Gus stroked Jacob’s arm now, a quiet smile on his face. “It’s rare for you to break your composure like this.”
Jacob pressed his hands to his eyes. “I’m trying to pull myself back together.”
Gus sat back and folded his legs in front of him. “Why was your favorite author here, anyway?”
Jacob gave him a long-suffering look. “It’s only been in every edition of the local paper for the last month. Rasul Youssef, international award-winning author, is one of the visiting professors at Bayview University this year.”
“I know, hon. I’m saying why was he here?”
“I suspect because he wanted a book.” Jacob sighed. “I hate that the girls made a scene, but sadly that’s more what he’s known for lately, his notoriety instead of his incredible fiction. His latest release has been bumped indefinitely, and he’s been in the news partying with a string of partners all year. The latest is a model known only for escorting celebrities to ruin, who he’s been consistently on and off with. Half her brand right now is making people wonder when she’ll destroy him as she did so many others.”
Gus raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“The tabloids are calling it the Clash of the Sirens, because he is also known for leading people astray.”
“It’s difficult to grasp how someone like this can be your favorite author. Also, how in the world did Bayview get him?”
“I detest the playboy narrative hung around Youssef’s neck, but I’ll admit his behavior hasn’t helped his case. I’ve been privately hoping his arrival in Copper Point would be good for him, since we’re so far removed from the gossip mines, but the herd of teenagers in my bookshop makes that seem impossible.” He pushed off the door and rested his elbows on his knees. “I don’t know how Bayview convinced him to come. I’ve honestly thought it was a hoax, like the time the drama department said Russell Crowe was coming to teach a seminar and it turned out to be someone’s uncle from Michigan. But no, today Youssef waltzed into my bookstore and asked for recommendations.”
Gus grinned at him. “So. Is he as handsome in person as he is in his pictures?”
Despite his best efforts, Jacob blushed. “Of course he is. But he was also so calm and centered while he shopped, just a regular guy, and endearingly polite. Except where I had to chase off his stalkers, it was my dream encounter with him. I honestly hope he never comes back so I can keep it crystal clear in my mind.”
“You don’t want to meet him again?”
Jacob drew his knees to his chest and hugged them. “Youssef’s debut novel helped me through my parents’ death, and his second led me out of depression and inspired me to open this bookstore. The last thing in the world I want is for that sacrosanct individual to fall in any way. The tabloid reports are bad enough. I can’t afford to let anything else intrude.”
“Huh. Well, now I want to read his books.”
“You should. They’re incredible.”
“So it seems.”
Jacob straightened a bit. “Thank you again for coming over on such short notice. I’m sure it put you out.”
Gus waved this away. “You did me a favor. Ben Vargas was doing his regular afternoon decoration of my coffee counter.”
Jacob raised his eyebrows. “He’s still here? I thought he graduated.”
“He shifted to part time since his mom’s diagnosis. His parents moved to town for their retirement and the new oncologist, and he’s at home with them helping out. So he’s going to be a fixture around here for some time, it seems.” After pushing himself to his feet, Gus held out a hand to Jacob. “You still need to deal with the cash register, but I did everything else associated with closing. But hey, we never did settle things at the last Mini Main Street. Are you going to the university gala?”
Jacob shook his head. “I had planned to, but I don’t think I have it in me.”
“Damn. Okay, Matt and I will rock, paper, scissors it to see who goes. Though I think Matt’s dad was on him to attend. We can let him take the hit this time.”
Now Jacob felt bad. “Maybe I can go. Especially since I was the one who pointed out we couldn’t let Clark get a talking point that ‘the youth’ on the Copper Point Chamber of Commerce don’t know how to represent at community functions.”
Gus shrugged. “It’s fine. We’ll deal. I’d prefer you go, as you’re our best bet at getting into leadership, but it sounds like you have had a day.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“Are you sure I can’t convince you to come to dinner with the guys, though? I mean, a significant chunk of them will be at the gala, but I know the quieter atmosphere is a plus for you.”
“I need to be alone, without any people. But maybe I’ll stop by if you end up at your shop like usual after.”
“I’ll hold you to that. Matt or I, whoever loses the draw, will give everyone at GAG your love.”
Jacob’s lips thinned into a line. “I seriously wish they’d change the name of that group.”
Gus grinned. “No chance. I know Owen started it as a joke, but you’re the only one who hates it.”
“It isn’t even properly descriptive. Gay Area Guys? Seriously?”
“Well, you can’t say Gay Copper Point Guys. One, because a lot of the members come from out of town, and two, GCPG sounds like some kind of Soviet acronym.”
Jacob tipped his head back again.
Gus regarded Jacob carefully. “Will you be all right on your own? I’ve never seen you this rattled.”
“Yes, yes. I’ll be fine.” Running his hands over the front of his cardigan, Jacob took several fortifying breaths. “Thank you for allowing me a moment to melt down. I needed that more than I knew.”
“Let me know if you need another round.” Smiling, Gus rubbed his shoulder affectionately. “I’ll give your regards to GAG.”
Jacob waved Gus down the stairs, then locked the door. After a few deep breaths, he sat in the rocking chair near his shelf of literary treasures, withdrew the books Youssef had signed, and ran his hand over the inscription to The Sword Dancer’s Daughter.
To Jacob, who has the loveliest bookstore I’ve ever seen. Rasul Youssef.
This was his original copy of the book, the first-edition hardcover he’d picked up in the hospital bookshop. It had a coffee stain on page 34 from when the nurse had startled him as she dragged him to the ICU so he could be with his father in his last moments. Jacob hadn’t picked up the book again for a week, not until his mother had followed his father, not until the funerals were well over. He’d tripped over the book in a deep depressive funk as he wandered alone and despondent through his parents’ house, then stayed up all night reading, stopping to cry every few chapters even when there was nothing remotely sad in the text, finally able to do the mourning he’d been too stunned to do. He’d purchased the audiobook and listened to it on constant repeat as he went through his parents’ belongings and did enough repairs to sell the house.
Now here was the author of that book’s signature, scrawled across the title page, along with a compliment for the bookstore that had given Jacob back his life.