“Difficult to compete with the online giants,” I commented.
“Not really,” she said, “because my view is that a bookstore is no longer just about selling books. If anything, the online world is creating an even deeper need for connection.”
She went on to say that people thought brick-and-mortar bookstores were going to go the way of the dinosaur, but she disagreed. She felt bookstores needed to reinvent themselves as the hub of the community.
I could see she did have a gift for connection, because I felt connected just talking to her. I could also see that she was an astute businesswoman, and she reminded me, just a bit, of my younger self. She had succeeded in taking my mind off both my missing dog and my throbbing ankle.
I indulged my curiosity about her. “Do you travel a great deal?”
She gave a little self-deprecating snort. She told me she had never traveled abroad before, and that this was her first real adventure. She said that all her previous adventures had been between the covers, and then added of books and gave a little laugh. I could tell, even as distracted and panicky as I was about poor Max, that her adventure might not be turning out exactly as planned.
“Is that man your boyfriend?” I asked, putting unnecessary emphasis on that. One of the few perks of being old is you can be as direct as you want.
Jessica hesitated, and then looked uncomfortable. “We’ve been back and forth online for nearly a year. This is our first actual time together. I thought...”
She let her sentence drift off, but I’m afraid I could tell exactly what she thought, poor thing.
With an ocean between them, and his rather stellar good looks, she had thought he was her Prince Charming.
I had nearly finished the tea, and despite how much I might have enjoyed my companion in other circumstances, I felt deflated and exhausted, and as if I needed to go back to my hotel room, to the inevitable finger-shaking of my head of security, and to begin to mourn the loss of my beloved Max.
But just as I had given up hope, that girl who had put her ticket in her pocket emerged from the crowd, and she was with another girl. They could have been sisters, they looked so much alike with that spiky, very short hair, and both of them with petite builds.
The other girl’s hair was lighter, and she had freckles, and it was she who had a squirming Max held firmly in her arms. Both the young women were laughing, and they looked so vivacious and full of life. It was such a beautiful thing to see—plus the miracle of Max being returned to me—that I started to cry all over again.
I suddenly found Max in my arms. The little monkey—his outfit utterly destroyed—licked my face as though he had not deliberately run away and was delighted to see me. The two young women who looked like sisters introduced themselves. The British girl was Daisy, which is a name I find very old-fashioned and completely lovely.
It turned out the third girl—her name was Aubrey and she was Australian—had scooped up the loose dog as he had continued his mad dash through the crowd. How appropriate is that, that my little joey had been snagged by an Australian? That girl had a “life of the party” way about her.
And then Daisy had come upon her as Aubrey stood there, not quite sure what to do with her find, and brought her—and darling Max—back to me.
We ordered tea all the way around, and I found out a bit about each of them. Daisy was, indeed, a budding musician who would be playing some of the minor stages at the festival. Aubrey, despite being so outgoing, had something faintly fragile about her, that made me feel concerned about illness. She was involved in some kind of custom painting family business with her brothers. She sounded less than enthused.
I was enjoying visiting with those young women so much I nearly overlooked the fact I was keeping them from their concert, which would be starting momentarily.
I gathered Max, and stood to go. The delight of being in the company of all that vigorous youth had been so lovely I had forgotten the injury to my ankle. But when I stood pain shot through it, and I sank back down with a defeated yelp.
I caught sight of that man, Ralph, on the edge of all those moving people, craning his head, obviously looking for Jessica. He saw her and came to the table, casting a terrible shadow on it.
“I see the dog has been found,” he said tightly, not at all humbled by the fact there was a real dog. He was obviously more than annoyed that his time had been wasted in the search, and that he was about to miss Carlene’s show. “Jessica, let’s go.”
She tilted her chin at him, and I was happy to see a spark of pure fire in those soft, dark eyes.
“Actually, my friend is going to need some help getting home. She’s hurt her ankle.”
I could have protested that I did not need help, but it really seemed far more important to see how this played out.
“We’re missing the concert,” he said.
“Yes, we are,” she returned, calmly.
“These other women can help her.”
“So our enjoyment of the concert is more important than theirs?”
The other two girls sat, wide-eyed, eyes going back and forth, as if they had front row seats at Wimbledon.
Ralph drew in his breath, gave Jessica a withering look and stalked off in the direction of the stadium.
It seemed like all of us had been holding our breath.
“Well,” Aubrey said, breaking the silence. “What an ass.”
And then we were all giggling like schoolgirls. It made me feel a part of things, something I certainly had never felt when I was an actual schoolgirl.
“I can manage,” I said. “Please go enjoy the concert.”
“I don’t see how you can manage,
