Kyle waved goodbye and watched through the front window as the mailman continued up the street. Sorting through the envelopes in his hand, he came across an official-looking one from the bank and tore it open, frowning. According to the statement inside, he had not made last month’s mortgage payment on the store and now owed the payment amount plus a hundred dollar late charge.

He specifically remembered writing that check. Now he was going to have to spend half the day on the phone trying to get this mess straightened out. “Morons,” he said aloud, as his first customer of the day walked into the store.

“You talkin’ about the gov’ment?” Durl Meadows grinned as he approached the counter. Durl had been one of his very first customers when he’d opened Brave New World, special ordering a copy of The Anarchist’s Cookbook. He and Kyle saw eye-to-eye on almost nothing, but theirs was a friendly, almost playful opposition, and Durl had turned out to be one of the store’s most loyal customers, continuing to order self-published right-wing conspiracy books as well as, incongruously, romance novels. “For my wife,” he always said, although Kyle suspected that was not the case.

Kyle sighed. “No, not the government. The bank.”

Durl shrugged, still grinning. “Same diff’rence.”

“They say I didn’t make my mortgage payment.”

“And you did.”

Kyle nodded.

“Now you have to call India to get it all untangled.”

“Probably.”

“Well, have fun with that.” Laughing, Durl headed over to the stand of new releases facing the front window. He scanned the titles but obviously found nothing there to interest him. Motioning toward the alcove at the left rear corner of the store, he said, “Looks like you’re expanding your used section.”

Kyle nodded. “I’ve been getting a lot of trade-ins lately. Mystery and romance readers go through books quickly. People like you—”

“My wife.”

“That’s what I was going to say. People like your wife speed through books. Makes sense to offer them a place where they can trade old books in for ones they haven’t read yet.”

“Or they could trade with each other an’ skip the middleman.”

Kyle nodded sagely. “Sure. They could do that. If they don’t believe in the free market and want to live in some hippie Communist world where no one owns anything and no one needs money and everyone just shares what they have, man.”

Durl chuckled. “Y’ got me.”

“I haven’t had time to put them on the shelf yet, but you might take a look in that box on the floor. Rene Wallace brought them in, and there’s quite a few Nora Roberts in there. Maybe there’s some Delia hasn’t read yet.”

“Maybe so,” Durl said, walking back toward the corner. “Thanks.”

Kyle picked up the mortgage statement from the bank, found the toll-free customer service number below the bank’s corporate address in the upper left corner. “If you need any help, let me know!” he called out to Durl.

“Will do!”