Worth The Wait (Small-Town Secrets-Fairview Series Book 1)

by Sophia Sinclair

  Worth the Wait

  Small-Town Secrets: Book 1

  ∞∞∞

  By Sophia Sinclair

  Sophia Sinclair Books

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of the characters to actual people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 by Sophia Sinclair.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form whatsoever, or by any electronic or mechanical means, without written permission from the author, except for brief quotations in book reviews.

  Cover design copyright Vixen Designs.

  This book was originally published as “Molly’s Surprise Ending.”

  Chapter 1

  Molly Miller climbed the ladder, reached as high as she could, and returned the book to the top shelf. “Lady Chatterley’s Lover” had been one of her favorites, but it wasn’t often read anymore. She wondered who had checked it out this time and whether the reader had found it innocent in comparison to the more explicit books out there today. It seemed rather tame now, but there was a time when it had been considered too racy to publish.

  Life as a librarian suited Molly. She loved to read, and she loved to help patrons find just the right book to keep them up all night. This was the only job she’d ever had. Back in high school, more than 20 years ago, she meant it to be a temporary job, to be replaced with an exciting career as a book editor in New York City. Instead, she had never left her hometown of Fairview. When her father died her senior year, her mother fell apart and needed Molly to stay and help hold things together, and all the medical bills meant there was no money for college anyway. At first, Molly thought she’d manage to save up tuition and go eventually, but that didn’t happen. Molly was mostly content, though she still imagined the life of excitement she would have had in New York City. She thought of the parties she would attend where she would meet famous authors, the rich and handsome men she would date, and how she would eventually marry the perfect man. They’d have a weekend country house, where they would entertain the celebrity authors whose books Molly would edit into best-sellers.

  Instead, she had married Hank, the high school football star, and had had three babies in four years, and then divorced him while two of them were still in diapers. She sighed. Maybe life hadn’t turned out as she’d hoped, but she’d managed to carve out a decent life here in Fairview. Hank paid child support most of the time and never gave up trying to get Molly to forgive him (for having an affair with a girl who had been a cheerleader but who now worked as a cashier at the town’s only grocery store) and she did enjoy her job.

  She realized she was still standing at the top of the rolling ladder that allowed access to the dusty, seldom-used top row of the antique bookshelves. The old Carnegie Library was small but quite beautiful, with stained-glass windows, a marble floor and lots of gorgeous old woodwork. The institutional-looking cheap rugs that covered most of the marble floor were the only fly in the ointment, but the board wouldn’t agree to spend money on the sort of oriental rugs the library’s classic décor cried out for. Or for much of anything else; Molly had not had a raise in years.

  She began her slow descent from the top of the ladder, careful because she was wearing high heels. She knew they weren’t practical but she felt she deserved a small indulgence. Besides, her legs were her best feature, she thought.

  Evidently, the man staring at her thought so as well; how long had he been staring at her legs? Or, perhaps, had he managed an even more enticing view? Just how far had her skirt ridden up as she reached above her head to shelve that book? She enjoyed dressing the part of the dowdy librarian but wearing sexy underthings. She liked the secret knowledge that under her plain dress and cardigan was a racy red thong, or sometimes a garter belt and stockings. Nobody would ever expect it of her, she knew. She had seldom dated since her divorce from Hank. She just didn’t have the energy for it, raising three kids on her own on her paltry salary and whatever Hank contributed, when he had anything to contribute. He had trouble holding a job and sometimes didn’t have a dime to spare. She knew he meant well, but he had been a terrible choice of husband. Gorgeous and muscled he was; responsible and disciplined he was not. She had been flattered when he chose her. She knew she was pretty but not that pretty. She had a decent figure but usually carried an extra 10 pounds she just couldn’t shake. She had great legs, she knew, and nice brown hair, and a pretty enough face, but she didn’t stand out in a crowd.

  The man was still looking at her, and wasn’t trying to hide it. He’d probably seen the top of her stockings and a bit of the garter belt, judging by the expression on his face.

  “Can I help you with something?” she asked.

  He snapped to attention and looked a little embarrassed. Yes, he’d definitely seen the garter belt.

  “Oh, I was just wondering if you have any books on local history,” he said.

  “Yes, we have a small section,” she said. “Follow me.” Molly led him toward a small section in the far corner with several reference books about local history, old maps, old city directories, and other such dust-catchers that almost nobody ever read. She could feel his gaze on her body as she walked, as if he were trying to see her garter belt right through her dowdy dress. Prim and proper on the outside, not so proper underneath.

  “Thank you, Miss — ?” he said.

  “The kids call me Miss Molly. You can call me Ms. Miller.”

  “Thank you, Miss Molly. I appreciate your help.” She ignored his choice of name. Maybe he hadn’t caught that she preferred that adults use the more formal address.

  “It’s been a while since anybody has taken a look at these,” she said. “Mind sharing why you’re interested?”

  “Actually, I do. Sorry,” he said. Well! Try to be friendly and see where it gets you, she thought. She pasted on her friendliest up-yours smile and told him she’d be at the front desk if he needed her.

  Molly busied herself at the computer for a while, irritated that he’d first checked her out and then responded to a friendly inquiry with such rudeness. God knew who he was; she knew just about everybody for miles around, and she was sure she’d have remembered him if she had seen him before. He was as good-looking as Hank, her usual yardstick in these matters. He looked to be around her age, probably a few years under 40. He’d kept all his hair so far and it was only a little gray around the edges. Well, she’d be the same, if not for the drugstore dye she drenched it in regularly. He was tall, well-built and had a striking face. He looked intelligent. Whoever he was, he was eating up the local history books, opening one and then another, taking notes, and sometimes humming to himself. Molly did not appreciate humming. Usually she’d shush up the hummers. But she found she didn’t really want another awkward interaction with this man, so she just ignored it. There was nobody else in the library anyway.

  Her best friend, Lori, came in just then, looking for the latest round of romances. Lori seemingly ate romance novels for lunch. In fact, that was about all she did over her lunch breaks at the hospital — always afraid of losing her figure, she ate nothing but an apple for lunch every day, as she devoured her latest romance novel. She would read three or four a week.

  “What have you got that’s new?” she would always ask. But not this time.

  “Who is that?” she whispered so loudly that Molly feared the man could hear her.

  “No idea,” Molly replied. “He seems to be the private sort.”

  “God, look at him!” Lori said. “He’s hotter than the pirate in this one,” she said, indicating the cover of the top b
ook in the stack of romances she was returning. It was a bodice-buster, Lori’s favorite kind, with a ravishing southern belle with an impossible flowing mane held at the waist by a gorgeous pirate with green eyes, longish, curly black hair and a tanned, muscular chest. Lori did like a hot pirate. Molly considered; he actually did look a bit like the pirate, if you disregarded his slightly shorter hair and the fact that he wore no gold earring. She couldn’t speak for his chest, because he was wearing a button-down shirt and a blue blazer. He clearly wasn’t from around here.

  “He’s OK, I guess,” Molly said. “But he’s no pirate.”

  “Thought you didn’t know who he was,” Lori said. “Maybe Pirate Man is in disguise.”

  “Maybe,” Molly said, smiling. “But I’m going to guess maybe a history professor. He’s been checking out the local history books ever since he got here.”

  “You’re no fun,” Lori said. “Hey, why don’t we have a drink at The Clipper tonight? We haven’t done anything fun together in forever.”

  “I can’t. Beth has a volleyball game tonight.”

  “Afterward.”

  “Maybe, if I’m not too tired. Text me,” Molly said.

  Lori went off to the romance section to scoop up the latest titles and Molly closed out the program she’d been using on the computer and, glancing around and seeing few other patrons in the place, surreptitiously pulled out the book she’d been reading — an anthropology book about the tribes of Papua, New Guinea. She had never been able to travel, but she was fascinated by reading about the different cultures around the world. Someday, she hoped, she would be able to see some of them, but it didn’t seem likely. Beth and Tommy were still in high school, and Suzie was off at college. Full ride, thank God. Her kids would not make the same mistakes she did, she had vowed.

  Engrossed in her book, she didn’t hear Pirate Man approach until he cleared his throat.

  “Can I help you?” Molly asked, quickly sliding her book into the drawer where she commonly kept whatever she was reading on the job.

  “I’d like to check these out,” he said, indicating three books that he’d placed on her desk.

  “Sorry,” Molly said. “The reference books can’t leave the library and anyway, you don’t have a library card, do you?”

  “But I really need these books,” he said. “I don’t suppose you could make an exception? You aren’t a stickler for rules, are you?” He flashed a million-dollar smile. Clearly, he was accustomed to using his good looks and charm to get his way. Molly was tempted, but then she remembered his earlier rudeness.

  “Actually, I am,” she said, consciously echoing his earlier answer to her friendly question. His smile lessened.

  “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t have an important project I need them for,” he persisted.

  “I understand. It’s so important you can’t even tell me what it is,” Molly said

  To his credit, he looked embarrassed.

  “I’m sorry, that was rude of me,” he said. “Please allow me to make up for it.” His big smile was back, but Molly knew better than to fall for it. “You see, I’m doing some research on the murders.”

  Molly knew instantly what he was talking about; the infamous local murders that had taken place back in the ’50s that were never solved. Everybody had a theory but nobody was ever charged and while the old Conrad house where they’d taken place was still standing, nobody had ever managed to live there for very long. It had been empty now for at least 10 years and was the sort of place teenagers dared each other to enter but seldom did. The old house was the only thing left; with no heirs the fields were sold to surrounding farmers. Not all of the land was still farmed; a highway now ran right through what would have been farm fields in those days.

  “You won’t find your answers in those books,” she said. “Half the amateur sleuths in this county have already tried to solve those murders. The authorities couldn’t solve them then and I doubt you can solve them now. Anyway, everybody involved is long dead.”

  “I think I already know,” he said. “I tell you what. How about you meet me for a drink tonight? The Clipper, I believe your romantic friend suggested? Don’t worry, I’m not a pirate. You’re perfectly safe with me.”

  Molly blushed. She was sure he could tell she was embarrassed, but she didn’t want to let on. “Pirate or not, I can’t let you take those books out of here. It’s almost closing time, and I’ve got kids to get home to. We re-open at 8 a.m. You’re welcome to come back then.” She gathered up her purse and waited for him to give up.

  “OK, then I’ll see you tomorrow at 8 a.m.,” he said. The smile hadn’t left his face, but now it looked forced.

  Chapter 2

  Beth did well at her volleyball game; she did well at everything. Her children were a huge sense of pride for Molly. All three got good grades and would go on to live the kinds of lives Molly had hoped to live herself. It was only 8 p.m. when she got home and heard a beep from her phone. The text was from Lori: “Come have a drink with me pleeassseee!!! Pirate Man is here!”

  Molly considered. She did want to see Lori and she didn’t often get to go out for child-free time. She decided she’d go, just for a while, but not because of Pirate Man. She would go just to see Lori for a bit. She began heating the leftover homemade vegetable soup and yelled for the kids to come set the table. Beth came right away and began setting the table with the same chipped dishes that Molly’s mother had picked out decades ago; like everything else, Molly had inherited them when her mother had died. She and her children had moved back in after the divorce and had never left. She didn’t know what she would have done if she’d had to pay rent on her librarian salary. Tommy straggled in just as everything was ready.

  “How was everyone’s day today?” she asked, knowing that she’d hear every detail from Beth and almost nothing from Tommy. Beth had done well on her English exam and had eaten lunch with her usual group and had a history paper to write and had met with her guidance counselor about her college applications. Tommy said his day had been “fine.”

  “I’m going to run over and meet Lori for a little while this evening,” she said. “I won’t be late, but text me if you need me. Oh, and Tommy, you have dishes on your own tonight because you didn’t make it down to set the table.” Tommy made a face but he knew the drill. There wasn’t much to worry about anyway; three bowls, three spoons, three glasses and the empty soup pot. It wouldn’t kill him.

  Molly washed her face, applied fresh makeup and combed her long brown hair. She nearly twisted it back into its usual French twist — her librarian hair, she often joked — but decided to wear it down tonight in long waves. Not because of Pirate Man, she thought, but just because she hadn’t worn it down for a while. It was surprisingly long. Her hairdresser, Mabel, urged her to cut it short because “nobody” her age kept long hair. But Molly found it was easier on sleepy mornings to merely brush it out and twist it up instead of washing it, adding a ton of product and fooling around with the blow dryer the way she had before she just stopped cutting it. Other than a trim every few months, she had not cut her hair in years. Mabel probably just wanted her to come in and pay for a haircut more often. Lori went to see Mabel every four weeks, like clockwork, to keep up her short precision cut and to maintain her platinum blonde color. It cost her a fortune but as a well-paid nurse with no kids she had more money to spend on such things.

  Lori stood out at The Clipper. Her bright blonde head was the first thing Molly saw. She was drinking one of her usual girly drinks and chatting with the bartender, Ashley, a young woman of around 25 who could probably reveal at least half the town’s secrets if she had a mind to. She kept her job because she didn’t have a mind to. Molly took the bar stool next to Lori and ordered her usual gin and tonic, noticing as she did that she didn’t see Pirate Man anywhere. Just as well, she told herself. She didn’t care.

  But as the bartender placed her drink in front of her, he returned from the restroom. He wasn’t wearing the
blazer now. He was wearing jeans and the same button-down shirt, but now the sleeves were rolled up and the top button was undone. He did look good, she admitted to herself. Lori poked her in the side and Molly pretended to be interested in her drink. Pirate Man was sitting alone at the end of the bar, seeming not to notice all the looks he was getting from the other women in the bar.

  “There he is!” Lori said. “I think we should go talk to him.”

  “We should do no such thing!” Molly said. “He was kinda rude today. Tried to get me to let him check out reference books even though he doesn’t have a library card, and we don’t let anybody check out that stuff anyway.”

  “Oh, he’s such a bad boy. Trying to check out reference books without a library card! Good heavens! What other naughty behavior is he up to, I wonder?” Lori plucked the cherry from her drink and ate it with obvious delight.

  “You go talk to him. You’re the one smitten by Pirate Man,” Molly said.

  “Pirate Man?” Ashley smiled. “I know his real name.”

  “OK, Ash, I know you never reveal your secrets, but you can tell us something, can’t you?” Lori asked. She slid a tattered dollar bill toward Ashley.

  “I can’t be bought quite that easily,” she said, slipping the dollar into her apron pocket nonetheless. “But his name isn’t a secret. It’s David Conrad.”

  Molly nearly choked on her drink. “Not one of those Conrads, surely?”

  “That’s right,” Ashley said. “What’s more, he’s buying the house.”

  “No fucking way,” Lori said. “Who would want to live there?”

  “I don’t know if he’s planning to live there, but my aunt works at the courthouse. He’s already put down the money, so it’s public record and I’m not, technically, gossiping. It’ll be in the legal notices in a day or two anyway. He is getting it for basically nothing. The county is just glad to be getting rid of it.”