It’s just a job, she reminded herself. A steady, predictable job so she could provide her grandfather with a worry-free life.

Telling Cleo and Bertie about her decision was harder than Natalie had anticipated. It was the end of the day, and they’d been busy hauling out the Christmas displays.

Every year, she and her mom and Grandy went to the Guardsmen Tree Lot up at Fort Mason to pick out a tree for the shop. The volunteers in their green jumpsuits and cheery smiles were the heralds of the season as they delivered the perfect tree, and Mom always donated books to their program for at-risk youth.

This year without her mother was going to be brutal, a deep, unbearable ache. I miss your voice, she thought, the way you sang carols off-key when we decorated, and the inside stories we knew about each ornament we hung. So much of me went with you, Mom.

“It’s going to be our last Christmas,” she said quietly, holding up a slightly battered angel whose arms formed a book display stand.

Bertie and Cleo both turned to her. “What?” Cleo asked in a whisper.

“Grandy agreed to close. We’ve got a buyer, and Grandy and I are moving up to Archangel.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Bertie’s expression crumpled and he drew them both in for a group hug. “I’m sorry. I can’t say it comes as a shock, but I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Cleo said. “Natalie, you worked really hard and we’re proud to know you.”

She gave them a squeeze. “The target date is the first of February, but you should feel free to go anytime after the holidays.”

Cleo sighed. “Working here was my favorite excuse for not writing. Now I guess I’ll have to knuckle down and finish my play.”

Bertie nodded. “And I’ll have to get a role in a bigger production. Take down my walls and go deep. That’ll make my acting coach happy.”

“Oh, you guys. You’re the best friends I’ve ever had and I’ll love you forever.” She shooed them toward the door. “Go, before this gets too maudlin.”

After they left, she looked around the quiet shop. Sylvia came over and slipped in a figure eight between her ankles. Natalie bent to pet her, and for once the cat didn’t lash out. “What are we going to do with you?” she asked. “Are you going to like it out in the country?”

She sighed, feeling an ache in her heart. She’d been so frustrated and angry with her mother for the sloppy bookkeeping, the past-due bills, the money pit she’d been saddled with. Yet she had rediscovered her mother’s magic with stories. She’d fallen in love with the bookstore, finding the joy that had sustained Blythe Harper all her life. And now it was over.