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I took out my phone to do just that and saw I had some messages from Duncan, but I ignored them. Just because he was working on a Saturday didn’t mean I had to.
“Car will be here in two minutes,” I announced, looking up from my phone to see Charlotte looking at me quizzically.
“What are you doing, Hayden?”
“Getting us to the Wharf? Water taxi, pretty leaves, scenic views?”
“No, I mean, why are you coming to Old Town with me? And suggesting longer, if not prettier, ways to get there?”
“I just want to spend the day with you, Charlotte, and thought you might like the boat ride. It’s still your day, whatever you want to do.”
“So, if I want to spend an hour in the bookstore, that’s fine?”
“I’ll even carry your stack of books for you.”
“And if I want to stop in every boutique?”
“We’ll be able to recommend our favorites to anyone who asks.”
“What about dinner? What if I only want ice cream?”
“I hope one of those boutiques has some lactose pills for sale, but it’s your call.”
Charlotte continued to look at me, her lips turning up slightly, her eyes sparkling with amusement at my willingness to join in her whatever she had planned for the day.
“It’s your day, Char. Whatever you want. Here comes the car. Are we doing this?”
A full smile broke out across Charlotte’s face.
“Okay, fine. For today, we’re doing this.”
I opened the car door for Charlotte to get in, walking around to the other side to slide in myself, feeling a matching smile on my face. Today was a start.
Charlotte and I grabbed sandwiches from Chopsmith to enjoy on the boat ride as an early lunch. After boarding, we grabbed seats on the top deck facing the open water to the south, enjoying the warm October sun on our faces.
“So, why don’t I know you from Holly Ridge High?” Charlotte asked, before taking a large bite of her lobster roll, chewing while she waited for my answer.
“My dad and Margaret got married the summer after I graduated from high school. I guess a bunch of my stuff moved to Holly Ridge, but only Hunter and Spencer made the actual move with them that summer. I went straight to Boston for college and only visited during the winter break.”
Charlotte nodded. “That makes sense. And it’s madness that time of year because of the Christmas festival, so even if we did run into each other, I would have thought you were just another tourist.”
“I bet all the tourist boys flock to Ridge Reads to see the pretty woman behind the counter, especially when she has mayonnaise on her face,” I said with a smile as I handed her a napkin from my lap.
Charlotte wiped her face. “Please. Something this messy wasn’t allowed anywhere near the cash wrap. It might get on the books! My mom is a real stickler like that. Protein bars were my main form of sustenance when I couldn’t get away long enough for a real meal.”
“What was it like, growing up in a bookstore?”
Charlotte took a drink from her water bottle, taking in the scenery before answering.
“Honestly, for a lot of my life, I loved it. I never stood a chance to be anything other than a bookworm, given our family’s livelihood. But it felt magical to grow up in a building filled with books, where other people would visit us to talk about them and take my favorites home.
“I think I was ten when I made my first book recommendation. A little boy was standing next to his mom, whining that he didn’t want to try The Baby-Sitters Club because those books were for girls. He just wanted the next Goosebumps book. I marched right up to him and let him know that if he really wanted something scary, he should think about the fact that the babysitters had created a small business and wouldn’t need boys to take them out for milkshakes. Then I whirled right around and went back to alphabetizing biographies or something. I remember my dad laughing at me from the counter, but when he told my mom about it at dinner that night, she asked what they ended up buying. She was mad when Dad admitted nothing—the boy needed more time to think about what he wanted to read next.”
Charlotte sighed and looked down at her empty sandwich wrappings, crumpling them into a small ball with her hands, fidgeting as she spoke.
“I haven’t thought about that in a really long time. I love my mom. I mean, she’s my mom, but her love of books warped into something tied up in money and bottom lines, and not being about the love of books anymore. She’s an only child too and grew up in the store, just like I have. When I felt my love of books starting to morph in the same way, I knew I needed to do something different.”
We sat in silence for a few moments. It didn’t feel like she was seeking affirmation or reassurance, but was weighing her family situation out loud. I touched Charlotte’s hand to still her movements under the guise of taking the wrappings so I could toss them along with mine in the trash can a few feet from where we sat. I also hoped it might let her know someone was on her side.
