking to attract bands and theater groups.”
“I have one other idea,” Ruth said, trying to keep her eyes off Eddie, who was now squeezing Dee’s thigh, probably thinking no one could see because the old seats were so high. “One of my visiting authors mentioned her town does a First Friday Art Walk, where shops stay open on the first Friday of each month. They throw the doors open, play music, serve wine and cheese, and even get some vendors or music in the street or on the sidewalk.”
“We only have one gallery, and it’s really more of a frame shop,” someone said. “And if you notice, they’re not even here.”
“I like that idea,” Elaine said. “Who says we have to call it an art walk?”
“Exactly,” Ruth said.
“And do people actually spend money?” someone else asked.
“What about when it’s cold out?” Dee threw out, paying attention again.
“I think we can figure things out for the winter months. And maybe they don’t spend a lot of money at first, but if we get them to come to Main Street, hopefully that’s just a matter of time,” she said. “Listen, my store is having a big anniversary celebration in the fall, marking thirty years that I’ve owned The Book Lover. Maybe we can kick off the first one then? Lloyd, that should give you enough time to put something together for later in the evening, right?”
He nodded. “I love it. I think it’s a great idea.”
An hour later, they had formed committees and Ruth felt a glimmer of hope that this time, perhaps, they’d really get something going. On the way out, Sandy from Scrub-a-Dub-Doggie pulled Ruth aside.
“Hey, I wanted to tell you that my grandmother’s house sold finally.” Sandy’s grandmother had been nearly one hundred when she passed away peacefully in her sleep. A local teacher, her funeral was attended by more than half the town. “Anyway, we were cleaning out the attic and found a bunch of old newspapers and memorabilia. Turns out Gram’s father once worked at The Book Lover. Isn’t that amazing?”
“Your great-grandfather? Are you sure? That would be…” Ruth tried to think how long ago it might have been.
“Well, my grandmother was born in 1909, and he was in his thirties,” Sandy said.
Ruth shook her head. “The store couldn’t be that old.”
“There’s a picture in there somewhere, but hey, I’ll give you all the junk, you can sort through it. We were just gonna throw it out, it’s all kind of mildewed and falling apart.”
“Oh, don’t do that,” Ruth said. “I’ll take it, all of it.”
Walking back to the store, Ruth glanced over her shoulder to see Eddie and Dee heading slowly the other way. A coil of anger began to burn in her belly, thinking of Hannah hauling trays with her knees aching and saving her tips for a pretty orange dress. Doing everything to try and please him, only to hear that she was too needy. Ruth thought about that morning she’d stood in the corner of the store where Hazel lurked, and the idea she’d tucked away. Maybe it was time to put some real thought into it.
Crossing the street, she suddenly felt lightheaded and stopped on the other side, her hand resting on one of the parking meters. She stood there a moment, catching her breath. She hadn’t slept well last night. Again. Guilt over what she’d done to Thomas was torturing her. A few feet away, the Way wayanda Creek rushed over rocks, swollen from the past few days’ rains. Listening to the soothing sound, Ruth wondered—when was the last time she’d taken vitamins? When the feeling passed, she turned and walked in the other direction to Aiken’s Drugstore. Maybe she’d get those new silver Centrums, the ones specially designed for women her age.
* * *
ON FRIDAY, RUTH ARRIVED AT THE STORE an hour before opening to meet with Harry. He came in a few minutes later and she called to him from the back corner, where she was surveying the bookshelves and floor space.
“Whatcha doin’ Ruth, looking for dust bunnies?”
“Oh, I know where they are, Harry,” she laughed. “They’re hiding under the shelves, where we can’t ever quite reach them. That’s why I call them dust fairies. They always seem to fly away a
nd disappear just when I’m about to capture them.”
Harry smiled. “Maybe Hazel likes to clean ‘em up for you.”
“Hopefully Hazel won’t mind if we make a few changes back here.” She took a deep breath. “I know I’m not a big one for change, but I’d like you to take this entire shelf of old hardcovers and put them on a table out front for a sidewalk sale. Mark them way down, let’s just get rid of them.”
She saw Harry’s eyebrows lift.
“And then we’re going to push these other shelves around and see how much space we can open up.”
“For?”
“A little idea I’m mulling over. Hopefully by the end of the day, I’ll be able to tell you.”
The phone began to ring and Ruth went up front while Harry played with the shelves and books. When she hung up, she looked up to see Lynn Anderson standing on the other side of the counter, a small smile on her face. Lynn was vice-president at the local bank and today she wore a navy suit with matching heels, her blonde hair stylishly short.
“Hey, Lynn,” Ruth said with a smile. “This is a surprise. It must be a good book to tear you away from the bank.”
Although Lynn referred to her bank as “the money mill,” Ruth knew she loved her job. She got mortgages for most everyone Ruth knew, and had managed to get her a hefty second mortgage a few years back that saved her after the flood, and months later when she’d adapted her house and store for Colin.
Ruth saw her smile fade now, and couldn’t help noticing the worry in her eyes.
“What can I help you with?” Ruth asked.
“I need…” Lynn began, took a deep breath, and then continued, “I need a book on Alzheimer’s. The stages. What to expect.”
“Oh, Lynn. Your mom was in here just a few weeks ago and seemed sharp as a tack.”
Lynn was silent a moment and Ruth put a hand on her arm.
“My mother,” she said, then bit her lip and Ruth waited for her to recover. “My mother’s just fine.” Then she looked Ruth right in the eyes. “It’s me, Ruth. Early onset.”
Book Lover, The Page 16
