Brigands & Breadknives (Legends & Lattes, #2)

by Travis Baldree

Always remember, although the unimaginative see life as a thread stretched from one point to another, birth to death, a life truly lived is a glorious tangle. One is never lost. And if one is lucky, one is never found, either.

As someone whose life had mostly been spent in the service of sharing words, Fern was enjoying keeping them to herself for a while.

The startling appearance of a shaggy gray cat the size of a timber wolf that nobody remarked upon. Its tail crested the tops of the shelves like the fin of a shark roving shallow waters as it prowled the shop with an air of menacing indifference.

The opening of Thistleburr Booksellers in Thune was an unmitigated success. A new chapter freshly opened in Fern’s life—the page turned, the title printed, and ready to be filled with words of renewal, purpose, and peace.

“Shit. Don’t look at me. I’m a mess,” protested Fern. She gestured at the detritus around her. “I came here to be with my people. This is a garbage-only meeting.”

“I think for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t looking backward … or forward, either. So maybe I was looking at whatever is between those things.”

“I’ve tried to make a habit of never talking about what I do until I’m out of anything else to talk about. In my experience, it’s a terrible way to get to know somebody—at least if you want to know anything worthwhile. I want to learn what you laugh at, what makes you roll your eyes, what gets you upset, or passionate, or puts you at ease. Work is just…” He flapped a paw as they ducked under the eaves in front of the mercantile. “The stuff that holds the rest of it together. It’s like describing a house by talking about the nails.”

“That books are a weapon against loneliness. Putting them in the right hands lets people see one another. It makes us … better to one another. I think that’s a worthy thing to do.”

Or maybe that sort of realization is like food. It fills you for a while, but eventually, you have to eat again.”

“Thank you for harboring me when I stumbled out of my life. Thank you for protecting me. Thank you for enduring me. Thank you for wanting me to be something you needed. And thank you for understanding when I couldn’t.”

You have made my road a stranger, but I am so grateful to find my way by starlight again.