The Bookshop on the Corner (A Gingerbread Cafe story) (11 page)

Until next time
,

The roving reporter.

I replied to the email as quickly as I could in case Ridge was still sitting in front of the computer.

Dear RW

I’m sure you could wrestle a crocodile! I bet as soon as he locked his beady eyes on your biceps, he’d scurry away as fast as his little reptilian legs could take him! Work is piling up at the bookshop because I’ve been stuck staring out of the back window into the rose garden for some inexplicable reason…

Only one more week, until RW returns to the good old US of A, and back to the land of plenty. Until then, I’m thinking of you,

SS

Distance made everything that much sweeter. I missed Ridge, and he missed me. I was falling into the abyss of messy, manic love. And it was divine.

***

Mid-morning the following Friday, I’d finally managed to catch up on all my orders, blog about my all-time favorite romances and unpack boxes of stock that had arrived, including Gloria’s motley collection of second-hand books. I’d left Gerald’s neatly packed boxes until last so I could linger over each book, before I lovingly shelved them one at a time in the reading room. The books seemed to swell with pride as they sat solemnly on the old wooden shelves. They knew they were going to be well loved here, and read again, maybe a few times, in the years to follow.

An ephemeral waft of cool air hit my neck as I placed the last of Gloria’s books on the shelf. Smiling to myself, I said out loud, just in case, “Thank you for your wonderful collection, Gloria. I’ll treasure them always.”

A faint ‘you’re welcome’ rustle came from the magazines on the coffee table.

I hoped one day Gerald would visit and sit in here and feel the magic too.

***

Ridge retuned a few days later. I knew he was back, but wasn’t expecting him for a few days. He strolled into the bookshop as if he were merely a customer, and not someone who made my heart skip a beat. And then skip again, until I was gulping for air.

“Thirsty?” he asked, and walked to me…that he-scent. How I lived without him for two weeks was beyond me.

“Not thirsty, just, erm, out of breath from unpacking boxes. Of books. Out the back.”

He pulled me into his arms and said softly, “Liar.”

“Moi?”

“You’re not dusty.”

I looked up from his embrace. “Sprung! Tell me all about Australia.”

He withdrew his arms and pulled me to the table near the window. “You would have loved it, I think. The Aussies are a great bunch of people. So strikingly different from New Yorkers, you would have appreciated them. They have this laid-back attitude, and everything’s a joke. It was fun. I’d love to go back and explore some of the bigger cities. We were lost in the bush for most of the time.”

“Somehow, I can’t picture you with your perfect smile, and immaculate clothing, lost in the bush…”

He clasped my hand across the table, and laughed. “You know I did get quite a bit of stick for being a ‘pretty boy’. It wasn’t long before I was dressed more casually and wearing thongs, which are flip-flops, not a type of underwear.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Well, I’m glad you clarified that for me.”

His smile slipped. “I came to tell you I’m going away again. Soon.”

My heart dropped. Would this be how it always was? Just when I was excited to get more time with Ridge, he’d jet away, to somewhere exciting. How long before the shine wore off the girl from the bookshop? I shook the thought away.

“Where to this time?”

“The Philippines. I’m doing a report about the effects of the typhoon and how the towns are coping now.”

I couldn’t understand how he could go from a fluffy piece about Ashford to such a serious story about the ravaged state of the Philippines.

“You sure cover a lot of topics. When will you be back?”

“A week, maybe two?” He smiled, baring those lovely white teeth of his. “You wouldn’t consider coming, would you?”

I dropped my gaze to our clasped hands. “Not this time, Ridge. But keep asking.”

As time wore on, maybe I would consider it. One week away, I could probably do. So the bookshop would stay closed. I was sure the books could talk amongst themselves for seven days without incident.

“So there’s hope,” he said. “But in the meantime can I take you out for dinner tonight?”

“As long as you order something I like in case I want to switch.”

“Deal.”

We did that super-sweet new-couple thing where you just smile goofily and stare into each other’s eyes.

***

Ridge stayed in the Philippines for three weeks. He sent me flowers by way of Missy’s garden; she was only too happy to chop off her gorgeous roses when Ridge asked.

“He is missing you fiercely,” Missy said, handing me a bunch of scarlet roses.

“Oh, Missy, thank you. I know how you hate cutting them.”

“What’s a girl to do when a man like that is pining for his love? He emailed me when he realized there was no florist in Ashford. How you holding up?” she asked, settling herself on a stool at the counter. Her belly had a slight swell that never failed to make me smile. I itched to run my hand across it. I’d felt the baby kick for the first time last week. It was such an intense feeling — Missy and I had bawled like babies ourselves.

I couldn’t fight the urge any longer, so I perched on the stool next to Missy and ran my hand across her bump. “Yoo hoo, baby, it’s your adopted aunty here.”

Missy put her hands on her hips and jutted her belly out. “Get him to wake up, will you? Then he might not kick me all night when I’m trying to sleep.”

“Oh, he’s keeping you up?” I asked and then gasped. “Wait…he?”

Tears filled her eyes and she pulled a tissue from her sleeve. “We found out this morning. We’re expecting a little boy.”

“Missy!” I choked back another sob; seemed this hormonal baby crying was contagious. “Congratulations again!”

“Tommy has gone into overdrive. He’s repainting the nursery. On one wall he’s sketching a huge mural of a steam train. I think secretly he’d hoped it was going to be a boy, though I’m sure he would have been just as happy with a little girl.”

“What about names? Are you up to that stage yet?”

She swallowed hard, fighting back tears. “We like the name William. Or Jaxson. Maybe William Jaxson, or Jaxson William. What do you think?”

“I think they’re great names. Strong. They’d suit a boy of yours perfectly.”

“They just stuck. So that must be a sign, right?”

“Right. And flip a coin to see which order you choose.”

She stood up quickly. “Oh, you’re a genius! That’s exactly what we’ll do!”

I filled up our cups with decaf coffee, only stocked since Missy had fallen pregnant.

She continued: “So you didn’t answer my question — how are you holding up with Ridge away all the time? He sounded like a lovesick teenager in his email. It must be hard.”

I shrugged half-heartedly. “It’s hard, but I guess it’s the way it is, and I knew that. It’s kind of nice falling in love slowly. No matter how fast our feelings have developed, the assignments put the brakes on it, and make those brief reunions all the sweeter.”

Missy pulled out another tissue. “Don’t mind me,” she said in a high-pitched voice. “You should be used to this emotional see-saw from me now, but that is the loveliest description I’ve ever heard. You know, you really are living out a romance worthy of the books.”

I rubbed her arm. “It does seem like it, doesn’t it?”

Chapter Twelve

A few weeks later CeeCee ran into the bookshop, startling me by knocking a pile of books from the window sill straight into my lap. She waved around a newspaper. “What are you doin’?” She stopped abruptly, taking in the spreadsheets on my lap.

“I’m seeing if there is any viable way I can pay for an employee at the bookshop, and still afford to give myself a wage.”

CeeCee guffawed. “An employee? Do you mean to say you’re considerin’ goin’ on a jaunt with Ridge some time?”

I tried not to look coy, but it was damn hard. “Maybe. It’d be a huge step for me to leave my book babies.”

“Oh, you should do it!” she said. “Surely we can all pull together for a week or so and help you out.”

I waved her away. “CeeCee, if you and Lil help any more people out you’ll have to close the café. It’s OK, I think I can find a way.”

“Ain’t nothin’ we can’t manage. The offer is there. Anyway, lookie, it’s here!” She handed me the newspaper. “None of us have read it yet — we wanted you to read it first.”

I sat upright. “Is it the article, already?”

“It surely is.” Out of breath, she plonked down on the chaise beside me and said, “There’s a picture of the Gingerbread Café! Wait, I need my glasses.”

Placing her glasses on the bridge of her nose, she began reading aloud. “‘The town time forgot. Ashford, a small town in Connecticut, is a place where people don’t change much. In fact, they still use colloquialisms like color me surprised, and glory be…’ Oh, that’s me, I say glory be!” CeeCee said.

I stiffened, thinking back to the first time Ridge walked into the bookshop. What had he said?

“Have you got any Keats?”

“A poetry man, color me surprised.”

CeeCee was still reading. My heartbeat raced as I heard more of the article.

“‘—The town itself looks like it’s been stuck in a time warp dating back to the early nineteen hundreds. There’s a tiny bookshop where everything is stacked in disorderly piles on the floor, where a girl with a simple name and an eager smile will banter with you about what kind of book suits you—‘”

“Stop, CeeCee.” I couldn’t believe it. The article was focused on me, after I explicitly asked Ridge not to be included.

She looked over her glasses at me. “What is it?”

I exhaled, anger making my hands quake. “What kind of article is this? He’s belittling the town, Cee. Making a mockery of us. The town time forgot? Stuck in a time warp? You don’t see it?” I asked. I crossed my arms over my chest. How could he do that? I knew it was too good to be true, a man like Ridge loving me. All the while he was memorizing things I said and using them for his own gain.

CeeCee mumbled to herself as she kept reading. “No,” she said softly as if she was trying to convince herself of something. “Maybe I’m reading it wrong. Yes, that’s it. Maybe he’s saying it’s quaint,
it’s cute
. We haven’t moved with the times ’cause we don’t want to!”

I shook my head, and stood up, pacing back and forth in the small space.

She read the rest of the article silently, and then turned to face me. “I just don’t understand it, I don’t. You want to read it?” she asked, holding out the paper to me. She looked shocked; her face had paled.

“No. I don’t need to read any more about what kind of hicks we are in Ashford. I told Ridge I didn’t want to be in the article, and yet he used direct quotes that came from me, and ones that make me look silly.”

CeeCee frowned. “He goes on to say a whole lot more about all of us. Maybe I’ll show Lil, and see what she makes of it.”

I was so upset my shoulders shook as great big chest heaves racked my body. The one time I’d allowed a man to truly know the real me, and he abused the privilege, for what, one article, when he travelled the world reporting on bigger, better things anyway? It didn’t make sense, and made me wonder if Ridge was play-acting the whole time. I was mortified that my friends would know he was a phony.

“Sugar plum, I’m goin’ to show Lil, and see what she thinks. There must be some explanation.”

I watched her amble off, shaking her head all the while.

***

Later that day the phone rang, but I knew it would be Ridge. It rang out, and the answering machine picked it up. I glared at the answering machine when I heard his deep voice croon lies into the recording.

I shut the shop early because I couldn’t face any customers. I’d been played for a fool and everyone would know it.

Slamming the cash register shut after counting the takings, I heard the familiar click clack of Missy’s high heels. The back door squeaked open and in she strutted.

“Are you OK?” she asked, squinting at me.

“No, not really. Why, Missy? Why would he be so hurtful? You can’t tell me Ashford is newsworthy enough to spend all that time with me just to write an article? It doesn’t make sense when he gets paid to go from one exotic location to the next. I’m hurt. I can’t believe I trusted a man like that.”

“There must be something else going on. Maybe it’s…” She stopped when she saw the fury in my eyes.

I scoffed. “What else could it be? Missy, please. The title was
The Town Time Forgot
. If that’s not an insult I don’t know what is!”

She sat down on the chaise, and spoke gently. “I know it reads badly, but no one, especially not someone as good and true as Ridge, would do that. We know him, we do, Sarah,” she said, beseeching. “I agree, the sentiments in the article are not nice. But please let him explain before you push him away for ever.”

I sat next to her, and closed my eyes. “There’s no disputing the fact I asked him not to mention me. I wanted him to focus on the café, and Walt’s furniture shop, for their sakes. Instead there’s a great big picture of the Gingerbread Café, and nothing about Walt’s shop, and then he’s pulled the mickey out of all of us. Wait, do people still say ‘pulled the mickey’ or would he use that against us too? I should have known better, Missy. Men like him do not come to backwater towns like this for no reason.”

Missy put an arm around me. “You’re the one calling Ashford a backwater now? Honey, let me tell you this straight, because I know you better than anyone. I think you’re looking for something to use as an excuse so you can run back to your book cave and hide. You can’t bookmark your life, Sarah. As much as it’s easier to live in a fictional world, you can’t live there for ever! You finally stepped outside your comfort zone, and it scared you. But, please, just ask him, just do that one thing for me.”

“Missy, don’t you see? Ridge is a walking cliché. I trusted him, I did. And look what happened.”

She shook her head. “I’ve got a shop full of clients with bleach burning their hair, so I have to go. But I’ll let you think a while. We sat with him over dinner — he’s not that kind of man. He’s not.” She hugged me and walked away without another word.