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...
No comments:
Post a Comment