The Bookshop on the Corner (A Gingerbread Cafe story) by Rebecca Raisin Read Free Book Online Page B

Doris in a high-pitched granny voice, “No worries, dearie…”
    He laughed again. “You are something special, Sarah. I’ll see you on Friday. If I have to climb on top of your plate to get your attention, I will.”
    The phone clicked off. I slumped, exhilarated yet exhausted.
    ***
    “What are you doing?” Missy bellowed loud enough to make the books on the shelf above me rattle. Fine, I’d admit it, I was snoozing down the back. And it wasn’t because of the picture Ridge had painted in my mind about us earlier that day. Blame it on the lack of sleep the night before.
    “Missy, you scared the bejesus out of me!”
    “You’re asleep? At noon? You’re supposed to be selling books, not sleeping with them.”
    I laughed and cuddled the book tight on my chest. “I love them, and I won’t hear a bad word about my book babies.”
    She shook her head, and grinned. “Why are you sleeping during the day?”
    “I’m probably low on vitamin D and need some sunshine to perk me up. This sleepy, love-struck haze is clearly a medical condition that warrants some attention…not love-struck! Dumbstruck,” I corrected quickly.
    “Excuse me — what have I missed here?”
    I yawned and rolled over hugging my book. “Dumbstruck by the words in these pages, that’s what I mean. The written word, it can be downright mind-blowing, sometimes.”
    She kicked my boot. “Don’t think you can turn away so I won’t see the truth in your eyes.”
    “I’m not turning away. I’m simply resting until the next flurry of customers arrive.” Lassitude had me in its embrace. It was so weird — I felt weak, woozy.
    “Ha! Really? Are you going to make a pregnant woman scoot down there?”
    I groaned and covered my head with a limp European pillow.
    She tapped her foot. “In my delicate condition?”
    I didn’t respond.
    “At my age?”
    I let out a, “Pfft.”
    “With this amount of morning sickness…”
    I sniggered and sat up. “OK, OK. Are you really suffering from morning sickness?”
    “No, but get up anyway, and tell me what’s making you drowsy as a cat in sunshine.”
    I dragged myself up and was trying to pat my hair back into submission when Missy gave me the evil eye and shrieked, “You are love-struck! I knew it!”
    “I am not!” I folded my arms across my chest. “And what makes you say that?”
    “You’re all sparkly-eyed, and sheepish. You’re flushed red like a rose. He called, didn’t he?”
    “Who?”
    Her eyes lit up. “He did!”
    I fell floppily into her arms for a quick hug. “If you mean Ridge, yes, he did. He sent me a book about New York, and a little note, so I guess he was following up on that.”
    We strolled near the bay window of the bookshop where a small oak table stood, the only space that wasn’t covered with dusty books.
    Missy sat on a chair and leaned forward. She cupped her face as if she was rapt. “And…”
    “Well, he said this kind of weird thing about being snuggled down the back with a book in one hand…”
    “How sweet!” she interrupted.
    “And me in the other.”
    Missy whooped so loud people on the street stopped to look. I waved at them, and watched them walk by before turning back to Missy.
    “He likes you!” she said.
    “Yep, me, a quiet little bookworm from smallsville,” I said, the sarcasm in my voice evident.
    She clucked her tongue. “You say that like it’s a bad thing, when it’s actually the opposite. What’s not to love?”
    “True, I am the whole package. Beauty, brawn, brains.”
    She slapped my arm playfully. “Brawn? You’re so skinny you need to run around the shower to get wet!”
    I shrugged. “There’s a lot of muscle underneath this scrawny frame.”
    “You’re lithe. Not scrawny. Now—” she rubbed her hands together “—let’s talk about what you’re going to wear on Friday night…”
    ***
    If I didn’t know better I’d say I was about to be struck down by some kind of killer plague. I was lethargic, and