Page 54 of Booked for Theft

“This is still my favorite bookstore,” I announced, taking care while getting down from the ladder. “And next week, I’ll be back with my wagon for another round of plunder. I have empty shelves in my office, Albert.”

“That is absolutely criminal. You better take one more book for the road.” He took the ladder several shelves down, climbed up, unlocked one of his other cabinets, and brought down a dusty old book in need of cleaning and care. “Don’t let the cover deceive you. There’s a lot of magic on this book keeping it in good condition.”

“How much?” Bradley asked, and I grinned as my fiancé failed to hide his interest, licking his lips in anticipation.

“I’ll sell it to you for a hundred dollars, which for a book of this age basically makes it a gift. Don’t worry about me taking a loss on it. It’s a treasure I got out of the same estate sale those papers came from. The seller didn’t want to sort any of the papers or books, so they sold them in lots. I got the book portion of the collection for fifty dollars, so I’m making excellent profit. My other option was to price it closer to its actual worth, and it makes me sick thinking a book that expensive came from an estate bundle I bought for fifty dollars. I have another book from that batch that will make me a fortune.”

“What book?”

“It’s an autographed first edition copy of Stephen King’s The Stand.”

My eyes widened. The book had somehow survived through the calendar change and the government’s general overhaul of society. I’d fallen in love with everything about the novel the first time I read it as a classic in the tail end of my stint in school.

When I wanted to watch the world burn, I opened my digital copy and read about the destruction of the planet, delighting in the author’s turn of phrase and ability to convey such a dismal reality.

“You have a first edition signed copy of The Stand?” I whispered.

“I do. I even had it authenticated through an object reader.”

“Obviously, it wasn’t my father, because if he had gotten to handle that book, he would have gushed about it for at least a month. We saw Janette reading it, became curious, read it ourselves, and we all loved it. I am prepared to make you exceptionally wealthy. That book must come home with us, Albert.”

“You haven’t even seen its condition yet. And honestly, the cover isn’t all that appealing. It’s rather… bland.”

I shook my head, waving off his concerns. “It’s precious, and it’s one of my favorite books. I didn’t think any original print editions had survived. I’m grateful we can get the unabridged version of it!”

Language had changed over the years, and the first few times I’d read it, the differences in grammar had flummoxed me. On subsequent readings, I had learned to enjoy the variations and reminders of change.

“The price tag is offensive,” Albert admitted. “I just can’t bring myself to list it for its true value. It’s too much.”

“Bradley, do what you want. I’m going to find a secluded section of this store and cry,” I announced, heading off to do just that while I attempted to console myself with a book from the fiction section.

“You’re not actually going to cry,” he called out.

“I’m going to think about it!”

He laughed at me.

Twenty minutes later, which I spent arguing with myself over what book to buy, Bradley found me, took all three candidates, and headed for the counter. “I have paid for all but these books. You can buy these ones for yourself. The wagon has been packed, and I’m afraid you’ll have to carry these prizes, as they won’t fit.”

Armed with my wallet, I went to pay for my books, laughing when I spotted the wagon heavily burdened with boxes. “Is it going to even roll?”

“As I tested it to make sure, yes.”

After spending fifteen dollars on my books, I stuffed all three into my bag, pleased I had stuck with my digital reader to take to work. “Thank you for your help, Albert.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you again in a day or three, I’m sure.”

Much like the store in Washington D.C., I could buy a book for a quarter, and I often found my way into the cheap book section for some retail therapy after a bad day. “Don’t be surprised if I come in on Monday with my standard fee. This week is going to be a doozy.”

“You say that like last week wasn’t a doozy,” Bradley muttered, dragging our wagon to the shop’s entry. I grabbed the back, we counted to three, and lifted the damned thing over the threshold, down the six inch step, and onto the street. “I’ll bring her back with a slightly larger budget. By Monday, she’s going to need at least a dollar’s worth of book compensation.”

“Dare I ask?”

“She has to work with politicians. But at least she’s taking them for money to fund the library system.”

The older man snickered. “If you give her a twenty dollar bill, you’ll get at least two hours of peace and quiet. I’m sure I can keep her out of trouble that long.”

“If I give her a twenty, we’ll have to send out a search party to recover her. She won’t leave without force.”

“How about you give me a twenty and a two hour budget? I can probably manage that without the need for a search party. It’s only when I’m not given a time limit that you run real risk of losing me in the stacks.” I herded Bradley down the street. “Thank you again, Albert.”

“You’re welcome. Stay safe and enjoy the new books.”