She tapped at the keyboard slowly, picking out just the right words to convey for the story she wanted to tell. Lost in her own, self-made world, she only barely caught the flash of movement in her eye, followed by the gentle ding as the door to her shop struck the small bell that hung over the frame.
Silhouetted by the setting afternoon sun, was a petite figure. A bag, burdened with books bulged to one side and she tottered under its weight. As she passed the stacks and stacks of tomes in the quiet, corner bookstore, she made little to no noise, yet, the bookseller watched her with her peripheral vision intently.
The older shopkeeper quickly hit alt-tab and switched from the window of the writing program she was using, to the main credit and check out form. The petite figure approached her, her load now much larger than she had originally thought.
"Excuse me," the visitor said. "I was wondering if you're currently buying books."
"Well I don't buy just anything, you know," the shopkeeper replied, adjusting her glasses more to the end of the nose to get a better look at her with her own vision. "I have to be somewhat picky; otherwise we get inundated with bad romance novels and cheesy post apocalyptic crap."
That brought a smile to the smaller, younger woman's face and she replied, "No, nothing like that. Mostly textbooks, and some stuff from my personal collection. I just moved here."
The shopkeeper introduced herself, extending her thin hand, "Welcome to Orchards. It's small, but growing. My name is Marilyn, and I own the store."
The younger one smiled brightly and said, "I'm Penny."
She unloaded the books on the counter and shook Marilyn's hand.
"Well you go look around, Penny and I'll see what you've got here, okay?" Marilyn said.
"Well, um, I was wondering if you paid cash?" Penny asked.
"I can, but it's about a half of what you'd get for trade. I can't give out a whole lot that way." Marilyn said. She looked down at Penny who had the look of desperation on her face.
"Well do what you can, I'm kind of running short these days." Penny asked, nearly bleating.
Marilyn nodded, and Penny stood nervously.
Most of Penny's books were well taken care of or new. They had no breaks along the spine, nor dog-ears or tears. In the textbooks, there were no post-it notes, no highlighting, no underlining, nothing like that. Generally, she did not take textbooks, although these were modern enough that they still might be in print, and this gave her an idea.
"Do you know we have a community college here in Orchards?" Marilyn asked.
"Uh, no." Penny replied. Her big, sad blue eyes spoke volumes.
"Clark College, just down fourth plain, you can't miss it. You'll get better money for your textbooks there. These are all pretty recent, and I'm sure a new student could get some get better use of them."
Penny gushed, "Oh thank you! I'm really running low on cash."
Marilyn smiled, knowing she wouldn't be able to move the damn things.
Penny's collection of fiction was eclectic, to put it kindly. A lot of big names, and a few up-and-comers. A large stack of Koontz, assorted King, and Straub. She had a tendency to lean toward horror and fantasy, although Penny had a healthy selection of true crime and forensic studies. The dollar tab rose higher and higher, and after she tabulated their value turned toward Penny.
"I can give you twenty in cash, or forty in trade. That's quite a stack you have."
Penny looked at the stack of them and bit her lips, then asked, "What do you think I'll get for the textbooks at the college?"
"Easy a hundred. You have a lot here, mostly literature, stuff that kids will need. What were you, a history major?"
Penny's eyes bugged out, "Yeah, had to drop out. Couldn't afford it any more."
Marilyn bit her lower lip. She hated to see kids dropping out from lack of money, but she was old, and jaded enough that the possibility of a sob story was not out of mind.
"So you just moved here?" Marilyn asked.
"Yes, from Seattle. I wanted a small community, I'd like to try writing some historical fiction." Penny said.
Marilyn smiled, "Historical romance is always a good seller. I mean, I don't know the writer's end of the market, but I can tell you the little old ladies come in and out of here with boxes of them, day in, and day out."
Penny's eyes lit up, "Wow, really?"
She was so excitable, and Marilyn found that youthful exuberance charming.
"Have you had anything published yet?" Marilyn asked.
"Well not much, I post to a few blogs and do some online things, but nothing in paper. I guess I don't feel its real writing until it's in a book. I like the feel of paper in my hands, there's something cool about that," Penny replied, brightly.
"Well E-books do sell. It's not a bad market for the beginner. They say once you get the first novel down, the rest come along," Marilyn pointed out.
"Wow, I guess I have a lot of work to do then," Penny said. She looked slightly dejected, and Marilyn opened up her till.
"So you want twenty in cash?" She asked.
"Actually, if you think I can get that much out of the textbooks, I'll probably take the trade. I could use some new reading." Penny said.
Marilyn smiled, and filled out a business card with her balance on the back and stamped it, admonishing, "Now don't you loose that."
"Thank you," Penny said, smiling brightly, "I won't. Say, do you know when the college bookstore closes?"
"Same as I do, seven. If you hurry, you might be able to get there, as it's just past six-thirty." Marilyn quickly scrawled out a map as Penny scooped up the textbooks into her bag.
"Thanks again, I'll be back," she said, nearly prancing out the door, heading toward a battered old hatchback, with a University of Seattle bumper sticker on it.
Marilyn turned back to her monitor, the sound of the door's ringing echoing throughout the empty store. She hit alt-tab and the word-processing program she had been using came back into view. Her eyes played along the intricate sexual scene she had been outlining and wondered where it was going.
