returns. “So what do you plan to do with the place?”
I grimace inwardly, thinking of how the locals will take the news. I can almost write the headline: NEW YORK BANKER INHERITS BELOVED BLUE BIRD BOOKS; CLOSES IT S DOORS FOREVER .
“I, uh—”
“I imagine you’ll want to do a little remodeling,” he says, standing up and running his hand along a nearby bookcase.
“Yeah, I—”
“I can help,” he continues. “I have a ton of tools in the basement. We had to do a full renovation before we could open the restaurant. I got pretty handy with a table saw.”
“Thanks,” I say. “But, well, I’m not really sure how much heavy lifting I’ll need to do.”
Gavin seems undeterred, even excited, by the challenge of fixing up the store. “You could refinish the bookcases,” he says. “Strip them down and sand down the tops. A bit of paint here and there, and some new moldings—oh, and maybe a new checkout counter—and this place will be grand again.”
I can’t tell him the truth: that Bluebird Books will
never
be grand again. I can’t tell him that I plan to call a truck, tomorrow, maybe, and pay someone eight dollars an hour to load up all the books and boxes and most all of Aunt Ruby’s worldly possessions and cart them off to a local library. What can’t be donated will be taken to the dump.
The dump.
It casts a sad, hopeless shadow on Aunt Ruby’s legacy. What would she think of me now? If I look carefully, I can almost see her patting the locket around her neck, which is when I remember that it’s now around my neck. I touch the gold chain nervously.
“I can tell this place means a lot to you,” Gavin says, his words jarring me back to the moment. “You grew up here, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” I say, a little startled. “How did you know?”
“Just a guess. I assumed your aunt would have left the shop to someone who loved it as much as she did.” He grins. “And also, you seem more Seattle than the New York type.”
His comment surprises me at first. New York has made me tougher, smarter, more driven. Can he not see that? “And I take it you know both types very well, then?”
He smiles playfully. “You might say that.”
I wonder, for a moment, if Ruby knew Gavin, and if so, what she might have thought of him. “Did you get to know my aunt much?” I ask.
“A little,” he replies. “We’ve only been here a year. Ruby closed the store about six months after Adrianna and I opened the restaurant. We, all of the business owners on the street, felt so bad for her, because we knew the depths of her loss. But she just couldn’t keep up. Lillian and Bill convinced her that it was time to move to a retirement home.”
I feel a pang of guilt. I could have called. I didn’t even call. My heart beats faster, and I place my hand on my chest and take a series of deep breaths. My medication is upstairs; I’ll take a pill later. “Lillian and Bill, the owners of Geppetto’s, right?” I remember the way Lillian regarded me on the street earlier.
He nods. “She had a fall.”
I gasp and cover my mouth with my hand.
“I started checking on her in the afternoons, just to make sure she was doing all right,” he says. “And one day, I went in to say hello and she wasn’t sitting at her desk. I heard a faint cry from the back hallway, so I rushed over, and there she was, lying at the base of the stairs, where she’d been since she fell that morning. I called an ambulance, and they took her to the hospital. She came back a few months later after a stay at a rehabilitation facility, but she’d changed by then. I could see the look in her eye. She was more frail than ever. I helped her move a few things around the shop. She was very particular about where she wanted things to be.” He pauses for a moment. His eyes are serious, and they stare ahead at Ruby’s desk. “It sounds funny to say, but I just had this deep feeling that she knew she didn’t have much time left.”
I
I grimace inwardly, thinking of how the locals will take the news. I can almost write the headline: NEW YORK BANKER INHERITS BELOVED BLUE BIRD BOOKS; CLOSES IT S DOORS FOREVER .
“I, uh—”
“I imagine you’ll want to do a little remodeling,” he says, standing up and running his hand along a nearby bookcase.
“Yeah, I—”
“I can help,” he continues. “I have a ton of tools in the basement. We had to do a full renovation before we could open the restaurant. I got pretty handy with a table saw.”
“Thanks,” I say. “But, well, I’m not really sure how much heavy lifting I’ll need to do.”
Gavin seems undeterred, even excited, by the challenge of fixing up the store. “You could refinish the bookcases,” he says. “Strip them down and sand down the tops. A bit of paint here and there, and some new moldings—oh, and maybe a new checkout counter—and this place will be grand again.”
I can’t tell him the truth: that Bluebird Books will
never
be grand again. I can’t tell him that I plan to call a truck, tomorrow, maybe, and pay someone eight dollars an hour to load up all the books and boxes and most all of Aunt Ruby’s worldly possessions and cart them off to a local library. What can’t be donated will be taken to the dump.
The dump.
It casts a sad, hopeless shadow on Aunt Ruby’s legacy. What would she think of me now? If I look carefully, I can almost see her patting the locket around her neck, which is when I remember that it’s now around my neck. I touch the gold chain nervously.
“I can tell this place means a lot to you,” Gavin says, his words jarring me back to the moment. “You grew up here, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” I say, a little startled. “How did you know?”
“Just a guess. I assumed your aunt would have left the shop to someone who loved it as much as she did.” He grins. “And also, you seem more Seattle than the New York type.”
His comment surprises me at first. New York has made me tougher, smarter, more driven. Can he not see that? “And I take it you know both types very well, then?”
He smiles playfully. “You might say that.”
I wonder, for a moment, if Ruby knew Gavin, and if so, what she might have thought of him. “Did you get to know my aunt much?” I ask.
“A little,” he replies. “We’ve only been here a year. Ruby closed the store about six months after Adrianna and I opened the restaurant. We, all of the business owners on the street, felt so bad for her, because we knew the depths of her loss. But she just couldn’t keep up. Lillian and Bill convinced her that it was time to move to a retirement home.”
I feel a pang of guilt. I could have called. I didn’t even call. My heart beats faster, and I place my hand on my chest and take a series of deep breaths. My medication is upstairs; I’ll take a pill later. “Lillian and Bill, the owners of Geppetto’s, right?” I remember the way Lillian regarded me on the street earlier.
He nods. “She had a fall.”
I gasp and cover my mouth with my hand.
“I started checking on her in the afternoons, just to make sure she was doing all right,” he says. “And one day, I went in to say hello and she wasn’t sitting at her desk. I heard a faint cry from the back hallway, so I rushed over, and there she was, lying at the base of the stairs, where she’d been since she fell that morning. I called an ambulance, and they took her to the hospital. She came back a few months later after a stay at a rehabilitation facility, but she’d changed by then. I could see the look in her eye. She was more frail than ever. I helped her move a few things around the shop. She was very particular about where she wanted things to be.” He pauses for a moment. His eyes are serious, and they stare ahead at Ruby’s desk. “It sounds funny to say, but I just had this deep feeling that she knew she didn’t have much time left.”
I
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