Lineage(45)

A bell dinged once somewhere out of sight in the rear of the store as he shut the door behind him. Dark wood floors held row after row of chest-high shelves, which in turn housed the spines of thousands of books. Lance’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He hadn’t expected such a selection from the outward appearance of the small building. Glancing around, he found that he was the only customer within the quiet shop. As he made his way down the first aisle of books, he mused that there wasn’t another silence like that of an empty bookstore. It was as if hundreds of thousands of people were biting their tongues, waiting for the moment to release their voices with the opening of a cover.

A particular book caught Lance’s eye as he strolled down the row, its dark cover emblazoned with sharp zigzags of lightning. Lance pulled Legends of the North Shore from the shelf and examined the inside flap. His attention was so drawn to the overview of the book that he didn’t hear the soft footsteps approaching from behind.

“Hi, can I help you?”

The voice was as bright as the light that filtered in through the high windows of the store, and when Lance turned, startled by the question, his breath caught in his throat. The woman who stood at the end of the row was a spitting image of the vision that had sat in the passenger seat of his car no more than an hour ago. Her hair held the same dark shade and her eyes—there was no mistaking them. They were the deep green of an oak leaf in midsummer. She was petite and wore a long-sleeved white T-shirt and khaki shorts. She leaned easily on the shelf nearest to her, her head tilted with inquiry.

“I … hi …” Lance fumbled, his tongue several steps behind his racing thoughts. Without looking, he tried to replace the book in the space he had pulled it from, but instead, lost his grip and watched as the book somersaulted to the floor, landing with a loud thud. “Jesus!” Lance exclaimed, and bent to pick the book up, dusting its cover off and checking to make sure the fall hadn’t bent any pages. When he looked back up at the woman’s face, he saw she wore a bemused look that he was sure she reserved for drunks and precocious children.

“I’m sorry, lost my grip,” Lance said lamely, and tried to put on his best smile. The woman nodded, but her smirk remained in place.

“No problem. Good thing you didn’t drop it on your foot, it’s a long book.” Lance barked laughter that was too loud in the empty bookstore. Christ, he thought. Get a grip, you idiot.

“Were you looking for anything in particular?” she asked.

“No, not really. You have a really nice store here.”

“Thanks. Well, if you need some help finding anything or dropping books, just let me know.” Lance felt an urge to let out the unfamiliar laughter again but staved it off. Instead, he smiled and nodded, feeling blood warm his face. He watched the woman walk up to the half-moon counter in the middle of the store and begin shuffling through a stack of papers. A runner of dark hair fell from behind one delicate ear, obscuring her face for a moment before her hand absently pushed it back into place. It was such a simple movement, but it was done with a grace and elegance that made him stare. Only when her green eyes shifted from the paperwork to Lance’s corner of the room did he tear his gaze away.

In an effort to appear somewhat normal, he pulled the book he had dropped from the shelf and began paging through it. There were black-and-white pictures every few pages that depicted different views of Lake Superior’s shoreline, along with some shots of enormous ore-hauling ships chugging through the dark waters. Feeling the need to purchase something to offset his strange behavior, Lance walked to the desk and set the book on the counter. The woman looked up as she rose from her chair behind the desk and smiled. This time there was no doubt or mockery in her expression, only warmth.

“Find everything okay?” she asked, as she scanned the book’s bar code and punched a key on the computer console to her right.

“Yeah, I figured I should buy it after throwing it on the floor.” The woman’s smile widened and spread to her eyes.

“On vacation?” she said as she drew out a small brown paper bag from beneath the counter.

“Uh, not really. Just passing through. This is a really nice town,” he said, mentally slapping his own forehead with the lameness of his speech.

“Thanks, it gets really busy this time of year. That’ll be twenty-two thirty-six.” Lance fished his wallet from the back of his jeans and handed her his credit card. As she ran the plastic in the machine behind the counter, she read his name out loud.