When Alycen had been plotting and planning her bookstore, she had wanted a place that would be a refuge and a retreat for readers. The building that now housed The Secret Kingdom was previously a small department store. The three story building stood on the historic town square, facing the old capitol building. At the time, the building was owned by the attorney’s office that was located on the top floor of the building. The bottom two floors were occupied by a struggling antique shop. The antique shop, whose lease was up, was moving to a barn further out of town. They’d left the shop a mess and the attorneys were tired of dealing with it.

When Alycen had offered to purchase the building, and lease the third floor back to the attorney, he was uncharacteristically grateful. As it happened, he was nearing retirement in the next ten years, and was attempting to liquidate some of his assets in his estate planning. Selling the old, shabby building and leasing it on the cheap for his remaining years fit perfectly with his plans.

As for Alycen, she could not have asked for a more perfect place to start up her business. But, oh my God, what a lot of work it had been getting the place ready. Scrubbing floors, stripping off decades and years worth of peeling paint had taken what seemed like forever. But the finished result was well worth it.

She had combed every thrift store in a hundred mile radius for worn, comfortable armchairs and heavy, sturdy coffee tables and end tables; quirky, beautiful lamps and interesting picture frames that she filled with poster prints of everything from Degas to Bugs Bunny. She visited auction after auction and yard sale after yard sale to pick up soft, worn, old quilts, nubby throw rugs with faded intricate Persian patterns, and interesting little bits of décor and miscellany.

Her Papaw George had pitched in, building heavy, custom bookshelves to fit into the various nooks and crannies of the store. She’d bought what seemed like acres of heavy, rich red velvet and sewn them into curtains for the storefront windows on both floors. Even Mom had been infected with her enthusiasm, helping her reupholster her thrift store armchairs with plush, soft fabrics in mottled patterns (the better to hide coffee and tea spills.)

The finished result was her Secret Kingdom. The storefront had a couple of small café tables and chairs. In a little corner next to the front checkout counter was a small coffee and tea station. She had thought about selling expensive coffees and teas, but then reconsidered. She didn’t want to be in the coffee and tea business. She wanted to be in the book business. But readers liked coffee and tea.

So instead, she’d taken a big old buffet server, and outfitted it with an old Bunn drip coffee maker and a big percolating tank with a tap for hot water for tea. There was a small selection of interesting teas (she tried different ones as she ran out, and made sure to listen to her customers’ suggestions) and an industrial sized can of cheap but tasty coffee. Canisters contained sugar and cream, a little basket held a bunch of sweetener packets, and beneath it all, inside the buffet, was a random collection of mugs and cups. Every shape, size and color was represented among her collection, and no two were alike. Every night, she took the used cups home to be tossed into the dishwasher, and every morning she hauled in the cups from the night before in a Rubbermaid tub. Of course, customers were encouraged to bring their own cups, as well. More than once, she’d discovered she’d taken home and washed a customer’s cup, when he or she came back to claim it later.

The walls were lined with dark stained bookshelves from floor to ceiling. All the lovely details that had been built into the old department store were visible now without a thousand layers of paint. The pressed-tin ceiling design reflected the light from the windows and all the lamps back down and made interesting patterns of shadow and light throughout the store. Armchairs, rockers, and tables were scattered in various groupings through both floors. Quilts were tossed across some chairs and stacked in old hope chests/coffee tables. Fluffy pillows were tossed everywhere. Frequently, Alycen had to nudge patrons who had dozed off over their purchases, snuggled into an armchair, their feet propped comfortably on a table.

If Tolkein had walked into her store, he would have laughed and called it a haven for hobbits. It was as full of creature comforts as it was books. Not that there was any dearth of either.

The first floor held all her new books in every category, fiction and non-fiction. They were neatly stacked on the shelves in perfect order (most of the time). The second floor held the used books and the children’s section.

A wooden railing surrounded the children’s section, which was painted a lighter color than the rest of the store. The books were all on low shelves, and there was a small toy kitchen, a little playhouse castle, and a couple of baskets of toys. From 3:30 to 5:30 every week day, Meghan Evans, her one employee, would come straight from school to work the children’s department. Meghan had taken the local Red Cross babysitting class, and her sole job was to provide childcare for those two hours, so that moms could look and read in peace. When asked what she wanted her to do, Alycen told her “Just keep them happy and occupied, and if possible, keep them from destroying the books.”

More than one young mom had told Alycen her bookstore had saved their sanity.

Alycen had created more than a bookstore in The Secret Kingdom. She’d created a haven. And her reward was a thriving business. The cheerful little bell on the door danced and rang all day long, as tourists and regulars streamed into her warm, inviting little burrow. Every evening she went home exhausted and happy, if a little lonely. As much as she enjoyed talking with her customers about books and movies and music, when the talk came to their personal lives, Alycen did not have much to say. She despised dating. She was too busy with the shop to have many close friends. Her cat, Burgundy, while an excellent napping companion, was not much for conversation. Still, all in all, she had a wonderful life. She was satisfied, for the most part.

The morning sun was streaming into the windows as she bounced around the store, her morning routine transformed by her unexpected encounter at the Y. That Connor was positively delicious. There was just something about him that drew her in, a pull that was more than just being attracted to a gorgeous man. There was a sharp intelligence in his eyes. Or perhaps she had simply gone out on one too many set up dates with men who were as interesting (and possibly as smart) as a Holstein cow.

She lit the scented candles she had scattered through the store, put away the cups in the buffet, and opened up the register. She popped a cd of lively celtic music into the cd player, and bounced upstairs to turn on the lights and straighten the kids area a bit. Finally, she flipped the sign on the front door from “Closed” to “Open” and put on the water and the coffee.

Yes, she thought, as she looked out onto the town square’s gazebo, bathed in golden morning light. Despite the buckets of rain earlier, it was going to be a truly beautiful day.

*****

Connor jumped into his pickup truck and headed to the office to pick up some plans for a client. He was still a little confused about what had happened with him and this woman, Alycen. It was completely unlike him to get hostile like that. He was known for being able to keep his temper under control, even when provoked much worse than the teasing that she had thrown at him.

As for his other dramatic response to her, that puzzled him as well. It wasn’t as if he’d been sitting home pining away for dates lately. Between the women who hit on him as he was out and about and the ones his buddies set him up with, he was a busy guy socially. Of course, most of the women were as bland as toast, and about as bright, but that was no reason he couldn’t have a good time with them.

Something about this Alycen told him that she was not his typical date. Come to think of it, he hadn’t actually thought about asking a woman out in months. Usually, he was busy just between work, hanging out with the guys, and dating the women who pursued him. Owning his own business had certainly not hurt his appeal, and although he was far too smart to get heavily involved with women who were looking for a “provider,” aka were mostly interested in his money, he could certainly enjoy their attempts to convince him that they were “the one to settle down with.”

It wasn’t that he was averse to settling down. If the truth were known, he’d like to get off the dating circuit. The idea of having one person to rely on, to be with, was something he thought of often. Much as he loved his active social life, he wanted a woman to come home to every night. He wanted someone who would be excited to hear about all his accomplishments. He wanted someone to share his plans with who would be as enthusiastic about them as he was. But he’d not seen anyone he’d consider a decent candidate for that position in all his dating adventures.

It wasn’t that he was picky or judgmental. He tended to take people as they were. It was simply that he was an old fashioned guy at heart. This whole modern concept of a “starter marriage” baffled him. When he finally got married, it would be for good. And he wasn’t going to make that commitment unless he was sure it was with the right person.

Maybe that was why he’d gotten so angry at the woman at the gym. Looking at her, for the first time he could picture coming home to someone every night. It was scary to feel that so strongly just looking at a person. It was insane. She might be a total nutcase for all he knew. She could be a lesbian. She could be a Democrat or a Buddhist.

“Or she could be the love of your life,” he found himself thinking, and it was a thought that was equal parts exciting and terrifying.

He opened the door to his office, and began looking for the plans. Damn. They weren’t anywhere to be seen. That was when he remembered he’d taken them home last night to work on them. He would have to go to his new apartment and pick them up.

He had mixed feelings about the new place. It was bigger and much nicer than his old apartment, and the location was closer to work. The floor plan was perfect. His landlady was a complete sweetheart, a sixty-something granny who tended to bring cookies by on Sunday and invite him to church. But every so often, he got a prickling at the back of his neck when he was there alone. It was probably just the newness of the place, and the unfamiliarity which made him feel like he was being watched.

But it made him uncomfortable, nonetheless.

He opened the door and stepped inside, looking around for the plans. They were lying on the desk in the living room, just where he’d left them. Why he’d forgotten to take them with him this morning, he couldn’t say. Usually he was almost obsessively orderly. He had a routine and stuck with it, and therefore almost never lost or misplaced anything. This morning had been strange for a lot of reasons. He hoped the day would straighten itself out. As nice as it had been to meet Alycen, he wasn’t fond of surprises.

He turned to walk out the door and nearly ran into the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

She was standing in his doorway, one hand on her hip, looking at him with dark eyes that were nearly black. She was petite but curvy, built like the Mexican actress Salma Hayek. Her skin was a creamy ivory white, and full, dark red lips were parted in a seductive smile.

“Sorry to bother you,” a honeyed voice said. “I was looking for the previous tenant.”

Connor had to think to make himself shut his mouth. His next thought was “How do I get this woman to not leave?” and inexplicably “How the hell do I get away from this woman?”

“If you give me your name and number, I can ask my landlady if he left a forwarding address,” he finally stammered out.

“She.”

“She?” he asked, confused.

“The former tenant. You said ‘he.’ The former tenant was a woman. A friend of mine.”

“Would you like me to get her address then?” he asked.

“No, that’s alright.” Suddenly her entire demeanor changed. Her eyes flicked around, as if she saw or heard someone coming up behind her. She seemed almost a little angry—and a little frightening for such a small woman. But only for an instant. “But if you don’t mind, I might stop back by to see you.”

“That’d be great,” he said, then turned as something slammed to the floor in the kitchen. When he turned back around, she was gone. Just gone.

“This has been, without a question, the weirdest day ever,” he said to himself. Then he picked up the plans and headed down to the truck.