Page 14 of Theo of Golden

Day sixteen, for no particular reason, was the day.

Tony was sitting by himself, cigarette and newspaper in hand. It was early, and many of the nearby businesses were still closed.

“Good morning, sir,” Theo said, greeting him. He knew by then that such behavior was acceptable as a southern practice. “Are you the proprietor here?”

His accent and his use of the word “proprietor” immediately marked Theo as a visitor to the city. Tony stood and stepped toward him.

“Yessir. I’m the owner. Good mornin’.”

“Well, if you are open for business, I’m looking for a book about the history of your city.”

Tony smirked. “Well, I’m open, and let me be honest, there aren’t any good books about the history of our city.” He spoke with the certainty and confidence of an expert. “If you want to know the history of this place, it might be easier to make one up yourself. But I do have some books that claim to tell you what’s happened here in the past. I can hardly give the damn things away, so they’re real cheap. Or if you just want to borrow it, that’s OK too.”

As Tony spoke, he felt the old man’s warm, fearless gaze. His eyes were clear and alert, a blend of melancholy and good humor.

Theo smiled and patted Tony’s arm. “Let me buy whatever you think is best. And if I have questions about what I read, I will bring them to you. Maybe we could make up a history together.”

Tony’s eyes widened and warmed to the suggestion. “That we can do. And I have a whole staff that can help us. There’s a group of old guys who sit here with me most days, and they’re the biggest bunch of liars you’ll ever meet. Better than a room full of senators.”

He rubbed the light patch of whiskers on his chin with the back of his fingers. “Let’s go inside, and I’ll get a book for you. I know one that you might enjoy. The author was a local newspaper guy for years. And better yet, he married into one of the old families. Now that’s how you really learn the history. By the way, my name is Tony.”

“Nice to meet you, Tony. I’m Theo.”

They shook hands and stepped out of the morning light into the dim confines of the shop. Theo breathed in the rich scent of old paper and scanned the mélange of shelves and tables. There were far too many books for the available space, a common characteristic of local single-venue bookstores. Large or odd-shaped volumes that didn’t fit in proper spaces were stacked on the floor. Upholstered armchairs, which were scattered randomly around the room and presumably meant as places to sit and read, were filled with books.

“I like your shop, Tony. It reminds me of some of the old bookshops in Scotland. And of one in Paris that I like very much, Shakespeare and Company, near Notre-Dame. I worried about it when the fire happened. You would like it, I think.”

Tony nodded. “I do like it. I’ve been there several times. It’s where I learned to organize my inventory. I use the same system they use. Can you tell?”

For the next half hour, the two men talked. Tony learned that the old man was an avid reader with a wide range of interests. They agreed enthusiastically on the virtue of holding printed books over scrolling through digital ones.

“Those damned devices are killing little dinosaurs like me,” Tony lamented.

He learned that Theo had grown up in Portugal and had lived in numerous places across Europe, in Brazil, in New York City, and elsewhere. Theo learned that Tony was a military veteran with strong opinions and limited filters when expressing them. They agreed on the horrors of war.

“And why have you come here of all places?” Tony asked with a tone of mild disbelief.

“I have a bit of business here concerning some properties. I heard from others that this is a nice city with good art, and I have long been interested in the American South but never had the chance to visit. I’ve heard some awful things about it, but so far I like all the southerners I’ve met. I thought it might be nice to try one more town before I go to heaven. So, here I am.”

Tony scoffed. “Heaven? My god, you don’t believe in that sort of thing do you?”

Theo smiled but did not otherwise respond. Tony, the contrarian, bit his tongue. He could provoke that argument at some future time. For now, the lingering dictates of southern politeness called for restraint.

“How long will you be here?” Tony asked.

“I don’t quite know.”

“Where are you staying?”

“Well, I’m looking for a place. For now I’m at the hotel down on the river.”

“What sort of place you looking for?”

Theo explained his hope for something small, easy to maintain, and convenient to the theater and concert hall. Something furnished. Something he could rent. Price was no issue.

“Let’s go outside, and I’ll show you one possibility,” Tony said.

They returned to the sidewalk. Tony nodded and pointed to a building just a few doors down from the bookshop.