The Bookshop Hotel

by A. K. Klemm

  Nancy was glowing and wore a freshly pressed pantsuit. It was pink, of course.

  “We’re reading Little Women,” Nancy announced. “The girls and I, there are eight of us now—Sue, Ann, Chloe, and Kat. Charisse, Chloe’s daughter, you remember her? The little bit of a thing with the strawberry hair? And Ann even got her daughter-in-law, Jill, to come. My granddaughter Fiona is in it, too, now.” She said as an afterthought, “Fiona doesn’t even like to read.”

  “That’s wonderful,” AJ said. “I’m glad things are going so well, and just in the second month.” She tried not to sound distracted as she ignored half of Nancy’s prattle.

  “Indeed. Well, we’re going to outgrow Abigail’s soon. It’s a bakery, not a meeting house.” Nancy was crisp, trying to get to her point excitedly. “She only keeps those two tiny tables.”

  “Oh. Well, what will you do?” Don’t oversell it, AJ, she told herself as she pushed through the French doors and stepped out onto the cobblestone patio of the atrium that led to the main garden. She heard Nancy give a little gasp—a nostalgic and longing gasp.

  “I want to pay for the garden. I want to pay for the garden and be guaranteed creative license over it. And priority when it comes to booking events.”

  “Naturally,” AJ answered. “You’ve such a lovely eye for gardens, and you’re the town event coordinator.”

  Nancy eyed the girl. She had quite possibly been manipulated, and though she didn’t care for being manipulated, she was too excited about the possibilities to give AJ grief about it.

  “Pete’s Landscaping—you know, Sue’s nephew. I’m going to hire him. You think you’ll have it ready soon?”

  “Soon enough. I’ll keep you posted.”

  “No need. I’ll be back.”

  White, night-blooming jasmine had once covered the garden walls. It was why, decades ago, Nancy had chosen to have her wedding there at night. Trellises of pink and red climbing roses created a bit of a maze on the less-central corners of the patio.

  The atrium pillars dripped purple wisteria. Nancy remembered standing there with her mother, wrapping white garden lights along each little vine, lighting candles where she and Richard would stand and recite their vows.

  Nancy sighed, looking over the place, remembering what it had once been and imagining what it could be again. There wasn’t a lot she had left in this world, but even as an old, dilapidated building, she’d cherished passing it every time she went down Main Street.

  She cherished being able to look over to her left as she drove to the courthouse, peering past the green and into the depths of the cul-de-sac and seeing that it was still there—remnants of her life, of Richard, of their wedding so long ago.

  Walking the garden now with Pete as he held her wedding photos in his hand, she got a bit giddy. So did Pete. It looked as though Max Harkins had already come through and restored the cast-iron benches and repaired a few of the atrium beams. If this hotel was restored to even a fraction of the kind of establishment it previously was, people far and wide would know Pete’s work.

  Lavender and chamomile along the paths… dripping wisteria… and oh, the roses… it was a dream job.

  Sam’s Deli Menu

  Wednesday Special: The Chicken Hummus Sandwich

  White Chicken, Lettuce, Shredded Carrots, Red Peppers, Olives, Celery, and Humus spread on your choice of either Sam’s Homemade Rye Bread or Almond-Flecked Wheat Bread. Served with Homemade Potato Chips and either Lemonade or Iced Tea

  Sam Finney

  Sam Finney was a large fellow, large like a wall. He’d been a big deal on Lily Hollow High’s football team ten years before Kevin Rhys hit the field. Remembered most by his peers for his football years, people were pleasantly surprised when he decided to open a deli.

  He blamed Nancy Harrigan for it, though he’d never admit that. He’d grown up watching Ms. Harrigan and her ladies gather at Abigail’s every Friday. Dick Harrigan had been one of his best friends growing up, and the two had always wondered where the grown men hang out.

  “Large appetite means refined taste buds,” he’d chuckle in response to everyone’s questions about the deli, but inwardly, he’d always hoped his joint would become for men what Abigail’s was for the women.

  Most people hadn’t thought that Sam Finney would do much with himself, so, initially, the deli was crowded out of sheer curiosity. Nice enough kid, the adults had always said, but not real bright and not a lot of talent in anything but football.

  People expected him to be a handy man or an assistant coach at the school. Sam had never left the safety and comfort of Lily Hollow except for little weekend trips to small-business-owners conventions or football games. He’d opened up his own business at a fairly young age in his own small town. Everyone he knew was quite proud of his venture, and they were more than happy to eat his food.

  Sam had decided to open a sandwich joint when he was nineteen. After graduating from high school with no intentions of college, he was bored. He was bored of helping his mom around the house to make up for living at home while all his other friends had left town.

  He was bored of visiting his sister’s family and teaching her kids football but not having a family of his own. He was bored of people not expecting him to do anything interesting and bored of people not being disappointed in him because they didn’t expect anything of him to start.

  He knew he was worth more than their low expectations. He knew he was capable of more than tackling guys on a field and moving heavy furniture for people around town when they were too cheap to hire professional movers.

  He’d always had a knack for putting together delicious munchies out of nothing when he came home hungry from football practice, but culinary school was definitely not high on his list of interests. He started doing research and realized he should open a deli.

  Sam was in his early twenties by the time he opened his deli. School was letting out for the summer, and all of Lily Hollow High came charging toward his door, scouting out what was rumored to be the next new hangout spot. Of the throngs of teenagers that flocked the deli that summer, Sam knew he owed the success of his shop to AJ and Kevin in particular.

  Those two were the golden kids, especially Kevin. Where no one expected much from Sam but a solid football career, Lily Hollow expected everything out of Kevin Rhys. The town had fallen passionately in love with him—he had captivated them all, young and old. The kids wanted to be him, the adults thought he could do no wrong, and the elderly wished he would run off with their granddaughters.

  It was AJ who liked Sam’s Deli most, and as Kevin’s girlfriend, they had brought with them a wave of patrons he hadn’t anticipated. Overnight, Sam’s Deli was the place to be. Those kids made his deli an all-out success, because they became the older people who haunted the shop to this day.

  Sam had so much fun that first day, his face hurt from smiling as he passed out orders and took in cash. All summer, his large, red curls hung in his eyes. His mustard-smudged white apron strapped across his broad frame made him feel messy, but he was having the time of his life. At some point, Sam cut all those curls and took to slicking his waves back with mousse. Tourist season had taught him to be more orderly.

  Over the years, he also upgraded the haphazard tables and chairs to soda-shop-style booths. He added an ice cream malt machine so he could sell ice cream by the cone in the summers. The deli was always sure to have large carafes of iced tea, a small coffee pot running, and soda sold by the can.

  He’d tinkered back and forth with adding other food items to his menu, but mostly, people knew Sam for his glorious sandwiches. Sam even catered AJ and Kevin’s afternoon outdoor wedding. Mrs. Finney hand-sewed beautiful tablecloths where platters of Sam’s sandwiches were piled in tiers.

  When Mrs. Finney finally retired from her job as the home economics teacher at the high school, she started running the cash register during the lunch rush and helping with more of Sam’s catering ventures. If she wasn’t manning the
register, you could find her knitting in Sam’s office.

  Mrs. Finney was getting older and didn’t like being at the house alone all day, and although Sam earned more than enough to have his own place, he still lived with her in the house he grew up in on Cherry Oak Blvd.

  The day AJ finally made it back to Sam’s Deli after being gone for so long, Sam listened patiently as she told him of Granddad Jack’s plans for the property across the street. He couldn’t stop watching her eyes as she struggled with missing her great grandfather and being relieved that there was work to be done that didn’t have to do with funeral preparations or canceling subscriptions of things for a spouse she no longer had.

  He couldn’t believe that not that long ago, this woman had been the little girl ordering ice cream cones from him, hand-in-hand with his nephew’s best friend. He couldn’t believe that not that long ago, she was suffering in physical therapy for injuries caused during the death of that same boy. She looked perfect now, her holey jeans and boots a little muddy from tramping through the property across the street but still perfect.

  The deli was slow that day, and Mrs. Finney was at Sam’s sister’s for the afternoon, giving AJ the freedom to spend time with a man who’d always kept a special lookout for her well-being. Sam brought her the ham-and-cheese melt on white bread and lots of tater tots that she’d ordered most as a kid, and AJ sat for hours, enjoying Sam’s company.

  Finally, Sam began to offer up his own ideas. “AJ, I think it’s all a mighty fine idea, and don’t you dare dream of skimping on the coffee or the café, because I plan to add your coffee to my menu.”

  “What?”

  “That little pot of coffee over there? I sell one cup a day—one—to Mr. Henry for a dollar. It’s not because this town doesn’t want coffee, they just don’t want truck-driver-diner coffee, which is all I seem to be able to manage. I’ve seen the market for it for some time, but I’m a sandwich man.

  “You get that bookstore running with a decent coffee shop on the side, and I’ll keep selling my crap coffee for a dollar, but I can add yours for three. We can serve it with the specials, and I’ll have it gopher-ed on over here. Just sell it to me at cost.

  “We can do the same with my sandwiches. Someone asks you for food not on your menu, we’ll make it happen. Rather than send the customer across the street, take orders and we’ll do all the running.”

  “Sam, will that work?”

  “I think it might. Talk to Abigail, too. Tourist season is nice, but with your bookshop, we could make killings year round.”

  By AJ’s grand opening, Sam planned to have worked up an extremely simple to-go menu to keep in the café at The Bookshop Hotel, featuring five of the least expensive sandwiches listed at a dollar more than they cost in the deli itself. On the bottom of the menu would be a note stating that you could order off a more extensive menu across the street at Sam’s Deli.

  Sam would do the same for AJ. He would serve her fancy breakfast blend coffee with any of the breakfast sandwich meals. He posted a note on the bottom of his in-store menu stating that there were more exciting coffees across the street at The Bookshop Hotel, or you could have a cup of Folgers for a dollar.

  It wasn’t long before AJ realized what a huge project she had on her hands and the potential it held. She was going to need help.

  Sam’s Deli Menu

  Thursday Special: The Bacon Sub

  Eight slices of Crispy Bacon, Lettuce, Fresh Spinach Leaves, Green Bell Peppers, Red Onions, Black Olives, Cucumber Slices, Tomato, Jalapeños, and Chipotle Spread on a Six-Inch Honey Wheat Sub. Served with Homemade Potato Chips and your choice of Iced Tea or Lemonade.

  Matthew Atkins

  When AJ met Matthew, she was covered in dust and dirt. The hammer in her hand rested against her snug-fitting holey jeans as she ordered four construction workers around like it was the most natural thing in the world. Matthew stood in his slacks and nice button-up shirt in the doorway of what looked like an old, run-down hotel and chuckled.

  He had answered an ad in the newspaper looking for an assistant manager at a used bookstore in a quaint old town. He’d called the phone number a week ago, got a voicemail, and left a message. Hours after he’d gone to sleep that night, a return voice mail showed up on his cell thanking him for his interest in the position and offering him an interview time.

  Matthew stood in the doorway for twenty minutes watching her work and bark orders. He noticed it was nearly ten, so he tossed his resume to the side and rolled up his sleeves. He was right behind her when he yelled over the noise of the hammering, “Where do you want me?”

  AJ turned, looked him over, and handed him an electric screwdriver. “Those doors have to come off the hinges!” she hollered back, pointing to the doors on the other side of the first balcony. “The service elevator works,” she said when she saw him glance at the men working on the half-formed stairs. Matthew nodded and went to work, making his way around the debris.

  He worked hard for hours, taking the doors off, smoothing the frames with a sander, and clearing out the rooms of debris and junk until they were empty. Three o’clock came around, and a woman dressed in pink came stepping through the double doors of the lobby. AJ waved for work to cease, and the four guys rebuilding the stairway stopped and disappeared under their project.

  Matthew saw them enter the garden out back from the window of the suite he was clearing. He lifted the bag of trash and loaded everything he’d gathered for the dumpster into the service elevator so he could follow everyone out.

  “Nancy Harrigan, town event coordinator.” The woman in pink thrust out her hand as she handed Matthew a sandwich from the local deli once he was out in the garden with the others.

  “Oh, God bless Sam,” AJ sighed and devoured a ham-and-cheese melt.

  “Matthew Atkins.” He took Nancy’s hand and shook it. “Ma’am.”

  “I like him,” Nancy said, jerking her thumb in Matthew’s direction. “Enjoy lunch. Toodaloo.”

  “Thanks, Nancy,” AJ replied between bites as the woman poked her way back into the hotel and out the front.

  “AJ, I’m going to run over and check on the baby and Kelly,” one of the workers said. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Sure, take an hour.”

  “Thanks.”

  AJ gestured to Matthew to head over to some plastic lawn furniture, mismatched like it was either brought from three or four different people’s homes for the day or crap she’d picked up from a yard sale for her construction crew. Apparently, it was time for an actual interview. Matthew looked down at his casual business attire, now covered in grime.

  “Well, Matthew, you obviously know your way around tools and construction.”

  “Well, ma’am, I’m no carpenter, but I can follow instructions.”

  “You from the south?”

  “Initially. Then I moved to the city.”

  “College?”

  “Some.”

  “Talk to me.” She started eating her second sandwich and listened intently.

  “I went to school for international marketing, and a year into my internship at the end of my junior year of college, I realized I’d rather study literature.” She laughed at that, and he continued, “Well, that pissed my parents off pretty bad, so I got cut off, and I couldn’t afford school anymore. I’ve been doing stuff here and there to pay my bills and the few student loans I do have. I managed a coffeehouse for a year, and I’m just tired of the city.”

  “You plan to go back to school?”

  “I take classes here and there when I can afford them. I’m twenty-six years old and finally six credit hours away from graduating, but I couldn’t pass up your ad.”

  “Your schedule is open?”

  “As open as it needs to be.”

  “If you want it, you’re hired. And I should be able to give you the time you need to finish school come spring semester.”

  “I’m here.”

  “Sorry about your clothes.”


  “No biggie.”

  “If you come in tomorrow, I can get your paperwork ready. I can have you paid for your work today by the end of the week and start you on steady paychecks. It’s not going to be much at first, but once this place is redone, your housing is taken care of if you’re interested in free rent as compensation for low pay. It used to be a hotel.”

  She dived into the history of the place and her plans, and Matthew thought he was the luckiest guy in the world to have answered that ad. He didn’t know at the time that he was the only one to answer. He finally felt convinced that his decisions up to this moment had been the right ones.

  A month later, he was moving everything he owned, which wasn’t much, into 2B at four in the morning. He didn’t need much. The suite was fully furnished, and he’d sold half of his things when he was twenty-one years old and his parents stopped paying for anything. He could hear AJ going up and down the stairs to get to the kitchen when he was in the living room side of his apartment.

  He spent an hour unboxing his books, mostly old paperbacks he’d acquired used. Other than his clothes, a lamp, a few personal items, and some toiletries, his books were pretty much all he had to his name. That was refreshing after the years spent with all the latest gadgets and technology and buying crap he didn’t need.

  He stood barefoot in jeans and an open flannel and took the last item out of the last box, an old picture frame. He set it on his nightstand, scratched his head, and moved it to the coffee table in front of the chaise. He stared for a minute and moved it to the mantel of the fireplace. He picked up a ratty copy of Vonnegut’s Cat’s Cradle and surveyed his new place, flicking the paperback against his hand with satisfaction. Only then did he realize how exhausted he was.