|The First of June (standard:romance, 2502 words)|
|Author: BENTLINK||Added: May 16 2008||Views/Reads: 1914/1473||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|June loves books and authors.|
The First of June (draft) Her key turned the locks cylinder with remembered ease and she stepped inside closing and locking the door behind her. She stood very still just inside the entrance with her eyes closed inhaling deeply through her nose, allowing time for her feelings to richen. If a place could be loved then she loved this store, she loved the odor of the books, the special unique scent of ink and glue that over the years had subtly changed as solvent inks were gradually replaced by soybean oils. No leather bindings or musky smelling first editions here it was not that kind of store. She loved the order of the neat rows and stacks, the quite demeanor customer displayed as they ask for help and advice. She loved watching as parents tried to pass on their love of books and reading to their children, most often with only little effect. This was her first day of what she hoped would be another long contented summer. For three years, she had taken on the full responsibility for running the Adam's bookstore while they lulled the summer away in Florida sunshine at their Destin condo. She had started helping them out part time first at Christmas and then more and more often until finally they ask her to manage the store for all of her summer vacation from teaching at the Smithton School. She gladly accepted the offer for she loved books and the people that read them and there was of course the added bonus of pay that supplemented her grade school teachers' income. She continued standing just inside the entrance for a few more heart beats breathing deeply to complete the adjustment of her mood to that of a book store proprietor then walked quickly to the stores tiny one room office. As was her custom, she had arrived an hour earlier than required to open the store on time. Perhaps the early arrival was habit because when school was in session she always arrived well ahead of the children in order to straighten her classroom. After placing her light sweater, purse, and keys on the offices little antique desk she carefully removed her grandmother's period teapot from the shopping bag of snack items and flavored teas she was carrying. Bring the teapot was an afterthought, added to the bag only last night when she remembered a special order book illustrating Edwardian china had turned up and perhaps offered her a chance to learn something of the pots history. She placed the teapot on a storeroom shelf then began moving about lightly touching the stores books straightening stacks and flicking at imaged motes of dust with a cloth that had been lightly damped with lemon oil. Everything needed to look its best as this was her first full day in charge and this afternoon the store was to host a heretofore-unpublished guest author. The writers' publisher had shipped dozens of copies of the new work to the Adam's store several days before and she had voraciously read it in one setting. This was only the second time in her memory the store had opened itself for a authors' visit and book singing The stores first open house had been a complete disaster! The previous author, a middle-aged lady with a Boston upbringing; her book targeted the parents of teenagers and explained in rather pompous terms how very important it was to establish and enforce dress codes to preserve the mental health of teens. How the “Bostonian” ended up in this small Midwest town peddling her books to the parents of kids that wore jeans winter and summer (cut off in summer) was one of life's bigger mysteries. This second author on the other hand had a lot to offer, his new books' dust cover bio reveled he had grown up just across the state from this very store. He had gone to college at Ohio State and now worked out of his home near Columbus. Dust cover photos were sometimes misleading but he looked very young and even a little unsettled in the two-inch square picture. Unsettled looking or not he wrote with great certainty and the book moved smartly along, taking a few liberties with local history to tell the story of a farm family beginning just before the start of WWII Click here to read the rest of this story (171 more lines)
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