“Remodeling alone will be pricey.”
“We can do a lot of that ourselves, like painting and stuff. And Brent knows a bunch of contractors who’d give us a good price.”
“This is a huge undertaking.”
“I know, but we have an awesome location, and with Marianne and Brent’s help we’ll have great management. And Marianne said her staff would probably love to come back. Some of them had been working for her for years, and they have a ton of experience.”
“Who will run the kitchen?”
“Brent knows the woman who runs the kitchen over at the Sugarloaf Hotel,” Allie says. “She has lots of contacts in the area. I’m sure she can recommend someone good. Oh, I was thinking we could serve shoestring fries and call it Scarecrow’s Straw. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
I should have known, I think, as I haul another box of books to the storage area. Aside from being an eternal optimist, once Allie sets her mind on something, she’s like a bulldog gnawing on a steak bone.
Well, more like a cocker spaniel nibbling at a dog treat, but she’ll bite your ass if you try and take it away from her.
After turning over the numbers a hundred times and getting Brent’s input, Allie and I hire an inspector for the building, and meet with a lawyer who explains and negotiates the lease terms.
Finally, before either of us loses courage, we agree to sign the lease. On the evening of March twenty-seventh, after we hang up the Closed sign at the Happy Booker for the last time, Allie locks the door and comes to the front counter where I’m putting on my coat.
“Hold on.” She hurries into the office and returns carrying her things and a bottle of champagne.
“What’s that for?” I ask.
“For us.” Allie plunks the bottle on the counter and produces two plastic cups from her bag. “A celebration. One door closing, another one opening and all that.”
“Good God, Allie, do you fart glitter?”
She bursts into laughter. “Pink and purple all the way.”
I grin as she hands me the bottle to open. We pour the champagne, toast to the end of the Happy Booker and the beginning of the Wonderland Café. Allie locks up the store and pushes the keys back through the mail slot. We hug each other goodbye, agree to get together later in the week, and head home.
Now that the bookstore is officially closed, I’m even more nervous about the café venture. It was my idea, and I’m the one who asked Allie to be a partner. If it doesn’t work out, the failure will lie on my shoulders.
And even though I told Dean that maybe I haven’t failed enough, I certainly don’t want to take a friend down with me if I do. On the other hand, Allie was right when she said we already have a great support system and location. Failing would actually take some work.
I shake off my lingering uncertainty as I walk into the foyer of our apartment building. I collect a few bills from the mailbox and go upstairs. There’s a note taped to our front door. I stop.
Shock floods me. I stand there and try to process what the note means. Then my heart gives a wild leap, jolting me into action. I turn and hurry back downstairs to Avalon Street. The instant I step outside, I start to run.
CHAPTER FIVE
Olivia
rush down the street on a wave of excitement, swerving to avoid pedestrians, my feet barely touching the sidewalk. My heart is spinning, leaping, twirling. Exhilaration dances through me like a million bubbles buoyed by the wind.
I have to force myself to slow and muster some calm as I approach the Wildwood Inn. One of the nicest hotels in Mirror Lake, the Wildwood is housed in a fancy building that sits on a tree-lined street overlooking the lake. A uniformed doorman greets me with a tip of his cap and opens the door.
I step into the hushed interior, which has been lovingly restored over the years with a polished oak staircase, nineteenth-century antiques, and stained-glass windows. Trying to appear composed even though my whole body is zinging with elation, I go to the front desk.
Allie’s boyfriend, Brent, is working at one of the computers, wearing his Manager tag. He glances up and smiles at me.
“Hi, Liv.”
“Hi.” I stop, still struggling to catch my breath and settle my racing heart. “I was… there was a note… I mean, I think my…”
Brent turns and takes a key from the old-fashioned rack behind the counter.
“Firefly Cottage is one of our private cottages down by the lake,” he says, extending the key to me. “Take the door leading to the garden and follow the path to the right. It’s the third cottage on the left.”
I manage to close my hand around the key.
“He’s waiting for you.” Brent gives me a wink and reaches for the phone. “I’ll tell him you’re on your way.”
I go past the dining room to the back garden. Once I’m outside, I hurry over the flagstone paths toward the green-shuttered cottage tucked in a grove of trees. Light shines through the windows. An engraved sign over the door reads Firefly Cottage.
With a shaking hand, I unlock the door and push it open.