Chapter eleven. Melanie wasn’t quite sure why she was so nervous

MELANIE WASN’T QUITE sure why she was so nervous. She twisted the phone cord around her finger and waited impatiently as the ringing continued in her ear. She was disappointed that she hadn't been able to talk to Taylor the night before, but she couldn't wait any longer. She had to find out if this crazy idea was even a possibility. She was about to hang up when a cheerful, albeit breathless, voice answered.

" Hello? "

" Aunt Dar? "

" Melanie." Her aunt was obviously ecstatic to hear her voice. " How are you, sweetheart? "

" I'm great. Am I interrupting something? You sound out of breath."

" Oh, no, dear. Your uncle and I were working in the yard and forgot to bring the cordless outside with us. I ran to answer it, and I'm so glad I did. Are you enjoying your stay? Is Sam being a good hostess? "

Melanie rolled her eyes, deciding to spare her aunt the dose of realism that was ready to shoot off her tongue. " She's being wonderful. I'm having a great time. Listen, is Uncle Phil around? "

" Sure is. Hang on, dear." There was a muffled sound, then her aunt's voice shouting, " Phillip! Melanie's on the phone."

Aunt Darlene was one of the sweetest women in the world. She would do anything for anybody and wouldn't hurt a fly. Her daughter was her pride and joy. If Uncle Phil had skewed vision when it came to Samantha, then Aunt Dar was simply blind as a bat.

It used to frustrate Melanie, this false vision of the kind of person Sam was, especially when she was young and insecure. These were intelligent people. Why were they so oblivious to their daughter's shenanigans? As she got older and more comfortable in her own skin, she realized that making her aunt and uncle see the real Samantha would only cause them pain and give them reason to worry about their child more than they already did. Melanie had made a pact with herself to keep her mouth shut, and do whatever she could to keep their image of Samantha intact, preserving the happiness of the couple that had been so good to her while she was growing up.

" Hey, Red, " her uncle's strong voice boomed in her ear. " How goes it in Ro-cha-cha? "

" Not bad, Uncle Phil. Not bad. I'm really starting to like it here."

" Good to hear. Sam's got a nice little place, huh? "

" It's adorable, really." They chatted about Melanie's drive and the weather, before she got down to business.

" Uncle Phil, I want to talk to you about the bookstore."

" Uh oh. Don't like that tone. Bad, is it? "

" Well, no. Not so bad." She explained to him that the store was in good shape, but profits were not up, nor had they ever been.

" Son of a bitch, " he muttered. " I knew that guy was a good-for-nothing...not a damn cent, huh? "

" Doesn't look like it. But, Uncle Phil, listen. I have a proposition for you."

" Okay."

" Sam doesn't want to run the shop herself. She really wasn't much into the business end of it and now that Jeff's gone, she'd rather not deal with it at all." She waited to hear his reaction.

" Go on, " he urged, his tone unreadable.

" She said to tell you to sell it."

Silence. Then, " She did, did she? "

" Yes."

" Can't say I'm surprised, " he sighed. " All right. Let me—"

" Would you sell it to me? " She blurted the question before she had time to chicken out.

" What? "

" Sell it to me. I've been doing a lot of work on it, and some research, and I have some ideas I'd like to try. It's a great little place, it just hasn't had the right attention. I'd like to give it a shot, see if I can make a go of it."

" Sell it to you? "

" That's right. Look, work gave me a great severance package. I can afford it... I think... and I just..." She blew out a breath, trying to find the right words to express her desire to her uncle and make him understand this was something she needed. " I don't know, Uncle Phil. I just want to try this. It's been eating at me since I first walked in. I think I might be able to pull it off. If it doesn't work, I'll just sell it myself. Either way, you'll be rid of it." She listened to her uncle's breathing, almost able to hear the wheels turning, unaware that she was holding her own breath.

" Well, Red, " he said finally, " I've never known you to make a business decision with your head up your ass. If this is something you think you want, let's do it."

Melanie expelled the air from her burning lungs with a whoosh of relief. " Thanks, Uncle Phil."

" I'll have to dig up some paperwork. I'm not sure about details, so I'll have to call you back tomorrow or Tuesday. That be all right? "

" That would be great. You're the best. You won't regret this."

" No, I don't think I will, " he chuckled at his niece's obvious enthusiasm. " I'll be in touch."

" Okay."

Melanie sat staring at the phone for a long time. Did she just do what she thought she did? The bookstore was actually going to be hers. Hers. She had no idea why the fact excited her so. It couldn't be the responsibility. She'd had that at Rucker and Steele.

She'd had a staff of fifteen that she oversaw, not to mention the clout she'd had with the Board. And it certainly wasn't the money.

She didn't realistically expect to see a profit any time soon. There was too much cleaning up to do, restocking and liquidation of inventory. What was it? Why did the prospect of owning her own business make her giddy?

She poured herself a glass of iced tea and went out to the back yard. Sitting at the picnic table, she watched a cardinal poking at the grass. " Melanie Larson, Owner, " she said aloud. It brought a girlish smile to her face, and she bit back the urge to giggle out loud. She'd never had anything that was just hers. She'd never allowed herself the time.

" Wow." She raised her eyebrows, suddenly realizing the scope of things. From now on, when it came to the bookstore, she was God. She was now responsible for the success or failure of it. Her. Melanie. Not Sam. Not Jeff. No bigwigs in upper management with the final say. Just her.

A little tiny piece of anxiety crept out from a corner of her brain, poking at her. She swallowed, suddenly nervous. What the hell had she done? Was she some kind of idiot? What kind of a moron buys a business they know nothing about? She tried to shake the doubts out of her head, realizing with a start that owning the bookstore meant relocating to Rochester permanently. She slapped herself on the forehead.

" Duh, " she scolded herself, heading back into the carriage house with her empty glass. " I've got some moving to do. I need to find an apartment. And I've got to come up with a better name for the place. Mason's Books. Puhlease." She rooted through the Sunday paper, yanking out the classified section. Hopefully, she peeked at the driveway, her face falling a little when she saw no sign of Taylor's red coupe. She hadn't seen the brunette in two days, and felt suspiciously like Taylor was avoiding her. The voice of reason took over. Two days and that means she's avoiding you? Think pretty highly of ourselves, now, don't we?

She heaved a frustrated sigh and plopped down in the chair with the paper, red pen in hand.