by Olivia Miles
“Well, he was always your biggest fan,” Kathleen pointed out.
“Yes,” Grace murmured. “I suppose he was.”
Was. Luke was a lot of things.
She waited for the hurt to pass. It was sharp but it would fade in time. She was counting on it.
The doorbell chimed and Kathleen sprang to the door. “Your sisters are here!” she cried and Grace gave a mild smile.
“I’ll be right down,” she said, walking to her room.
In her bedroom, she tucked the manuscript under her bed, on top of the box of memories of her past, secure in a place that was out of sight, but very close to her heart. She’d come back to it this evening maybe, or tomorrow. Right now, she needed to focus on the thing that mattered most—the thing she had let slip all those years ago. Her family.
From a distance she could hear the peals of Sophie’s laughter, and she smiled sadly. She might not have everything she wanted for Christmas this year, but somehow next year was looking a lot more promising. Derek was gone, Luke was now a permanent part of her past, but through them both she had learned what she wanted. And when she set her mind to something, she made a point of seeing it happen.
With a newfound sense of hope, she dashed out into the hall and leaned over the ornately wrapped banister to see Anna, Jane, and Sophie huddled together, chatting happily, peeling off layers of winter clothing.
“Merry Christmas!” she called, as she bounded down the stairs.
“It’s not Christmas yet!” Sophie cried, stricken. “Santa hasn’t come!”
Grace chuckled and picked up her niece for a squeeze. “Don’t worry, Santa is coming tonight, and I’m sure he’ll bring you everything you wanted.”
She glanced at Jane, who was smiling at her daughter. “I hope so,” her sister said, giving her a nervous look.
“I know so,” Grace said.
“You girls go get settled,” Kathleen ordered, ushering them out of the hall. “I have a few last-minute things to do before the judging.”
“I thought you said you were finished!” Grace said.
Kathleen threw her a look. “Don’t you know me by now?”
Grace laughed and followed her sisters into the living room, where a roaring fire crackled invitingly. Six red velvet stockings hung from ceramic figurines. Sophie’s hung right next to the one belonging to their father, who was still with them this Christmas, almost more than ever.
“We missed you at The Nutcracker last night,” Jane said.
Grace sat on the couch, tucking her feet under her. Even though Sophie was too young to dance in the show, she had assumed Jane would mention her absence. “I was busy with some things. I’m sorry to have missed it.”
“I thought maybe it was because of Luke.”
Grace’s heart skipped a beat. “Was he there?” she asked, hoping her tone was more casual than she felt.
“Of course,” Jane said.
A heavy pause fell on the room. “Luke and I are over, so you can all stop thinking things.”
“It’s really sad,” Jane said softly, running a hand over Sophie’s hair. “He was like a brother to us growing up. A son to Dad.”
Grace nodded. “I know. But I guess that store is the last bit of Helen he has left. And he isn’t willing to part with it.”
A heavy silence fell over the room and for a few minutes, Grace focused her attention on the golden flames dancing in the hearth. From somewhere, Kathleen had turned on Christmas music, and it filled the house at what her mother had always referred to as a “subtle” level. A trial run, Grace assumed, for the judges’ tour.
“So that’s the end of the road then?” Anna asked, her mouth a grim line. “We start clearing out the store at the end of the week?”
“I guess so,” Jane said on a sigh.
“You know, the funny thing is that now more than before, I feel really sad about the thought of it closing,” Anna said, and Jane nodded her head in agreement. “I mean, at first, it was all part of Dad passing away, like we lost every part of him at once, without time to process all of it. But this past week, thinking there was some hope to save the store…” She paused. “It felt like for a little while at least, a part of Dad was back.”
“I know,” Jane said.
Grace looked from one sister to the other and took a deep breath. “The store isn’t closing.”
Two sets of eyes fixed on hers. “Derek came to see me yesterday,” she said. “He gave me back my engagement ring. It’s worth enough to renew the lease. It will take a lot of work to get more customers in there, but we might be able to turn it around and make it successful.”
“And you’re willing to take the risk?” Anna asked. “Grace, even with the addition of the café, it was going to be a risk, but at least then there would be another source of revenue and foot traffic. That store never turned much of a profit.”
“I know,” Grace said. “Believe me, I know. I have to try. I can’t let go yet.”
Something in her heart softened with her own words. This was probably the way Luke felt. Whether she liked it or not, he had loved Helen, maybe not the way he loved her, but Helen had still been his wife, someone he had shared an enormous part of his life with. He had every reason to want to hold on to whatever fragment of her was left.
She smiled sadly, pulling a crimson chenille throw off the arm of the couch and wrapping it over her legs, knowing she would have to perfectly replace it before the judges came through. She forced a grin. “Guess this means you’re stuck with me,” she said and Jane whooped.
“Mom, get in here!” she called. “Grace has some news!”
The doorbell chimed and Kathleen’s harried voice shouted back, “Oh my God, they’re early, they’re early! Places, everyone. Places!”
Giggling nervously, Grace fumbled with the blanket, her sisters grabbed Sophie, and they all hurried to their places. Kathleen had instructed them to stand in front of the towering Christmas tree that replaced the sad, stick-like thing that had stood here less than a week ago. Kathleen darted into the room and took them by the arms, placing the three sisters in back, Sophie neatly front and center. “This is it! This is it!” she trilled nervously, before smoothing her hands over her hips, squaring her shoulders and sailing to the front door.
A murmur of voices was heard from the hall, and Jane placed her hands on Sophie’s shoulders to keep her from wandering off. “I have some news of my own,” she whispered.
“What?” Grace whispered back, breaking into laughter when she caught Anna’s wide eyes. They were perfectly ridiculous, huddled here, waiting for people to come and ooh and aw over their house, while their mother wrung her hands, beaming with pride she was careful not to show. It was just like the old days. The good old days.
“Rosemary hired me at the studio!” Jane whispered eagerly, and Grace had to smack her hand over her mouth to keep from cheering.
Anna clapped her hands together silently. “Well done, you!” she whispered, and then abruptly straightened her back, jutting her chin, as the sound of their mother’s voice, crooning gaily, came closer.
Grace rolled her shoulders and plastered a pleasant smile on her face as she waited for the judges to appear in the doorway, but her gasp could be heard above the Christmas music when Luke’s handsome form appeared instead.
“Luke.”
He slid her a lopsided grin. “Do you have a minute?”
She could feel Jane’s fingers dig deep into her back, firmly pushing her away from their cozy huddle. Lurching to catch her step, Grace smiled nervously.
She glanced back at her sisters, who were grinning devilishly, and narrowed her gaze. Easy for them, all right.
“Let’s go somewhere private,” she whispered to Luke, grabbing a piece of his jacket and giving it a tug.
She waited until they were upstairs to speak. Closing her bedroom door behind her, she whirled around and demanded, “What the heck is going on?”
“I’m sorry, Grace,” he began, bu
t she held up a hand to stop him.
“Luke, please. Don’t.” She crossed the room and sat down on her bed, feeling exhausted and weary. “I understand. You don’t need to explain.”
“I do need to explain,” he said, coming forward.
She shook her head. “It’s okay, Luke. It doesn’t have to end badly between us, not like the last time. I expected too much from you. I was wrong.”
“You weren’t wrong,” he said. “You gave me a lot to think about.” His blue eyes pierced hers and she winced, looking away quickly.
“You gave me a lot to think about, too,” she said. Her heart fluttered when she thought of what she had accomplished. “After I left your place yesterday, I actually sat down and did some writing.”
Luke’s brow furrowed. “Really?”
She nodded and slid down off the bed, retrieving her pages from under the bed skirt. The lid of the memory box came loose, and a random picture slid onto the floorboards.
Luke bent down and picked it up. “Oh, wow,” he murmured, staring at the photo with narrowed concentration. He sat down on the edge of the bed and she joined him, leaning over to see the photo.
She smiled sadly at the image. It was taken on one of those lazy summer days at the lake. She was wearing a light blue sundress, and the thin straps of her red bikini could be seen on her bronzed skin. She was sitting on a picnic blanket, next to Luke, her head resting on his shoulder.
Her heart panged at the memory. They were so young then; it was the summer after she graduated from high school. He had a madras plaid bathing suit that summer, and she smiled, happy that it was still as she remembered it. Luke looked young, like the image of the boy she had clung to all those lonely years in New York, and tanned, happy. His white T-shirt was pulled taught across his broad chest, and an arm was draped lazily over her shoulder.
Looking at the two people in this photo, it was like they were someone else, someone other than the two people sitting here now, side by side, in silence. They were so young then, so innocent. She’d be joining him at college in the fall. She remembered thinking they’d never have to be apart again. They had the whole world before them, their whole lives, and the only care in the world they had that afternoon was knowing they would have to wait until the next day to see each other again. They always had tomorrow, and they counted on that.
She stared at the picture, wondering who those people were, trying to bring them to the surface of her mind. If they knew what lay in store, what would they have said? Would they have scoffed, turned their shoulder, given a casual laugh? They thought they had forever, that it would always be them, there couldn’t ever be anyone else that would even come close.
They didn’t know anything. All they knew was that they loved each other.
“Mark must have taken it,” Grace said softly. She looked up at Luke’s profile, at the pain in his eyes, the thin line of his mouth, and she felt something deep within herself break. For years she had hated him, hated him for turning her away, shunning her, breaking her heart.
“We’ve hurt each other a lot,” she observed quietly, blinking rapidly.
He handed the picture back to her. “Yes. We have.”
She hesitated, running her fingers over the front page of her manuscript. “I want you to have this,” she said, placing it in his hands.
He frowned. “What is it?”
“Something I started working on yesterday. You gave me a lot to think about.”
“I saw you,” he blurted, meeting her gaze. “I saw you at the store. I came to see you.”
She’d figured as much. “I told you I was engaged before. That was Derek. He came to give me something of mine. And to say goodbye.”
His blue eyes flashed.
“It’s hard to let go of the past,” she said. “But if you don’t, you never move forward. I learned that once already. The hard way.” She slid him a sidelong glance. He was staring at the manuscript.
“I’m sorry about your dad’s store. I know how much it meant to you.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You always said that store is what inspired you to become a writer, but something I never told you is that your dad was the one who inspired me to be a teacher.”
Grace frowned. “Really?”
Luke nodded. “After my dad died, I struggled in school. Your dad talked so fondly of his days as a teacher.” He shrugged. “Every day I walked into that classroom I thought of him.”
Grace looked down at her hands. “I never knew that.”
“I’m giving up the store. I’m going to start a charity with the money I’ve been putting toward the rent.” He paused. “Grace… I want you to have the storefront. I want you to have your bookstore, the café, all of it.”
She snapped her gaze to him. “Luke. Are you sure?”
He nodded once. “Certain.”
She reached over and took his hand, feeling its strong grip, its familiar warmth. She never wanted to let it go, and maybe now she wouldn’t have to. “I’d actually decided to keep it open even without the expansion. Now… Thank you, Luke.”
“So you’re staying in town then?”
She nodded. “This is where I’m needed. It’s where I’m meant to be.”
He inched toward her. “I’ve let too much time go by already. I can’t let another chance pass me by.”
Her breath caught. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that Helen will always be a part of me, like you always were. But I’m ready to move on. I need to move on. With you.” He smiled. “I love you, Grace. A part of me always loved you.”
Tears blurred her vision and she laughed, brushing them away. “That’s the best Christmas gift anyone has ever given me.”
He slid her a grin. “You’re going to have to come up with something pretty special to top it, then.”
She tapped the manuscript. “Take a look.”
He frowned, holding her eyes sidelong, turning to the first page, and then the second. She held her breath, waiting for him to stop, to say something.
“This is about us,” he said, his tone laced with wonder.
She nodded. “Yes.”
He read another page, shaking his head with a smile. “It’s wonderful,” he said, and she blew out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
“Really?”
He turned to her, his eyes searching hers, his lips curling into a smile that made her heart fall to the deepest pit of her stomach. “How does it end?” he asked, his eyes crinkling at the sides.
She looked into his face, into the eyes of the man who knew her inside out and still loved her in spite of it. “I was sort of hoping you would tell me.”
Luke’s mouth slid into a lazy grin, and he leaned forward, grazing his lips with hers. “Honeybee, you and I will never reach the end. We’ll keep going and going and going.”
She smiled through the taste of his lips on hers, reaching up to wrap her arms around his shoulders. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she said.
When her Main Street restaurant is ravaged in a fire, Anna Madison is left at the mercy of Mark Hastings—the one man she’s spent years pretending she doesn’t need…
See the next page for a preview of
A Match Made on Main Street
CHAPTER
1
A strong friendship is always the best foundation for a lasting relationship.”
Anna Madison stopped arranging the wild blueberry scones on a ceramic tray and frowned. Not always, she thought.
Up until now the chatter from the weekly book club had been nothing but a pleasant buzz, a lively and comfortable backdrop to an otherwise quiet morning in the shop, but now Anna strained her ears over the percolating coffee machine to hear the details of the conversation. Sliding the tray onto the polished wood counter, she narrowed her eyes at the group of women who were gathered around the antique farm table near the big bay window of Main Street Books—or The Annex, as the café extension was called—as they wer
e every Saturday morning since the bookstore had reopened. From her distance behind the counter, she watched them sipping cappuccinos and enjoying fresh pastries, and wondered which of them would be foolish enough to make such a grand statement.
Her gaze fell on Rosemary Hastings, sitting at the head of the table, clutching this month’s book club selection, Sense and Sensibility, with determined hands. Rosemary’s ruby-stained lips were pinched with certainty, her back straight and proud, revealing years of professional dance training, her graying hair pulled back in her famous bun.
“I always told my children to start with a friendship first. If you build on that, true love will follow,” she continued sagely. The rest of the group nodded their consent or politely sipped their coffee and tea, knowing better than to voice an opinion to the contrary. “Men and women are rarely only friends,” she went on. “A friendship is just the beginning. In time it always blossoms into something more meaningful.”
Oh, now this was too much! “Yeah right,” Anna muttered. She shook her head and turned her attention to a basket of ginger-fig muffins, a popular item this morning, she noted with satisfaction as she mentally counted out just seven of the twelve she had brought over fresh from her primary restaurant, Fireside Café, down the road.
“Do you disagree, Anna?”
Well, now she’d done it. Anna glanced up to see Rosemary peering at her sharply from across the room, her head tipped in expectation. She sighed, feeling her shoulders sag slightly as ten pairs of eyes waited for her reply. She knew she should leave it—no good would come from starting an argument with Rosemary—and get on with her ever growing to-do list. In the month since Main Street Books had reopened, Anna was busier than she could have imagined. The expansion of the bookstore’s café was a hit, just as her older sister, Grace, had predicted, and business at Fireside Café hadn’t slowed either. She supposed she should be thrilled that everything was off to a good start—God knew she relied on both establishments to be a success so she could pay off the loan she’d taken out to help reinvent their late father’s struggling store—but a business didn’t run itself.