had been nothing more than mates, before their hormones kicked in. ‘Does this mean that the publishers’ sales reps won’t give me free graphic novels any more?’
Then he realised he must sound incredibly whiny in front of Sophie, who was refusing to make eye contact with Sam and staring intently at the glittery polish on her fingernails instead.
‘I’m sure they will,’ Posy said firmly, ‘when they see how many romance novels we’re selling.’
‘So how would the shop be planned out?’ Verity asked. She had a big notepad on her lap and had been diligently making notes. ‘Weren’t you saying something about keeping the main room for contemporaries, popular fiction and new releases?’
‘Yes! Yes, I was!’ Posy nodded and she flipped over the flip chart once more to show the new layout of the shop. Even if she did say so herself, it had a much better flow once she’d reconfigured some of the more randomly placed bookcases. ‘Then to the right, a Regency room, then a historical room, and the smallest room at the end can be for paranormal, fantasy and um, erotica. Sam and Sophie, you are never to go in there unless accompanied by a responsible adult, right?’
Sam groaned like he was in pain and Sophie gave Posy a slightly pitying look, because whatever depravities might lurk in the pages of erotic romance novels, they couldn’t begin to compare to the filth she could access on her home computer.
‘To the left of the main room will be the Classics room, for Jane Austen, the Brontës, that kind of thing, along with plays and poetry. Then the next room will be Young Adult – Sophie, I thought you could help me with that. And the last room will be non-fiction and a foreign language section.’ Posy exhaled. ‘And that’s the highlights.’
‘What about the tearooms? Are you going to have books in there too?’ Nina asked. She’d been nodding and giving Posy encouraging smiles all the way through her speech.
This was all moving too fast. ‘I hadn’t thought that far ahead,’ Posy said, though she didn’t have to think too hard about it. The tearoom had been her mother’s domain. There was simply no way Posy could entertain the idea of taking it over, repainting and reorganising the space so that any lingering traces of Angharad Morland would disappear. ‘There’s more than enough work to do in the shop without worrying about the tearoom too.’
Nina didn’t seem inclined to let the matter drop. ‘But maybe at some point in the future, you could employ someone to run it so—’
‘No,’ Verity said emphatically, so Posy didn’t have to. ‘We’ll charge someone rent – that way you have guaranteed money coming in and they can sort out all the health and safety shenanigans. We’ll have enough to do, as it is. Let’s revisit the tearoom at a later date. What’s on the next page, Posy?’
Posy’s palms were still clammy, making it hard to find purchase on the flip chart and move on to the website portion of her plan. Although actually the page simply said, ‘MAKE A BETTER WEBSITE.’
‘Yeah, I’ll sort that out for you,’ Sam offered diffidently, as if he could knock one up overnight, though surely there was more to it than that? ‘Might be hard to put our entire catalogue online, but we could offer a selection of books …’
‘Yeah! Like our top fifty bestsellers and … and we could have a book of the month too,’ Sophie said, leaning forwards on her chair eagerly. ‘Maybe offer a discount on that one.’
‘If we’re going to have a book of the month, then why not have a book group?’ Nina suggested. ‘They could meet one evening a month. And if we were going to open the tearoom again – which I really implore you to think about, because it means there’ll be a never-ending supply of cake in the shop – we’ll also have onsite catering, then we could host book launches and author visits. Signings too. Though I suppose we could do that anyway.’
‘And if you’re going to have a proper website, then you need to be on Instagram and Tumblr,’ Sophie insisted. ‘Like, otherwise what’s the point? I can set up and run the shop’s Twitter account too and we can link it all back to the website, right, Sammy?’
Sam swept his fringe out of his eyes again. ‘Yeah, I guess. Got to be multi-platform. We’ll want paying though, won’t we, Soph? Say, ten per cent of everything you make on the website.’
Posy folded her arms. ‘How about you reimburse me for all the food and clothing and video games that I’ve bought you over the last seven years?’
‘Just so you know, there are strict child labour laws in this country.’ Sam folded his arms too and stuck out his chin for good measure.
Posy didn’t want to ground him or send him back upstairs in front of Sophie, especially when he was the only person she knew who could build a website. ‘Eight point five per cent. Final offer.’
‘Are the pair of you trying to bankrupt us? If you want paying, Sam, then you have to go through me. I do the payroll and I might be prepared to consider three per cent – after costs,’ Verity said. She was getting that antsy look that came over her when she’d done a full day’s work and was still being expected to interact with other people. Posy could tell Verity was reaching the end of all reason, but before she did …
‘Actually, the other big thing I wanted to discuss with all of you is the name of the shop.’
Tom had sunk down low on his chair so his chin rested on his chest, but now he found the strength to raise his head. ‘What’s wrong with the name of the shop? It’s an institution, Bookends is.’
‘It was – and that’s the problem,’ Posy said. It was a theme she’d kept coming back to after hours of mentally going around in circles. ‘It was an institution, but most of the people who came to Bookends because of its history, its atmosphere, its reputation, were contemporaries of Lavinia, and they’re dwindling fast. Without them, Bookends is one more struggling bookshop. If we’re going to specialise in romantic fiction, we need a name for the shop which reflects that.’
‘So, did you have a name in mind?’ Tom asked. He was still slumped, still oozing the absolute opposite of enthusiasm.
‘I did.’ Posy gestured at the flip chart in the manner of a game-show hostess presenting a top-of-the-range fridge freezer to a delighted TV audience. ‘Can I get a drum roll, please?’
She got a half-hearted stomping of feet as she turned the page over and was greeted with silence. Worse than silence. A collective, what the . . . ? look on all five faces.
Posy put her hands on her hips. ‘What do you think? Yes, it’s a bit out there, but it’s memorable, right?’
‘“Reader, I Married Him”,’ Tom read it out loud like he’d only recently learned to speak English. ‘No. No, right?’ He turned to Nina, sitting on his left. ‘Come on. I can’t be the only one who thinks Posy’s been huffing spray mount again.’
‘That was only the one time and it was an accident,’ Posy protested. ‘You’re on my side, Nina! You love the Brontës! It’s from Jane Eyre!’
‘Oh my God, spoilers!’ shrieked Sophie, but then she giggled and smiled at Sam, who tried to smile back but decided he’d be better off hiding his face behind his fringe. Sometimes Posy longed to knock their heads together.
‘I know it’s from Jane Eyre but I’m sorry, Posy, I
