The first identified book store was located in an outlet mall and had books on sale for 80% off. I decided against approaching them with my book. It was 9:30 am; they were not open and sitting in the parking lot with my “Author on Board" banner plastered to the side of the RV wasn’t going to drum up business either. The next two stores I visited were not open either. Since the Cape is crazy on summer weekends, I wondered if the locals close down and rest on Monday.
To kill an hour I visited the Sandwich Marina and the Cape Cod Canal Visitors Center where I learned a few facts about the canal and the bridges link the mainland with the “island” of Cape Cod. It was a financial disaster for New York financier August Belmont and thanks to a Great Depression it got “rebuilt” by the US government. Not much was happening at the Visitors Center unless I wanted to partake in a scavenger hunt which was open to adults as well as kids. I passed on finding the answers to a series of questions about the canal’s history as I knew I had to “get to work”.
I returned to Retlok’s Book Store. Located in a shabby caulk-white building I could almost smell the musty used books locked behind the closed doors. The book store wasn’t on my list anyway, but it was a book store and my mission was “book stores”.
A short distance down the road was Sandwich Bookstore, another used book store. I thought maybe I could sell a few of my books that took the worst of the dump when they fell out of the cabinet when I got lost in Boston. I could write a name in a book, turn a few pages dog-earred and scuff the cover. Maybe I could sell them at cost.
The store owner was in the middle of a conversation with a customer about the weight of a box of books, something I know a little about, since I personally carried 27 of them down into my parents’ basement. I said a box of forty books about this size, holding up my book, weighed 36 pounds. It broke the ice but resulted in no sale. I did get directions to the library (which was closed on Monday’s) and a suggestion to visit Titcomb’s Bookshop, which was already on my morning hit list. However, the owner asked me if I was a Christian, something I had not been asked in a while. With confidence I said yes, and this time felt sure I knew the answer to why.
After leaving the library I headed the wrong way on 6A, zipping past the Sandwich Bookstore again. Lately, I have noticed that my sense of direction has turned for the worst, which I find a little annoying and disconcerting. I really need a navigator on this trip.
At Titcomb’s the RV bottomed out causing me to cringe. No damage but the sound is awful, especially when it wasn’t expected. Elizabeth, the buyer was helpful and we chatted about the Peace Corps. I suggested that perhaps the local book club might have an interest. Wel,l they are kind of booked up until October. She would like to take my book, but unless there was something in the paper, she did not expect much local interest. She gave me the name of a reporter who might be interested in my RV adventures and who reviews books.
A few more miles down the road was Mary’s Bookstore with a nicely paved driveway, but not a single car out front. This did not look promising, but it was still an opportunity to present myself. Spirit the yellow tabby kept on a leash greeted me as I stepped under the door’s overhang. In the dimly light room, there was not a soul. A few seconds later Mary came out from the back. I modestly launched into my pitch. And she said she would take two books. I think I must have looked surprise and caught myself thinking, ‘really?’ I needed to get another book from the camper
As I walked back to The Rig, I discovered Diablo sitting behind the steering wheel. Shit. How did she get through the barrier I had installed to keep the cats out of the cab? What gave me a heart attack however, was the fact that the windows in the cab were half way open, more than enough for her to jump through. Where is Phoenix? I spotted her in The Rig. I rolled up the windows, left Diablo in the cab and finished my transaction, including a photo of Mary and her cat, Spirit.
One more bookstore was on tap. It was in Mashpee about 9 miles down the road. It was a bigger store located in a very busy shopping market. The only place I could find to park was a couple blocks away in the back end of the market, near a clump of woods and a row of blue trash dumpsters.
No sales here either, but I asked if I could contact their book clubs. Yes clubs. There must have been at least twenty each with their own recommending reads. Of course they would not give out this information, but offered to take mine. I only had the book, no info flyer or press kit with me.
I started to head back to the camper, but took note of the grocery store and stopped in to buy a few apples, blueberries, and a cantaloupe. Honest, I am trying to eat wisely, even if I could not resist the bag of Cape Cod Chips. It is hard to eat a sandwich without chips. Feels naked.
I returned to The Rig and immediately saw that the screen to the window was wide open. Diablo was gone! I could see Phoenix was considering the leap out the window. My heart sank and tears immediately filled my eyes. I turned to the woods, where looking for a brown cat against the floor of dead pine needles would prove as fruitless as finding Waldo before a six year old could.
I looked under The Rig. No Diablo. Desperately I called out her name, and in my mind went out a plea to God.
Meow. I turned to see her coming out from under The Rig. I wanted to rush to grab her, but I let her come to me. Thank God (and I did), I have a cat that comes when called. (Phoenix is another story.)
Tonight, I have taped the screens shut with duct tape. If I have to break in, I’ll cut the damn things.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment