Provident Books...My New Discovery

By Julie Anne Thornton

During a run to pick up a five-buck pizza from the local Little Ceasar's Restaurant, I decide to take a small detour.

A charming new book store, Provident Books, recently opened up in our little town of Pleasant Grove, and I am anxious to browse its shelves to see what little gems it might offer.

My first discovery reveals the store's presence serves a dual purpose. Yes, it is clearly designed for those who love the written word, but it also provides a wonderful opportunity for the littler folk, something similar to "Mr. Magorium's Magic Emporium"; but on a much smaller scale.

Upon entering the store, I stand chatting for several minutes with the young lady running the front counter, who instructs me on the workings of the bookstore. Provident Books carries the most recent winners from the Whitney Awards.

For those who are not familiar, the Whitney Awards are given by a writing group titled LDStorytellers, which is headed by an established and successful LDS author Rachel Ann Nunes.

After talking with the store employee, I spend several minutes dilly-dallying between the bookcases. The shelves are sparse, but I find a novel I've been wanting to read.

For the last several weeks, I'd heard several people speak about a novel by Glenn Beck titled "The Christmas Sweater". From the tatters of different whisperings, I found myself anxious to read more about the man whose life was altered by a jumble of woven thread.

I pick up the lovely red-covered book and my phone rings. It's my husband...and he's hungry.
"Where are you?"
"I'm picking up the pizza." I answer with an obvious "duh" sound in my voice.
"Has the whole world decided on pizza tonight?"
A woman in a bookstore always has a plan. "BYU versus Utes dear, what else can you expect?"
"Ah!" He sighs with understanding and I smile to myself.
"I'll be there soon." I say sweetly.

I pay for my book, but the cheerful employee spends several more minutes informing me about the wonderful educational toys they carry, and just before I walk out the door she reminds me to enter their drawing to win a replica of Laban's sword. I chuckle at the prospect of bringing a metal sword home to my eight-year-old son--our health insurance is good, but not that good.

I give the girl at the counter one last smile before continuing on my way. I know the clock is ticking, along with it my husband's starving patience.

Little Caesar's is every bit as busy as I anticipated, and before long my cell phone's melodious tune floats from my pocket.
"Only minutes now." I reply to the grumble on the phone.
He does his best to remain cool, but I know he's teetering.

At last, I grab my pepperoni pizza, garlic breadsticks and two-liter of root beer. My mission is accomplished and it's time to return home. I arrive just in the nick of time, taking several safe steps back as my ravenous family attacks the warm meal.

All is well.

Of course, I still have yet to tell my husband I bought a new book today. But that can wait--till after dinner.