One True Loves(83)

“Yes.”

“At this store?” I say.

“See? I knew it wasn’t the right time to talk about this.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m just surprised.”

“I know,” she says. “But this could be my something. Like we talked about. Something outside of the house that has nothing to do with potty training or hearing and deafness. I think this idea is better than writing, actually. I’m excited about it and it’s something with adults, you know? A reason to put on a nice pair of pants. Emma, I need a reason to put on pants.”

“OK . . .” I say.

“I can’t take on a full-time job but an assistant manager position could be really good. Especially because Mom and Dad could help fill in for me with the kids or here if need be. I guess what I’m saying is . . . Please hire me.”

“But you used to be the manager. I’d be your boss,” I say.

Marie puts both of her hands up, in mock surrender. “It’s your show. I know that I gave up the position and you’ve done a great job at it. I’m not trying to usurp anything. If, later on down the line, I decide that I want to take on more or be a more vocal participant in the store, that’s my problem and I’ll deal with it. I can always take on a manager job at one of Mike’s stores if it comes to that. But right now, what I really want is to spend my time here, with you.”

Marie has said her piece and now it’s up to me to respond. I can feel my sister’s, my father’s, and my mother’s eyes on me. Sophie and Ava, now calm, are pulling on Marie’s leg.

“So?” Marie says.

I start laughing. It’s all so absurd. All three of them start to worry, unsure what, exactly, I find so funny. So I get hold of myself in an effort to not keep them in suspense any longer.

It scares me, the idea of having Marie working under me. It makes me sort of uncomfortable and I’m slightly worried that it will undermine the good relationship we’ve started to build. But I also think that it could turn out to be great. I’d have someone to share this store with, someone who understands how important it is, who has a passion for not just books but this store’s history. And working together, spending more time with each other, could bring us even closer.

So I think this is a risk I’m willing to take.

I’m ready to bet on Marie and me.

“OK,” I say. “You’re hired.”

The smile that erupts across my father’s face is so wide and sincere that the teenage version of me would have threatened to barf. But I’m not a teenager anymore and it won’t kill me to give my father everything he’s ever dreamed of. “All right, Dad,” I say. “Your girls are running your store.”

For the first time in my entire life, I wonder if perhaps Marie and I might actually prove to be greater together than the sum of our parts.

Emma and Marie.

Our moment of celebration is interrupted by a man who tells my dad he is looking for a book for his wife. I overhear as my dad asks what it’s called. The man says, “I don’t know and I’m not sure who wrote it. I don’t remember what it’s about, but I do remember that the cover was blue.”

I watch my parents give each other a knowing glance and then both of them try to help him.

As they walk away, Marie looks at me. “So what happened in Maine? Are you going home to Sam?”

“I don’t know, exactly.”

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“I know that I want to be with Sam, but he told me not to call him even if I’ve made a decision. He said that he would let me know when he was ready to talk. Not the other way around.”

Marie waves it off. “He just meant that if you were going to turn him down. He doesn’t mean that if you have good news you shouldn’t tell him.”

“I don’t know. I think he’s really upset.”

“Of course he’s upset. But that’s all the more reason to find him and talk to him.”

“I want to respect his wishes,” I say.

“Emma, listen to me. Go find him right now and tell him that you want to be with him.”

“You mean like go to his office at school?” I say.

“Yes!” Marie says. “Absolutely do that. I mean, don’t propose to him in front of band kids or whatever. But yes! Find him now.”

“Yeah,” I say, starting to build up the confidence. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

My parents come over and ring up the man. He must not have found what he came in for. He is, instead, purchasing a copy of Little Women. No doubt my parents gave up trying to figure out what book he was talking about a few minutes into it and just decided to sell him on Louisa May Alcott.

They want to sell everyone a copy of Little Women. Because it’s a great book, sure. But also because they are proud that it was written just a few miles away. They probably also tried to sell him any Henry David Thoreau or Ralph Waldo Emerson we have in stock.

I haven’t been pushing the transcendentalists like they do. Copies stay on the shelf longer than they did when my parents were running things.

They have never given me a hard time about it. My father has never asked why there are copies of Civil Disobedience that have managed to earn dust on them.