Chapter Text
Caleb Widogast shouted from the dusty back room of The Book-Laden Shelf, the quaint little downtown shop he had lovingly curated and called home for the past two years.
“Nein, we are still banned from the bowling alley for two more months and three days because of the last time we went, when you took all of the pins from the lanes and made a ‘fortress’.”
He turned back to face the open box he was currently taking the recent delivery of books out of, huffing slightly in what, for him, would be considered laughter.
Life with Nott as a best friend is never dull, he thought fondly as he remembered that particular escapade.
After finishing a particularly competitive game of bowling between them, Nott had stood up on the top of the rickety wooden bench placed beside the ball machine for teams to wait for their turn to bowl, declared herself the “final boss” and then disappeared, re-emerging after a few confusing minutes with a bag full of bowling pins, scrambling to erect walls with the pins standing up on top of each other, balanced precariously, wobbling and threatening to collapse into a large pile. They had summarily been escorted out by the owner, Stacey, a harried-looking human with tan skin and thick crimped brown hair sprinkled with grey, and told in no uncertain terms that she needed, at the very least, three months before she would be feeling up to dealing with the two of them again.
The corners of Caleb’s sky-blue eyes crinkled as he smiled softly, now finished removing the books from the sturdy brown box and sorting them into piles based on where their new homes would be in the store. He could hear Nott muttering quietly to herself in an aggrieved tone. No doubt grouching about Stacey having the audacity to kick them out.
Caleb stepped back from the table and stretched his back, groaning as he felt faint popping along his spine from hunching over the solid old table in the middle of the room. He looked around the messy room as he hoisted a pile of sorted books into his arms for stocking, noting the dust beginning to collect in the corners and along the rows of mismatched bookshelves holding his overstock, various knick-knacks Nott had collected in the two years the store had been open, and boxes of second-hand books lovingly donated by people in town that hoped their old literary treasures would find new appreciation in future customers.
How far we have come from homeless vagabonds.
He stepped out, arms wrapped around the awkward load, pressing the books against his chest for stability, and called out again to Nott.
“There is the Summer Night Market this weekend and next week. We could all go down together for a quick dinner at that Indian curry stall that just opened and look around. They said there would be some of those travelling street performers we saw last year... ah, according to Tom they come every year? When Luc gets tired perhaps Edith would take him for the evening?”
As he spoke, he walked over to the section of the store labelled ‘Fiction’ and began shelving the books in his arms.
Nott, the young goblin woman with long green-black hair wearing a pretty daffodil-yellow dress with button accents and a homemade button necklace, looked up from the computer sitting in her lap between her and the counter parallel to the back wall, listening. The counter in front of her was long and sturdy, serving as a barrier between customers and the till, which itself looked old and well-used but clearly well-cared for, like everything in the store. Nott’s large green floppy goblin ears perked up and her golden cats’ eyes narrowed in thought as she cocked her head to the side, tapping her index finger to her lips and humming consideringly.
“Technically, the anniversary is on Thursday but I suppose we could wait a day to celebrate. But!”—and she pointed her knobby finger at Caleb in warning, her shrill voice suddenly brooking no objection— “we’re still getting together Thursday at least for a bit! And you’re gonna let us feed you! That’smyfinaloffer!” And with that proclamation, Nott turned back to her laptop and immediately became absorbed by whatever task he had interrupted.
Finished with his pile of books, Caleb continued putting away the rest of the delivery, then ambled absently about the store, straightening the various matching long wooden shelves and fiddling with displays as his mind wandered elsewhere, the clacking of keys as Nott worked on the computer filed away as background noise. He recalled stocking this very shelf for the first time nearly two years ago -technically, it would be two years in two days, as today was Tuesday and, as Nott had pointed out, the anniversary of the store’s opening was Thursday. She knew as well as Caleb that he wouldn’t forget. Couldn’t forget. He remembered nearly everything perfectly from early childhood onwards, the blessing and curse of an eidetic memory. Except for his time in...
Nein. I will not go down that rabbit hole today.
He mentally skirted around those thoughts and the involuntary panic they induced, using a breathing technique he had learned during the mandatory therapy sessions he and Nott had attended as part of their recovery program prior to moving to Felderwin. Or back to, in Nott’s case.
Einatmen, eins… zwei… drei… fier… Ausatmen, eins… zwei… drei… fier… fünf… sechs…
(Breathe in, one… two… three… four… Breathe out, one… two… three… four… five… six…)
After a couple of repetitions, Caleb was feeling settled again, and just in time as the bell connected to the door of his shop tinkled, bringing in a wave of children and parents he recognized as here for his Tuesday after-school tutoring class.
“Uncle Caleb!”
Luc’s voice rang out, filling the shop. It was the only warning he got before impact, his leg suddenly glomped by a small halfling boy.
“Hallo, Luc. How was Kindergarten? I see you got to paint today. Did you make something for your mother?”
Indeed, Luc’s yellow overalls and purple shirt had small splotches of color all over it. Splotches which, when Luc finally released his hold on Caleb’s leg, had made a home on Caleb’s pants as well.
As Luc began chatting away to Caleb about his day, Caleb’s eyes found Yeza in the small influx of people. Caleb waved to Yeza as he began getting the kids situated in the reading nook that doubled as his tutoring space.
As he got ready to begin working with his few students -His students! he thought proudly- he sent Luc over to Nott, smiling faintly as he watched Luc excitedly repeat everything he had told Caleb not two minutes before.
This, he thought fondly to himself as he watched his dearest friend, his family, talking quietly in a corner of his bookstore, This is more than I could have ever imagined having again. And with that thought he turned back to his students, content.