The Quietest Shop on Main (Shops on Main #3)

Chapter 1

1

“ W hat do you say?” the mother said with raised eyebrows.

Skyla kept a small smile on her face and clasped her hands in front of her, waiting for the manners lesson to be completed.

Little Drew rolled his eyes. “Thank you,” he drawled.

“You’re welcome,” Skyla said, tucking her hair behind her ear. One of these days she was going to either cut it off, or start pulling it up. She hated the headache that inevitably hit her by midafternoon when she wore a ponytail, but she also couldn’t imagine herself with short hair.

It was a no-win situation.

The mother gave Skyla a shoulder shrug. That was probably as good of a response as they were going to get from the six-year-old boy. “Thanks,” the mom said with a chin nod.

Skyla smiled and nodded back, then waved as they turned to leave the library. Finding books for children was fun…but sometimes it was also exhausting.

“Wow,” Lacey said, stepping up to Skyla’s side and bumping Skyla with her elbow. “He actually went home with a book this time, and it only took…” Lacey glanced at her watch. “Forty-five minutes.”

Skyla huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah. that might be some kind of record.” She shook her head. “One of these days, we’re going to figure out what he wants to read, and then it won’t be so hard.”

“Oh, I know what he wants to read,” Lacey said easily. “He wants comic books. Mom wants something that challenges his brain. The two are at odds with each other and that’s why it’s always so rough when they come in.”

Skyla squished her lips to one side. “Comic books aren’t bad…”

“No, but they also don’t contain reading that pushes a kid ahead.” Lacey patted Skyla’s shoulder. “Personally, I think Mom needs to do a little compromising, but not my kid, not my problem.”

Skyla took a deep breath and glanced at the clock as well. She had two hours before her shift was over. Working at the library was wonderful, but it wasn’t Skyla’s first love. Her grandfather’s bookshop, The Book Loft, was everything that Skyla loved about the literary world.

A library was great for finding references and doing research and getting away from the house. But The Book Loft was cozy, intimate, warm and filled with everything from Shakespeare to fantasy. Whether a reader wanted to ride a dragon or understand the horrors of Auschwitz, Skyla and her grandfather, John Bowen, could help them find what they needed.

Plus, the quiet corners with recliners, cushions and personal lamps made reading all the better. There was no better place to spend a lazy afternoon than curled under an afghan and holding a book and cup of tea.

Skyla had lots and lots of experience in doing just that and she wished their store had enough business that she could share it with others full time. Instead, she spent half her time at the library and half at the bookstore.

Both were good…one was better.

“Skyla,” Bastien called from the front desk. “Will you do the reshelving, please?”

Skyla nodded. “Of course.” Quickly, she went behind the desk to find the cart bursting to overflowing. Apparently, no one else had wanted to take on the task this morning.

Oh, well. This just meant that by the time she was done, it would almost be time to go. Nothing wrong with that.

Picking up the first book, Skyla figured out her starting direction and began to walk. She smiled at patrons, young and old, as she went, until she landed in her first set of shelves.

“You’re awfully quiet today.”

Skyla barely kept from gasping as she turned around. “Lacey,” she scolded. “Why in the world are you sneaking up on me?”

Lacey rolled her eyes. For a middle-aged mother of three, she obviously had some of the same habits as her kids. “Sweetie, you really need to get out more. A person talking to you shouldn’t set your knees to knocking.”

Skyla scowled and turned back to the shelves. “You didn’t ‘set my knees to knocking.’ You startled me. I thought you were still up at the front desk.”

Lacey folded her arms over her chest and rested her shoulder against a shelf. “It’s boring up there.”

Skyla grinned. “I’m reshelving books. Some would say it’s boring back here.”

“Eh…then I guess it doesn’t matter what I do.”

Skyla pushed the book in the right place and grabbed her cart, glancing over her shoulder. “Go ahead. Tell me what’s going on.” She’d worked with Lacey for several years and the woman always seemed to get antsy when things were hard at home.

Skyla, who was the quietest of all the librarians, had become Lacey’s sounding board. Skyla didn’t mind…most of the time. In fact, it had given her lots of ideas for the book she was writing.

Sort of.

Okay…maybe writing was a bold word.

Lacey’s drama had given Skyla ideas for the book that had been percolating in Skyla’s head for nearly five years, but was too busy…or maybe too scared…to start writing.

There. That was more accurate.

It was also more cowardly. Ugh.

Lacey blew out a long raspberry and waited until Skyla had stopped again. “I hate football.” Lacey threw her hands in the air and paced away from Skyla, then paced back. “There. I said it. I don’t regret it.”

Skyla glanced sideways before studying the shelves again. “What did football ever do to you?”

“Me?” Lacey put a hand to her chest. “What did it do to me?” She grunted. “I think the better question is, what has it done to every female in the United States every single fall!”

Skyla but her cheek to keep from smiling. Lacey was about to really get going. Too bad Skyla wasn’t in a position to take notes.

“Every fall, those stupid channels start putting out games. And every year, there are more and more and more of them!” Lacey whisper-shouted. “First it was Sundays. Then Thursdays. And Mondays! Can’t a woman get a break? Do we really have to lose our husbands that many days of the week? Fall only lasts so long. We only get pumpkin picking and carving for a few weeks.”

Skyla nodded and began pushing her cart again. She knew Lacey would follow.

“And don’t even get me started on school sports. Add in television games on top of high school and bam! My whole week is gone, and I’ve done nothing but sit on hard bleachers that make my bum numb and be ignored by my husband.” She huffed and put her hands on her hips. “I hate football.”

Skyla gave her friend a smile. “I can see that. And I don’t exactly blame you.” She stopped just around a corner. “But I think there’s a bright side to all of this.”

Lacey frowned. “Yeah? And just what is that?”

“Imagine if you had to sit on those bleachers, and your bum didn’t go numb.” Skyla shook her head. “The pain might just take you over the top.”

There went another impressive eye roll. “You were stretching for that one, Miss Sunshine. An absolute stretch.”

Skyla shrugged one shoulder, still smiling. “It’s all I have. Give me a bit, and I’ll find another silver lining.”

Lacey began to back again, glancing up at the front. “I’ll look forward to it. Thanks for listening.” With a quick wave, Lacey went back to work, and Skyla was left to her own devices.

Just as she’d expected, Skyla’s mind was flying with ideas for her book. Struggling relationships and second chance romances for football players. Ooh…when she finally got brave enough to put it all on paper, it was going to be amazing.

Too bad courage always seemed to be in short supply.

“Almost…” Dalton encouraged, ignoring the burn in his thighs from being crouched down too long. “That’s it. Reel back…pull…reel…pull…you got it! See it in the water? It’s so close!”

“It’s a fish!” the little boy shouted, his enthusiasm nearly causing him to lose the rod.

“Whoa!” Dalton grabbed it just before they lost all their progress. “Don’t let go or the fish will swim away, okay?”

The boy nodded, his face serious once again.

“Can you reel again? Turn the handle?” Dalton showed the boy what to do again and five minutes later, they lifted a long, thin rockfish out of the water. Once it hit the deck, the spiny fish immediately began to flop.

The boy screamed and backed up, right into his father’s legs.

“Good job, bud,” the dad said. “You did it.” He gave Dalton a smirk, knowing Dalton had done the majority of the actual work.

Dalton grinned back and picked up the line, letting the fish dangle. “It’s a rockfish,” he told the boy. “See the spikes here?”

The boy leaned forward, but his feet stayed firmly planted several feet away.

“Do you want to hold it?” Dalton offered the line out, but the boy shook his head and darted behind his father. Chuckling, Dalton stood, resisting the urge to shake out his thighs. Leg day was not a good day to be squatting on his boat for thirty minutes straight.

On the other hand…Luca would probably give Dalton a slap on the back and congratulate him on the pain. The military vet seemed to have an immense amount of unholy glee when it came to making his gym patrons sore.

“Do you at least want a picture?” Dalton asked, looking up at the dad.

“Yeah…we should probably do that.” The dad sighed. “Mom will want to see it, don’t you think?”

The boy frowned. “Mom doesn’t like fish.”

“But she’ll want to see that you caught a fish,” the dad reiterated. “Come on.” He pushed the boy toward Dalton.

“How about you stand here and just hold the line?” Dalton offered. “I’ll stand to the side and hold higher up so the fish doesn’t get away, okay?”

Still scowling, the boy warily walked up and stood where Dalton indicated. He reached out, pinching the line between his fingers, and Dalton stood to the side so they could take the picture without including him.

Nothing said father/son time like getting a picture with a stranger in it.

“Three, two, one—” the dad began, only to have the fish exert one last flop in the air, whacking the little boy’s arm and sending him screaming across the deck.

Dalton’s eyes widened as he watched the boy go, then he sighed. “Well…that went well,” he muttered.

The dad laughed and held up his camera. “You should see his face.”

Dalton shook his head. “Hope he doesn’t have nightmares, man. Sorry about that.”

The dad shrugged and shoved his phone in his pocket. “This was my wife’s idea, not mine. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Uh, huh.” Shrugging it off, Dalton unhooked the fish and tossed it back in the water. He was pretty darn sure the little boy wasn’t interested in having a seafood dinner tonight.

Glancing around to make sure everyone else was taken care of, Dalton turned and headed for the cockpit. He practically leapt up the ladder, not even looking where his hands or feet landed. After years and years of running about this boat, first as a youth and now as its owner, Dalton…Captain Saunders…had his sea legs well in hand.

He sighed when he closed the door behind him. The biting wind was a stark reminder that fall was well under way and it would only get colder out here on the water. Trips would slow down, except for the die-hards who were eager to get their hands on large sturgeon, salmon or steelhead.

Those groups were always fun because the men, and occasional woman, who came were seasoned and often had good stories to share with Dalton, forming an easy sense of camaraderie on the cold, choppy ocean.

Yeah…those were good times.

Picking up the microphone, he pressed the on button. “Our day on the water is coming to a close, folks. If you decided to keep your catch, please check in with the crew to make sure it’s labeled with your name. Otherwise, we’ll be pulling in the lines and securing the deck. Remember there are warm drinks and snacks inside, feel free to take advantage of those. It will take us about twenty minutes to get back to shore. Thank you for supporting Saunders Fishing Tours. Tips are always welcome, but not required. This is Captain Saunders, signing off.”

He put the small device back where it belonged and checked his watch. It had been a good day, but he was ready to sit down and not get back up for a while.

The sea was his lady, but there was something so good about arriving home for an evening and staying put.

Half an hour later, he waved goodbye to the last of his patrons and let his shoulders fall.

“That’s it, Cap!” Dewey shouted from below. “You want us to start clean up?”

“Get it done, boys!” Dalton called, grinning when the crew shouted back. He had a good group. Mostly older guys who just couldn’t keep away from the fishing poles, but they helped Dalton keep things going running and he was grateful for it.

Not to mention, it gave Dalton someone else to assign on clean-up duty when someone got seasick.

Dalton shivered and made a face. He usually enjoyed taking people out on the ocean, but once in a while, they just couldn’t handle the movement and that was miserable for everyone.

With a deep breath, he pushed himself off the cockpit door threshold and started going through his closing down routine. Emery Lynn was officially docked for the night. Time to get things done and get home to see what Analiese had cooked for dinner.

Dalton snorted. “Probably cereal again,” he said with a grin. His sister was pretty good, most of the time, but cooking wasn’t her favorite thing and it wasn’t unusual for Dalton to get home and find out she’d decided they were simply raiding the pantry.

He couldn’t blame her. They both worked to keep this business afloat and Liese sort of hated her job, so having a bad attitude about cooking was just par for the course.

Oh well…cereal or not, food was waiting, and Dalton was ready to feel his toes again. Time to get done and prepare to come back to do it again tomorrow.