Chapter 6

Mae wasawoken by a high-pitched bark.

Clutching a blanket, she blinked at an alarm clock on a bookshelf in a room that was not her own.

In another blink, reality permeated.

Mae's head fell back against the pillows as she stared at the ceiling. She shouldn't have been so surprised by a few barking dogs. Lord knew Portland was a city practically composed of barking dogs. She'd had to eventually leave the first apartment she'd lived in, after she'd moved from Brooklyn years ago, because the dog next door never shut up.

Still. Even a familiar noise could be unsettling when you were in an unexpected place.

Mae knew Greyfin Bay itself wasn't unexpected, even if the bed she slept in was. But she was reminded in that moment how different it was, waking up in a new place when you weren't just on vacation. When it wasn't actually an Airbnb.

When you had abruptly decided to carve yourself a new home.

But it didn't feel like home.

At least not yet.

Early morning sun shone through the wide windows that took up the opposite wall. Mae gave herself exactly five minutes to look at the misty forest beyond the glass, the gnarled yet sturdy trees—the crinkled grays and the deep greens—and let it weigh on her chest.

She lived here.

She was on the coast, without an end date.

She lived here.

For five minutes, Mae let her new reality sit there on her ribs, more terrifying than freeing. And then she got up and shoved it away. She ignored how the tiny house she was currently occupying was even more charming in the daylight. She ignored the truth that she had slept better in Dell McCleary's guest bed than she had in weeks, months even. A fact that seemed almost impossible in the face of the mountain of uncertainties, of futures she could only hope for instead of predict—a coastal range of anxiety—that composed her new life. But somehow, under Dell's Pendleton blanket, she had slept like the dead.

She pulled clothes for the day out of a suitcase, unplugged her phone from the charger, washed her face, and steadfastly ignored the fantastic array of mugs she discovered in the kitchen. The kitchen meant for Dell's mother.

Today would be a coffee day, she decided, grabbing her laptop bag. She was normally a tea drinker, but some days required extra fortitude.

She contemplated revisiting Ginger's, the café across the street from her store.

"My store," she repeated out loud to herself in a whisper. It felt different, now that she had the keys. Now that she'd danced inside of it.

She wanted to make acquaintances with the employees of Ginger's, and the bar next door, all of her new neighbors. But there was someone else she wanted to see first. Someone who had promised she actually brewed the best coffee in town.

Renewed by having a plan, she swung her bags over her shoulder, locking the door of the tiny home behind her.

The sound of heavy wheels rolling over gravel rumbled up to meet her as she walked the short path back to her car. She wasn't fully prepared to make conversation with Dell again this early in the morning, so she rushed to open her car door before Dell opened his.

And she almost would have made it, too, if she hadn't been interrupted by a dog headbutting her thigh.

"Well, hello there." She held out a hand for the panting, amber-haired pup to smell before she crouched down to give them a proper ruffle behind their ears.

"Crosby," Dell's goosebump-inducing voice called. "And Nash—dammit."

And then there were two.

Mae's grin grew as she extended her pets to the new dog, their broad, solid body covered in mostly gray fur but for the white on its chest and three of its paws. One of its ears appeared to have been mostly torn away at some point, or perhaps it was a birth defect. Either way, barking wake-up call or not, the soul in their eyes wrapped around Mae's heart at once.

"Nash, Cros, come on, give them some space."

Mae stood, facing Dell, who?—

Who stood with his hands on his hips, wearing a faded University of Michigan T-shirt, darkened with sweat at the collar, and black athletic shorts that were just short enough on his thick legs to look indecent.

Just short enough to reveal that Dell McCleary had a thigh tattoo. What looked to be the roots of a tree, spread out beneath his sandy leg hair.

Mae blinked her gaze away from Dell's thigh to his face and found that she had absolutely nothing to say.

"Sorry," he said. "Hope the others didn't wake you up this morning. Young's still relatively new around here. Barks every time a bird flies too close to the house."

Dell's hair was damp with sweat, too. He wiped the back of his wrist over his forehead. His T-shirt clung to his belly in the most perfect of ways. A way that made Mae want to lift up the cotton and dig her fingers in.

"Gotta go," she eventually got out.

Dell nodded as he stepped back. Whistling for his dogs, he headed toward the house before he paused, turning toward where Mae still stood frozen.

"Hey. You need a recommendation for a plumber?"

"Oh, no." Finally finding her voice, Mae waved her phone, which she'd been clutching in her hand. "I already asked Liv for all her preferred contractors two weeks ago."

Dell frowned, staring into the treeline.

"Who'd she say for plumbing?"

Mae consulted the list she'd copied into her notes app.

"Art Greenwood."

Dell harrumphed in seemingly reluctant agreement.

"Send me the estimate," he said after a beat. And then he turned and took his sweaty ass self into his gorgeous house.

Mae huffed as she got into her car, picturing Dell scowling down at Art Greenwood's estimate, that dangerously attractive face coloring her dream with disdain.

* * *

The IGA on Hastings was easy to find after all the studying of Greyfin Bay Mae had done over the last month, which was a good thing, considering her cell service was absolute shit out here. Google Maps had said "no thank you" when she'd attempted to call it into service for reassurance.

But she'd found the IGA anyway. And she was attempting to take that as a good sign.

The moment she spotted Liv, though, and Liv spotted her back—a wide, crooked grin splitting open her face—a muscle in Mae's gut she hadn't even known she'd been clenching let go.

She had confirmed Liv's queerness in one of their very first text exchanges, three weeks ago.

My wife would've loved to have your store, Liv had said. She was a huge reader.

Mae had sat at the edge of her couch, surrounded by half-packed boxes, both grateful for the text and regretful for the past tense of it. Both for Liv and for herself, that she couldn't magically open the bookstore in time for Liv's wife. She'd bit her lip, wondering how to best ask follow-up questions.

But Liv had plowed ahead before Mae had to figure it out.

She's been gone five years now but I still talk to her all the time like a lunatic

Cancer's a bitch, but we got more time than a lot of folks. You don't need to say nothin

Did Dell sell to ya yet?

Liv stood next to the three self-checkout stations. There were two regular checkouts next to them, the number 1 currently lit. A bored-looking teen leaned against the till, checking her fingernails.

The relief Mae felt in her bones heading toward Liv didn't only have to do with Liv's support of the store, although that helped. Mostly, it emphasized how much Mae had needed to start her day this way: in the company of another queer person.

At least…another for-sure queer person who didn't scowl at her.

"Mae Kellerman." Damn, Liv's smile truly was beautiful. "You made it."

"Sure did. I'm here about some coffee."

"Let me show you the ropes." Liv waved a hand, leading Mae to a coffee station outside a small office. She leaned against the doorframe as Mae got to work.

"I heard about your flags."

Mae blinked. She had practically forgotten about her flags until just then. "You did?"

Liv smirked. "Turns out some rumors about small towns are true. Word travels fast. Especially when you're one of the known village queers."

Yes, Mae was irrevocably glad for Liv's existence.

She also felt a tad queasy.

"And what was…the tone of the traveling word about my flags?"

Liv threw Mae a knowing glance before shrugging.

"You know. Although I heard it first from Olive Young, who was so excited she was practically vibrating. You'll meet Olive soon enough. She's Greyfin Bay's loudest ally. I don't think she's been as excited since Obergefell."

Mae laughed into the steam of her coffee.

"Oh dang," she said after her first sip. "That's good."

"You're damn right it's good."

Mae turned, leaning against the coffee station to stare out at the rest of the store.

"All right," she said, blowing on her cup. "Who are the other major players of Greyfin Bay I should know about?"

"Well, hey." Liv's grin sparkled in her eyes as she gestured subtly with her chin toward an old man in a well-worn baseball cap, approaching one of the self-checkouts. "This'll be relevant to you. Brooks, man in the baseball hat? He's a published author. Been writing full-time for years. But he uses a pen name. One he's never shared with anyone. We have no idea who he really is."

Mae's mouth hung open in both shock and glee, this incredible tidbit and the first glugs of coffee-strong caffeine kicking her brain awake.

She itched to dig out her phone, call together a brunch for her friends to dissect this juicy mystery, which was the exact kind of not-truly-consequential hot goss they thrived on. Theo was their resident master detective; he would somehow be able to google-wormhole his way to answers.

And then Mae remembered she couldn't call for a gossip brunch.

She lived here now.

Her mouth snapped shut. She murmured a response to Liv that she hoped indicated her intrigue. She'd still share with the group text chain. Gossip dissected via group chat was still a good time.

Liv interrupted her thoughts with a snort. "I'll be right back."

Mae watched Liv assist Brooks while he gestured and scowled at the screen in front of him. A minute later, Liv returned, crossing her arms as she leaned against the coffee counter at Mae's side.

"He always uses self-checkout because he doesn't want to talk to any of us. And every single time, he does something that requires him to talk to us even more." She clucked her tongue. "I love that cranky bastard. Oh, and here comes Ashley. She works over at the wildlife refuge."

A trim, dark-haired woman in a khaki U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service uniform walked over to grab herself a cup of coffee. It was a problematic thing, sometimes, but Mae had always had a thing about a woman in a uniform.

"Mornin', Liv."

"Ashley, meet Mae Kellerman. They're gonna open a bookstore in that empty property on Main Street."

"The one by Freddy's? No kidding." Ashley smiled, showcasing perfectly white teeth, before holding out a light brown hand. Mae forced herself to not shiver as she shook it. "That sounds great. There are some folks in this town who could do with some more readin'."

"That's what I'm sayin'," Liv agreed.

The introductions were quick and steady after that: Archer, who worked at the steelhead hatchery up the river; Kehlani, who worked at the spa and resort down 101; Malachi, a chef at one of the local seafood restaurants; and Jett, a local mechanic. With each one, Mae's recollection from her own distant upbringing was affirmed anew.

The grocery store, especially if it served good coffee, was the heartbeat of a small town.

Liv introduced Mae the same way each time, without hesitation—They're gonna open up a bookstore on Main Street—and each time, a small hit of dopamine buzzed down Mae's veins. There were days she felt more she than they, and vice versa. But she'd finally found peace when she'd accepted that pronouns were just words for her. She didn't mind when people used she or her, especially when they were used by her closest loved ones. People she knew already saw her, understood her, as being more than just one thing. Someone a bit further down the spectrum, on a sliding scale.

Still. She loved when a stranger, someone she was just beginning to know, used they.

When they gave her that space to be something different.

"And here comes Taylor. Taylor Nguyen." Liv's voice shifted to something softer. Mae glanced over to see something in her eyes shift, too. Concern. A flash of worry. "I have to talk to her for a bit. But hey, you can meet Lanh, the sharpest Pokémon Go player in town."

Liv crouched toward the floor as the woman and young boy made their way to the coffee station.

"Hey, Lanh. This is Mae. They're new in town. Think you could show them some of your Pokémon while I chat with your auntie?"

Lanh didn't look away from the tablet in front of him. But after a small beat, he replied with a monotone, "Okay."

Liv stood and stepped aside to talk with Taylor, and Mae gamely took her place. Mae's body was still sore from the hard labor of moving out of her apartment, and the crouch made her wince, but in a good way. A stretch that reminded you your body was still alive and needed to move.

"What's your favorite Pokémon, Lanh?"

Lanh didn't hesitate. "Arceus. Legendary Pokémon." He was a cute kid, with dark hair shaved close to his head and serious black eyes. She estimated he was six or seven.

"I always liked Bulbasaur," Mae said. "Any of the grass types, really."

Lanh swiped at the screen.

"Fire types're better."

"Fair." Mae shrugged. "I still like the grass types, though."

Lanh gave a quiet grunt and captured a Golbat.

Mae squatted like that for five minutes more, watching Lanh battle, until Liv and Taylor returned.

"Thanks for keeping him company," Taylor said with a kind smile. "I'm Taylor." With effort, Mae stood and shook Taylor's hand.

"Will you have some Pokémon books at your new store?" Taylor grinned down at Lanh. Mae made a mental note to make the Pokémon section as extensive as possible.

"Absolutely. Maybe Lanh can give me some pointers on the essentials."

"We can't wait. Thanks again, Liv."

And as Liv and Taylor shared another hug, exchanging goodbyes, a small hit of optimism struck Mae in the sternum.

We can't wait.

Mae was starting to say her own goodbye, not wanting to take up too much more of Liv's time on the clock, when Liv put a hand on her arm.

"Hey," she said. "How're things going with Dell so far?"

Mae paused. It felt…weird, sharing that they were somehow almost living together at the moment. She didn't want Liv reading too much into it; didn't want Liv giving Dell a hard time about it.

She settled for, "Okay."

Liv searched her eyes for a minute before she nodded.

"I still want you to give him hell, but now that you're actually here…you should also know he's been through some shit." She shrugged, monitoring the self-checkouts. "Probably not my place to share, but if y'all are working together…don't give up on him, all right?"

Mae didn't know what to say.

But she trusted Liv inherently. So she settled, again, for, "Okay." And after a second, "Thanks."

And then she did say goodbye, and in lieu of fully processing that exchange, focused instead on memorizing the layout of her new grocery store.

The morning went by quickly from there. She drove to a nursery outside Lincoln City to buy two huge ceramic planters, sapphire blue and beautiful, along with enough plants and soil to make Vik proud and her own previous sense of fiscal responsibility horrified.

She hauled the planters to either side of the front door back at 12 Main, filled them with fall daisies. Discovered that there was a small space behind the building, abutting an alley and a listing back deck, where she could perhaps put a raised bed or two. Inside, she tackled the office, dirt under her fingernails, Jesus's death party playlist blasting from her phone. She tossed broken furniture through the back door onto said deck,shoved things into piles and against walls, filled one of the trash bags she'd purchased at the IGA, then two.

She dusted and sprayed and organized and danced until her back ached.

And then the first inspector arrived.

She took notes for over an hour, nodding like she understood half the things they were saying. When they left, she collapsed into the one functional chair she'd discovered in the office. Rested her forehead on the wood of what she assumed was Cara's old desk, which she'd decided to keep.

"One thing at a time," she said out loud, everything she needed to fix swirling in her head. "One thing at a time."

And after a few more slow breaths, she picked up her laptop, locked the front door, and went to visit her new neighbors at the Greyfin Tavern.

The bar was dark inside, the kind of bar Mae had never felt fully comfortable in unless there were rainbow flags in the windows, which there decidedly weren't here. But she braved the walk through the room anyway, greeting the sole bartender with a smile.

"Hey." She held out a hand, which the bearded white man shook with a small smile in return. "I'm Mae Kellerman. I'm opening up a bookstore right next to you here, in Cara's old place."

And the smile fell. Replaced by a dead-eyed stare that hit Mae like a block of lead.

Well. Mae had known this, right? That not everyone was going to be as welcoming as Liv Gallagher and her friends. It was…unfortunate that one of those possibly-not-excited-about-Mae's-flags-in-the-window people was Mae's new neighbor. But the day had probably been going too smoothly. A small stumble was inevitable.

The bartender, who had not introduced himself in return, rested his palms on the edge of the bar. Mae contemplated leaving, her face flushing against her will in the face of the man's stare. But no. She couldn't let someone chase her away on her first full day in town.

"I'm going to do some work for a little bit. Is there table service, or should I order here?"

The bartender stared a minute more, a small crease building between his brows until he turned away. His hair was dark, his beard sharper and suddenly infinitely less attractive than Dell's. Which was…an extremely irrational thought to be having at that moment.

"Sit wherever you want." He slapped a towel across his shoulder as he walked away.

Mae found a booth near the kitchen. She texted Vik, trying to calm her pulse. You ready?

The bartender dropped a menu onto the table.

Mae perused the smudged plastic. The fare was what she'd expected. She ordered a BLT and refused to further contemplate the hard set of the man's jaw.

She opened her laptop, connected her airpods. Squeezed her fingers to calm their shake. And when Vik's face appeared on her screen a few minutes later, Mae tried to pretend her eyes didn't momentarily fill with relief.

"My Vik."

"My Mae. How is life in Greyfin Bay thus far?"

"It's…"

Maybe she was sitting in a room with someone who hated her, someone who would always be just a wall away. Maybe she hadn't truly had to experience that feeling in a long time. But Mae thought of the work she'd just put into that shop on the other side of this wall. She thought of Liv's smile, the locals who had greeted her kindly this morning.

We can't wait.

Her eyes tracked over the top of her laptop to the small window in the front of the building. Where, even from the back of the room, she could make out the waves. An ocean bigger than Mae's flags, bigger than anyone else's feelings about them.

"It's good," she said.

And then they filled each other in: Mae's new plants; the new vocabulary she'd just learned from the inspector; a hike Jackson had taken with Ben and Alexei and almost died on. Mae never quite forgot where she was, but with each little story, she felt closer to home. The one that lived inside herself.

"Okay, Kellerman," Vik said. "You ready to do this?"

"Yeah." Mae bit her lip. "I am."

"I'm going to make the website live. You got the graphic I sent you for Instagram?"

Mae nodded, bringing up the Coming Soon graphic Vik had made using the photo Mae had sent them yesterday: the front window of 12 Main Street from the sidewalk, pride flags lit from within.

"Sweet. Go publish that shit."

Mae tweaked the caption she'd been brainstorming in her head for weeks while Vik typed away on their end, a lock of curly hair falling over their forehead.

"It's live," Vik said with a smile, flicking the curl away. It promptly fell exactly where it had been.

Mae clicked Share.

"It's live," she echoed.

Bay Books was live.

Vik and Mae had deliberated over the name for a week. Mae knew it was simple, that it would likely be only one of many Bay Books out there in the world. But simple was easy to remember.

And what really sold them was the fact that, while the window would display those words, their friends agreed they would always read it as Bae Books. A name Mae thought would make Jesus laugh, his head knocked back, hands coming together in a single clap, like he used to do when he was especially pleased.

"You're a business owner, babe."

"I mean…" Mae thought of the incorporation paperwork she was still waiting to get approved, of the small business class she hadn't even started yet, the list of repairs the inspector had just given her.

"It's on the internet now," Vik said. "And the internet, future generations forgive us, is forever."

Mae navigated to baybooksoregon.com. And while she'd already seen the drafts Vik had sent her, she still gasped when it loaded.

"Vik, it looks so good."

"It does," Vik agreed. "It's gonna be so great, Mae."

For the length of the rest of their call, Mae let herself believe them.

* * *

It was late by the time Mae returned to Dell's property. Between putting more elbow grease into cleaning, scheduling a bevy of contractors, and completing Vik's emailed list of marketing tasks, finding another place to stay had somehow slipped Mae's mind.

She meant to go straight to the ADU, to shower and collapse with a book. But the golden light coming from Dell's front porch—along with the strums of an acoustic guitar—pulled her like a moth to a flame.

The porch looked over a short yard that tumbled into the forested hills beyond. One of the dogs she'd met this morning, the golden retriever she thought was named Crosby, lifted his head to give her a single bark as she stood at the base of the stairs. Dell's voice, low and rumbly, the words just audible, paused mid-verse.

"Oh, come on," Mae accidentally said into the silence.

Dell lifted his head, fingers frozen on the frets.

"What?" he finally asked.

"You're all…" She flailed her hands. It was like Dell McCleary was following some textbook titled Cliché Ways to Turn Mae Kellerman On. And he was following it to a T. "Iron and fucking Wine over here."

Dell stared some more.

"I was playing Fleet Foxes."

"I know you were! Oh, fuck you."

Flustered with herself for even walking over here in the first place, Mae turned to leave.

But at the last second, she pivoted on her heel.

"We launched our website and socials today. Bay Books. You should follow us."

"Bold," Dell muttered, turning back to his guitar with a small, derisive shake of his head. Mae steeled herself for the points he was surely about to make about launching marketing before a single bookshelf was installed.

But all he said was, "Who's we?"

Mae blinked, mind still preparing rebuttals about how people would love following renovations online, about the importance of building a following before opening day.

"What?"

"You said ‘we launched our website.' Who's we?"

Mae hesitated.

"Me and my graphic designer." It was the truth, technically. Conveniently, it also sounded more professional than me and my one friend who believes I can do this.

Dell only grunted, staring across the deck into the trees.

For some reason, Mae kept talking.

"Our Instagram's @baybooks.oregon. If you want to look us up."

Dell looked back down, plucking some strings.

"That's okay. I'm out of space anyway."

Now Mae was the one who prolonged her stare. "Space?"

"I only follow a couple hundred people," Dell said, almost absently, his focus clearly returning to the instrument in his lap. "Strict personal policy."

At that, Mae's words ran out.

She stared another minute until she thought, Enough. Time to stop thinking about Dell's thighs and listening to his guitar.

Time to get to work.

Bae Books and Bae Books only. All in.

She turned with purpose and walked toward the little structure in the woods where she slept almost too well.