Authentically izzy, p.27
Authentically, Izzy, page 27
She felt the continued rumbles of an epiphany, and she was in the best spot, wasn’t she? With Brodie.
“Our family would often holiday there, at Elrith Waite.” He pointed toward the beach line in the distance. “It’s a . . . cove, I think is the American description. And we’d take a boat from Elrith Waite to Cairn Mara.” He gestured toward one of the islands in the distance. “To explore and picnic. We’d stay here with my uncle, though he only lived in the lower part of the house, which is why the upper level requires more work. But I fell in love with the narrow halls and vast views. So when he asked if I would want it—”
“You had to say yes!” A lonely manor house perched away from the world? Of course!
“Exactly.” He covered her hand on the railing next to his. “I knew you’d understand.” He chuckled and dipped his chin, as if embarrassed. “I can’t really explain it, but I knew I wanted to live here. That this is where I belonged.”
The word reverberating through her. Belong.
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.” His gaze locked with hers. “It was the same feeling I had when I saw you in the airport the first time. I just knew.”
“You knew what?” The words barely made it out on a whisper.
He leaned close and tasted her lips again. Her eyes fluttered closed and she brushed a palm against his cheek.
“I wanted to be with you. That . . . well, we belonged together, wherever together might be.”
She inched back, her cheeks warming beneath his stare. “How can you be so certain about so many things, and I can’t even figure out what I want to do when I grow up?”
He chuckled and allowed her question to blend in with the sound of crashing surf and rustling trees, the moment suspended in time, soaking into Izzy’s uncertainty with a gentle touch. She replayed her earlier interaction with Brodie and subsequent conversation with Luke, and after a moment she leaned her head on Brodie's shoulder. His arm slipped around her waist, turning the simple movement into a hug. She buried her face into his neck, breathing him in, clinging to the sweetness of his company, his care. He made it so easy to believe in fairy tales. To . . . place a toehold on the faith that he really cared about her . . . as her. Maybe she was a whole lot like this house, standing alone in disrepair, and just needing the right person to see her potential. To care enough.
The hush of the distant waves and the twitter of birdsong lulled across the silence like a gentle serenade. His nearness, his comfort, ushered a sweet calm through her and she drew in a deep breath. Trusting him with parts of her heart she was just beginning to understand.
“I never realized that after my parents’ deaths, I doubted really belonging somewhere. Anywhere. Even with my cousins.”
He lowered his head to hers, his only response.
“It doesn’t make sense now, in hindsight. They loved me. I knew it, but I felt as if I’d stepped into their family. I never realized I’d spent my life trying to belong without really believing I did.”
He moved, nodding. “Do you think that also impacted your choices?”
“Definitely.” A sad little laugh puffed out. “And my relationships. I tried to force myself into fitting, to being what I thought they wanted. And I’ve loved working at the library, but it still was something my aunt encouraged me to do since I adored books, but it didn’t quite fit either.” She looked up at him. “Not like how I see things fit for you. You’re doing exactly what you love, what you were meant for.”
“But I didn’t always know it.” He pushed her hair back from her face, attempting to rein it in from the wind’s hold. “Believe it or not, I started university with the intention of becoming a teacher.”
“A teacher?” She laughed. “Did your parents support that with the family business expectations?”
“Of course, and a teacher is a noble profession, but after only a year away from the bookshop, I realized I truly loved working in the family business, so that’s when I made up my mind to pursue a business degree, and the rest is history, I suppose.” He grinned, studying her. “But I can see how the uncertainty of belonging would have a drastic impact on learning who you really are. That’s the only reason why I suggested you work your magic on Sutherland’s. I think, instead of stepping into something someone else has made for you, perhaps you could unleash it with your complete authenticity right here. No strings. No mold to fit. Just . . . you doing what you do best. Loving books and people in a creative way.”
Loving books and people in a creative way?
She searched his face, a face that had become more and more dear with each passing conversation. Each additional touch or kiss. Did he truly see that in her? And was he offering her this unbelievable opportunity to see if what she loved could be formed into a real profession? A place to belong?
Could she be brave enough to try? She met the confidence in his gaze.
Maybe now.
“You think your mom would let me try?” She blinked away the tears forming in her eyes. “I have a lot of ideas.”
“We might have to prod her a bit, offer a deal, but more than that, I think you need it. The freedom to create, to see your ideas enacted.”
She pressed a kiss to his jaw. “How come you're so smart all of a sudden?”
“I’m not really all that smart or I’d have sorted out more of the problems of Sutherland’s before now.” He tugged her close, securing her against him. “But I’ve become a very avid study of a certain bookish American, and I would like to show her what I see she’s capable of . . . and who I see her to be.”
She sighed and stared back at the horizon, her mind swirling with possibilities. “Well, I might overwhelm your mom. I mean, my brain is already buzzing with easy fixes.”
“Like?”
“Well, since the King and Queen Festival is happening Friday, I’d immediately feature a bookshelf with royal reads, and I’d create a display window with a mixture of new royal releases, old popular bestsellers of the same genre, as well as some local favorites.” She turned to him, trying to help him envision the possibilities too. “And I’d truly create a children’s section in Sutherland’s. One that brings the innate magic of the bookshop to life, especially for such a magical week as the King and Queen Festival. There really should be children’s prince and princess paraphernalia for sale, like swords and crowns and stuffed dragons.”
“Stuffed dragons?” His brows rose.
“Of course! Stuffed dragons are all the rage.” She began to pace across the balcony. “And one of the real selling features of new bookshops is merchandise. Bookish paraphernalia—like bookmarks and notebooks and coffee mugs with things like a typewriter on them and popular bookish quotes. And local gifts like the jewelry made from those scree stones you talked about only being in this part of the world, or local handcrafts. I mean, you’ve said Skymar is known for its woodcrafts and wool wear, so why not see how we can feature some of those in the shop. Nothing big, but maybe unique bookends or handmade jewelry or scarves and fuzzy socks. Fuzzy socks, mugs, and books go together in a very special way.” She turned toward him, hands in motion as she talked. “And that would support local businesses so they’ll refer people to Sutherland’s too. When I walked through Skern yesterday, I saw all sorts of merchandise that Sutherland’s could easily promote.” She took another turn around the balcony, excitement building with the speed of her words. “And we’d need to reorganize the bookshop for the most effective way to bring people in, kind of like from the streets to the shelves.” She laughed at her own comment.
“‘From the streets to the shelves’?” Brodie joined in with a chuckle. “Brilliant.”
She paused her steps and faced him, breathing in his compliment. “Thank you.”
“Excellent way to accept a compliment, Karre.”
Her smile brimmed. He was right. She usually deflected or redirected the conversation when compliments came. But . . . but she could be grateful for her God-given talents and passions, couldn't she? After all, God must have given them to her for a reason. “I’m trying.”
His gaze searched hers. “I know.”
With a reluctant pull from his gaze, she began pacing again. “This might be a big change for your mom, but . . . secondhand books shouldn’t be in the front of the store, unless there’s a very special secondhand we’d like to showcase. Featuring unique books and new releases in the front grab folks’ attention, especially tourists. And children need a bookish spot that screams ‘my place.’” She met Brodie’s amused expression. “What?”
“I didn’t realize what I unleashed with that simple request.”
She folded her arms across her chest and stared at him, her stomach quivering a little with the fear she’d overstepped the offering. “You gave me free rein, right?”
“I did and I’m happy you believed me.” With a flash of his smile and a grab of her hand, he pulled her back into the house.
“Where are we going?”
“To make a game plan.” He tugged her toward the stairs. “We only have three days before the festival begins, so we need to decide which parts of this plan we can make happen and which we can’t.”
“Wait.” She pulled him to a stop. “You want this to happen before the festival?”
“I’d love to show you what you are capable of and I’d love to show Mum what a little creative thinking can do. What better time than one of the largest festivals of the year?” He leaned close, teasing her grin. “Are you up for the challenge, Karre?”
This was her chance. Her opportunity. He was holding out a precious gift for her to take all these ideas and see them become a reality, without her having to keep the books or deal with meetings or anything like that.
“As long as you're with me, let’s do it!”
He pressed his lips to hers in a quick kiss. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
Chapter 22
Text from Izzy to Josephine: Josephine, I love you, but I want you to reread your message to me and ask yourself one question: What if Izzy’s future isn’t in Mt. Airy? (I’m not saying it’s not, but what if?) What if the love of Izzy’s wonderful family, including her well-organized and generous-hearted eldest cousin, has prepared her to be brave and try something totally different than anything any of them had ever imagined? Izzy knows it’s scary and possibly sad, but she’s only able to take a chance because she’s been loved so well by . . . her family. Izzy just wants you to think about that. (And Izzy will stop referring to herself in third person now.) I’m sending a longer email to all of you, so hopefully . . . well, hopefully it will explain a little more.
Izzy: I know you love me too.
From: Izzy Edgewood
To: Luke Edgewood, Josephine Martin, Penelope Edgewood
Date: June 24
Subject: Epiphany of all epiphanies
Dear Cousins,
I’ve had a breakthrough, I think. I won’t go into all the details about it, but suffice it to say, I think I’ve pinpointed not only one of my deepest problems but also one of my greatest loves. (And no, Penelope, it isn’t Brodie, though my heart is certainly moving in that direction.)
Yesterday Brodie and I developed a strategy to put into practice some of the things I’ve learned and love about books and book shopping. As you all know, I’ve been slightly obsessed with bookshops for years and have a great deal of information in my head that has been spending more time in daydreams than reality, but with Brodie’s encouragement and some nudging from Luke, I’ve stepped out into that reality.
Taking a dream from its perfect place in your head and placing it into the precarious real world is a dangerous endeavor. Whether the dream is a romantic happily ever after, a practically perfect job, or an abject vulnerability of laying our own skills and talents bare for the world to see and judge, when the shine is placed in daylight, what does it really look like?
So with those foreboding thoughts in mind, I’ve taken a leap into bringing my dreams to life. Hopefully they’ll emerge more like a waking princess than a Frankenstein’s monster, but here we go. When Brodie and I presented my suggestions to his mother, I thought at first she might refuse, and who can blame her?! A young woman sweeps into her son’s life and suggests upending her dear husband’s life’s work? Ugh. When I state it that way, I do sound like Frankenstein's monster. But as I explained that these little adjustments won’t change the heart of her store at all, but are more like adding clothes and jewelry to a well-built (in fact, I think I used the word classic) model, she seemed to catch the vision, admittedly reluctantly.
So here’s the plan: For the next three days we are going to put into place some of my suggestions and rearrange the shop. Brodie is going to contact local folks for merchandise we can introduce to Sutherland’s and its shoppers. (He’s asked for my help in doing this since, surprisingly enough, I’m the bigger talker of the two of us.) Ellen is going to help me restructure the store, as well as bring Brynna in for some social media/website suggestions. The King and Queen Festival is one of the largest events in Skymar, so if we’re going to measure the impact of change, this is the time to do it. If I don’t check in as frequently, just assume I’m buried beneath hundreds of classic hardcovers. Actually, I can think of worse ways to die.
I know Aunt Louisa allowed me to help decorate the library, but I’ve never been given the liberty of actually putting feet to all these imaginations in my head. We’ve worked the entire day and are taking a break for supper, but I’m sure we’ll be up late tonight and tomorrow. Penelope, you would love this festival. It’s all about royalty. I found this princess hat in one of the toy stores here that looked exactly like the pink one you used to have. The one you wore all. Of. The. Time. Was that the one that got stuck in a tree when Uncle Herman accidentally used it as a kite for Josephine’s school project?
I think that if Ellen still likes me after all of this and if Brodie still wants to kiss me even when I’m a sweaty mess from shifting books around for four hours, then I could very well be living my own fairy tale right here in Skern.
I’m attaching photos of Brodie’s house. Yes, those are REAL photos of Brodie’s house. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around it. Luke, you’d love the woodwork inside this place. Two-hundred-year-old craftsmanship, from what Brodie says. I added a few of those pictures, too, just for your benefit.
I have a feeling the only sight I’ll be seeing for the next two days is the inside of Sutherland’s of Skern, so photos may be on the low side for the next email; however, since I’m in a bookshop and there’s a Brodie around, my visual needs are happily satisfied. Speaking of vision, I’ve given Fiona the job of sorting the Braille books in a very specific order and in helping me update the children’s book section. She reads even more voraciously than I do and she has a memory that’s a little scary. I thought I was the only person who categorized favorite books in alphabetical order in my head by the author’s name! She’s helping with kid merchandise too. I want to adopt her, but she already has a wonderful family and I don’t even know if I’ll have a job when I get back to the States.
Anyway, I’ve gotta run! Lylla, one of the shop assistants, is trying to put Austen in the Fantasy section and someone needs to help her realize that Mr. Darcy, though swoony at times, is not in the fantasy genre . . . well, unless he’s coming out of a pond in a white shirt. Then, maybe.
Love you all!
Izzy
PS: Ellen has the full set of Waverley Novels from 1857!!! She keeps them in a locked case, along with several first edition Austens and an embossed history of Skymar from 1812. She’s promised to show me some of her other treasures too! I think my wild ideas are growing on her.
PPS: Having my boyfriend make a candlelit dinner for me in his cliffside manor house wasn’t even on my bucket list! And I still got it!
From: Luke Edgewood
To: Izzy Edgewood, Josephine Martin, Penelope Edgewood
Date: June 24
Subject: Re: Epiphany of all epiphanies
Izzy,
You can’t be Frankenstein’s monster. You don’t have the square-shaped head for it.
The craftsmanship is great. Some of those logs look hand-hewn.
You alphabetize books in your head? Not just on your shelves? And here I thought you were the semi-normal sister.
You promised on several occasions to refrain from mentioning he-who-shall-not-be-named in the white shirt. If I ever was tempted to be an Austen fan, which I’ve not been, the amount of times that guy is mentioned would kill any desire for it. He sets up unrealistic expectations for guys too. I’ve been grumpy for years and still haven’t found the perfect woman.
Luke
PS: Penelope still wears that princess hat.
PPS: I’ve made dinner for women before, too, and it hasn’t helped.
From: Penelope Edgewood
To: Izzy Edgewood, Josephine Martin, Luke Edgewood
Date: June 24
Subject: Re: Epiphany of all epiphanies
Oh, Izzy!!
That house is a fairy tale! I can’t even believe those photos are real! And the sea is so magical—and a safe distance away. I know you all keep saying sea monsters are not real, but I am sure I saw one during our beach trip when I was seven. It was not a clump of coral, no matter what Luke says. It had eyes!!
And do be careful, Izzy. I see a strange white smudge in the corner of one of the photos of the empty sitting room. Do you think it’s one of those ghost photos? What is the history of some lonely, cliffside manor house that has been left to deteriorate for years? Highly suspect for a possible haunting, you know? Even though I don’t really believe in ghosts, of course, but still . . . I’d certainly want to know if there were any murders that took place there, especially if I was planning on my happily ever after and all. (Recall Hamlet.)
