Page 48 of On the Shelf

He took the leap. The landing could look after itself.

Chapter 10

FOUR MONTHS later, Chuck stood on the repainted porch of Driftwood Books and surveyed the transformation with a mixture of pride and amazement. A roof patch had turned into new everything—new shelving, fresh paint, updated lighting, and of course, Winnie’s sprawling treehouse, now the crown jewel of the children’s section and a magnet for young readers throughout Candle Bay.

Tonight the store was closed, the last preparations for tomorrow’s grand reopening event nearly complete. Gavin’s window display—a fantastical ship made of books sailing across a sea of pages—had already drawn curious onlookers throughout the day. The new sign above the door, hand-carved by Chuck himself, gleamed in the early evening light. “Driftwood Books & Treehouse,” with a small silhouette of the indoor treehouse incorporated into the design.

“It looks amazing.” Niall came to stand beside him. “I can hardly believe it’s the same store. Uncle Walter would have loved this.”

“It’s more than the renovation,” Chuck pointed out. “The whole vibe is different. Feels more alive.”

It was true. In the months since their confrontation with Helen Yao, since Chuck had chosen to stay and Niall had chosen to trust, the bookstore had sprouted new shoots of its own. The Shakespeare After Dark event, held during the theater festival, had been a resounding success, bringing in new customers and generating buzz throughout the town. Gavin’s window displays changed monthly, each more elaborate than the last, drawing attention from tourists and locals alike. And the store’s new Instagram account, managed primarily by Amber with occasional input from Niall, had gained a modest but enthusiastic following.

Yet the biggest change was Winnie’s treehouse. For an artificial tree, it grew fast and kept getting bigger by the day.

The local paper had run two stories about its launch. Both were short puff pieces because the tree looked cool and they could stuff it into any issue that had inches to fill. After the whole ridiculous thing was complete, they published photos of the construction stages with some gushy guff about the bookstore. The kicker came when Driftwood Books hosted their first treehouse story time with a guest author from Sausalito who dressed as a dryad and used the tree to launch a brand-new series about goblins. In particular, one photo Gavin snapped had blown up on social media—the dryad reading to rapt kids with Winnie in her Midsummer batwings watching from a branch overhead.

The internet went bonkers.

The publisher got so excited about the indoor tree and the response online, they sent three more of their authors along with a professional photo-and-video team to catch the magic, which in turn inspired waves of other kid-lit authors to visit Candle Bay so they could stand under Winnie’s branches and read to the local kids. Perfect photo ops for social media, and Winnie’s treehouse rapidly grew into a viral meme.

The chamber of commerce had almost ruptured with joy and avarice.

As Chuck predicted, the treehouse had become a destination for local families, a special place where children could climb up and lose themselves in books while their parents browsed. Niall instituted weekly “Treehouse Story Time,” where Winnie and her friends took turns reading aloud to younger children. They built a little crowd of regulars and hooked a new clutch of kids on books. Gavin showed up in random costumes and made flower crowns. Furthermore, this past Tuesday, a publicist for the goblin series that started the whole thing had called wanting to launch a #WinTreeBooks contest and turn Candle Bay into a sort of kid-lit treasure hunt.

All of these changes had translated into something Niall had almost given up hoping for—financial stability. Driftwood had been running at a significant profit since the second story time. Parents rented the treehouse for birthdays, and local schools up to fifty miles away had started ordering books from Niall so they could schedule visits when authors came to town. The tree had made roots stop sounding scary.

Chuck’s sister had even called to mend fences after she saw him in some article. Who knew? He’d driven up three or four times. Not easy or instant, but a solid step. The store wasn’t making anyone wealthy, but for the first time in years, it was in the black, with wiggle room and steady growth that promised a healthy future. He’d even been approached about selling. No chance.

Tomorrow was their official relaunch.

“I still can’t believe we pulled this off.” Niall pointed back at the shelves. “A few months ago, I was about to close the doors for good.”

“Good thing I barged in when I did, then.” Chuck slid an arm around Niall’s waist. “With my incredible roof-patching skills and irresistible charm.”

“Your modesty is what I admire most,” Niall said dryly, but he leaned into Chuck’s embrace, a silent acknowledgment of the truth behind the joke. “And your blue jeans.”

Chuck had indeed arrived at a pivotal moment. In choosing to stay, committing to building a nuts-and-bolts life together, he found what he’d been searching for in all those years of ambitious lurching around a city that had never felt like home.

“Where’s her ladyship?” he asked, realizing he hadn’t seen her since they finished setting up the refreshment table for tomorrow’s event.

“Up in the tree, I think. Arranging her books in the treehouse for the hundredth time.” Niall’s voice was fond. “She wants everything to be perfect for the party tomorrow.”

“Nature or nurture. I mean, it’s your DNA, but you also brainwashed her from birth to follow the rules,” Chuck said. Niall had spent an hour that morning adjusting the angle of books on the front display table. “Luckily I am here to instill some rotten habits. I know my job.”

“I’m not that bad,” Niall protested.

“You alphabetized the cookies, my man.”

“I organized them by type. Just for convenience. I mean, people always want what they want. Shut up. It’s different.”

Chuck laughed and pulled Niall closer for a quick kiss. “It’s adorable. You’re adorable. Even when you’re being ridiculously meticulous.”

“Careful organization is never ridiculous,” Niall insisted, but he was smiling now. Those crow’s-feet got Chuck every single time.

Four months in, and the smile still floored him. He’d spent his whole life leaving. This was the first thing he’d ever wanted to stay for.

Worth staying for.