The Little Bookstore of Big Stone Gap Read Online Free Page A

and Weirdos congregation, we met Teri and Gary. Teri is the town chiropractor. She and her professional-drummer husband parent a growing menagerie of some of the smartest, best-adjusted children ever. Teri and Gary wanted the bookshop to succeed for the sake of their kids, but we had no idea when we met them how helpful they would soon become.
    Mark and Elizabeth also introduced themselves, then a moment later someone referred to her as Dr. Cooperstein.
    “Oh, you have a doctorate?” I asked. “Where do you teach?” She gave me an odd look and said she directed the local hospital’s emergency room. I was about to apologize when the minister’s wife said, “Hey, that’s right. You’re a doctor, too.”
    Elizabeth beamed at me. “Oh! Where do you practice? Would you like to visit the hospital?”
    By the time we’d finished sorting my “phud” degree from her “mud,” we were laughing and friends.
    “I guess we all assume other people are what we are,” Elizabeth said as her teenaged son, utterly disgusted at middle-aged women laughing and carrying on this way, edged out the door to wait on the porch.
    In retrospect, many foundations for long-term friendships were laid during that church hunt. And between the church crowds, drama night team, and book enthusiasts who stopped by to see what we were up to, the bookstore-to-be carved out what looked like an accepted space for itself, and fairly quickly. It made us feel good, that so many locals really seemed excited about a bookshop coming to town; in the history annals of Big Stone, no bookstore had been recorded since its incorporation in the late 1800s.
    For the rest of the townsfolk, seeing us gear up must have been like watching old people run a marathon—admiring their spirit while questioning their grasp on reality. Residents called us sweet, brave, and other pleasant code words for “lunatic” in an intriguing “glad you’re here, sorry you won’t be staying” sort of way.
    That “won’t be staying” remark came up pretty often, but we attributed it to a bad economy and the stereotypes people held about the education levels and reading habits of Coalfields Appalachia’s residents. We figured people were assuming Big Stone lacked the population or interest to support a store, but just look at all the people already stopping by to ask us about it and wish us well! More than a dozen! How heartening!
    It would be some time before we began to understand how naive and unprepared we were to run a business in a small town.
    Jack and I worked hard getting the store ready, and drove each other crazy doing it. My husband’s generally laid-back approach to life is simple. If a problem exists, the buzzer will get louder or someone will start shouting; everything else is small stuff. I am more the type who, leafing through a magazine in the dentist’s office, will read an article about plastics containing carcinogens and call home.
    “Jack, empty the fridge and see if we have any plastic containers in there. If we do, dump the food out behind the back garden. Don’t give it to the dogs, and remember not to put cooked food in the compost pile. I’ll stop on my way home and buy glass storage sets. While you’re emptying the fridge, you might want to go ahead and scrub the vegetable drawer; I noticed a smell yesterday.”
    People often characterize my beloved as “long-suffering.” He refers to living with me as “exciting.” Meshing “Aaggghhh” and “ahhhhhh” life approaches creates a strong balance when we manage it, and since we like each other, we usually do manage it.
    So it was no surprise to Jack when I sat down one day (soon after we scraped together enough cash to go get our furniture and thus had chairs again) to pencil the closest thing we ever had to a plan for opening: a list scribbled on the back of an envelope.
    Find Location (check)
    Get books
    Name store
    Build bookshelves (check)
    Learn to use cash register or something like that