He’d never been there before, never seen the quaint little store sitting at the end of the cobblestone walk; though he’d been to this town before, this place had always escaped his vision. Or maybe it was only there when you needed it to be.
He tugged on his coat and got out of the parked vehicle, making his way across the street to the cobblestones, where he stuffed his hands in his pockets more out of habit than out of the chill of the afternoon. The sun was ablaze above, but there was a promise of snow on the horizon and he desperately needed to find a good book to read, knowing full well he’d be snowed in and wouldn’t be able to make it to his concert tomorrow night.
The bell above the door jingled as he entered, announcing his arrival much in the way a butler might at a mansion; he stomped his boots against the mat and let himself take in his surroundings. The store was small, but filled to the brim with books. It was well lit, providing the customer easy reading light, and it smelled of burning incense, a nice smell, not unlike a field of wild flowers. There were no other shoppers that he could see, nor anyone working, but he assumed they were probably in the back. It was lunchtime, so perhaps everyone took off for lunch and left the store unattended.
He smiled as he browsed the rows from science fiction to horror to romance, finally settling himself in the new release section. It’d been forever since he’d read anything, so he highly doubted there was a risk of buying something he’d already read.
“Can I help you?” A voice entered his thoughts just as he’d been reading the back of a Stephen King novel. He spun around to come face to face with a girl about two inches shorter than his 6’1 frame; her hair was hanging loosely around her face in curls of russet brown. For a split second he imagined running his hands through her hair and breathing in her scent. Even from where he stood, he could tell she smelled of vanilla. Her brown eyes were quizzical as she watched him, probably wondering why he was staring at her and not speaking. “Do you speak English?” she asked, taking a step down the aisle towards him.
“Um, yeah. Yes, I do.” He laughed, as his Southern accent became more defined; he coughed. “Sorry. I was off in my own world.”
Her lips spread into a small grin, “It’s all right. I always get like that in bookstores. It’s a real shock I can work here and actually pay attention.” She shrugged, “Sorry about the English remark. We’ve been getting a lot of French people in here lately, tourists you know, and it’s been a little hard communicating.”
“You don’t speak French?” He asked, cocking his head to the side.
“Very little,” she confirmed. “Enough to tell them how much they owe and to have a nice day.”
He set the book gingerly back on the shelf and held out his hand to her, “I’m Clay. It’s nice to meet you.”
She took his hand, shook it, “Barbara. Barb. Nice to meet you, too.”
Clay smiled at her and turned back to the bookshelf, though keeping her slightly in his vision; she was watching him with great interest. “I heard there’s going to be a lot of snow tonight and I’m worried about being snowed in…so I was looking for something to read while I wait.”
“You’re on vacation?” Barb asked, turning towards the shelf and running her fingers along the spines of the books, searching for the perfect one.
“Not exactly.”
“Well, what kind of stuff do you read?”
“I don’t really know. I haven’t read for a long time, not since I was in school practically. I’ve been really busy…can’t find the time, unfortunately.”
She nodded in understanding, “You want something new?”
“Yeah, I thought so.”
She nodded again, moving in front of him to the other side where she could look at all of those books without looking through him. He took a step back, not wanting to invade her personal space; as he did, he breathed her in and was pleasantly surprised that she not only smelled of vanilla, but gingerbread. “Have you been baking cookies?” He asked, surprised and delighted, a hint of laughter on his voice.
Barb turned to look at him, her face shown immense curiosity. “I have, yeah.” She jabbed a thumb towards the back of the store, “There’s an apartment back there, of the owner. I was baking her gingerbread cookies. How’d you know that?”
“I could smell them,” Clay shrugged, flashing her a cheeky grin.
“They’ve been done for over two hours. I was decorating them.”
“I have a keen sense of smell.”
Barb laughed, “I see that.” She became serious and turned back to the books. “This one’s good.”
“I was thinking of something light…something that won’t make me think. You know, like just…something funny.”
“Have you read Harry Potter?” Barb asked, pulling the large book from the shelf of which there were at least ten copies of it.
“Not the new one, but the old ones, yes.”
“It’s funny, and as long as you play dumb, it won’t make you think.”
Clay gingerly reached out and plucked it from her hands; he opened it and flipped through with little difficulty due to its bulk. “Is it as good as the rest?”
Barb leaned against the shelf comfortably, her eyes on him; he was entranced by the pages, his green eyes cast down, reading, “That depends, I guess, on how you liked the rest.”
He looked up at her and closed the book with a thump, “I thought they were fantastic.”
“Well, then you’d probably like this one.” She tapped her finger against the cover. “It’s emotional and the ending leaves a little to be desired, but it’s of course wonderfully written and the characters are humorous. The storyline is good and a little about Harry is revealed. It leaves you wanting more, which is what she’s good at.”
“I guess I’ll take it then. It’ll be about four years before I finish it, with my schedule, but I can try.” He smiled again, this time crinkling up his nose; she smiled back and led the way to the cash register at the front of the store.
“This is a great store,” Clay said conversationally as he glanced around at everything; there was a children’s section in the corner with little mini chairs and he noted there was a ladder to what was seemingly an upstairs.
“Thanks,” Barb said, ringing up the book. “Did you want anything else?”
“I don’t think so, but do you have a card I can have so I remember to come back here?”
She nodded and slipped a business card into the plastic bag with the book. She drummed her fingers on the countertop and waited while the book rang in on the ancient machine.
“How often do you work here?” Clay asked while she refilled the paper, as it had run out. Barb was digging around under the counter and he couldn’t hear her response. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Everyday,” she laughed and straightened up, feeding the paper into the machine. “Do you want to pay by credit card?”
“Oh yeah,” Clay responded, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. He plucked one of his many credit cards from the depths of the wallet and handed it over to her. “How late do you work tonight?”
Barb stopped retrieving the credit card swiper and tucked some hair behind her ear, “I work until closing, which is at 3, unless it starts snowing really badly.”
Both she and Clay glanced out the large picture window which had a nice display of holiday books; little snowflakes were falling from the now overcast sky, dropping onto the streets peacefully. Little had collected on the ground, but it promised to be a different scene in a few hours.
“Does this count as ‘really badly’?” He asked, chuckling.
“It could,” she replied, grinning as she ducked down and came back up; she swiped the credit card, handed it back and waited while the receipt was printed.
“Would you consider having dinner with me?” Clay asked, after he’d put his card back. “I don’t normally ask random girls out…but I…I like you.”
A large smile spread across her lips as she looked at him; she turned away, tore the receipt from the machine and handed it over along with a pen, “I’d like that. Sign there.” Clay did as he was told and handed the pen back over and the store copy of the receipt. She glanced at it quickly and then did a double take. “Clay Aiken?”
“That’s me,” he said, picking up his bag.
“So that explains why you’re ‘not exactly vacationing’.”
“I probably should have said, but I find it’s better when I don’t,” he grinned sheepishly. “Does this effect the outcome of our date?”
“No,” Barb replied, laughing. “I just feel like a fool for not recognizing you. I love you.”
“Oh, do you?” Clay guffawed.
Barb’s cheeks flushed, “Well, I mean…I enjoy your music…”
“That’s all right. I liked what you said first better.”
She bit her bottom lip and then smirked, “Will you marry me, then?”
Clay’s green eyes brightened as his smile widened, “Sure. Las Vegas okay with you? I’ve heard Elvis does remarkable services.”
Barb let out a hugely dramatic sigh, “It sure is snowing hard out there.”
Clay glanced out the window; the sky was merely fluttering snowflakes down haphazardly, not exactly cause for Storm Center on the local weather channel. “Yeah, it’s some blizzard.”
“I think I should try and get home; the roads will be really horrible if I wait much longer.”
He smiled, “I’ll wait outside.”
“Okay, I’ll close up and meet you out there in about five minutes.”
Nodding, he turned to head for the door and then paused. “Do you think the flights to Las Vegas are canceled?”
“Probably not.”
“I’ll go get us some tickets.” He waved and then pushed open the door. He’d disappeared by the time the jingle had finished sounding.
»Something Different (The Continuation)
«back