“Essie!” Harmony’s loud, little person voice sounds at my door.
“No, baby,” I hear Rodrick say. “Let Essie sleep.”
I smile, listening to their conversation. Scratching my head, I picture myself in Harmony’s place—I don’t mean to. It’s a place my brain often goes when kids are around, but even more with Rodrick and Harmony. When I see a mom or a dad with their kid, I wonder if my mom and dad did that, if they said those things, if they played with me like that or got irritated with me in the same way. But Rodrick already reminds me of Dad. He looks like him and he sounds like him. I wouldn’t have remembered the sound of Dad’s voice on my own, but I have an old video camera that they used when JoJo was born. There are a few videos of my parents and my brother as a baby that I’ve watched to an almost unwatchable state.
Hesitant, I get out of bed and open my door. Rodrick is bent over, hushing Harmony and beckoning her to follow him with a finger.
“Essie!” she says when she sees me.
“Hi, Harmony.”
“Time to play.” She takes hold of two of my fingers and walks me down the hall.
“Esther, you don’t have to. She—”
“It’s okay.”
I follow Harmony into the explosion of pink that is her bedroom. The walls are pink, the canopy over her white bed is pink, and every stuffed doll and toy has some sort of pink attached. It’s ultra organized, too, with shelving and cubbies keeping all of Harmony’s things stored. Harmony sits me on the floor and pulls a pink tub from a white shelf. She dumps it on the ground in front of me and we spend the next hour playing Little People.
I walk my little doll up and down Harmony’s arm and she giggles until she’s rolling on the ground and Summer comes in to check on us.
“Harmony,” she says through her beaming grin, “you need to let Esther come eat breakfast.”
Strangely, I feel more comfortable in this big foreign house with Harmony at my side. So, I turn to her. “Have you eaten?”
“Cheerios.” Her one word answer makes me want to laugh.
“Can you show me where?”
She pushes herself up and grabs hold of my hand again.
Harmony and I spend most of the morning together. Angelo even joins in a couple of times. I steer clear of the baby—he’s way too tiny. In its own odd way, it’s comfortable.
Until—“Hey, Esther, how about shopping today?”
The only person I’ve ever shopped with is Cytha, and neither of us had enough money to ever find it too fun. My heart races and my mouth goes dry—with one simple question. “Thanks, Summer. I don’t really need anything.”
“Sometimes shopping is about wants.” She lifts one brow. “Is there anything you want?”
I don’t have plans of Summer becoming my new BFF. I’m here a year and then I’m leaving. “I don’t. But thanks for the offer.”
Her smile falters, but it doesn’t disappear. “Okay.”
I’m not trying to hurt her feelings, but I don’t want to go, and I don’t need a fill-in mother either. “I need to shower. I have to work today.”
“I’ll get a dinner made for you.”
“There were plenty of leftovers from last night. I’ll just take those. Thanks.”
She nods, and I walk away so I don’t have to look at the disappointment on her face. I’m not sure what she and Rodrick want from me. Maybe to make recompense. Maybe to get to know me. But I don’t need either of those things. I just need to make it through the year.
At 1:37 I walk into The Bookcase. Marley sits at the register, this time her hair is pulled back into a high ponytail. Her glasses slide to the end of her nose and she flips the page of her book. Her gaze flicks up and when she sees me, she sets her book down without even bothering to replace her bookmark.
“Esther.” My name is breathy on her lips. She hops from her stool behind the counter and meets me before I’m two feet into the building. She wraps me into a hug, holding me close and rocking me side to side.
My arms stick at my sides, not returning the gesture. I’m not sure I could if I wanted to, she holds me so tightly.
“I’m so glad you’re okay.”
I inch back from her hold the minute she releases me. A puff of air leaves my lips. “No big deal. I’m fine.” The room behind me isn’t much neater than when Finn and I left it last night.
“My brave and stable Taurus. Ooo,” she awes, already distracted, “what are your numbers? When did you say your birthday was again?”
Marley spends the next hour telling me why my numbers are important, all while teaching me where to find my work schedule and how to use the register. It isn’t that difficult and, with the whopping three customers that come in, I even get to practice my new skills. I haven’t seen Finn once and I enjoy Marley’s company. I even learn their last name—not that I plan to Insta-stalk Finn again.
“Now, when no one is here to help, you’re welcome to read. We also always have stacks that need organized. Shelves are always needing readjusted as buyers and books come in. Most of our books are used, so it’s not like we’re just restocking new books every day. The new section is over there.” She points against the side wall, where a short space has a NEW sign above it. “Everything else in the store is used—and as inventory goes out, we modify the shelves to fit the books from the stacks.”
“Got it.” I don’t mind the busy work. It makes the time pass. “I haven’t been upstairs yet.”
“Oh,” Marley gives one shoulder a shrug. “Sure. Come on up.” I follow her up the red carpet that must be decades old. After we’ve climbed the stairs, there is a landing and, to the right, an arched doorway. But I can already see through the door that this space is different.
The red carpet stops at the landing. A wooden floor fills up the rest of the large room. The open balcony that reaches out over the top half of the store has a bench along the half wall, but no books. The opposite side of the space is lined out like a home—a couch, a coffee table, even a television. There are plants everywhere, unlike downstairs. Behind the sitting space is an open kitchen.
Their home.
This is where Marley and Danny live. And Finn, of course.
“Our bedrooms are upstairs. Finn’s up there now.” She rubs her hands together and slowly twirls to see all of the room. It must have been a mess, after the explosion yesterday, every potted plant had to have toppled over. They must have spent the night putting everything back together.
My pulse ticks in my neck and wrist. I nibble on my inner cheek. “I didn’t realize you lived up here. I didn’t mean to invade.”
Her lips part into a grin. “No invasion.” She pushes up her round glasses. “I can tell Finn you’re here.”
“No,” I say too quick. “I mean, that’s okay, no reason to disturb him.”
“He needs to wake up anyway.” She takes off toward the kitchen where another set of stairs leads to the third floor.
But when she disappears, I leave. I didn’t ask her to wake up Finn—at almost three in the afternoon. I find a stack of books downstairs and start to incorporate them onto an existing shelf, moving and readjusting the books already there. First categorized by genre, then alphabetized by author.