Life, Etc. -- Ten

          After their evening of laughter at a ridiculously silly movie—both agreed there was no academy award in its future—they enjoyed a relaxed conversation on the drive home.

  

“Thank you for a great evening, Diane.  We need to make a standing appointment for a night out at least once a month!”

 

          Megan walked into her apartment and saw Lauren lounging in front of the television.  “I hope I haven’t kept you up too late, Lauren.  You won’t get in trouble with your folks, will you?”

          “No, don’t worry.  I had extra homework, so when Emily went to bed, I got it all done.  I just turned on TV a few minutes ago.”  Lauren was a straight A student, and a good influence on Emily.  “I’ll give Chris a quick call.  He said he’d come after me.”

          “I should have asked Diane to take you home.”  Megan simply hadn’t thought.  Lauren’s maturity and attention to detail surpassed Megan’s at times.

          After she left, Megan slipped into Emily’s bedroom and kissed her sleeping daughter—such a beautiful girl.  Her long, thick dark brown hair cascaded around her pillow like a high spiked crown.  My little girl is growing up, Megan thought as she looked down at Emily, and I want to be a mother who will listen and encourage.

          The next morning, Megan spent her usual time with coffee in hand feeling the chill of the morning out on her deck.  The air felt crispy, but the promise of a sunny day radiated as the morning sun brightened the azure blue of the sky.  When at last she could linger no longer—the fall colors had a hypnotic effect on Megan—she quickly showered, put breakfast dishes in the dishwasher—wasn’t it Emily’s turn this morning?—and went downstairs.

  

As Megan stepped into the shop with Gilly at her side, she noticed sun pushing through the closed blinds giving a stripped effect to the carpet.  She made the necessary adjustment to take advantage of the natural light.  After preparing the coffee brewers Megan sat down to look at her list for the day.

 

          The morning moved along quickly as several customers stopped in.  Two retired couples—good friends—looked through travel books.  They laughed about trips they’d taken together, and chatted about the location of their next adventure.  Megan listened with a sense of melancholy—would she have someone to share memories and travel with? When the couples left, they each had a book on a different place they were considering. Hmmm, I guess it is especially nice to have older couples who aren’t adept at the internet.  They’ll buy books where the younger generation wants to find everything online.

 

          Next thing she knew, Chris walked through the front door.  “Chris, I’m going to walk down to the grocery.  I’ll be back shortly.”

          Megan grabbed her purse and walked out into the bright sun.  About a block from the shop, she heard a honk and a car pulled up to the sidewalk.  “Megan, can I drop you someplace?”  She looked over to see Stephen Forbes getting out of the car.  “I’m sorry to honk, but I kept waving and I don’t think you saw me.”

          “I guess the sun was in my eyes.  I’m just going to pick up a couple of things at the grocery.”  Megan didn’t relish talking to this man, and started walking again.

          “Megan, I think we got off on a bad footing.”  Megan heard hesitation in his voice.  “Look, I know you don’t know me, but could we have dinner sometime soon?  I’d really like to get acquainted.”

          “Pastor,” Megan began with a note of hardness in her voice.

          “Please, my name is Stephen.  My friends call me Stephen.  And I’d like us to be friends.”

 

          “Look, I don’t know.  I mean, I’m not a church-goer and I don’t intend to become one.  I’m being harassed by your head elder, and I don’t need another name to add to that list.”  Did the day suddenly become gray?  Where is the sun?  Or is it just the mood this conversation takes me to?  I see no reason to become friends with this man.

“Please, Megan.  Just give me some time to explain.  I’m not like what you perceive me to be.”  He voice sounded pleading.

 

I’m not falling for this.  The last thing I need is a preacher in your life….

 “OK, will you just think about it?  I promise I won’t invite you to church.  I am not sympathetic to Roland Fisher’s demands for you and your store.  Let’s spend some time getting acquainted, and I think you’ll find I’m not the ogre you think I am.”

          Megan smiled and said as she slowly walked away, “Let me think about this.”  She wasn’t sure what she wanted to do.

 

          Walking to the store, Megan’s thoughts once again swirled around in her head.  I don’t need this man as a friend.  But then, what’s the problem IF he’s not going to insist I attend church or try to convince me to change my shop according to Roland Fisher’s mandates.  I don’t want to be another notch in his evangelistic belt.

            The story continues...

Life, Etc. -- Nine

          “Really, Lauren’s coming tonight?  Great!  I want to beat her at Rummi Kube!”  Having Emily enjoy her babysitter took the edge off the guilt Megan felt on the rare occasions she went out.

         Diane picked Megan up at 5:30 sharp.  In the daylight, and especially during the fall season, the drive into Eugene was beautiful!  The windy, tree lined road—more maples of Baldwin ancestry—appeared as a tunnel of red.  Megan smiled, thinking about the stress of the morning, and then her excitement over plans she and Louise had for Danny.

 

“Diane, I can’t help but think this will be a fun project with Danny!”  She had fond memories of her cousin, Sammy, who was also a Downs child.  Megan and Sammy often played together when her aunt and uncle visited.  Though Sammy was many years older than Megan, he played as a child of eight or nine.  Megan loved his gentle soul and saw many of the same qualities in Danny.

“Well, if there’s any possibility of it working, you’ll see that it does, Megan.”  Diane envied the glass-half-full view that Megan took on life.  Even with her divorce and the challenges of rebuilding a life for herself and Emily, Megan’s positive spirit remained.

“Do you want to talk about Roland Fisher and what happened?  You were pretty upset this morning.” 

“Let’s not—I want this evening to be about fun and laughter.  But there is one thing.  Just before he left, Mr. Fisher had a look in his eyes that gave me such a sense of sympathy for him.  He was still angry and I don’t imagine he’s going to give up his fight to do me in—well, do in my shop—but I saw something else in him.  I don’t know what….”  Diane started to interject.  Megan continued.  “And then, too, I’m not sure what part Stephen Forbes plays in this.  I thought he’d defend his head elder, but didn’t.  He left the shop in a hurry and said he’d call and we could talk later.  Frankly, I don’t want to talk to him.  After all, the shop is mine and I’m not selling porn or other questionable material.  I just want this to all go away.”

“Well, Megan.  I don’t know if there’s any connection, but you won’t believe who called me this morning—Mrs. Fisher!”

Megan looked over at Diane and saw her smile.  “What?  So tell me.  Why did she call?”

“Actually, I’m not sure.  She asked if she could come over tomorrow at 10.  She expressed concern that no one else be there.”

 

Megan thought about it in silence.  All she could come up with was a picture of two terribly unhappy people—Mr. and Mrs. Fisher.  Had there ever been joy in their lives?

          They parked near the theater and walked a couple of blocks to the restaurant.  After ordering, Megan looked at her friend appreciatively, “Diane, thank you so much for getting me out and away.  I love everything I’m doing, but I guess this morning....  Well, I really let Roland Fisher get to me.  I did need to get out of Dodge!”

“Hey, what are friends for?  Besides, I need to get out sometimes

too!  I couldn’t adore my kids more, but, as you know, being both Mom and Dad gets pretty exhausting.”  Diane couldn’t believe her fortune finding a friend like Megan.

         

          Diane had grown up in Chicago, an only child of wealthy parents.  Diane—tall, beautiful, auburn hair and with every advantage wealth provided.  But the pressures of owning a successful, high end clothing store and a history of alcoholism from both sides of the family brought the domino effect into Diane’s childhood.  While vacationing in Italy the summer Diane was sixteen, she was awakened one night by the housekeeper of the villa they’d rented.  Diane’s parents had gone into Sorrento for dinner and, as it turned out, drinking.  They had been killed in an accident as they drove back to the villa.

 

          Diane was devastated, but at some level, not surprised it had happened—more surprised it hadn’t happened sooner.  That night, Diane became an adult.  She arranged for her parents’ bodies to be shipped home, got their belongings together and traveled back to Chicago alone.  Her nanny, Ele, who no longer acted in that capacity but remained with the family, agreed to continue on in the household, and stayed with Diane until she went off to the University of Texas, Austin.

 

Diane, while studying for a Fine Arts degree, met and fell in love with Karl Hessing.  He had just finished a degree in architecture and wanted to open his own business.  By the time Diane graduated with her master’s, they couldn’t wait to get married and find someplace to begin life together.

Maple Village literally fell in their laps when Karl’s uncle called to discuss designing a house.  It turned out that his Uncle Ted and Aunt Millie lived in Maple Village and wanted to move to the Oregon coast.   Karl and Diane flew to Oregon at his uncle’s invitation.  While Karl and his aunt and uncle discussed plans for their new home, Diane fell in love with the house the aunt and uncle already owned.  It was large enough to not only begin Karl’s business—an entire sun-filled daylight basement perfect for an office—but enough room to begin a family!  The older couple agreed to sell it to Karl and Diane as soon as they moved into their new home in Newport.

After Karl’s death, Diane remained in their home so as not to disrupt the boys’ lives.  Because she and Karl had been so busy getting his business off the ground, Diane had not made close friends.  And without Karl, she could not have felt more alone.  Her parents were dead. Her grandparents were dead.  And the few remaining family members were scattered around the east coast and some in France.  Even Ele, now in a nursing home, could no longer be there for her.

Karl had not been close to his family, and he, too, had been an only child.  So when Megan moved to town, they made an instant connection.  Megan’s optimism was contagious, and that’s what Diane needed.

The story continues...

Life, Etc. -- Eight

          When Megan lived in LA, her life seemed like one stress after another: appointments to keep, deadlines to meet, guilt over not being a stay-at-home mom for Emily, and then her divorce.  Leaving southern California, she was determined to bring more easy flow into their lives.  Megan stayed busy as the Book ‘n Brew owner and manager, which she liked, but she didn’t feel the constant pressure here in Maple Village.  After her confrontation with Roland Fisher, that old feeling of heaviness in her chest and a headache on the verge of overtaking her felt all too familiar.  Damn!  I’ve got to get a grip!  I will not allow a religious zealot ruin my tranquility!

          The ringing of her cell phone made her jump.  Another intrusion?  She didn’t need that!

          Diane’s cheerful voice contrasting with her own tenseness made Megan start laughing.  But within seconds the dam broke and Megan started to sob.  Diane, knowing of her earlier appointment with Roland Fisher, let her cry for several seconds and then said, “Megan, call Lauren to babysit.  We’re going to Eugene tonight to see a ridiculously funny, though probably stupid, movie.  You need to laugh!”

          Megan agreed heartily with the evening’s plans.  After she hung up she sat for a minute trying to figure out what had happened in the last ten minutes.  Mr. Fisher, then that pastor—she groaned at the thought—then Diane and now a night out.  OK, so it ended well.

          Megan wiped her face, freshened her lipstick and put on a smile as the shop door opened.  Louise, the waitress from Granny’s Cooked Goose walked in.  “Hi, Louise, what are you up to today?”  Megan really liked this woman—in fact Louise made such an impression on Megan and Emily when they drove through town that day 2 ½ years ago, that she continued to credit Louise for their living in Maple Village.

Louise’s waitressing gave her extra spending money for her youngest son, Danny, who was born with Down’s syndrome.  Danny, at 25 was the joy of Louise and Herb’s life.

          “Danny is down with a cold so I thought I’d get a book for him.  What new ones do you have that he’d like?”  Louise loved reading to Danny and, although he couldn’t read himself, he enjoyed telling the stories in great detail after hearing them a couple of times.

          “I just got some new ones in, and the illustrations are amazing!”  For sometime, Megan had been thinking about having a program for children.  An idea suddenly fell into place. “Louise, I have a thought.  Let’s talk and I’ll give you time to think about it.”

          “Sure, spit it out,” Louise smiled and sat down on one of the upholstered chairs near Megan.

          “Louise, you’ve told me how Danny loves to retell stories you’ve read to him, and how detailed he is in the retelling.  What if I organize a children’s story hour a couple times a month?  Danny could tell the stories?  You or I could show the illustrations from the book as he narrates.”  Megan realized she was out of breath when she finished.  She’d forgotten to breathe—something she did as a child when she ran into her mother excited about some new plan.  Unfortunately her mother rarely shared her enthusiasm.  More often her criticism popped Megan’s bubbles.

          “Megan, that’s a wonderful idea!  You know, there are many things Danny isn’t capable of doing, and Herb and I have accepted that and allow him to do all he can.  But the other day, Danny looked at me with such sadness it almost broke my heart.  He said, ‘Momma, I wish I had a purpose.’  He’s taught us so much about life and love.  He’s given our lives meaning, but we had no idea he understood anything about purpose.  I love your idea—but could you ask him yourself?  I mean, he likes you, and I’m sure he’d love to know he’s helping you.”

          “Bring him by when he’s feeling better and I’ll ask him.”  Megan felt calmer now.  She should call Diane and tell her she didn’t need an evening out after all, but she’d hate to give up a movie night.

                                                 

Life, Etc. -- Seven

          Megan awoke Friday morning to a cold, damp apartment.  During the night she’d heard rain every time she turned over, and now looking out from her deck only reinforced her sense of gloom as low clouds and a gray haze covered the horizon.  And for dessert we’ll have Roland Fisher….

At 10 a.m. sharp, Mr. Fisher walked through the door of the Book ‘n Brew.  “Hello, Mr. Fisher, could I get you a cup of coffee?”  Gilly gave a low growl as the man walked over to the counter.  I’ve always had great confidence in Gilly’s character judgment….

Taken aback by the greeting, Roland cleared his throat and mumbled, “Ah, thank you, make it black.”

As Megan walked to the coffee maker, the front door opened and in walked  Stephen Forbes.  O brother!  Now I really get bombarded!

The pastor smiled and nodded.  “Well, Mr. Fisher, fancy meeting you here!  I came in yesterday to meet Megan.  Isn’t this a great shop?”

Mr. Fisher looked at him aghast.  “Pastor, I don’t think you’ve probably seen the entire store.”

“Yes, I’m sure you’re right.  But I intend to look further this morning.”  At that the pastor walked to the back of the store.

 

Megan brought the coffee to Roland Fisher and offered him a seat behind the counter.  “Mr. Fisher, we can talk until a customer needs help.  I thought Chris would be here, but he has a bad cold.”

“Yes, of course,” he responded.  “Let’s get started.  I am here to show you from Scripture that many of the books you have in this store clearly do not contain truth.”

“That’s right, Mr. Fisher.  I have a very large fiction section.  Fiction writers are known as professional liars!”   She smiled at her own joke.  No laughter came from him.

“No, no, Mrs. Meagher-Levy.  I’m talking about the New Age/Metaphysical section as well as the books on Judaism, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism and several others religions that have no part in God’s kingdom.  They are all the work of Satan.  You must get rid of this heresy immediately.”

OK, Megan, this is your time to be the mature one.  Keep your cool! “Mr. Fisher, there is such thing as the First Amendment of the Constitution.  I am not promoting other religions.  I am just providing reading material for people to choose from.  Everyone in this country can make their own choice about what they want to believe.  It would be foolish of me to think that I have the right or power to decide for someone else what they can or cannot read.”

“But, Mrs. Meagher-Levy, don’t you see the responsibility you have as a book store owner?  Some people believe that if a book is available, then there is truth in it.”

“Mr. Fisher, I give people more credit than that.  I believe most people have a basic intelligence and they can decide for themselves.  I plan to keep the books I have in here, and also intend to purchase more as customers request them.”

Slowly Megan saw a change in Mr. Fisher’s expression.  He still appeared angry—jaw clenched and reddened face—yet she also detected something else as his eyes became large and starred back at her.  His body appeared to slump.  For all this aggression and hostility, Mr. Fisher’s world is threatened—perhaps my standing up to him is something he’s not used to, thought Megan.

 

She suddenly felt an intense sorrow for this man who wanted to appear so self-assured.  In fact Mr. Fisher reminded her a great deal of her grandfather—a man so filled with anger, who finally fell apart when he realized he no longer had anything to control.

When Roland Fisher stood up—he moved like an aged man.  “Mrs. Meagher-Levy, I will be back,” he said but without his former conviction.  Slowly he walked toward the door--defeat written in his body language.  Megan watched him leave, and then turned to see Stephen Forbes come around a long set of shelves toward her.  He smiled guiltily at Megan.

“A part of me wanted to come to your defense, but you stood your ground so well I didn’t know if I’d be a help or hindrance.”

“Well, to be perfectly honest, when I saw you come in I thought I’d

have two to battle.   You see, I have no intention of taking any books off my shelves unless a customer purchases them,” Megan stated in a firm tone.

          The pastor looked at his watch and started for the door.  “Megan, I’d really like for us to talk about all this, but I just remembered an appointment.  May I call you and set up a time?”

          “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.  I am not going to be intimidated.”  Again Megan’s voice sounded firm though she was aware of a thickness gathering in her throat and a stinging in her eyes.

           The story continues...

Life, Etc. -- Six

          Thursday morning found Megan in deep concentration as she worked to shelve her newly-arrived book shipment when she heard the front doorbell tingle.

 

          She walked around a row of shelves and saw a man glancing at the 50% off table.  Where did he come from?  He’s cute!

 

As Megan approached and smiled her greeting, the man looked up and returned the smile.  “Hi, I’m Stephen Forbes.  I moved into town a few months ago and everyone tells me this place is a must!  I’m ….”  Just then the phone rang.

 

          “Sorry, I’ll be right back to help you.”  Why, when the most handsome guy I’ve seen in years walks into my shop, does my phone have to ring?  It’s been silent all morning!

          As soon as Megan heard the voice at the other end, she sighed.  I’m not ready for this, but I guess I’d better get it over with.  “Hello, Mr. Fisher.”  Megan tried to sound cheerful.

   

          Roland Fisher didn’t seem to notice the cheer as he began one more tirade.   “You have no right to contaminate minds!  These books are the work of the devil! etc. etc…”  Megan could feel a tingling in her temples—her first sign of a migraine.

 

          “Mr. Fisher, I can see you at 10 o’clock tomorrow morning.  Please come to my shop then.”  She quickly hung up and looked over toward her new customer who was wearing a mischievous smile.

          “Hmm, sounds like you have an irate customer!”  He had the most beautiful light blue eyes circled in a deep navy.  His dark, wavy hair hung just the right length over the edging of his positively gorgeous brandy colored sweater.

 

          “Yes, I guess there’s at least one for every business.  And may I help you find anything?”  O please let him find something marvelous that he can’t get in another shop!  And may he be so thrilled that he’ll return again and again...  Whoa, Megan, slow down.  This guy’s probably married with a beautiful model of a wife and three kids that he worships—though he isn’t wearing a wedding ring.

“I’m looking for a book on travel in Italy.”

 

Hmm, he likes to travel.  I’ll offer to be his tour guide!   “Well, I have a good selection on the Travel shelves.  Italy is a pretty popular place right now.  By the way, my name is Megan Meagher-Levy and I own this shop.”

Mr. Gorgeous put out his hand.  “As I said before, I’m Stephen Forbes.  How long have you owned the Book ‘n Brew?”

“A little over two years, my daughter and I”—might as well let him know I’m without spouse— “moved here from Los Angeles.”

Just then two customers walked in the door and immediately greeted Megan.   Damn!  What awful timing!

   

They were both looking for the book Megan had talked about at the book club, so she pointed out the display.  Then the phone rang and when she looked again Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome was gone.  Damn!

 

As Marge and Sophie paid for their purchases, Sophie said, “I see you’ve met the pastor of Sunset Baptist Church?”

Megan looked incredulous!  “You’ve got to be kidding!  That man is a pastor?”

“Yes,” replied Marge, “and he’s single.  Guess his wife left him.  It was a big scandal in some little town in southern Colorado.  What was he doing in here, Megan?”

“Looking for books, I suppose, although, according to Mr. Fisher, my books are of the devil!”

“Megan, I hope you’re not taking Mr. Fisher too seriously.  He’s been a pain in the ass since he moved here—thinks he’s on a mission to clean up the world.”

Soon after the women left, Chris came in.  “Hello, my Slave,” Megan greeted him with a twinkle in her eye.  “You get to finish shelving the book order that just came.”

“Megan, you think you’re giving me an awful job, but what you don’t know is that I grab a latte and sit back in the corner and read when you’re not looking.”  Christopher smiled and winked as he headed toward the cart of books.

To be continued...

Life, Etc. -- Five

                                           

         “Hi, Megan.” Diane enthusiastically greeted her at the door, “So good to see you!”  Megan smiled as she looked around Diane's living room--a subtle seashore decor with overstuffed light blue and white checked chairs and yellow sofa.  Here and there beautiful shells from the beaches of Greece and Italy graced shelves and tables—keepsakes from the many travels when Diane’s parents were alive.  The entire room spoke of fun and warmth.

          “Thank you.  I’m going to have my talk with Roland Fisher soon and have been thinking about it on the way over.  So it's nice to be welcomed with your smile...of course, it’s always fun to meet with this group.”

          Megan helped finish preparing tea and coffee.  Just then the doorbell rang and the women began arriving.  They found their favorite chairs.  Diane teased that they were like school children attached to their desks.  The women chatted cheerfully for several minutes when the doorbell rang again.  Diane got up to answer it, and suddenly the room grew quiet.

          A woman in the chair beside Megan whispered to no one in particular, “Mrs. Fisher.”  Megan looked up and saw the grayest woman she’d ever seen.  At perhaps 5’ 5”, she appeared skinny even through the gray coat.  Her black, much worn shoes, along with her mousy-gray hair pulled back in a bun and a colorless face only added to the overall look of sadness.

          Diane greeted her in an almost falsetto voice, “Mrs. Fisher has decided to join us this afternoon.”  A few mumbles of welcome came from among the women, but it was obvious that the atmosphere had changed—a gray cloud had descended upon the group.

          Megan planned to discuss a book by Hope Edelman.  The author had been in Ashland recently and a friend of Megan’s had gone to hear a reading from The Possibility of Everything.  The book had just arrived in a shipment, and Megan thought it a wonderful memoir.   However, now due to Mrs. Fisher’s presence, and much of the author’s focus on her daughter’s healing by a Mayan bush doctor, Megan felt apprehensive after this morning’s encounter.

 

          OK, Megan, chin up.  You have nothing to hide.  You are selling books and found the writing and story to be really good.  You’re not forcing or manipulating anyone into buying it.

         “Well, Friends,” began Megan, “I have a book that tells a truly amazing story….”  Megan gave a brief biography of Hope Edelman and then a short review of the book and the author’s other publications.  At every opportunity Megan looked toward Mrs. Fisher.  Her countenance was somber; her eyes looked downward as if she were preparing herself for bad news.  During the short discussion, she remained quiet, but Megan could see from her occasional glance Megan’s way, she was paying attention.

 

Before Mrs. Fisher left, both Megan and Diane spoke to her and encouraged her to come again.  Even as they shook hands, the woman’s expression showed little life.

          “Well, what do you think brought Mrs. Fisher?” Diane said after she closed the door behind the last guest.  “After his comment to you this morning, I wonder if she was scouting for her husband.”

          “You know, all I can feel for her is sadness.  Her expression—or lack of it—made me want to hug her.  However as stiff as she sat, I imagine she might have the warmth of a telephone pole.”  The women sat quietly for a moment.   The next second the galloping sounds of six and eight year old boys came clamoring through the back door.  Megan looked at her watch.

 

          “Hey, I’d better get home.  Emily will be coming soon.”  Megan glanced at the doorway as Jordan and Jeremy came bounding into the living room.  “Hi boys!  I’ll go and let you have your mother to yourselves.”

                                                 

          Back in the shop, Megan told Chris about Mrs. Fisher’s visit to the book club.

 

          “I’ve heard they are a very weird family.  He’s a real dictator, and she’s Mrs. Milktoast.  There is a daughter a little younger than me, but they home school so no one knows much about her.”

 

          “Well, Chris, as uncomfortable as all of us were when she arrived, I still believe she is not like her husband.”  Megan felt a sense of protection toward Mrs. Fisher.  “You know we must be close in age, but she sure looks older.  I’d like to take her out and buy her some bright colors to wear.”

          Chris smiled.  “Megan, you want to save the world, don’t you?”

          “OK, Smarty, get to work or I won’t give you the brownie I brought back from Diane’s.”

             To be continued...

Life, Etc. -- Four

         Megan did not grow up in a religious home—though there were several churches in the small Midwestern town of her childhood.  She had fond memories of activities local churches planned for children and young adults—hay rides and wiener roasts.  She also loved the stories about Jesus’ love and the parables she heard at Vacation Bible School.  But by the time college came around she’d left behind any interest in church.

          Jonathan’s family was orthodox Jew, but he left synagogue attendance to his parents and siblings and had no interest in those practices in his own family.  After Emily was born both Hanukkah and Christmas were recognized, but with little attention to detail other than the menorah and a Christmas tree.  There was little or no religious significance placed upon these practices unless Emily had a question.

         A college roommate had recommended several books by Deepak Chopra, but Megan didn’t want to take the time with all the other reading required in college.  However, when her roommate moved out of their apartment she left several books of eastern philosophy.  Megan—who could never see a book thrown away—packed them up with her things but didn’t discover them until several years later.

          One morning, when Emily was a baby, Megan found the books in the back of their bedroom closet.  She spent the next several months reading them when Emily took her naps.  From that time on, Megan’s interests tended to lean more toward eastern thought—walking the journey to mindfulness and authenticity.  But she rarely talked about this to anyone.

          Megan had no idea where Roland Fisher’s ideas came from—they certainly didn’t represent her experience as a child.

          Megan finished the spring book order and had five minutes to spare before she took off for Diane’s to speak at the local book club.

 

          Diane Freedmen, a woman about Megan’s age, had stopped by to introduce herself several weeks before Megan opened her shop.  Diane, a very talented visual artist, had a graphic arts business she ran from her home; a venture she had only contemplated before her husband was killed in a car accident three years ago.  Now raising her two, very active six and eight year sons, Jeremy and Jordan, along with running her business took most of her time.

 

          About six months after Megan opened the Book ‘n Brew, Diane told Megan she wanted to start a book club.  “But you’re already so busy with your B & B”—Diane’s nickname for Boys and Business.

 

      “Yes, but I want to do more reading.  Before Karl died I read a lot.  Besides I need more female contact, and it could help advertise your shop.”

    

       “Well, it’s true that you need to get out,” Megan chided Diane, “but I wouldn’t want people to think I was cornering them into buying from me.  Another idea might be for me to come occasionally and make suggestions on new books on the market.”

          “Great idea, Megan!”

 

And that’s how it all began.  Every few months, Megan met with the group of eight to twelve women.

                                                            
          To be continued...

Life, Etc. -- Three

         As Megan came down the open staircase, she marveled at the overview of her shop.  She loved the name of the wall color—Nomadic Plains—a soft tan that contrasted perfectly with the dark cherry book shelves.  Tucked back in the corner, Megan’s Brew welcomed customers with the aroma of coffee, chai and pastries.  Bistro tables offered a chance to relax and enjoy the goodies, while black and tan upholstered chairs scattered about the room invited lounging as customers perused books.

         Megan believed the Book ‘n Brew the ultimate life for her.  A dream since childhood!  In high school, she’d worked for an older couple, Mr. and Mrs. Ramsey, who owned a bookstore on the outskirts of Dayton, Ohio.  They loved their shop and helped Megan learn all about the business.  She took every literature course she could in college to learn about books, genre, and authors.  She even loved the feel of them in her hands.

 

          Megan’s only real frustration since entering the business world was her lack of time for reading.  With each book shipment, she found numerous titles that intrigued her.  She loved slice-of-life books of the Maeve Binchy variety; often read memoir such as Elizabeth Gilbert, Sarah Ban Breathnach and Frances Mayes; enjoyed several of the new metaphysical authors; and found herself intrigued more and more with eastern philosophies of Deepak Chopra, Nhat Thich Hanh and the Dalai Lama; and history, of course--she loved history.  She must place Reading Time as a priority for her New Year’s goals.

Chris, her part time employee, worked afternoons and Saturday mornings.  Megan enjoyed his lightheartedness.  He was confident around books and great with people.  

  

          It was still too early to open the shop, so Megan worked on the spring book order.  As she sat at her desk, she glanced at her phone and saw the answering machine flashing red.  She pushed the button and heard a familiar voice:  “Mrs. Meagher-Levy, this is Roland Fisher.  I would like to set up an appointment with you so that we can talk about some of the books in your store.”

          “I don’t want to begin a Monday morning hearing that voice!” Megan said out loud.  Roland Fisher, the head elder at the Maple Valley Baptist Church on Main Street just outside of town—unfortunately not far enough outside—stopped by the book shop about six months ago.  He seemed wary but cordial until he stood before the section, New Age/Metaphysical.  Megan heard some grunts and groans of “this is trash” and “sinner…sinner” as he wrote down titles and quickly left the store.   Since that day, each time Megan has seen him, he’s tried to engage her in a conversation about removing that section from the shop.  His call can wait, she decided.  The book order comes first—and with a gleam in her eyes thought that perhaps she might expand that particular section!

          At 10 o’clock Megan turned on all the lights and unlocked the door.  The morning sun shone—a gorgeous day—Roland Fisher or not!  The big terracotta pots of yellow chrysanthemums in full bloom on either side of the door contrasted perfectly with the dark blue entry, and red maples along the street in front of the shop.

    

At 12:45, Chris arrived.  Megan looked up, “O, am I glad to see you!  I’m starved!  I’m going to run up and fix myself some lunch.  O, and by the way, Hi!”  They both laughed.  Megan adored Chris.  He had a count on maturity that belied his young age.  At 6’ 2” and a slim build with black wavy hair, Megan felt sure that sales in teen reading had gone up because of Chris.

          As Megan came back down the steps after eating, she heard a man’s voice in the shop.  O crap!  Is that who I think it is?  Sure enough, as she glanced across the room, she saw Chris look at Roland Fisher and then toward her.

 

          Roland turned around and said indignantly, “I left a message but you didn’t return my call.”

          The sight of his grizzled face and harsh eyes caused Megan to wonder what would bring a person to be so hostile and controlling.  Each time Megan saw him, she felt determined to find something appealing about him—a way of connecting with him.  But so far all efforts were lost.  He stood about 5’7” and very slim with thin lips in a perpetual pierced position.  Megan wondered how old he was—60 perhaps.

          “I’m sorry, but I’ve been busy this morning,” Megan said quickly.

          “Let’s sit down, Mrs. Meagher-Levy.  I want to talk to you about some of the books you carry.  They lack truth and are the work of the devil!”

          Megan remained standing, “Mr. Fisher, first of all, I’m working on a book order today.  We can make an appointment for another time.”  Try to stay professional Megan.  Keep your fists in your pockets!

   

         “I’m a busy man, and it doesn’t look like you have any customers right now.”

   

And you think I’m not busy you meddlesome old butt—then calmly responded, “That’s true, Mr. Fisher.  But I’m speaking at a book club in 15 minutes, and I must leave now.”  OK, so it wasn’t for an hour, but she had no intention of talking with this jackass….

          “I hope you’re not going to be talking about any of those books filled with heresy.  You have no right to spread lies.  God will punish you for this!”

 

          You’re doing a pretty good job of that!  “Mr. Fisher, I will not discuss this with you now.  If you wish to make an appointment convenient to us both, we’ll talk about your concerns then.  Not before!”   Mr. Fisher turned on his heel and stalked out the shop.

          Chris walked over as the door slammed.  “What’s his problem, Megan?  You’re not really going to talk to him, are you?”

          “I’ll have to sometime, but it’s going to be on my terms!  And if he doesn’t leave me alone, I’ll have him charged with harassment!”  Megan had faced arrogant authors and even some book shop owners, but never a religious fundamentalist like Roland Fisher.

 

A friend of Megan’s—a Zen Buddhist—was picketed as she spoke at a meeting in San Francisco.  Signs filled with—“You are on your way to hell!” and “Liar” all coming from those proclaiming God’s love.   Why did the likes of Mr. Fisher believe his perception of truth was the only one to be considered?  She couldn’t begin to understand his thinking.

           To be continued...