Have Yourself a Merry Little Sneak Peek

I've been writing a Christmas novella for no other reason than I wanted to do something fun for myself during the holidays. I'm a whopping two chapters, 10 pages in, but it's been entertaining. And if you're curious, I'm dropping the first chapter below! Enjoy!

CHAPTER ONE

The Cozy Curly Bookshop

“Location, location, location,” I mutter to myself as I sit at the register, completely alone.

A small whine reminds me that there actually is one other soul here at the store. My dog Honeybee pokes my bare foot with her wet nose.

Important business note: I don’t always go about the shop without shoes, but it’s been the kind of day where my shirt’s too warm, my pants are too tight, and my shoes and socks were suffocating my feet, and the latter was the only thing I could strip. I twist on my stool to brush Honeybee’s caramel fur with my toes as I pull out the drawer for her favorite treats.

Doggy cookies from the bakery just down the street. Hon instantly quivers when she sees the blue paper bag.

“Well, girl,” I say, fist in the air, my sign to tell her to sit. She goes down quickly, pink tongue darting out in anticipation. “It’s been a day. You enjoy this because you’ve earned it.”

She gently takes the offered treat from my fingers and carries it to her bed just behind the counter. There she abandons all manners and devours the cookie like it’s her last meal on Earth.

I face the empty shop again and sigh.

Location, location, location. That’s what my mom said when I first brought up my dream of owning a bookstore.

“You’re battling online retailers and big chains,” she pointed out. “Not only are you going to have to balance cost with the retail price so you get a good margin and aren’t turning people off with higher prices, but people are going to have to intentionally visit your shop when shopping online and having their purchase delivered right to them is much more convenient.”

“What kind of location is best?” I asked.

“You need somewhere with a lot of foot traffic,” she said. “People are more likely to stop if you’re right where they’re already walking. People aren’t looking at window displays when they’re driving by to get where they’re headed.”

I had kept that in mind when my best friend and I started searching for the right place. We searched for months.

And then the perfect building was up for lease. Well, picture perfect, I should say, because it’s sandwiched in between two residential homes, and the parking around the back is limited to six spots.

We had debated for over a month. We looked at other possible building, but our hearts kept dragging us back here, to the little cottage that used to be a preschool until the former owner retired and gave her daughter the place. The daughter had no plans for it, so she leased it out.

Due to the poor parking situation, no other business in town was too keen on it, despite its charm.

But then we heard a couple was toying with the idea of stuffing it full of antiques and calling it From the Attic. Adorable, right? We were green with jealousy. So we signed the lease and promised ourselves we’d be so attractive in our cottage bookshop, people wouldn’t mind fighting for a spot out back or parking down the street to come to us.

That happens sometimes. We’ve only been in business a year in January, and we’ve managed to stay afloat. Barely, according to Curly. She handles the financial side while I’ve been tasked with all the socials, from social media posts to socializing with customers. Occasionally, we sit down together to go over the books, to weigh what would be more Lukeeficial, ordering more stock for the shelves or hiring another part-timer, advertising with mailers or decorating the shop with each season.

The numbers make my head spin, but Curly’s good with numbers.

I… I should be good at the socials.

Anyone who briefly meets me will say that I’m nice, friendly, and totally at ease. Inside, however, I flap around in a panic, wondering if I sound intelligent, if the person I’m speaking to likes me, or if I’m the worst 50% bookshop owner in the history of the business.

I excel at playing roles. No, I wasn’t a theater kid in high school, but I should have been. If the auditioning hadn’t made me want to puke, I probably could have been a star.

The last half hour of the day crawls by as I jot notes down in my pastel green journal.

Christmas. We need to make a big deal out of it this year. Don’t they have a tradition in Iceland where everyone gets a book on Christmas Eve and they spend the day reading? Should do more research on this and how to use it to get people excited about books. Not just buying books, either, because not everyone can buy books. Maybe we can partner with the library? And we should do a party of some kind. Maybe not at the shop—unless we did an all-day thing or made a week of it. We could serve up hot cocoa, treats… Do discounts on certain titles on certain days… Oh, a Twelve Days of Books thing! Then we can lead up to one large party. But where??? Ask Curly if we have the budget to rent a place.

I’m excited by this. Curly will love it, too, but her lips will be too thin when she smiles because she’ll be forcing that smile as she runs the cost of a party and the loss of margin with the sales through her head.

She already had to sit down with her fists against her eyes when she saw the receipt from my Christmas décor shopping.

But all of it was necessary! We couldn’t be the only business on Bridge Park Street underdressed for the biggest holiday of the year. While we want to stick out, that is not the way to do it. When someone is out shopping for gifts, they want the festive places, the ones that make them feel warm and happy. That requires lights, Santa, and a cute wintery creature of some kind.

I chose a polar bear in a sweater and beanie hugging a penguin. It was cute until Curly pointed out that the polar bear was probably getting ready to eat the penguin.

My phone buzzes. It’s like she knows I’m thinking about her.

CURLY: Anyone?

ME: Anne came in around lunchtime to pick up her order. A couple of high schoolers were looking for a book that we didn’t have and decided to order it from our enemy even though I offered to get it in. We had a few more in the morning and later this afternoon.

CURLY: Sorry it’s been so slow for you. I’ll be in tomorrow.

ME: Feeling better?

CURLY: Much. XOXO

One of the benefits of being self-employed is taking time off when needed, not just sick leave or vacation. I tell her to let me know if she wants to rant all day tomorrow, and she sends me a thumbs-up and a heart. I glance at the clock and decide closing ten minutes early will offend no one.

I stand to get this show on the road when the bell installed over our door jingles.

A welcoming smile stamps itself on my face as a man steps in, stomping his snow-crusted boots on the mat to remove as much of the powder as possible before entering any further.

It feels awkward to shout across the room at him, but it also feels awkward watching him silently. I juggle my choices, but Honeybee quickly takes the decision from me by abandoning her bed and bounding over to the stranger. Her tail wags and she plops on her rump in front of him, waiting for him to bridge the gap between them if he wants to interact with her.

She’s well-trained, which is why she’s allowed here in the shop. I don’t mind a friendly dog in my face, giving me a slobbery kiss, but I know there are plenty of folks who’d object.

The man beams and crouches. “Hello, there.”

Hon leans into his hands when he stretches them out to give her a good rub. Her tail thumps on the floor.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Honeybee,” I supply, hoping he means the dog. “Hon for short.”

“You’re a beautiful girl, Hon,” he says, and yes, to the dog. To me, he asks, “How old is she?”

“Three.”

“I love Golden Retrievers. They’re a good breed.” He rises to his feet and Hon accompanies him to the register.

I stand. “What brings you in?”

“I’m new in town, and the internet won’t be up at my place until Monday.” Three days from now.

“Bored?” I guess.

“No streaming services, no watching my programs.” He grins. “And sadly, I beat my moving van by a day, so I have no movies or books. But I have a wallet and a data plan that let me find the nearest local bookstore.”

“I’d say sorry about all that, but I’m happy you’re here.” I come around the counter. “Do you have an idea of what you’re looking for, or do you take recommendations?”

“I love looking at people’s lists,” he says. “Helps keep me open-minded. What would you recommend for someone who has very limited experience in fantasy?”

“It depends entirely on what you’re comfortable with. Do you want to dip your toe in with something easy, or do you want to jump right on in with high fantasy?”

“Describe high fantasy.”

“Totally different world. A map in the front. Preferably a pronunciation guide somewhere so you’re not mumbling incoherently in your own head.”

At that, he chuckles. “Bring it on.”

I move to our fantasy section, thumbing along the spines like I’m searching. I know exactly what I’m looking for and where, but I play pretend while observing more of him from the corner of my eye.

He’s taller than me but not by much. Probably around my age, give or take a few years. Scruffy face, brown hair past his jaw, broad shoulders with a bit of a belly. A dad bod, Curly would say. She declared earlier this week that her next boyfriend would have a dad bod because the gym bros were afraid of commitment.

“Don’t you have to be a dad to have a dad bod?” I asked then, and I wonder now if it’s true, if this man next to me has a child. And a wife.

I ask nonchalantly, “Where are you moving from?”

“Pretty far,” he says but doesn’t specify, and it’d be weird for a stranger to request specifics.

“Outside of no internet or stuff, do you like your place okay?”

“I love it,” he says. “It’s small. Cozy. Reminds me a bit of home but is different enough that I’m excited about the changes.”

“Good.” I pick up one of the books and hold it out. “Do you want a synopsis, or do you trust that I have impeccable taste?”

He studies me a moment. It takes me aback and I struggle not to drop my gaze, but then I notice how pretty his eyes are. They’re blue, the kind that almost look purple and that, honestly, until now, I thought were photoshopped in most pictures I’ve seen.

I blink when I realize I’m probably gawking at him.

The skin crinkles around those eyes when he smiles.

“I’m going to trust you.”

“Good. You should,” I say, and it sounds dumb to my ears, but his smile remains pleasant. I force myself to continue. “Just one book today or do you need more?”

“Let’s stick with one. If you don’t let me down, I’ll come back.”

Please, do, I think. It’s good for business, obviously. There’s nothing more to it than that.

We return to the counter to ring him up. Honeybee stares up at him in a way that I can only describe as adoringly. She’d remained at his side during this entire transaction, and I notice his hand drifts to pat her on the head as he waits for the total and then again after he’s slid his card through the reader.

“She loves people,” I say, nodding to Hon. “I’d say she loves them equally, but she goes nuts when kids come in.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” he says, scratching her ear. “Where’s your children’s section?”

I point to the corner to his left where a couple of small painted chairs sit around a table perfect for hosting tea parties.

“Ah. It’s…” He struggles for a moment.

“Limited,” I suggest. I tear off his receipt and place it under the cover of his book. “We want to bring more titles in. The demand just hasn’t gotten there yet.”

“It’ll come,” he says but in that tone of voice that’s all polite and no confidence.

“We hope so.” I hand him the book.

He holds it against his chest in one arm while the other arm dangles to continue patting Hon on the head.

“What’s your name?”

“Oh! Sorry, I should’ve introduced myself. I’m Cosette, but friends call me Cozy.”

His gaze drifts to the vinyl lettering on the wall behind me. “Cozy as in…?”

“Yeah, I’m one of the owners. ‘Curly’ is for my business partner.”

“Well, thank you very much for your help tonight, Cosette,” he says, looking me in the face once more. “You’re the first person in town that I’ve talked to, and if the rest of the folks around here are as nice as you, I’ll feel at home in no time.”

“Welcome to Gale,” I say. “I’m afraid I didn’t ask your name.”

“Andrew, but friends call me Drew.”

“Welcome, Andrew,” I say, copying his use of Cosette.

He bids me a good night and leaves, and Honeybee cocks her head as the door closes, as if she doesn’t understand why he had to go.

I chuckle at her. “Did you think we’d adopted a stray?”

She looks back at me and her mouth peels back in a doggy grin.

I shut the computer down and start flipping the lights off with my coat half on. Hon follows me as I step one foot out the door.

And I shriek.

It’s ice cold on the sole of my foot. My bare foot.

I’d forgotten I wasn’t wearing shoes. And I had been around the shop without them in front of a customer.

How professional. I send out the hope that Mr. Andrew isn’t disgusted by feet.

Or worse…has a fetish…

Hon waits patiently for me to gather my socks and boots, and she escorts me to the car, as if she wonders if I’ll lose my way if she doesn’t keep a close eye on me. She might not be far off in her thinking.

Another day of owning a business, of seizing my dream. And I feel…okay. Just okay. Andrew was a happy surprise.

But as I start my car, I wonder what I need to do to bring back the magic to my living dream.

“Christmas,” I say out loud. It’s got to be Christmas that does the trick. What has more magic than the most magical time of the year? Or more miracles?

“What do you think, girl?” I ask Honeybee. “Do we believe in the power of Christmas?”

She leans across the center console to lick my cheek.

“That’s the spirit,” I say.