West Wind (21 page)

His ears flattened and he leaned back
disapprovingly, then fell sideways. Ever arrogant, Jasper stood up.
His tail twitched twice and he stalked into the house.

Back in the kitchen, he forgot her disrespect
and winnowed between her feet. Erica gave him a spoonful of milk,
then headed up the steps to her bedroom.

Once in her room, she kicked off her sandals
and unbuttoned her shirt. She moved into the private, adjoining
bathroom and tossed the shirt in the laundry basket. Her jeans
followed along with her bra. She turned on the water in the shower
and while it the water heated, she brushed her teeth.

She paused, studying the mirror. She tried to
imagine herself as others saw her, but couldn't. She'd stopped
thinking of herself as a woman, much less an attractive one, long
ago. She spent so much time de-sexing herself, being a mother
first, a daughter second, a businessperson third.

When she selected clothing, it was based upon
durability and comfort. She never bought anything that needed
dry-cleaning. She rarely wore makeup, either, preferring tinted
skin moisturizer, a little mascara and neutral lip-gloss.

She felt she had been in limbo for years,
waiting for something, or someone, to happen before she could begin
her "real life." Meanwhile the years slipped away. She forged
ahead, earning a college degree and working as a researcher at a
local law firm while she saved money for her own business.

And she raised her child as best she could.
Living with Walt was a blessing. Not only did she have her father,
but Daisy had her grandfather and a built-in nanny. Widowed for
nearly twenty years, Walt cherished his small family. He retired
from his job as a public school teacher when Daisy was born so his
daughter could work and then go to college. Once Daisy began
Kindergarten, Walt went back to substitute teaching at local
schools. It was a good arrangement and Daisy helped to heal his
grieving heart.

Erica stepped into the hot shower and steam
enveloped her. She concentrated only on the world within the large,
claw foot tub. After letting the spray stream over her head for a
few moments, she picked up the shampoo and sudsed her wavy, dark
brown hair. She had a habit of running her hand through her hair,
pushing it from her eyes, which precluded her from keeping a
specific style. She kept it informal and shoulder length.

She squirted shower gel onto the bath puff
and soaped her long legs.
I'm getting soft
, she thought, as
she ran the puff over her calf. Erica didn't exercise; she walked
during her lunch breaks. When she was younger, especially after
Daisy was born, she jogged and worked out at the gym, but in recent
years, she preferred walking. She found it meditative, relaxing. As
a result, her body lost its lean, muscular definition. She became
more rounded. She considered herself a few pounds overweight, but
she didn't let it bother her. Not too much.

Finishing her shower, Erica turned off the
water and stepped out of the tub. She dried off quickly and grabbed
her favorite nightgown off a hook on the bathroom wall. She
slathered moisturizer on her face and hands, petroleum jelly on her
lips and exited the steamy bathroom.

She didn't have a television in her bedroom;
she preferred to read at night. Like her father, books were her
passion. She enjoyed reading about others and their vicarious
adventures, while keeping her own life ordinary.

But all of that was about to change, she
mused. Last month she signed the papers for her own business -- she
now owned a bookstore. The former owners of Sullivan's Books, an
elderly couple retiring to Florida, ran the shop for generations.
It broke their hearts, the woman confided in Erica, that their own
children weren't interested in operating the store and, in fact,
moved from the area in search of greener, more exciting pastures.
For Erica, it was the fulfillment of her dream. She scrimped and
saved money for a down payment, and then scrimped more to expand
and renovate the shop.

She fell asleep, her paperback unread on her
pillow, dreaming about the grand opening of her new bookstore.

Chapter Two

Daisy cried herself to sleep. When she woke
up, her face was puffy and sad. Erica stirred half-and-half into a
cup of coffee and felt a bit guilty when a listless Daisy walked
into the kitchen. Erica tried her standard bribe.

"Want to go shopping later this afternoon?
I've got to go to Peachy's for some things for the store."

Peachy's, the heart of Eaton despite its
location on the outskirts of the town, served the community needs
with its various shops and businesses. Owned by the same family
since 1842, Peachy began as a general store. During the past
century, it evolved to include everything from goldfish to
gasoline, and provided services ranging from haircuts to hot tub
repairs. Each generation of the Peachy family added to the
business, expanding it as their various interests and talents
emerged.

A few years earlier, one of those "big box"
stores opened on the other side of town, but lasted only a year.
After that, a big discount chain moved into the abandoned building.
It closed too. There was no competing with the hometown oddity.

Peachy's never moved into book selling,
mostly because the Sullivan family already provided the service. As
much as Peachy's had a monopoly in some things, they were neighbors
first

Morose, Daisy sat at the small wooden table.
She didn't look up from the bowl of cereal she'd poured for
herself. "I've got to work at the pool until seven. Thanks,
anyway."

"Well, I can wait until later. We can go
tonight after dinner, or we can eat out, if you want."

Daisy knew the routine well. Her volatile
mother would get angry, yell, make her cry, then try to make up.
Daisy allowed it most of the time. Throughout the years, she had
amassed quite a lot of music, clothes, art supplies and books by
milking the remorse.

Erica shrugged and picked up her pocketbook
and car keys. She knew the routine, as well, although she'd never
admit it. "I'll see you tonight, then. You remember to come home
right after work; no side trips."

"I know," Daisy said, annoyed.

* * *

Erica drove slowly through the neighborhood,
heading for town. Summer was in full swing and children rode
bicycles and played ball in the streets. She decided to take a
slight detour and drive by the community pool at the corner of High
and Elm streets. She paused at the stop sign and peered through the
tall, chain-link fence. She spotted Brian in his lifeguard's chair,
perched above the loud mob of children. He had zinc oxide on his
nose, sunglasses over his eyes and a whistle in his mouth. He blew
a couple of quick bursts and pointed at a little boy. "Quit
splashing, Franklin, or you'll have to sit out."

A little girl came up to his post, crying. He
jumped down and put his hand on her shoulder. "What's wrong, Jody?
You hurt your finger?"

Erica watched as he examined at the little
girl's hand. A few moments later, he kissed it. She threw her arms
around his neck and squeezed, then sprinted to the shallow end and
jumped into the pool, splashing Franklin. Brian put his fists on
his hips and shook his head.

"So, he's a nice guy," Erica fumed to
herself. "He's also a troublemaker."

A car honked behind her. How long had she
been sitting at the intersection, watching Brian? She waved her
hand in apology and, checking both ways, drove on.

Once downtown, she parked behind the
bookstore.
My bookstore
, she thought proudly as she turned
the key in the lock and pushed open the metal back door. She
flipped on the lights in the long tunnel that ran behind her
business. It served as a storage area with boxes of books stacked
along on wall and furniture jumbled in a corner.

She walked through the shop, turning on
lights, music and her computerized cash register. She arrived a
half-hour before her new staff, enjoying the quiet.

She'd negotiated with the owners to sell her
the entire building. She didn't want to relocate anyone; she wanted
to become their landlord and spread her business into empty
storefronts. She planned to tear down walls and enlarge the
existing shop. She also intended to use the empty second floor. Or,
part of it at least. She talked with a contractor about raising the
ceiling and converting half of the second floor into a spacious,
open loft. For more than 125 years, customers funneled through the
cramped bookstore. Erica felt that it needed to stretch if it were
to survive.

She admired the layout and additional
amenities that large bookstore franchises offered, and that was her
goal. The stacks would be roomy and she would place comfortable
chairs and sofas throughout the shop to encourage reading. Her
plans included adding a small coffee and pastry shop, a stage for
acoustic concerts and book readings, a music and film section, and
even a playroom for toddlers.

Erica wanted her bookstore to be a
destination, a place where people could spend hours, if they
wanted, browsing and reading. She felt certain the business would
thrive; the town couldn't support large chain stores, and hers was
the only bookstore within a forty-mile radius.

She would offer free downloads of electronic
books, also, encouraging readers to come to the bookstore with
their eReaders and "shop" online the comfort of the store's new
cozy café, which she named "Sullivans" in homage to the longtime
previous owners. She wouldn't let the "digital revolution" cripple
her new business, as it had so many others. She knew that shopping
for books could be a sensory experience and she intended to
surround shoppers with sights, smells, sounds and textures that
induced them to spend money on one thing or the other.

It helped that the once-depressed downtown
was evolving. It boasted several small art galleries, chic new
restaurants and even a nightclub. Although tucked away in upstate
Pennsylvania, it was becoming a popular place to live. Quiet,
pastoral, historic, the small city of Eaton was a safe place to
raise children. Its proximity to major cities and the advent of
high-speed telecommunications also helped. More people could work
at home, via the Internet and cellular technology.

Before she took her business loan to the
bank, she sat down with Robert Hall, her attorney and former
employer. Their friendship began while she worked at his law
firm.

"Do you realize how many people live in this
region?" he asked. "According to demographics I've read recently,
there are more than 300,000 single, college-educated people within
a one hundred-mile radius. You're talking about people with a
disposable income of $6 billion. They don't have children, they
enjoy art and literature and they don't mind spending money on what
they enjoy. I think that demographic alone guarantees your new
bookstore will succeed. That is, if you are willing to make the
changes needed to improve it both physically and thematically."

"What do you mean, thematically?" Erica
asked.

"Your bookstore needs to take into account
topics that matter to all people, regardless of age, gender,
ethnicity or sexual preference. You need to cater to all people not
only adding diversity but emphasizing it. It needs to be
sophisticated. Raise the bar with your décor, your book titles,
your beverages and desserts."

"Wow. That's going to cost a lot more than I
anticipated." Eric chewed her bottom lip.

Robert spread his hands. "I understand. But,
you don't have to worry about going it alone. If you're interested,
I'd like to invest in your business."

"Robert! Really?"

"Yes, Erica. We've known each other for a
long time. I know you and I trust you. You're an ethical woman and
you're driven to succeed. I would certainly consider investing in a
business that would improve this city and provide me with hours of
enjoyment. I love a good bookstore and I'm sick of having to go to
a major city to patronize one."

Not only did Robert understand and appreciate
her vision, he wanted to be a part of it. Erica was thrilled with
the suggestion. She knew how dedicated he was to his own business.
If he were only one-tenth as dedicated to hers, she couldn't
miss.

They spent hours going over renovation plans.
He enjoyed recommending contractors, interior designers,
booksellers and even chefs. If she needed it, he had a client who
could provide it.

With Robert's support, Erica secured the loan
she needed and at a great interest rate. Last week she signed the
papers for her bookstore, "East of Eaton," a play on the book
title, "East of Eden" by John Steinbeck. Robert suggested the name
not for its biblical reference, but because the historic building
she purchased was east of Main Street.

"You can't lose with a name like that," he
enthused.

"You better be right," Erica replied. "Or
we're both cursed, just like Cain."

She worried about renaming the store; for
more than one hundred years, it had been known throughout the
community as Sullivan's. But the Sullivans were now living in sunny
Florida and Erica agreed with Robert that a fresh start deserved a
fresh name.

Today, the contractors would finish tearing
down the last wall. They sectioned the area temporarily with sheets
of clear plastic to contain the grime and concrete dust. For the
past three weeks, Erica kept ahead of the contractors, packing
books into boxes, shuttling them into the back tunnel or to the far
side of the shop, safe from the debris.

She checked the time. She expected her
assistant manager, June Duval, any moment. A widow who worked at
the bookstore for 28 years, Mrs. Duval agreed to stay on when the
Sullivans retired. Much to her surprise, she enjoyed Erica's
enthusiasm and plans.