We stack bundles of leather-bound dictionaries and vintage books on tables. I move a gorgeous antique typewriter to a mahogany slant-front writing desk. The typewriter conjures a grainy image of an author clacking the keys, bringing their characters to life – celebrating their joys, commiserating over their sorrows. We’ll never know if a completed manuscript was ever done on this ‘office piano’ as Gran calls it, and that’s what makes it special. The mystery. What might have been.
I place flameless flickering battery-operated candles about. Not quite as classy as my ‘old book’ scented candles but for safety reasons it’s best. There are too many book babies in here to risk a real candle being knocked over.
Georgios is piling copies of Lucy Strike’s latest release:Mafia Love and Lieson our Book of the Month shelf. Luckily our order for the event arrived in time. We’re now drowning in Lucy Strike’s oeuvre and I only hope they sell or we’ll be stuck with hundreds of them.
As the space comes together I take a moment to reflect. It’s really going to happen. We just might save this place or we’ll have the party of the century trying. ‘We’re almost there,’ I say. ‘I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you.’
Georgios turns to me, a soft smile on his face as though he’s on the same page as me. ‘Sure you would. But planning a party is more fun together.’
‘It is.’ I get fluttery at the thought. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m managing peopling more successfully here in Santorini. Doing things on a whim has had a positive effect on me. Whatever it is, it’s quite a radical change and I find myself energised, ready for the next challenge.
I move the heavy velvet drapes to one side and am rewarded with the view of the sea. ‘You think you’d ever tire of watching the waves roll in?’
Georgios joins me at the window. ‘Not in a million years. When I’ve had a long workday in New York, and let’s face it, that’s most days, I yearn for this place, wanting to throw myself into the water and wash the work from my mind.’
‘Ever thought about moving here?’
He nods. ‘Every day. The longer I stay here, the more I slow down and relax into island life. Don’t get me wrong, I love the hustle and bustle of New York. Living in a big city where everything is at your fingertips is great, but I’m getting used to the way the days stretch here. It feels like I’m taking a deep breath and my whole body appreciates it. What about you? If Floretta asked you to stay, would you?’
I contemplate it. ‘I’ve got my heart set on being a book scout. For once in my life, I’m determined to achieve it. Probably because no one thinks I can, including me at times. But if Gran did ask, then I’d stay. I love that wild woman and every extra day with her is a blessing. There’s part of me that can’t imagine not waking up to the sight of the shimmering sea with a dog on my lap and a pile of books on my bedside. If only I could be in two places at once.’
‘Santorini has a way of stealing hearts.’
‘It’s a magical place.’
‘I know you’ll find the perfect book scout job; it’s a matter of time.’
‘Thanks.’
He moves close. My body tingles with anticipation. I go to reach for him as the dogs bark, alerting us to a customer, and the spell is broken.
*
My phone rings while I’m in the middle of comforting an irate customer. Irate because the third book in the series is taller than the first two and she is not impressed by such a difference. I get it; I really do. It can mess up a bookshelf display, but since I don’t personally have any control over this I’m not sure what she’s expecting me to do.
‘Why would they make the book a different size? Now it’s going to stand out on my shelf like the unwanted stepsister. Something needs to bedone.’
‘Sorry, I just need to …’ The phone bleats in time with the pounding in my head. I’m at my limit for peopling today. And honestly, every retail worker in the world should get a pay rise. You almost need a degree as a therapist to deal with customer complaints. Who knew there’d be so many in the book business?
The customer waves me away and continues muttering to herself about sales ploys, marketing gimmicks, the rich getting richer and uneven shelves. Yikes. It strikes me I don’t need my anxiety pills as much anymore even with all this retail angst but I do reach for the sugary treats more often. The dopamine boost tends to help, or at least buys me some time when I’ve had enough, so I put Pee Wee on security patrol and hide under the counter. If only I could do that now!
I shoot my customer an apologetic look as I answer the phone. ‘Mom, hi, I’m a little busy right now. Can I—’
Mom brings a beady eye to the screen and cuts me off. ‘Too busy for your own mother?’
‘And sister!’ Posy joins the video chat.
I groan. ‘Yes, I’m working in Bibliotherapy. Can I call you back?’
Posy rolls her eyes dramatically. ‘I wouldn’t exactly call that working, would you? You’re surrounded by books. It’s a dream come true, not exactly hard work.’
I stifle a sigh. ‘Yeah, it’s a dream come true, all right.’ Little does she know I have a customer mumbling about how her displays are ruined and that this might be the final straw, she might buy a Kindle and be done with physical books forevermore. Go-lly.
Guitar Guy chooses this moment to pop in and ask haltingly for Helena. ‘Sorry, I haven’t seen her.’ He raises his palms as if it’s my damn fault Helena up and left him, and he walks into the sunlight. What a day!
My grumpy customer taps her watch and gives me an impatient look. ‘Mom was it anything important? Because I really do have to go.’
Mom shakes her head. ‘I’ve had word that Gran is gambling again. Tell me it’s not true, Evie.’
