photography while ostensibly manning the cash register.
Lila’s favorite section was the children’s place. Comprised of a train table and a big arm chair surrounded by several bean bags, it wasn’t anything fancy but it struck Lila as the heart of the store. Redwood Cove was the kind of town where 10-year-olds could bike downtown and sit and read books without parents being worried that they’d joined a gang. That week, she’d had a few good Harry Potter talks with some super geeky preteen boys interested in wizardry. She’d also had the privilege of introducing an eight-year-old girl to her first Nancy Drew. She’d talked with Marion about starting a storytime for little kids and Marion had instantly loved the idea. They’d put up a few fliers and placed an announcement in the local paper for next week, Lila’s big debut.
Plus, there was her steady diet of ‘fun’ reading to maintain. Marion had given her strict guidelines. “We’re not esoteric. We’re not full of ourselves. People come up to Redwood Cove to relax and have fun. Read books that people will enjoy.” Happy to oblige, Lila had been making her way through British country house mysteries; funny, self-deprecating memoirs; trashy multi-generational romantic dramas, plus all manner of nonfiction pertaining to the locale ranging from winemaking to wildflowers to The Gold Rush. Basically anything that could suitably answer the visiting tourist question, “Anything good you’d recommend?”
Adjusting her ponytail without missing a step, Lila reflected that working in the bookstore was definitely contributing to this feeling of having been set free from a habitrail. No cubicles, no staring at a computer screen for hours bathing in the pasty glow, no constant flood of !high priority! emails demanding her immediate jump to reply. And when she did use a computer to do inventory it was a clunky, decidedly unsexy black PC. She took pleasure in its heftiness, aware it would send shudders of revulsion down the spines of everyone back at AdSales with their ever-slimmer white and silver Macbooks.
Lately she’d gotten in the habit of leaving her iPhone at home while she was at work. It felt positively naughty. She’d even gone as long as three days between checking email. No Facebook updates. God knew, no YouTube uploads. As crushing as it had been to be fired and dumped in one week, it did have the perk of leaving her unfettered. She guessed that was the up side of no one wanting your time.
Which wasn’t even true, she admonished herself to herself again. Annie and Charlotte wanted her time. It wasn’t exactly a raucous social life, but these days it was just about her speed. Annie had suggested setting her up with one of Pete’s friends, but Lila had put her off with a ‘maybe in a few months.’ Annie had less than zero patience for hearing about how much she missed Phillip, and even Lila wished she could just be done with it. So far, though, she had yet to find the internal switch she could flip to turn off her emotions. If she ever did find that switch she swore she’d patent it and make a mint.
Heated up enough to take off her windbreaker and tie it around her waist, Lila decided to keep going a while longer. She really was feeling good these days, she thought, giving her stomach a rub and realizing that it hadn’t been hurting for a couple of weeks now. She’d almost gotten used to walking around with a constant ache. Who knew why it was gone—could it be the hours and hours of sleep she was getting in her quiet, dark bedroom? The bouquet of cashmere socks she’d splurged on and insisted on wearing 24-7 unless barefoot in her fuzzy boots? Maybe it was just the absence of constantly hoping for a text from Phillip.
A loud, bellowing noise to her right nearly made her lose her balance as she sprang away, startled. In the mist, she saw the outline of a fat, slug-like monster down on the rocks. Heart pounding,
Lila’s favorite section was the children’s place. Comprised of a train table and a big arm chair surrounded by several bean bags, it wasn’t anything fancy but it struck Lila as the heart of the store. Redwood Cove was the kind of town where 10-year-olds could bike downtown and sit and read books without parents being worried that they’d joined a gang. That week, she’d had a few good Harry Potter talks with some super geeky preteen boys interested in wizardry. She’d also had the privilege of introducing an eight-year-old girl to her first Nancy Drew. She’d talked with Marion about starting a storytime for little kids and Marion had instantly loved the idea. They’d put up a few fliers and placed an announcement in the local paper for next week, Lila’s big debut.
Plus, there was her steady diet of ‘fun’ reading to maintain. Marion had given her strict guidelines. “We’re not esoteric. We’re not full of ourselves. People come up to Redwood Cove to relax and have fun. Read books that people will enjoy.” Happy to oblige, Lila had been making her way through British country house mysteries; funny, self-deprecating memoirs; trashy multi-generational romantic dramas, plus all manner of nonfiction pertaining to the locale ranging from winemaking to wildflowers to The Gold Rush. Basically anything that could suitably answer the visiting tourist question, “Anything good you’d recommend?”
Adjusting her ponytail without missing a step, Lila reflected that working in the bookstore was definitely contributing to this feeling of having been set free from a habitrail. No cubicles, no staring at a computer screen for hours bathing in the pasty glow, no constant flood of !high priority! emails demanding her immediate jump to reply. And when she did use a computer to do inventory it was a clunky, decidedly unsexy black PC. She took pleasure in its heftiness, aware it would send shudders of revulsion down the spines of everyone back at AdSales with their ever-slimmer white and silver Macbooks.
Lately she’d gotten in the habit of leaving her iPhone at home while she was at work. It felt positively naughty. She’d even gone as long as three days between checking email. No Facebook updates. God knew, no YouTube uploads. As crushing as it had been to be fired and dumped in one week, it did have the perk of leaving her unfettered. She guessed that was the up side of no one wanting your time.
Which wasn’t even true, she admonished herself to herself again. Annie and Charlotte wanted her time. It wasn’t exactly a raucous social life, but these days it was just about her speed. Annie had suggested setting her up with one of Pete’s friends, but Lila had put her off with a ‘maybe in a few months.’ Annie had less than zero patience for hearing about how much she missed Phillip, and even Lila wished she could just be done with it. So far, though, she had yet to find the internal switch she could flip to turn off her emotions. If she ever did find that switch she swore she’d patent it and make a mint.
Heated up enough to take off her windbreaker and tie it around her waist, Lila decided to keep going a while longer. She really was feeling good these days, she thought, giving her stomach a rub and realizing that it hadn’t been hurting for a couple of weeks now. She’d almost gotten used to walking around with a constant ache. Who knew why it was gone—could it be the hours and hours of sleep she was getting in her quiet, dark bedroom? The bouquet of cashmere socks she’d splurged on and insisted on wearing 24-7 unless barefoot in her fuzzy boots? Maybe it was just the absence of constantly hoping for a text from Phillip.
A loud, bellowing noise to her right nearly made her lose her balance as she sprang away, startled. In the mist, she saw the outline of a fat, slug-like monster down on the rocks. Heart pounding,
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