Man Thought He’d Just Inherited a Bookstore, Until He Discovered His Grandmother’s Secret — Story of the Day

Rick stood in front of the small bookstore, feeling warmth. This place had been his grandmother Carol’s haven, a spot where he’d spent countless hours as a child.

Now, with her passing, the bookstore was his. Since high school, he’d rarely visited. His life was in another city, where he had a well-paying job and a girlfriend, Meredith, who had zero interest in moving to a small town. She’d been pushing him to sell the place, saying it was a burden he didn’t need.

With a deep breath, Rick pushed open the door. Dust coated every shelf, table, and chair. He looked around and sighed, knowing he had a long day of cleaning ahead.

He set down his bag, rolled up his sleeves, and got to work. Hours passed in silence as he wiped down shelves, swept the floor, and dusted off books.

As the sun dipped low in the sky, he reached the last bookshelf. He was exhausted, his arms sore and his back aching, but something caught his eye. A slim book sat wedged between two large novels, titled Ask Carol.

Rick frowned, not remembering any book by that name. Curious, he pulled it out and flipped it open. To his surprise, the pages were filled with handwritten notes—messages from strangers who had shared their problems and sought advice.

Each page held his grandmother’s gentle, thoughtful replies. From recipes to serious, heartfelt questions, Carol had offered her wisdom to anyone in need.

Rick sat on the floor, reading, lost in the quiet, surprising world his grandmother had left behind. He noticed the second half of the book was blank, waiting for new people who might need help. He tucked Ask Carol into his bag and, feeling its weight, left the bookstore and returned to his parents’ home.

Rick walked over to his mom, Sarah, holding the book out to her. “Mom, did you know Grandma was helping people? Like, giving them advice?” he asked.

Sarah’s eyes widened. She took the book from him, looking at the handwritten pages. “Really? I had no idea. She never told me,” she said, flipping through the book slowly.

“I found it in the bookstore,” Rick explained.

“Maybe she hoped you’d take over for her, keep helping people,” she suggested gently.

“Mom, we’ve talked about this. I’m not sure I’ll stay here,” he replied.

Sarah nodded. “I understand. But I remember how often you told me you hated that job of yours,” she reminded him.

Rick sighed. “And then there’s Meredith,” he said, almost to himself.

“Oh, yes, Meredith,” Sarah replied, her voice cool. Rick knew his mom wasn’t a fan, but he brushed it off. This was his choice, his life.

“Good night, Mom,” Rick said, turning toward his old bedroom.

He meant to call Meredith, but sleep caught him first, phone still in hand.

The next morning, Rick’s phone buzzed loudly, waking him up. He blinked, squinting at the screen. It was Meredith.

“Hello?” he mumbled, still half asleep.

“Rick! Why didn’t you call me last night?” Meredith’s voice was sharp, almost a shout.

“I fell asleep,” he said, rubbing his eyes.

“That’s not an excuse, Rick. When are you coming back?” she demanded, her voice cold.

“I don’t know yet,” Rick answered slowly. “I’m still deciding. I might want to keep the bookstore. Maybe we’ll need to move here.”

“What? Are you serious? You know I don’t want that!” Meredith sounded angry. “And what about your job? You’ll make way less money!”

Rick took a breath. “Money isn’t everything, Meredith.”

“That’s ridiculous! I won’t live in that town,” she snapped. “So, you’ll have to choose, Rick. It’s either this silly bookstore or me.”

Before Rick could respond, the line went silent. She had hung up. He sighed, sitting up in bed. This was his choice to make, and he decided he’d spend a week at the bookstore, working and figuring things out.

After a quick breakfast, Rick headed to the bookstore, preparing himself for whatever reactions might come. In a small town like this, everyone knew everyone—and everyone knew him.

As he unlocked the door and stepped inside, he felt the weight of those familiar eyes watching him from across the street. Rick set the Ask Carol book on a small table behind the shelves, hoping people would leave questions just as they had with his grandmother, and he could somehow find a way to help them.

Visitors began to arrive, and right away, Rick noticed the looks of disappointment. People expected to see Carol’s familiar, warm face behind the counter—not his. He heard murmurs as they glanced his way.

“Look at him, trying to fill her shoes,” one person whispered.

“He won’t keep this place open. It’s all about money for him,” said another, casting him a disapproving look.

As the first few days passed, the Ask Carol book filled up, but instead of questions, it held only complaints. Some wrote that he didn’t care about Carol or the town; others suggested he close the bookstore if he wouldn’t be like her.

One day, a woman came in with a little girl around five. Rick felt he recognized her, though he couldn’t place where from. Unlike the others, she greeted him with a kind smile. After browsing, she approached the counter with a children’s book in hand.

“This was my favorite book as a kid,” Rick said, smiling down at the children’s book the woman had chosen.

“Mine too,” the woman replied with a warm smile. “And I’m really glad you’re here, keeping up your grandmother’s work.”

Rick sighed. “I haven’t really decided if I’ll be staying to run the bookstore.”

The woman’s smile softened. “Oh, I didn’t mean the bookstore. I meant Ask Carol. Her advice book helped so many people.”

Rick looked down. “Well… so far, I’ve only gotten notes from people saying how much they don’t want me here.”

The woman shook her head. “I wouldn’t believe that. Carol told me stories about you. She was very proud.”

Rick looked at her curiously. “Were you and my grandmother close?”

The woman nodded. “Yes, she helped me through some hard times.” She picked up the book, and she and her little girl turned toward the exit.

“Wait!” Rick called. “What’s your name?”

The woman turned back, smiling. “Emily.”

Rick looked at her. “Have we met before?”

Emily gave a small smile. “Who knows.”

The little girl tugged on Emily’s hand and spoke up. “And my name’s Carol!”

Rick blinked, surprised.

“I named her after a wonderful woman.” Emily said.

With that, Emily and her daughter left. Later, Rick found a new question in Ask Carol: How do I explain to my daughter why she doesn’t have a father?

He wrote, “Have you tried telling her he’s an astronaut?” Suspecting it might be Emily’s question.

From that day forward, Emily and her daughter Carol visited the bookstore daily. Rick came to look forward to seeing them each morning, especially little Carol with her cheerful energy, dashing straight to her favorite shelf of children’s books.

The quiet exchange of notes between him and Emily in Ask Carol felt like a private conversation only they could hear. As they wrote back and forth, Rick learned small things about Emily, things he found himself thinking about even after closing time.

By the end of the week, Rick realized he wasn’t ready to leave the bookstore or this town. Something was keeping him here. He decided to stay another week, and when he told Meredith, she immediately broke up with him, and an hour later, texted him asking for money. Rick ignored her message, a quiet sense of finality settling over him.

Rick and Emily continued to spend time together, sometimes outside the bookstore. Rick noticed that he felt unusually at ease around Emily, as if they had known each other for years.

Emily had told Carol that her father was an astronaut, and Rick often teased her about it, to which Emily would simply remind him that it had been his suggestion. Slowly, Rick realized he was developing strong feelings for Emily, feelings that surprised him with their depth and clarity.

One evening, after he’d locked up the bookstore, Rick noticed a new question in the Ask Carol book. His gaze fixed on the words: How do you tell a man you had a one-night stand with six years ago that he has a daughter, a secret only his grandmother knew because you were afraid of ruining his life?

Rick’s hands began to shake as he reread the question. Memories flooded back—six years ago, he’d come to town visiting his parents, met a woman one night at a bar, and they’d spent hours talking.

He remembered mentioning how he wasn’t looking for a relationship because he was focused on his career, how he didn’t have time for anything serious. They’d ended up together that night, but in the morning, she’d disappeared without a trace, leaving only faint memories.