Ching-ching-ing. The bell on the door of Paige's Books, Old and New, chingled when Aly Reid entered the small store. The old-fashioned way of alerting a storekeeper to a customer suited the store with its larger front room of new books and small back room of second-hand paperbacks. A few worn armchairs were placed here and there as Fred Paige encouraged readers to check out the books. A few locked cases held more valuable rare books.
The front window held volumes of love poems, in a display for Valentine's Day, and the Booklovers Valentine's Evening Fred held every year. In honor of the day, Fred put love songs on the sound system. "Underneath It All" was playing.
Aly looked at the display, wished she had someone to read poetry with, or write it for, or write it for her, and went to the back room to search for something to read on what was certainly going to be another solitary Valentine's Day.
In the back room, she found a worn hardback of Neruda's poetry, and selected a paperback romance. Second-hand romance was better than nothing on a cold February 14 with five inches of snow expected.
She sat in an empty chair in the front room, and checked the weather on her phone. Snow due to start soon. She'd walk to Grand Central to catch the 7 subway to Queens, but she had a little time before the Valentine's for booklovers began. She opened the mystery. A fluffy black tom, the store cat, brushed against her legs. She scratched his ears.
The doorbell chinged again as a middle-aged couple entered, the man holding the door for the woman. The woman went to the back room as the man came to the cash register, where Fred was in his usual seat and Arnold, his great-nephew, manned the register.
"Hi, Fred. Arnold. Is everything ready?"
"Almost, Joe," said Fred. "Have you got the book ready?" He leaned forward eagerly. He loved romance.
"Right here," said Joe, reaching in his coat and removing a hardbound copy of Neruda's poetry. He laid it on the counter gently. He opened the cover and flipped gently through the pages till he came to the hollowed-out center. A ring box was nestled there.
"That's wonderful," said Fred. "This is going to be the best Valentine's in 45 years. Our first proposal." Fred grinned with delight.
Joe leaned forward and asked, "Have you met anyone yet, Arnold? Lots of young women come here."
Arnold shook his head. "Not yet. I've about given up hope.
"Dating apps?"
"No luck. A few dates, but the women thought they deserved better than a paralegal." Arnold wheezed and puffed on his asthma inhaler. He nodded as his breathing eased, and put it in his pocket.
"What's wrong with being a paralegal?"
"I'm not a lawyer, and happy with that. Most women aren't." Arnold blinked behind his glasses. "Maybe I should get contacts."
"Maybe." Joe examined Arnold's watery blue eyes, and said, with tact, "Glasses suit you. Gives you that intelligent vibe. If you don't meet anyone tonight, want me to see if Peggy can fix you up with a cousin of hers? Nice girl."
Arnold blinked. "Sure. Want to put this in the front window? Then you and Peggy can find it, like you wanted."
Joe shut the volume. He and Arnold went to the window and Arnold placed the book beside a stack of love poetry.
"Want to check the back? The champagne you got to celebrate is chilling." The two men walked through a door marked, "Employees Only."
Fred summoned his clerk over. "Gina, I'm running up to my apartment to get the refreshments for tonight. Back in a few minutes. Watch the register till Arnold returns, please."
