September 24, 2026
The phone calls were interesting today. First up was a guy calling to tell me he’d inherited a copy of “The Scarlet Letter” from his grandmother, and he wondered if it was valuable. He told me about it. I told him it wasn’t valuable.
Next up was the same guy calling to tell me he’d inherited a copy of “The Scarlet Letter” from his grandmother, and he wondered if it was valuable. He told me about it. I told him it wasn’t valuable. “I just know this is worth a lot,” he said, and hung up. I’m awaiting his third call.
Another caller asked me to give him the phone number of the bookstore across the street, which I thought was kind of cheeky.
But then something different happened. A young woman, Ellie, who had come in when I was working last Saturday, came in with an older, street-hardened woman. Ellie said her friend needed some crime fiction, so I pointed some out, and the friend selected one. Ellie paid for it. The older woman thanked her for it. “I need the escape,” she said, and left.
“I met her on the corner,” Ellie told me. “She asked for money. I said I didn’t have any cash, but I would buy her a book.”
Ellie browsed the store and brought a book to the counter for herself.
“This one’s on me,” I told her.
Kindness may be its own reward, but sometimes, I like to help it along.