“The reason I don’t drink—it’s the same reason I chose not to have kids.”

“Your mother’s drinking?”

“Yes. But it wasn’t just alcohol. She was into other stuff too. Bad stuff. I decided no kid of mine was ever going to grow up the way I did. I know all about the nature versus nurture argument, that it’s not always your genes, that sometimes it’s about the role models you grow up with, but since I drew the short straw there too I decided not to risk it.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. Now you see why it’s not something I share.”

“I do. But you should never let anyone make you feel bad about your choices. They’re no one’s business but your own. No one, and I mean no one else gets a vote.”

“Try telling that to the woman who hands you a card for her fertility specialist right in the middle of a cocktail party.”

Missy shook her head grimly. “We’re not always the most tactful species, are we?” She took a sip of her wine then set the glass aside as if some decision had been made. “You know what? It’s about to be a brand-new year so let’s make a pact. No more giving a flip about what anyone else thinks. You’re starting a new life. Come spring, you’re going to have your very own bookstore. Next thing you know, you’ll meet someone and be living happily ever after.”

Christy-Lynn shot her a look of horror. “Let’s leave it at the bookstore, shall we? The last thing I need in my life right now is one more complication.”

Missy shrugged, but a sly smile lit her face. “Sometimes complications are really just gifts in disguise.”

SIXTEEN

Sweetwater, Virginia

March 26, 2017

After a month of wind and rain, spring had finally come to Sweetwater, and Christy-Lynn couldn’t have asked for a finer day for her grand opening. Missy had called at the crack of dawn to invite her to Taco Loco for a celebratory dinner, and Dar had pronounced the clear skies and warm weather a good omen. She prayed Dar’s intuition proved true. The last three months had been a blur of hammering and sawdust. Battered shelves had been torn out and replaced with new, the original oak floors sanded down and restored, the café demolished, rewired, and rebuilt. She had even carved out a small children’s corner at the back, stocked with toys and educational games.

It had been a joy to watch the place take shape. Best of all, every inch of the transformation had been carried out behind paper-covered windows, an idea proposed by one of the two grad students she had hired to staff the store. And now, at long last, it was time for the unveiling.

“It’s almost ten!” Tamara, her new barista, called from the café where she was giving the tables a final wipe. “Do you want to pull the paper off the windows, or should I?”

Christy-Lynn’s stomach lurched as she checked her watch. What if no one came? Or worse, what if they came and hated it? Sweetwater wasn’t exactly big on change. Most of the sidewalks were still paved with brick laid before the Civil War.

Tamara came up from behind, nudging her with an elbow. “Come on, boss. Five minutes. I’ll help you with the windows.”

Christy-Lynn nodded, but her limbs seemed paralyzed.

Tamara narrowed catlike green eyes. “Oh my God, are you nervous?”

“Try terrified. What if nobody comes?”

“Well, that’s just silly. The Crooked Spine is all anyone’s talking about. Everybody’s dying to know what you’ve done with the place.” She had moved to one of the plate-glass windows fronting Main Street and was slowly peeling off yellowed sheets of newspaper.

Christy-Lynn closed her eyes and pulled in a breath. The butterflies she’d been experiencing all morning had just become a swarm of bees.

“Uh, boss?” It was her new cashier, Aileen, insistently prodding her shoulder. “You might want to look out front.”

The floor seemed to wobble as Christy-Lynn opened her eyes. She blinked then blinked again. For a moment, she was too stunned to speak. It appeared the entire town had turned out. “We forgot to clean the windows,” she said numbly.

Aileen squinted in her direction. “Seriously? That’s what you see? Dirty windows?”

Christy-Lynn shook her head, still dazed. “I had no idea this many people would come out for a bookstore opening.”

Aileen grinned, giving her auburn ponytail a toss. “Of course they came out. Like Tom Hanks said in You’ve Got Mail—we’re a piazza—a place for people to mix, mingle, and be!” And with that, she headed for the back room. “I’ll get the lights.”

Tamara came to stand beside Christy-Lynn, arms full of rumpled newsprint. “You did good, boss,” she said quietly. “Really good.”

Christy-Lynn felt tears threatening but blinked them away. “Thank you. And thank you for all your help. I couldn’t have done it without you and Aileen.”

“I have to say it’s been pretty cool being a part of it. So what do you think? Should we let them in?”

Before Christy-Lynn could answer, the overhead track lights flipped on. The place really did look amazing. “Yes,” she said. “Let them in.”

The next two hours were a blur as a steady stream of customers poured in, gushing over the changes she had made and thanking her for saving the shop. One woman even snapped several photos with her phone, promising to forward them to Carol so she could see the transformation for herself.