The Bookstore Sisters(10)

One hundred and thirty-three people attended the opening, along with six dogs, not including Hank. Violet kept count. Some were neighbors; some were summer people—all of them bought something. The cupcakes and brownies and slices of cake went quickly, and Sophie was stationed at the espresso machine, and everyone was delighted to see her, for she’d been hidden away for weeks. Johnny bought six Robert Parker mysteries, and his father bought an old book of maps of New England, and people seemed to realize they had to pay for the books they wanted rather than just borrow them.

“We’re not exactly rich,” Violet said at the end of the day. “But we’re getting there.”

Isabel had noticed that her niece had hidden away Andrew Lang’s fairy books, for she planned to read them when she was done with Mary Poppins. Once she began reading an author, she didn’t like to stop, a trait she may well have inherited from her aunt, who had read those same fairy books one summer, one after the other, still wishing for more when she was through.



That night, when Isabel went to tidy up, she noticed a last pile of books on the floor behind a chair, likely left there from her father’s time. He had loved the store so. It had saved him when the girls’ mother died, and if he hadn’t paid much attention to finances, well, who could blame him? Isabel moved the books and saw that there on the wall was a hinge that had been obscured by the books, and a very small door that she’d never seen before. She crouched down to open it. Inside, there was a small blue notebook, and when she peered in, she found a page meant for both sisters. Isabel recognized the handwriting, even though it had been years since she’d seen it. Their mother’s.

How Much Do I Love You?

I love you more than pancakes, more than ice cream, more than pickles, more than my life. I love you more than dogs or cats or diamonds or gold, more than anyone else in the world. I loved brushing your hair every night and walking you to school. I told you every story you knew.

I want you to remember our last day. I read you a story about two sisters who could find their way through the woods even if it was dark. I want you to remember the last evening we had. We drank tea made of roses. We baked a peach pie. We had spaghetti with butter for supper. We looked at the stars with your father, sitting high up on the roof, and then I took you inside. I kissed you both good night.

I hope you remember everything.

Someday you will find this and you’ll know that to the very end I thought about you. There is no ending to that. You still hold my heart in your hands. I loved you girls more than a fish loves a river, more than a bird loves the sky.

Remember that. Remember me.

When Isabel went into the kitchen, she made the Fall in Love Fruitcake even though it was very late, almost morning. She used her mother’s mixing bowls and her cake tins. She’d decided it was a good time to finally bake this cake. She knew what the secret ingredient was now. When the fruitcake was done, she went up to her sister’s room and got into bed beside her.

“What’s wrong?” Sophie asked, half-asleep.

“Nothing,” Isabel said. “Everything is absolutely right.”

She was thinking about the way a fish loved a river, and a bird loved the sky, and a mother loved her daughters. She was remembering everything. How love could change a person, how it could cause you the greatest sorrow or shelter you from harm. There were moths hitting against the windowpanes. A night heron called in the marshland as if its heart were breaking.

Isabel remembered how it felt to walk up the path to the cottage, how bright the stars were at night, how many books she could read in a week, how it felt to sit in the marsh and be so quiet the herons didn’t know she was there, how her sister had always been there for her, even in that terrible year. She remembered that Johnny used to come to the house at night after she had stopped talking to him, just waiting for her to recognize what they were to each other. Isabel went to the window and looked out, and there he was. She gave her sister the notebook their mother had left for them, and then she went downstairs. By the time she did, he was waiting at the door.