Сьюзен Виггз - The Lost and Found Bookshop

He turned and looked up. “A pawnshop?”

“It’s supposed to be a good one. I looked up reviews online.” Taking a deep breath, she pushed a button by the door. A woman with streaked hair and bony cheeks held the door and greeted them. Her stiletto half boots, with telltale red soles, made no-nonsense clicks as she stepped aside and welcomed them.

“How can I help you?” she asked. She had an accent, like Natasha in those old cartoons.

Natalie was tempted to flee. Deep breath , she thought. Just because she looks and sounds like a cartoon villain doesn’t mean she is one. “I have a piece of jewelry,” she said.

Natasha led the way to the counter. A lighted display glistened with pirate’s loot—watches and rings, necklaces, vintage pieces, old coins and weapons. A barred window to a back room framed a guy who was gazing at a computer screen with a bored air. Security cameras were pointed everywhere.

Natalie set the wheelchair brake and opened her bag. The small box was nestled against an envelope stuffed with invoices, along with the estimate from Peach Gallagher.

She had tried to get Rick’s family to take back the ring. They had refused. He meant it for you, Natalie. It wouldn’t be right for us to take it.

Five minutes later, they left with a scary amount of cash zipped into her coat pocket. It wasn’t a loan but an outright purchase. She never wanted to see the ring again. She had an urge to rush to the bank with the cash but forced herself to calm down.

“People do stuff like this every day,” she said.

“How’s that?” Grandy asked.

“People,” she said. “Pawn stuff.” She gritted her teeth and headed up a steep hill. The deed was done. And today was Grandy’s birthday and she wanted to take him to a place she remembered with fondness.

The question was, would he remember?

The small park crowned a hill overlooking the city, and the late-afternoon sun gilded the scene. People whiled away the time on benches, or walked their dogs, or watched their kids play and fly kites. The grass was parched and golden brown, thirsty for the winter rains.

“How about this spot?” Natalie said, trying to catch her breath. She parked the chair next to a bench and set the brakes.

“Lovely,” he said. “When I was a lad coming up, this was called Solari Hill. A farmer named Solari used to graze his cattle here. The grass was so abundant, waving in the breeze.” Shading his eyes, he scanned the skyline. “How this view has changed.”

“It’s still quite a view, isn’t it?” Deep autumn gold swept the panorama of Market Street and Sutro Tower, distant Twin Peaks and Diamond Heights. Natalie sat down on the bench and took a long swig from the water bottle she’d wisely brought in a hamper with the birthday cupcakes. With a deep breath, she patted his hand, taking in her surroundings. “It’s so nice here,” she said. “I’m glad we came.”

“I’m impressed that you made it up the hill. I hate being a burden.”

“Stop it. Never say you’re a burden. Ever.”

“You changed your life completely for my sake,” he said. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“I needed a change, Grandy. My life up in Archangel was all about a job I didn’t much care for. Coming back here . . . I love this city. I’d forgotten how much I love it. This is the only place that really feels like home to me. Being back has been good for my soul. I hope it’s good for us both. I’ve missed you.”

She was not just saying that. She was finally remembering who she once was and what she loved, and it was more than a geographical change. She had come home to that person, the one who still remembered how to find something to feel hopeful about—her grandfather’s smile and the way his scarf fluttered in the wind. Kids and dogs playing in the park. The view from this small hilltop.

“I’ve missed your smile,” he said. “You should show it off more frequently.”

“I’d been feeling as if it was somehow disloyal to Mom to be happy,” she said. “I can’t do that anymore. I’m through feeling guilty for being happy, Grandy.”

He said nothing for a moment. His somber expression didn’t change. Natalie started to worry that she’d offended him.

“Grandy, I swear, I miss her so much, but I just can’t—”

He held up one hand to silence her. “Natalie. Natty-girl.”

“What?”

“I simply wanted to tell you that this is the best thing you could have given me for my birthday. To know you’re able to be happy is all I need right now.”

She felt a lump in her throat. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you haven’t tasted these cupcakes yet.” She unhooked the bag from the back of the wheelchair and set the bakery box on the bench. “I think you were the first person to bring me up here,” she said. “Remember?”

“You were missing a tooth. You made a sled from a cardboard book box and you went down that slope over there.” He pointed to a spot near a wind-sculpted cypress tree. There was a fringe of silver puffs, dispersing their seeds like tiny paratroopers.

“I guess you remember it better than I do.”

“Perhaps because I recall how brave you were despite two scraped elbows. When your mother was a child, I brought her here as well,” he said. “She never had your sense of adventure, though.”

“Mom?” Natalie frowned. “I always think of her as the adventurous one.”

“Blythe was too eager to get home to her books,” he said.

A gust of wind snatched his hat and tumbled it along the grass. Natalie jumped up and gave chase, dodging kids with their kites and jump ropes. The hat kept blowing just out of reach, and she feared it might go over the edge. Then a big hand snatched it up. “You lost something,” said the guy.

She stopped and looked up. For a split second, she couldn’t place him. Tall, cool shades, baseball cap folded into the back pocket of his faded jeans. “Peach? Hey.”

“Funny meeting you here,” he said, handing her the hat. “What’s up?”

“I brought my grandfather up here on a walk. One of our favorite spots in the neighborhood.” She noticed the way the wind toyed with his hair. “How about yourself?”

“Dad look, Dad look, Dad look!” said a high-pitched voice. “It’s swooping !”

Dorothy ran backward, her eyes trained on a brightly colored kite dancing high overhead.

Peach put his hands on her shoulders. “Whoa there. Watch your step, squirt.”

She turned and looked up at him, her eyes shining. “If I had more string, it’d go all the way to the clouds.”

“You think?”

She nodded, then seemed to notice Natalie. Her smile contracted a bit. “Oh. Hi.”

“Remember Miss Natalie from the bookstore?”

The smile expanded again. “Oh,” she said again. “Hi!”

“I like your kite,” Natalie said.

“Dad and I picked it out after school.”

“It’s really pretty. I used to fly kites here when I was your age. My grandfather would bring me when the weather was nice. Today I brought him here because it’s his birthday.”

“Oh!” She was like a little animated character, springy with excitement. “I want to show him my kite.”

“Over there.” Natalie gestured toward the bench.

Towing the kite, Dorothy went over to Grandy.

“I like her energy,” Natalie said to Peach.

“Yeah, where that comes from after a long day of school, I’ll never know.”

Dorothy showed Grandy the kite and they watched it for a few minutes. Then the wind changed and the kite came down, fluttering on the ground. She ran over and collected it, showing him the rainbow design.

“That’s a beauty, Miss . . .” he said. He took off his glasses and polished them with the end of his scarf. “I forgot your name.”