Page 49

“You too.” I give Millie a last glance, but she isn’t looking at me, so I head out of the door.

It’s a short walk to Harpoon Lane. I call into The Lantern Café and buy two coffees, chat briefly with Emma, then head to the bookshop. The closed sign is still on the door, and it’s locked. Surprised, I unlock it and go inside.

“Mitch?” There’s no answer. I turn on the lights, take my coffee out of the cup holder, and leave his cup on the desk. Then I walk into the centre of the shop.

Sipping my coffee, I turn and look around. I’m very rarely alone in the shop. Maybe at the end of the day, but then I’m dashing around doing the books and closing up; I rarely have time to just be.

I look at all the boxes, and the piles of books on the tables. It won’t be long before the majority of these have gone. I continue to look around at the shelves, the paintings on the wall, and the building itself.

I’ve run the shop for several years, but I’ve only ever felt like a caretaker, as if I’m looking after it for John. I’ve bought the books he likes, and although I’ve introduced little things like handwritten ‘recommended’ labels, I’ve never changed anything structurally, or even moved the bookcases around.

What changes would I make if the shop were mine?

My pulse speeds up at the thought. I push aside all my misgivings for a moment, and just think about how excited I’d be to run my own bookshop. What changes I’d make, and how amazing it would be the day I opened it.

Lost in thought, I jump when the bell over the door jangles. Mitch comes in carrying several big shopping bags. “Ahh,” he says when he sees the coffee on the desk, “you know the way to my heart.”

“What have you been buying?”

“Cleaning stuff. I’ll get started on the flat in a minute.” He puts the bags down, picks up his coffee, and comes and stands beside me. “What are you up to?”

“Just imagining what I’d do if the shop were mine.”

He sips his coffee. “Go on then. Tell me.”

I hesitate for a moment, but he gives me an encouraging smile, so I turn back to face the shop. “Well, the floorboards are beautiful. Kauri wood, aren’t they? They’d come up lovely with a polish and fresh varnish. The walls could definitely do with a repaint, though.”

“Grandad touched them up a couple of times over the years,” Mitch admits, “but I think they’ve been the same sea-green colour since the seventies.”

“I’d paint them maybe pale peach, or yellow. Something bright and sunny, to fill the place with light. I’d change the lampshades,” I gesture to the lights that hang from the ceiling, “and probably fit new lamps on the walls to get rid of the dark corners.”

He nods. “And the books?”

“Genre fiction at the front of the shop. Modern thrillers, sci-fi and fantasy, mysteries.”

“And romance.”

“Of course.” I chuckle. “And a bigger children’s section there, with small beanbags. Wooden cubes full of picture books for the younger kids, and behind them shelves of adventure stories and fantasies for those who can read for themselves.”

“And here?” He gestures to the right.

“Like you said, books that tourists might want to buy—about the filming of The Lord of the Rings, biographies of the All Blacks, and some with photos of the beautiful landscapes in our country. I’d still have some literary fiction, and some non-fiction too. Cookbooks and gardening books are always popular.”

I gesture at the wall. “The archway to The Lantern would let in the gorgeous smell of coffee and pastries. This whole quarter of the shop would be The Nook, with tables and chairs, and at the back, some sofas and armchairs where the book club girls could meet on a Thursday night.”

“It sounds amazing.” He smiles.

The vision fades in my mind like a rainbow, and I sigh. “It’s fun to imagine, but I’m still not sure about the logistics. It seems like a huge risk. Still, I’m going to think about it. I don’t want to say no just because I’m scared. Sometimes you have to make a leap of faith, right?”

“Yeah. I’m glad you’re going to think about it. I think you’d be amazing.”

“I don’t know why,” I say softly. “I don’t have any business experience.”

“You’re smart as,” he says, surprising me. “I’ll never know why you didn’t go to uni. You know all the accounts inside out, and the ordering system. But it’s not just that—you’re friends with all the suppliers, as well as the customers. It’s already your business in everything but name.”

I blink. “I suppose. I hadn’t thought about it like that.”

He sips his coffee, eyes gleaming. Then he says, “How was Millie?”