Cassie is waiting in line at Starbucks to get her morning coffee. She’s fiddling with her phone, when a familiar voice cuts through her thoughts:
“One cappuccino filled to the brim—make sure it’s to the brim—in a to-go cup. And make sure the foam is good. If the foam isn’t good, I’m sending it back.”
It’s Lydia. Ordering a drink from the barista. There are only two people separating them in the line. Cassie considers slipping out, but decides Lydia shouldn’t get to be the boss of whether or not she orders a drink at Starbucks. If she wants a latte, she’s going to get a latte.
“And I would also like a raisin bran muffin,” Lydia continues, her voice sharp as if they’d already gotten her order wrong. “Lukewarm. Put it in the microwave for exactly fifteen seconds.”
The cashier’s lips are valiantly straining to hold her smile. “Will that be all?”
“Repeat it back to me,” Lydia demands.
“One cappuccino to-go and—”
“One cappuccino filled all the way to the brim. With good foam.”
“Filled all the way to the brim,” the cashier says dutifully. “And a raisin bran muffin.”
“Microwaved for fifteen seconds.”
The cashier bows her head. It’s clear her patience is running thin. “Microwaved for fifteen seconds.”
Lydia is lucky they prepare the drink in front of her. Or else there would definitely be spit in it.
She’s standing right by the counter when Cassie orders her drink. Cassie is certain Lydia will notice her and say something, but Lydia is doing something on her phone that completely absorbs her. Cassie is no more than an ant on the pavement to her.
Cassie watches her for a moment, safe in the knowledge that Lydia doesn’t notice her. She’s wearing a dress suit that looks achingly expensive, even from across the room. Her blond hair is pulled back into a severe French knot, and her keen eyes scan the contents of the screen of her phone. Lydia is very beautiful, although not as beautiful as Francesca. But apparently, that was never a source of resentment. Lydia has never seemed one to be obsessed with her looks, but Cassie gets a vibe that Francesca spent a lot of time maximizing her appearance.
Francesca. Why does that woman keep invading her thoughts?
“Lydia?”
Lydia jerks her head up at the sound of her name being called. She sees her drink on the counter along with her muffin. She touches the muffin with the tip of her finger. “It’s still cold,” she says impatiently.
The girl who brought out her order frowns. “We microwaved it for fifteen seconds.”
“Then you did it incorrectly because it’s still cold.”
The girl shakes her head. “I don’t know if it’s possible to microwave incorrectly.”
“Yet somehow you still did.” Lydia slides the plate back across the counter. “Please microwave it for another fifteen seconds.”
The girl would have, in Cassie’s opinion, every right to throw the muffin back across the counter at Lydia. But instead she dutifully goes back to the microwave and heats up the muffin a second time. She brings it to Lydia.
“Better?” she asks.
Lydia touches the muffin with her fingertip. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
Lydia shrugs. “That’s why you’re the one wearing the apron, isn’t it?”
The girl’s mouth drops open. At first, Cassie is certain she’s just going to take it, but it seems like the girl’s had a rough morning with one too many picky customers, because she pulls the muffin off the counter, throws it on the floor, and says to Lydia, “Get out.”
Lydia stares at her. “Excuse me?”
“You’ve been nothing but rude since you walked in here and we don’t want your business,” the girl says. She opens up a cash register and hands over a few dollars. “Here’s a refund on your muffin.”
Lydia’s pale eyelashes flutter. “I’d like to speak with the manager.”
“I’m the manager,” the girl says. “And I want you out.”
“Fine,” Lydia hisses. “The owner will hear about this. Believe me.”
She yanks her cappuccino off the counter and walks out so abruptly that she knocks down a chair with her giant purse. Cassie watches her go, unable to believe her eyes. Surely that’s not the worst thing a customer has ever done at Starbucks. There’s just something about Lydia that rubs people the wrong way.
She sure rubs me the wrong way.
Cassie retrieves her own latte from the counter, and then leaves to head back to the bookstore. Too late, she wonders if she should have offered to get Zoe a drink too. Oh well.
She’s barely rounded the corner when she nearly collides with a woman absorbed by her phone. Once again, Cassie lifts her eyes to discover the woman is Lydia. This time Lydia notices Cassie though. She has no choice.
“Oh,” she finally mutters. “It’s you. Hello, Cathy.”
Cathy. Lydia has shared meals with Cassie, she’s humiliated her at a Halloween party, and she’s fought with her husband in front of her. Yet Lydia still hasn’t bothered to remember her name.
“Cassie,” Cassie says, although she’s not sure why she cares. Cathy is close enough.
“Right.” Lydia lowers her eyes and that’s when Cassie notices her eyes are rimmed with red. Like she’s been crying. “How are you?”
Cassie feels some of her irritation with Lydia fade away. “Are you okay?”
“Of course I’m okay,” Lydia snips at her.
“They’re very high strung at that Starbucks,” Cassie says in her most gentle voice.
Lydia rolls her eyes. “You think I’m upset about that?”
“Well, I would be. In the same situation, I mean.”
Not that Cassie would ever be in a situation where she belittled the Starbucks barista until she got kicked out. But still.
“I couldn’t care less about that.” Lydia swipes at her eyes briefly. “Trust me.”
“Oh.” Cassie chews on her lip. “Well, in that case… is there anything… I mean, do you want to talk?”
Please say no. Please say no.
Lydia stares at her for a moment, as if considering her offer. She hesitates, her eyes growing sadder by the second. “No,” she finally says. “But… thank you.”
“Any time,” Cassie says.
Cassie hurries back to the store, but she’s still thinking about Lydia. The woman always seems so together, but in that moment, she seemed like she was falling apart. Then again, Lydia doesn’t need Cassie’s help. She’s got plenty of her own friends—namely, Francesca. And Anna, of course. But in that moment, Cassie would have thought Lydia didn’t have a friend in the world.
Zoe is perched at the door when Cassie returns. She’s already got her coat on as well as that funky pink hat with the brim. Zoe got the whole outfit at a thrift shop last week. She invited Cassie to come along, but Cassie didn’t have any money to spare. Even thrift shop money.
“You mind if I grab an early lunch?” Zoe asks.
“Sure,” Cassie says. “It’s not like we have any customers.”
Zoe’s eyes suddenly light up. “You know what would bring in customers?”
Cassie frowns. “No erotica.” They had discussed it several times and Cassie wasn’t going to budge.
“No, I’ve got an even better idea.” She pauses to build the drama while Cassie braces herself. “We should have a petting zoo.”
Cassie’s mouth falls open. “A… petting zoo?”
“Just a small one,” Zoe quickly amends. “Like, a few rabbits, a chicken… maybe a small goat.”
“A goat?”
“We’d put a diaper on the goat, of course,” she says, rolling her eyes. Of course.
“Zoe.” Cassie dog-ears a page in her book and puts it down. “I’m not letting a goat in our store. It will make a giant mess.”
“No, it won’t. That’s what the diaper is for.”
Cassie doesn’t know what to say to that. “We’re not having a pett
ing zoo in the bookstore. That’s a terrible idea.”
“Fine.” Zoe sniffs. “But at least I’m coming up with ideas. You’re just sitting there, reading…” She peeks at the cover of Cassie’s paperback. “Wuthering Heights? God, how many times can you read that book?”
“It’s my favorite book. It’s the greatest love story of all time.”
Zoe crinkles her nose. “What’s it about?”
“It’s about this man named Heathcliff,” Cassie says. “When he’s a child, he falls in love with a girl named Catherine. But they can’t be together, so he spends his life getting revenge on everyone who belittled him and kept them apart. And then when she dies, he begs for her spirit to remain on Earth—she may take whatever form she will, she may haunt him, drive him insane—just as long as she does not leave him alone.”
Zoe looks just as horrified as Cassie did by the idea of a goat in a diaper. “That is the greatest love story of all time? It sounds like a story about a psycho who gets obsessed. Sounds like my ex, Jack.”
“You have to read it to understand.”
Zoe shrugs. “Maybe I should write a story about how Jack followed me into the ladies’ room at that bar. Maybe that’ll be the new greatest love story of all time.”
Cassie rolls her eyes and doesn’t try to convince her further. Zoe just doesn’t get it. She doesn’t know about Bea and Marv meeting at that subway platform and bonding over the lost copy of Wuthering Heights. She doesn’t understand that kind of love. And while Cassie has never experienced that kind of love herself, she knows it exists. She longs for it.
When Zoe goes out for her lunch break, Cassie finds herself distracted from her favorite book. She’s thinking about Joel. If someone told the story of their courtship, would they call it the greatest love story ever told? Yes, he bought Wuthering Heights from her, but it was a gift for his mother. Then he asked her out on a date, and… well, they find each other attractive. They have a good sex life. They exchanged keys. He’s a Hot Doctor. He’s sweet, funny, responsible, and intelligent. He ticks off every box.
No, it’s not the greatest love story ever told. There have been no great romantic moments in their love story. It’s nothing like the greatest love story of all time—the book that brought Grandma Bea and Grandpa Marv together. But they’re good together. They’ve exchanged “I love you’s,” even though every time Cassie says it, she’s never quite sure if she means it.
The store is quiet now. Not one customer—that’s the whole problem. And now she’s in a bad situation, without many options.
“Tell me what to do,” Cassie whispers to the silence bookstore. “Grandma Bea?” She pauses. “Grandpa Marv?”
There is no response. The bookcase doesn’t open up a giant mouth and start dispensing wisdom. She still doesn’t know what the hell to do.
“Excuse me? Miss?”
Cassie hadn’t even heard the customer come into the store. She wipes her hands on her jeans and flashes her most friendly smile. She needs to make a sale. Selling anything would make her feel better. Since the New Year, things have been abysmal. And those gift cards that seemed like such a great idea back in December mean people are coming in here and leaving with books but not giving her any money.
“Can I help you?” Cassie asks the young man at the door.
He rubs at his red nose. “I hope so. Do you have a copy of Lippincott’s Microbiology?”
She should have known. When she saw this kid, she should have assumed he was just another med student looking for textbooks.
“Does this look like a medical bookstore?” she snaps at him.
“Uh…” He looks around. “It looks like a bookstore.”
She shoots him a look. “Do you want any actual books?”
He takes a step back. “I guess… not?”
The kid leaves the bookstore without buying anything. Her one customer of the day and she managed to yell at him. Great.
And then Cassie’s phone starts to ring. She pulls it out of her purse and looks at the number.
Her heart races. She shouldn’t take this call. She definitely shouldn’t. This is not a joke—she could end up behind bars. But what else can she do? If she doesn’t go through with this, the store is done.
She presses the green button to take the call.
Chapter 39: The Ex
It’s about that girl. Your ex’s new girlfriend.
What is Nick talking about? I’d always thought there was something sinister about Olive, but I didn’t expect his investigation to actually turn up any information. I was half-kidding when I told him to investigate her. And especially now that things were starting to happen with Dean, I had been considering telling him to forget the whole thing. It’s time to move on.
This is the last thing I expected.
“What’s going on?” I say.
“You sitting down?”
What is he talking about? Is Olive a man? Because that’s where my mind is going right now. Unless he tells me otherwise. “Nick! Just tell me!
“Okay, okay…” He chuckles darkly. “So you know she’s got that business of hers, right?”
“Yes…”
“You may have noticed that the place isn’t exactly successful.”
I’m not going to lie. I walked by about a million times since Joel started dating Olive. And yes, it never looked like business was jumping.
“Well, it’s worse than it looks,” he says. “That girl owes a ton of money to every bank in town.”
That’s not good, for sure. And it confirms my suspicions that Olive sees Joel as a meal ticket. But it’s not “sit down because you’re not going to believe this” kind of bad. I’m disappointed. Olive being a man would have been much better.
“Is that it?” I ask.
“Shit, no, that’s not it,” he says. “You think I’d have all this buildup to tell you she’s going to declare bankruptcy? Who cares?”
I sigh. “So what is it then?”
“So she was going to lose everything,” he says. “But instead of declaring bankruptcy and taking the hit, she got herself in deeper. She borrowed money from… some not so good people.”
“Like…?” I whisper.
“Like people who will break your kneecaps or shoot you in the face if you don’t pay them back.”
Oh my God. That is bad.
“A hot girl like that… they probably won’t ice her—at least, not right away,” he says. “But they’re definitely putting the squeeze on her. God knows what they’re making her do to buy some time.”
I try not to picture what he means by that.
“The bigger worry,” he continues, “is that the people she cares about could be in danger.”
I sink down onto the bed before my legs give out. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Nick says, “if you care about your ex, you might want to warn him. He needs to watch his back.”
“Thanks for the heads up,” I mumble.
I feel numb as I end the call. A few minutes ago, Joel was the last thing on my mind. I was finally ready to move on, for God’s sake. I had the best date ever last night. I should never have opened up this can of worms—Nonna was absolutely right.
But now that I know Olive’s secret, I can’t un-know it. Joel’s life could be in danger. I have to warn him. I’m just not sure he’ll believe me.
Chapter 40: The New Girl
Cassie puts down the phone, her heart pounding. I am making a horrible mistake. Things have gone from bad to worse. How did she let herself get in this situation? It was so stupid. And now it just keeps getting worse and worse.
All she wants to day is lay her head down on the desk and sob. Or throw herself off the Brooklyn Bridge. The former wouldn’t solve her problem, but the latter would.
Maybe she should level with Zoe. Confide in her how bad things have gotten. But what can Zoe do? She’s in worse financial shape than Cassie is.
Well, no. That’s not true. Zoe is poor, but she’s not in
debt.
The door jingles again, and this time, an elderly woman with a puff of white hair and glasses makes her way to the counter. Cassie squares her shoulders—this feels like a sale. At the very least, this woman isn’t buying medical textbooks. If she is, Cassie will definitely burst into tears.
“Hello, young lady,” the woman says. “I was just wondering… do you buy used books?”
Cassie hesitates. Usually the answer is yes. But she has no expendable cash right now. So unless these books are very cheap, the answer will be no.
“I’ve got two boxes in my car,” the woman says. “I don’t want much for them. Really, I just want them to have a good home.”
“Okay,” Cassie says. She has a hard time saying no to people. “Let me take a look.”
She likes the idea of books having a good home too. That’s why she wonders what will happen to the books in the store if Bookland were to close. The bookcases might get sold, but the books probably wouldn’t—that’s the whole problem. So what would happen to them? Would they end up in a dumpster somewhere?
She cringles at the thought.
Cassie pushes those terrible thoughts aside as she follows the woman outside to where the old white Chevy is parked at the corner. The car looks almost as old as the woman. She waits patiently as the woman pops open the trunk and reveals two boxes stuffed with books.
“Please have a look,” the woman tells her.
Cassie bends down over the first box, prepared to thumb through a few volumes and offer a token price. But the second she looks at the first title, her mouth drops open.
These aren’t just books. These are Easton Press books. Easton Press books are like the classic cars of the book world. And these books have been very well preserved. She picks up a volume of Huckleberry Finn that is in mint condition. She’d guess the book is worth at least a hundred dollars, if not more.
“My husband used to collect books,” the woman explains. “He died in June and now I’m moving out of our house in Long Island to a senior community. I don’t have room for his books, but I know he’d want someone to have them. He loved his books.”
“Yes,” Cassie breathes. Her heart is pounding in her chest.
The Ex Page 18
