The Smell of Comfort

Posted on Sat 8th Apr, 2017 @ 5:49pm by
Edited on on Sun 9th Apr, 2017 @ 5:54pm

1,303 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: Wrongs Darker Than Death Or Night
Location: Pale Moon Books, Deck 1554
Timeline: MD 03, 1545

It had been a busy morning and early afternoon, but now things were slowing down. Capable people could handle everything, she was sure. Looking at the business directory on her computer, she skimmed down names of shops until her eyes landed on the book store, Pale Moon Books. River Walk, she thought. Right on the way home. I could use a lovely new book and a soak in the spa tub. Suddenly deciding to take the rest of the day off, she shut down her computer and walked out into Orchids & Jazz.

Jenna was restocking liquor as Jade approached the long bar that fronted shelves filled with colorful bottles. The bar had cost a fortune, but she had a beren-wood surface installed as the bar top over the warm antique wood base. It was light-weight, but very durable, water-proofed with a golden stain which brought out the intricate swirls of the natural wood, blending in perfectly with the antique oak. She ran her hand along the bar every time she passed, for the sensual feel of it.

Stopping a moment, Jade said, "Tell Serena I'm taking the rest of the day off."

Jenna nodded, trying not to show her surprise. "Will do. She should be back in a minute. She was checking with the promenade maintenance crew. One of the bathrooms has a cracked mirror."

"If it isn't one thing, it's another." Jade turned away and ambled out of the club, heading toward the turbolift and Tivoli Gardens.

Arriving on Deck 1554, she ambled down the walk and entered the red brick front, after pausing momentarily to look at the moons painted on the window. Reading the words "We have more questions than answers", Jade smiled slightly in appreciation. She went in the narrow door and a bell startled her, causing her to look up. After a moment, she stepped all the way inside and let the door close behind her.

Breathing deeply, the El-Aurian relaxed in the atmosphere and smell of real books, old books, though she noted the replicator for more current issues behind the desk ... a desk with several stacks of books reaching precarious heights. Moving closer, she ran her hands gently down the spines.

"Careful," a slightly-accented voice called, as a man stepped into view from behind one of the shelves. "Our liability insurance doesn't cover stationquakes and bookslides."

Jade jumped slightly, and turned with a laugh, "Well, I hope there are no quakes, but I can easily imagine a bookslide in here. What a wonderful place you have." She wandered toward the actual shelves of books. "Is there rhyme or reason, or do I just explore until something strikes my fancy?"

The man reached out to one of the apparently aged, rich wooden shelves, and ran a finger across an engraved brass label. "Organized by topic," he informed her, "And then alphabetically by author. We tend to focus on books in Terran languages, I'm afraid, though if you like, you can use a PADD to access the books in print catalog here, and we can replicate you anything you'd care to read." He paused, gauging her reaction. "My own preference is to wander among the shelves, and find something which speaks to me in the moment."

Jade nodded, understanding that completely. "Mine, too."

After a few moments of turning her head to look at titles, and touching spines which made her wonder who else's fingers and thoughts had touched them, she said, "I once knew someone who organized her books by color. I could never quite sort that out, but it was quite logical to her."

"Visual memory, perhaps," the shopkeeper responded. "If you're looking for, say, Flowers of Luna and you recall that it had a black spine with golden letters, it would help if all your black-spined books were in one place."

The bell above the door tinkled as an older man, thin and balding, came through the door. "Ken," he said, his tone querulous, "this mshuge pen you sold me is skipping again!" He came to a halt, realizing Jade was there. "Sorry," he said. "I didn't realize you had a customer."

"It's alright, Ben," the shopkeeper answered. "Ben owns the antique store here in the village," he told Jade.

"Benjamin Frankel," the older man amplified. "Frankel's antiques."

"Oh, yes, I saw your sign the other day. Lovely to meet you. I'll be stopping in soon, you're on my list." She realized the two men were talking about a writing instrument held in the hand of Frankel. It appeared to be ... an ink pen? Almost involuntarily, Jade took a step toward the man, stopping as she realized this was none of her business. Still, she couldn't help but ask, "Does that pen actually use ink?"

"Yes, ma'am," the Antiques dealer answered. "This parshoyen sold it to me, but it keeps acting up!"

The bookstore owner raised an eyebrow. "You mean you didn't read the instructions," he countered. He held out his hand for the pen, and Frankel handed it over. "Last time," he explained to Jade, "the cartridge had simply run out of ink."

Frankel turned his attention to Jade as well, while Ken examined the pen. "I sell antiques," he explained. "I thought it would be good for my image if I wrote with one. But an actual antique pen? I could damage it! Nu, I came down here and talked to Ken."

"Ah, so this is a reproduction of some kind. I see you are a man of a certain understanding," Jade smiled at him. "Image can be very important in any business."

Turning to the bookstore owner, Jade asked, "So what is the problem this time? And are such devices easy to come by here on Vanguard? In fact," she glanced between the men, "do either of you know if a true antique would be easily available?" Since her own world had been destroyed long ago, as well as most of her family, Jade had a fondness for things of the past. They were so ephemeral, and saving something from another time seemed an important thing, the right thing, to do.

The two men glanced at each other, and looked in unison at the glass case full of pens and notebooks at the front of the center aisle, but politely avoided mentioning it. After a moment, the bookstore owner said, "You've sprung the nib, Ben, is the problem this time. You're using too much force when you write. A fountain pen should just glide across the paper."

"It's the darn carbon paper," Frankel answered. "If I don't press down, it doesn't make a copy."

"That stuff's designed for use with a ball-point," the bookstore owner said. He opened the glass display of pens and notebooks, rifled through a shelf below, out of view. "I can sell you one of those, too, if you like."

Jade turned with Ken and felt a bit foolish to see so many writing instruments in a cabinet right behind her. She'd probably need to buy one just to feel better.

Frankel ignored the offer, and turned to Jade. "I have a few genuine antique pens in my shop, Ma'am. Just mosey by any time you like."

"Mosey?" Ken asked, pulling a small box and a small pad of paper out and setting them on top of the case. "Is that a Yiddish word?"

"Listen to him!" Ben appealed to Jade. "Veruckter kerl brings his daughter to Seder twice, and suddenly he's Reb Kenichi."

Smiling, the restaurant owner appreciated the humor of both the men. "I can see this is an old friendship. I'll stop by your shop, Mr. Frankel, and soon. And," she added, turning toward the other man, "I'll try one of your pens, too ... after I find the perfect book."

 

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