Totally and Completely Fine(64)

One who apparently told strangers every little detail about his life.

“Do you know him?” Mom asked, looking up at me when I didn’t say anything.

“Um,” I said. “Kind of. He likes baked goods.”

“Ah,” Mom said as if that explained everything.

“I’m going to do inventory in the craft section,” I said.

“Do you think you can do some deliveries later on?” she asked. “Just two and they’re close by.”

“Sure,” I said.

I passed by the stacks on my way to the craft wall, stopping briefly to make sure that no one was back there doing inappropriate things in front of the books. I kept meaning to rearrange the shelves, but they were too heavy for me to move on my own, and I wasn’t going to ask Mom and risk her throwing out her back or something. I’d just have to ask Gabe when he got back from New York.

“Deliveries?” I asked a few hours later when I’d inventoried all I could inventory.

Mom pulled the two orders from under the counter with a rubber band around each of them, holding the receipt to the top of the books.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off?” she asked. “You know it’s our slowest time.”

“Trying to get rid of me?”

She rolled her eyes. “The first one goes to Rosemary at Birds and Beasleys,” she said, pointing at the books. “The other is going to Melanie at Pump Up the Boys.”

It was a straight shot down the street to Birds and Beasleys. Instead of a bell, their door chirped whenever someone came into the store.

Rosemary’s daughter, Brynne, was behind the counter.

“Book delivery,” I said, holding out the paperback.

“Thanks, Lauren,” she said, taking it from me. “Mom has been waiting for this one. You know how she is with Paulette Benton books.”

“I do, and we are grateful for her steady patronage,” I said.

Paulette Benton’s cozy mysteries were a big seller for us.

“How’s Button?” I asked, turning to peer into the big wire cage.

“She’s doing great,” Brynne said. “Mom thinks she’s in love.”

“Oh really?” I asked. “Is there going to be a Mr. Button joining her soon?”

Brynne laughed. “Sadly, it’s not a bird that she’s in love with.”

I made some little clicking bird noises toward Button, who ignored them.

“I think it’s really that my mom is in love,” Brynne said. “There’s this guy who’s been coming in several times a week.”

I closed my eyes briefly—already knowing where this was headed.

“He works with Gabe, I think,” Brynne said.

“Ben,” I muttered.

“Yeah,” she said. “Mom loves him. He’s been buying up her birder equipment and birdhouses. We’ve had to place a new order with Milton.”

Milton was the seventy-year-old former shop teacher that made birdhouses out of reclaimed wood. They were beautiful, and we had one, but so did everyone else in town. Milton’s latest had been sitting on the shelf at Birds and Beasleys for a while—his craftsmanship was so good that no one ever needed a replacement.

“That’s great,” I said.

“He’s wonderful,” Rosemary said—she’d just emerged from the back room. “Said he’s going to send all his friends Milton’s birdhouses. Even has us shipping them to Ireland!”

No doubt Fran, Danny, and Pablo were all about to get their very own birdhouses. Possibly two.

“And the birding equipment?”

“He says he’s always wanted to give it a try,” she said. “Bought the top-of-the-line binoculars and all our birder maps and guides.”

Somehow, none of this surprised me.

“Such a nice young man,” Rosemary said, a dreamy look in her eyes.

Brynne gave me a look that clearly said “See, I told you so.”

Pump Up the Boys was on the other side of the walking mall, but since I was on my way home, I ended up driving there. The little gym was never too busy, which made it a perfect job for Melanie, who seemed to spend most of her time at reception reading through our romance collection. Cozy mysteries came in second to that powerhouse of sales. Kept our lights on for the most part.

“Oh my god, thank you,” Melanie said when she saw me arrive.

She reached her hands out, fingers wiggling.

“Didn’t you just order a stack of books last week?” I asked.

“So?”

I smiled and gave her the paperback.

“I’ve heard really good things about this one,” she said.

“That’s what you say about all of them.”

“And it’s always correct.”

She had already cracked the spine, her attention focused on the page in front of her.

“I guess I’ll see you next week,” I said.

“Oh, wait!” Melanie said, head bouncing up. “I wanted to thank you.”

“For?”

“Your recommendation.”

I searched my brain, trying to figure out what she was talking about. Had I recommended a book to her lately? Some yarn? A needlepoint kit?

“It’s always so empty in here,” she said. “It’s nice having someone stop by once in a while.”