He appeared to let that one sink in. “That’s true.”
“Do you have set hours where you try to write?” I asked.
“No, not really. I do try to write something every day, even if it’s part of another book.”
“So you never take days off?”
He laughed. “I take plenty of days off, trust me. I try not to go more than two weeks without writing, though, if I can help it.”
I smiled. “When did you first know you wanted to write?”
“Is this fair?”
I quickly looked at him with a confused expression before I focused back on the road and turned onto Poplar Street. It was one of the main roads that led out of Boggy Creek and into the valley. “Is what fair?”
“You getting to ask all the personal questions. I think I should be able to ask a few.”
I felt my cheeks heat. “You have a point, Mr. Higgins. Ask away.”
He cleared his throat. “Okay, let me think. What made you want to own a bookstore?”
“Ha, that’s an easy one. I’m a book lover and always have been. Books have been my passion since I can remember. I love everything about books. The way they feel in my hands. The smell of an old book is one of the best things ever. I love getting lost in a story and falling into another world. I could turn pages for hours and be completely happy.”
“Is that how you came up with the name for your bookstore? Turning Pages?”
With a grin, I nodded and shot him another quick look. “It is. My mother would always call for me to come help her bake or work in the garden, and I would tell her in a minute. She would laugh and ask me if I was turning pages again.”
“I love that,” Hudson said softly.
“Yeah, I did too, obviously.”
“How did you find yourself owning the bookstore? I read that it’s been in Boggy Creek a number of years.”
I guess Hudson had been doing some research after all. Interesting.
“I made the previous owner promise me—when I was fourteen, mind you—that when he wanted to retire and sell the store, he would sell it to me. He said he would, and from that point forward, I made it my mission to save every penny I could so that when the time came, I could buy it. I even worked for Tom…I mean, Mr. Brooks…during high school, part of college and right after college. He taught me everything I needed to know to take over.”
“That’s amazing. You should be very proud of yourself, Greer.”
“I am, actually. I pushed a lot of other things to the side to get the bookstore where I wanted it, but it’s all been worth it.”
“Like what have you pushed to the side?”
I held up my finger and shook it. “Nope. It’s your turn. Tell me when you knew you wanted to be a writer.”
Hudson drew in breath and slowly exhaled. “That’s also an easy one for me to answer. I was twelve.”
“Twelve!” I asked in a disbelieving voice.
“Yep. My parents decided we were going on a road trip, and my mother stocked me and my sister up with games and books. One of the books caught my eye and I started to read it. I was so pulled into the story, I didn’t even want to get out and look at any of the sites my folks were pointing at.”
“Which book was it?” I asked.
“Harry Potter.”
I gasped. “Oh my gosh, who doesn’t love those books!”
Hudson chuckled. “My sister. She hated them.”
Looking at him, I said, “I cannot be friends with your sister.”
He nodded. “She was a science nerd.”
“Aw…okay. So she was more of a nonfiction book lover.”
“Yes, but I loved me some Harry Potter. Halfway through that trip, I begged my folks to stop at a Barnes & Noble so I could buy the next book.”
“Did they?” I asked as I turned down Lone Mountain Road.
When Hudson didn’t reply, I stole a glance at him. He was smiling. He shook his head slightly. “My God, it just hit me. They did buy me the next book. The rest of the books, actually.”
“Why does that surprise you?” I asked, concentrating on driving down the narrow road.
“It surprises me because they bought the books in your bookstore. I mean, the bookstore that was there before yours.”
I felt my heart pick up in rhythm. “Shut up!”
“I’m dead serious, Greer. They bought them here, in Boggy Creek!”
“What in the world are the odds of that, Hudson?”
“Crazy odds, to be sure.”
We drove for a few minutes in silence before I made a left turn and headed down Larson Ranch Road.
“Um, did you know this road has your last name?” Hudson asked, breaking the silence.
“Yes,” I said with a soft chuckle. “My father did some sweet talking to get that done. Trust me, we don’t own a ranch, but our family does own about seventy-five acres. When I said you were out in the middle of nowhere, I meant it.”