That's not salad, part 1

This story was inspired by a conversation in an author’s group I’m part of, where we chatted about salads that aren’t salads. At some point, we talked about Canadian Tire and its money. And, of course, books. I hope you enjoy.

Sal covered Em’s eyes. The quiet street glistened with the remnants of a late winter rain. Downstairs, the buildings were all dark. Above that, a few lights shone. But it seemed everyone had turned inward for the night.

“Don’t peek.” She felt Em’s eyelashes flutter against her palms as she blinked. The spicy scent of Em’s excitement and worry tickled her nostrils, and she rested her chin on Em’s head to calm her, cushioned by her grey curls.

“But I can’t stand surprises.” Em shifted. “What if it’s bad?”

“It’s not bad. I promise.” She scanned the darkened street, nodding at the lone cyclist who rode by. Otherwise, it was empty, and the shops shuttered … except for the one across the street. “Okay, are you ready?”

“Yes!”

“Are you sure?” She shuffled them both forward a few steps, taking care to stay on the sidewalk despite the lack of cars. Her head cocked sideways at a lonely hoot. An owl watched them from its hidden perch.

“Sal, stop teasing.” Em huffed with impatience.

“All right.” She dropped her hand and let Em see. Her face ached with a suppressed smile as she watched Em’s reaction. Her own nerves ate at her stomach.

Em’s head tipped one way then the other. Sal watched realization flicker across her cheeks.

“Oh.” Em blinked rapidly. “Oh my.” She took a hesitant step forward, almost into the path of another bicycle.

As Sal hastily grabbed her and pulled her back, her nerves morphed into worry. “You don’t like it?” She glanced between Em and the shop across the road, its door haloed by the light overhead.

“The Quirks and Quarks Bookshop.” Em’s voice was breathy, but still gave no hint of her feelings.

The shop’s red-painted front looked almost black in the night. It sat nestled between the tea shop and the pet supply store. Over the shop sat two brick-clad storeys.

Sal’s fingers tapped her leg as the silence lengthened, growing to fill the universe. She forced herself to break it.

“I figured you’re the quirk and I’m the quark. Or the other way around.” Her voice petered out at the end, still unsure what Em thought about the surprise. “Is it bad?”

“Oh Sal. No, not at all.” She turned to Sal, her pink-tinged cheeks almost sparkling. Her eyes shone in the moonlight as she peered up at Sal. “It’s wonderful!” Her arms clasped Sal tight to her. “You’re wonderful.”

Then Em stiffened, and her arms dropped. “But how?”

Sal blinked slowly. “I nudged a few shops this way and that, and shoved it in there.”

Em gave her that look she sometimes did that reminded Sal of her first XO.

“I used some of my reserves.” Her voice lifted at the end, expecting questions.

Em’s expression turned hard. “Our reserves. Without asking?”

Sal dropped. “I’m sorry.”

Em sighed. “It’s okay. And it’s truly wonderful.” She caressed Sal’s arm. “But we’re a couple now. In a strange city. The two of us against the universe, remember? We need to make decisions together.” She waved at the shop. “How will we afford an apartment if we’re paying for this?”

“That’s the best part.” Sal tapped her temple, like she’d seen on the TV. “There’s an apartment upstairs where we can live. Two even, if we ever need to host other…” Her voice dropped, and she glanced around. Her voice dropped. “Refugees.”

Sal drummed the wooden cash desk. She’d flipped to door sign from Closed to Open an hour ago, but the store still sat quiet and empty.

Peering out the window, it was windy, but the sun was bright. People wove between each other on the sidewalk in the constant pedestrian negotiation of a busy street.

She rearranged the cash desk, trying to find the perfect place for all the odds and sods. Again. Never one for mornings, Em still bumped around in the apartment upstairs.

Sal glanced at the analog clock hung high on the wall at the back of the shop. She squinted as she made sense of the numbers, then went around to the bottom of the stairs, where a “Private” sign hung on a chain, blocking access.

Even though the shop was empty, Em would be disappointed if she missed the whole first morning.

“Time to put your face on, Em,” she shouted up the staircase. “We’ll have customers soon.” She paused, then mumbled, “I hope,” as she returned to the cash desk.

“I heard that.” Em thumped down the stairs and joined Sal behind the desk. She prodded her face with her fingers. “I don’t like my face.” Her nose scrunched. “It’s too round and wrinkly.”

Sal cupped her cheeks. “I love your face. You’re still beautiful to me.” Em’s cheeks flushed pink.

She might not have been as much of a nervous mouse as Em, but she still jumped when the bell over the door dinged.

The woman who entered clutched a cellophane-wrapped bundle in her arms. A large woollen wrap, knit in shades of purple, draped across her shoulders, a delightful compliment to the yellow headscarf around her hair. “Huh, a bookshop.” Glancing around, the brown skin around her eyes crinkled when she smiled. “How did I not see this until today?”

Sal blinked at the woman. “Oh, today is our first day. Welcome to Quirks and Quarks Booksellers.”

“I’m the quirk. She’s the quark.” Em clutched her hands together, which Sal knew was to keep them from fluttering in excitement. “Well, actually, I’m Em and this is Sal.”

“Please look around.” Sal waved her arm to indicate the shop.

“Unfortunately, I can’t stay today,” the woman said, sounding truly disappointed. “I own the yarn shop up the street, and have to go open it. I thought I was the early bird until I saw your store open on my way to the coffee shop.”

“Oh, were we open too early?” Em said, craning her head to peer at Sal.

“Never too early for books,” the woman said, her smile growing. “My name’s Meredith Beeker, president of the Desmond Street Business Association.” She shoved the cellophane package at them. “A small token to welcome you to the neighbourhood.

Em took the package with a smile as broad as Meredith’s. Cellophane rustled as she opened it, revealing a forest of red and brown items on sticks. Sal noted the curiosity flicker across her face.

“We have a potluck every month at the church on the corner. Next one is….” Meredith paused, mouth agape and her eyes widening as she peered at Em.

“What lovely … things.” Em took another one of the objects and arranged it beside the one already in her hair. “They make great hairpins.”

“Sure. Or you could just eat the chocolate-covered strawberries. Anyway, next potluck is this Saturday. We’d love to have you.” Meredith nodded, then with a last look at Em and a smile a little less bright, she left. The bell over the door dinged again.

Em’s face fell as she pulled the sticks out of her hair. “Not hairpins then.”

Sal took one of the sticks and nibbled on the bright red object coated in a deep, glossy brown. “Not hairpins, but delicious.” She swallowed. “We have so much to learn.”

“Good thing we’re surrounded by books.” The smile was back on Em’s face.

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The end of the next day, the smile was long gone. The hours had passed without a single person visiting the shop. Now the sun hung low in the sky, casting the street outside in rosy tones.

Sal paused in her dusting to watch Em, who stared at the door. Her chin rested in her hands, which amplified the frown on her face. Her whole essence slumped.

As if sensing Sal watching, she straightened and turned to her. “We still need to make this business work, right? Our reserves won’t pay the rent for this forever.”

Sal’s hands twisted around the handle of the duster. She forced a smile, weak as it was, onto her lips. “Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll have customers soon.”

Em came out from behind the desk to join her. “But you’re worried.” She placed a hand on Sal’s cheek. “I can tell, even with this … she patted Sal’s cheek. “…face. You get twitchy.”

Sal took Em’s hand in hers. “It will be —” The ring of the doorbell interrupted her.

They both turned to look, blinking in unison.

A person, dressed all in shades of black, stood just inside the door. Their wide, blue eyes flitted around, not alighting on anything in particular, until they glanced back over their shoulder at the street outside the glass. This seemed to propel them further inside.

“Welcome to Quirk and Quarks!” Em said, her smile impossibly wide. This caused the person to swing back around to peer at them.

Sal fluttered her duster as a sign to calm down, but apparently Em didn’t know that signal.

“Come inside!” Em continued, her tone bright. “Make yourself at home.”

Sal leaned close. “I think you’re scaring them,” she whispered.

“Pish.” Em frowned at her. “Everyone loves books.”

“I don’t think ‘pish’ is a word in this language.”

The person stayed frozen, staring at them.

“Posh.” Em glared at her. “It is. It’s in one of these books.” She stalked to the counter.

“Can I help you find something?” Sal asked, her voice more subdued than Em’s. “Are you looking for something in particular?”

The person shook their head, causing dark hair to fall in front of their eyes. Long fingers came up to push it out of the way, the nails painted a deep, sparkling purple. The other clutched the shoulder of their bag.

“Just browsing,” they said, finding their voice at last, even though it had a crack in it.

Sal gave them a gentle smile. “Feel free to look around. Let Em or I know if you need help.”

She watched as the person disappeared into the science fiction section.

“Emphasis on fiction,” Sal muttered before turning back to Em, whose face still bore a residual frown.

Sal sidled towards the cash desk and stopped in front of it, standing there in silence until Em turned to look at her.

“I’m sorry,” Sal said, running the duster over the shiny wood. “You weren’t scaring them.”

Em exhaled sharply. “I might have been. Everything is so different here, and I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Sal’s fingers crept across the desk towards Em’s. “We’re doing the best we can. Together.”

Em’s voice dropped. “But what if we do it wrong?”

Sal shrugged. “We’ll figure out how to do it right then.”

Em’s fingers twined with hers, and her lips lifted in a small smile. “Together.”

The bell rang again.

A young man stood there, holding it open, his face flushed red and his blonde hair sticking up. Sal and Em exchanged looks, but the man ignored them.

“Brian? Brian! I know you’re in here. I’m not here for my dad.” An uncertain frown pulling his expression down, his brown eyes scanned the space until they paused on them.

Sal bristled at his expression. She wasn’t very good at reading expressions, but to her he seemed scared and sad, but masked his feelings with youthful arrogance.

“Be calm,” Em said, her voice barely audible as she peered at Sal’s neck.

“Where is he?” the man demanded, stepping closer.

Sal’s eyes slid to Em, and in that look passed agreement. She turned to the man. “He who?” She didn’t know what had passed between these two, but if the other person had come in seeking refuge, they’d find refuge.

“Skinny goth kid. Black hair, painted nails. Deep … blue eyes.”

“As you can see, we’re the only ones here.” Sal gestured, as if the circle around her encompassed the entire shop.

“We just opened yesterday.” Em turned on her bright smile. Usually it was genuine but she could also wield it like a weapon.

The young man blinked at her, and an expression passed over his face, as if he stood on a precipice and couldn’t help looking down. A dangerous place to be.

Sal edged closer to Em, and he turned to her. “I …” He scanned the shop again, then turned and ran out.

“If he comes back—” Sal’s words were crisp, her anger leeching out.

“We can’t get involved.” Em’s frown was back. “It’s dangerous.”

“That young man is in a dangerous state. To himself or others. Why are they so complicated?”

“We’re complicated.”

Sal couldn’t think of a counterargument. Thankfully, the doorbell jingled again.

This time, the person wasn’t angry at all, or scared. They took off their cap, exposing a shock of curly red hair. A broad smile split their beard, causing their cheeks to turn into small, red apples. “A bookstore.” They wiped their free hand on their t-shirt, which read Alvin Douglas and Daughters Construction. “I can’t believe we have a bookstore on Desmond Street.”

“Welcome to Quirks and Quarks!” This time Em’s gleeful tone was met with joy. “I’m Em and this is Sal. What can we help you find today?”

“Any cozy mysteries?”

“Of course. Let me show you.” Em grinned over her shoulder at Sal as she led the customer into a corner. Sal’s lips tweaked and her cheeks warmed.

Then the bell rang again. This time the door admitted a dapper gentleman in a green three-piece suit; an umbrella hung off one elbow despite the lack of rain.

He doffed his hat and held it to his chest. “Do you have any books on flower arranging?”

The next hour flew by, with barely a moment between one customer and the next.

Finally, 15 minutes before closing, Sal had a chance to take a deep breath. She picked up the duster she’d abandoned and started on another bookshelf.

Em finished ringing up the purchase of a man balancing a child on his hip. She exhaled as she smiled at Sal.

Then a shadow appeared from the back of the store, and Sal jumped.

The young person in the dark clothes and purple nail polish emerged, a book clutched in their arms.

“Brian,” she said, remembering the name the other young man had used. She hadn’t realized they were still there. “Can I help you?”

They lifted the book they clutched but didn’t speak. Em took it from them and rang it up while carrying on a one-sided conversation about its cover.

Jump to part 2.