“What happened to her?” I asked before it dawned on me I could have worded it better.
Gerald sighed, and took a moment before replying: “She passed on, Sarah. Not too long after we came into your bookshop. It was sudden. I woke up one morning, and she was gone. But you know what? She’d just that last night finished the book she was reading. And I think that was a sign especially for me — that she knew what was coming somehow and it was OK. God chose the right moment, at least, in that respect. She would have given Him hell if he’d taken her halfway through a book.” He laughed softly, but it sounded hollow.
“Which book was she reading?” I wanted to read that book, and wonder what she might have thought about that last night when she went to sleep.
“It was The Notebook, by Nicholas Sparks…” Gerald sniffed, and I gripped the phone tighter, hoping he wouldn’t end the call just yet. I wanted to hear more of their story. “You know, I read the book afterwards,” he said, “and it seemed fitting. Right, somehow. I’ve never told anyone this, but sometimes I read passages from The Notebook aloud, pretending she’s there, and is listening, with that glorious Gloria smile on her face. It makes me feel close to her. As though she’s just stepped into the other room for a minute…” His voice trailed off, and it took all my might not to cry down the phone. They’d exuded this radiance, and that kind of shine only came from real, once-in-a-lifetime love.
“I’m so sorry, Gerald. I can only imagine…” Anything I could say would only seem trite in such circumstances, but I tried desperately to think of something to say that would comfort him.
“It’s OK, Sarah. I’m doing better. I know we’ll meet again, so I live for that. I live for her, because it’s what she would want. But it’s time for me to move now. There’s too many memories in this big old house, and I’m too old to be tending gardens, and wandering around waiting for her to come back. Which brings me to the books. I want you to have them. I know they aren’t worth anything money-wise, and even if they were, it’s not about that. I want them to go to someone who understands their value, albeit sentimental.”
I exhaled quietly, trying to keep my emotions at bay. “Are you sure? There’s no way you can take them where you’re going?”
“I’m sure. I’ll keep a few that hold an extra-special memory, but the rest, I would like to ship to you, if you’ll have them.”
Light spilled into the small hallway from the reading room off to the side of the shop. It was a small room with a few high-back chairs that had seen better days, a fireplace and bookshelves around three of the walls. It was a space for customers to read when it was cold, and a room the local book club used for their monthly meetings.
“Gerald, I’d be honored to have them. But I won’t sell them. I’d like to put them in the reading room, the room you used when you visited, and then they can be enjoyed the way they’re meant to be.”
Gerald didn’t speak immediately. I sensed he was crying, and trying to quell the tears before responding. I pictured Gloria’s books arranged along the shelves in the reading room, including the one she bought here all those years ago. They’d have another life, those books, and Gerald could move along with his.
“Thank you, my dear. From the bottom of my heart. Gloria rhapsodized about you and your bookshop all the time. You’ve made an old man very happy.”
“I hope you find comfort in your new place, Gerald. And if you’re ever in town, come by and say hello.”
We finished the call; when I hung up I let the tears flow. And I knew right then, that was what I was missing in my life…a love affair like theirs. I wanted someone who knew books were more than just words on paper. Someone who understood my introspective nature and didn’t try to change me. I dabbed at my eyes with a tissue, ruminating about the fact that there was no one like that in Ashford. I could see the type of man I wanted: quiet, bookish, and introverted, someone who wouldn’t make me feel that reading all day was weird. And someone who’d snuggle right up next to me and read too.
My last thought before heading to Missy’s was that I hoped Gerald would find his way without his glorious Gloria.
***
“Hey!” Missy said, snipping away at a manic pace on a client’s hair as I wandered into her salon. “Busy morning?” she asked, her voice as loud as her clothing.
“I wish,” I said and sat heavily on the pink sofa. The bookshop figures had been dwindling each week. I had my out-of-town clients who sought hard-to-find books, and without them the bookshop wouldn’t survive, but worryingly they weren’t ordering as much these days either. My walk-in traffic had increased over the chocolate festival but not enough to stop the worry that seemed to plague me.
I rested my head against the back of the sofa, recalling the conversation with Gerald. “I had a lovely gentleman call and offer me his wife’s book collection for my reading room. She’s passed on…” My voice broke as I thought of Gloria.
Missy eyed me for a moment and said softly, “Must be a mighty fine collection all right — only the best go into that room.”
The reading room was my own personal library. It was filled with books that meant something to me, or that had changed the way I viewed the world. Anyone could sit in there and read, but the books weren’t for sale. Now, though, I’d take those volumes home and Gloria’s books would take pride of place.
“Yes,” I said. “It’s time for a shake-up. I thought I might rearrange the shop, maybe organize a weekend away or something. I just feel like…change.”
Missy arched an eyebrow, and stopped her furious scissoring. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Did you just say you’d rearrange the shop?”
“I did.”
“And the C word? Change? What’s brought this on? I know you, and change isn’t in your vocabulary.”
I laughed at Missy’s reaction. Change was so alien to me, it was almost another language. I was a staunch fan of the ‘if it’s not broke — don’t fix it’ mentality. Missy ran her hands through her client’s hair, fluffing it up. “I’ll just blow-dry Lettie’s hair, and then we can have a proper girl chat — what do you say?”
Lettie piped up, “Don’t mind me, gals. I’m enjoying this.”
Missy threw her head back and hooted. “I’m sure you are, Miss Lettie. Shame I’m about to drown out any conversation with this little beauty.” She winked at me and pulled out a hairdryer. The whooshing sound prevented us from talking, so I walked out back and made a pot of tea. When I returned Lettie was gone and Missy was sweeping up piles of golden-blond hair from around the chair.
She rested the broom against the mirror and said, “What’s this really about?”
I poured tea in two dainty but mismatched cups, and handed one to Missy.
“The gentleman who called told me the most incredible story about his wife, and their relationship…and seeing Lil and Damon every morning, kissing like their life depends upon it, I just feel a little lost. Dormant. Maybe nothing happens to me because I don’t try hard enough.” The words fell from my lips before I could edit them.
Missy clucked her tongue. “Oh, Sarah, you don’t need to try. You’re perfect just the way you are, and the quicker you see that, the better.” She sashayed over to me and joined me on the sofa. “I think broadening your horizons is a great idea but don’t go changing who you are.”
“I won’t,”