Page 105 of Beautiful Place By the Sea

My mind flashes over moments: the woman who reminded me of Eleanor and wanted a new Kristin Hannah book; Maisie’s joy at the author event; Oliver’s secret smile while he scribbles in his poetry notebook. How it feels to match someone to the right book; the way my olfactory system delights in the bibliosmia the moment the door jingles shut behind me.

But I can’t relay most of that in this interview. So I just say, “It’s very satisfying to help people find the perfect beach read.”

“I would imagine so.”

“And,” I add, trying to pull the conversation away from Shoreline, “I love staying busy. Much like in a library, there’s no shortage of things to do in a bookstore.”

“Well, you’re in luck.” Brianna’s eyes light up. “We are excruciatingly busy here, too, as well as beyond understaffed. It’s a lethal combination, but you’ll never be bored.”

The future tense sends my heart racing, but I manage a polite smile. “That sounds wonderful.”

Brianna describes the job duties, and I offer standard interview answers about my skills and career aspirations. Before I know it, an hour has flown by.

“Do you have any other questions for me?” Brianna sets down her pen and looks expectantly into the camera.

I shake my head. “I don’t believe so. You’ve been very thorough.”

“I try,” she grins. “When would you be able to start?”

“The first week of October.” My skin crawls with self-reproach.

“Perfect. By the time we get our ducks in a row, that’s probably the soonest I’d have any time to train you, anyway. I’ll reach out to you very soon, okay, Ivy?”

“Sounds wonderful,” I repeat. “Thank you so much, Brianna.”

She ends the call, and I remain motionless on the living room couch. I feel as if I’ve slipped out of my body, and a shimmering specter of Ivy is forging ahead on a path I don’t particularly want to be on. Meanwhile, the shell of my actual human form remains here, despondent at Beach Haven. Hologram Ivy is out and about in the world, making decisions I’m not sure I’m okay with. And once they’re made, it may be too late.

My guilt only worsens when I get to Shoreline. As soon as he sees me, Oliver looks over his shoulder, then pulls me behind a bookshelf and kisses me like his life depends on it.

“Hey,” I manage breathlessly when he finally pulls away.

“Hey.” His eyes are intoxicating; I think I could swim in them for the rest of my life. “Just wanted to make sure your Monday got off to a great start.”

I return his smile. “You’ll get no complaints from me.” My cheeks are hot with shame for the secret I’m keeping, so I rush off to hang up my sweater before he notices.

Maisie’s in the office, finalizing last-minute administrative tasks ahead of her pre-op appointment tomorrow.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she announces when I walk in with my cardigan. “I wanted to talk with you about something.”

I slide into one of the chairs facing her desk. “Can I help you get ready for tomorrow?”

Maisie doesn’t seem nervous at all, but I’m sure the many unknowns of a major surgery at her age are weighing heavily on her. She certainly looks more fatigued than usual.

“I actually wondered about a longer-term sort of help,” she says, laying down a file folder she’d been flipping through.

My chest tightens. “Oh?”

“As you know, I’d been hoping to scale back my hours so I can enjoy some semblance of retirement eventually. And then with the departure of my other employee earlier this year, I had to invest more time here, rather than less.”

I nod. “It was very unfortunate timing.”

“Yes,” she continues. “And I’m so glad you happened upon us. You’ve really done wonders for Shoreline this summer.”

I feel my face flush. I don’t deserve this praise. Not now. But I murmur my thanks.

“The surgery has put some things in perspective for me.” Maisie’s kind eyes well up with tears. “I think all of this,” she gestures around the room, “might be a bit too much for me at my age.”

“But you have the energy of someone 30 years your junior,” I protest. “Easily.”