A snarky comment, offered to her husband in a loud whisper I was sure was meant to be overheard, hissed out of Selina’s lips. “I can’t believe that woman expects me to be sorry about her stupid book. The only thing that keeps everything in that store from being yesterday’s trash is that some of them seem to actually be valuable. God only knows why.”
Keith slid his arm around my waist, keeping me from turning around and continuing what could soon become a very unladylike brouhaha. Firmly he guided me toward the front of the restaurant, stopped to pay, and walked me to the car.
I slid into the car as he held the door open, crossing my arms in a pout when he closed the door and walked around to get in on the driver’s side.
“Honey, the last thing you want to do is provoke that woman if she really is the killer.” He leaned on the armrest between us.
I snorted. “I doubt she’d want to mess up her precious fur coat.” I turned to look out my side window, purposely ignoring his steady gaze.
Keith’s fingertips touched my shoulder. “Jenna.”
When I didn’t turn, he slid his fingers down, gently grasping my wrist to again uncross my arms and tuck his fingers into mine. “Jenna.”
Man, this guy was irresistible, and I figured he knew it. I huffed once more and turned. “She makes me so incredibly mad. I have never met anyone that openly and intentionally rude and hateful in my life!”
At my raised voice, Keith chuckled. “Seriously? Have you met Frank Sutter yet?”
I caught the playful look in his eyes, and my anger melted as laughter popped out. “Wow, could you imagine them as a couple?”
Keith belly laughed and kissed my fingertips before letting them go so he could start the car. “I’m not sure who would lose out more in that deal. Have you looked at Douglas? He looks like a ragman next to her.”
I sobered, picturing Douglas’s worn, off-the-rack suit, scuffed shoes, and ragged hairstyle, as if he hadn’t had a decent cut in several months. Mentally I compared it to Selina’s sleek and polished look. Her manicure alone would have cost a fortune, and I’d have to spend at least two months’ salary from the bookstore on the dress that had hugged her slim form. I could only assume her bag and shoes were equally expensive, even though I’d not seen them. “She does seem to spend only on herself.”
“I don’t think I could do it.” Keith cleared his throat. “Thank goodness I’ve found such a cheap girlfriend.”
“Uh-huh.” I mock-glared at him, knowing he was joking, still attempting to ease the earlier tension. “But seriously. I keep thinking about the other night and Linus saying she had damaged other books. I thought she didn’t like books.”
“I asked about that.” Keith turned onto my street. “From what I’ve been able to find out, she pitched a fit at Douglas one day at the library, pissed off that he wouldn’t let her spend six thousand dollars on a pair of Bengal cat kittens. She thought they’d look pretty walking them while she wore her fur coat. Seems her temper tantrum included yanking books off the shelves and throwing them at Douglas while screaming at him like a fishwife.”
“And Linus repaired the books?”
Keith nodded as he turned into the driveway. He put the car in park. “Yep. The ones that weren’t damaged beyond repair.” He got out and walked around to my door and opened it.
“I can see why that stuck in Linus’s craw. But she said those damaged books weren’t her fault.” I led the way to my front door, unlocked it, and walked through, looking forward to a time when I would be greeted by a wiggling dog who rolled to his back demanding tummy rubs. For tonight, however, Eddy had been left next door in Rita’s excellent care.
Keith followed me in, walking to my kitchen and stepping behind the bar to the small wine fridge built in under the counter. “She says it was Douglas’s fault.” He pulled out a bottle of Chardonnay and opened it.
“What? How?” I accepted the wineglass of wheat-colored liquid.
He led the way to the couch and sank into one corner. “Seems she feels if he’d just let her have the kittens, she wouldn’t have been angry. Therefore, it was his fault the books got damaged, not hers.”
I kicked off my heels, tucked myself into the opposite corner of the couch, and propped my feet in Keith’s lap. “Wow. Talk about deflection.”
“She blames him for everything. If your customer, Alice, is to be believed, she likely even blames him for not inheriting from his father.” Keith ran his thumbs up the sole of one foot, gently massaging.
A soft mmmmmmmm purred from my throat at his ministrations. “It’s almost like she’s punishing him for being average rather than stinking rich. She’s sucking him dry. How does he do it?”
Keith shook his head. “I know I sure couldn’t.” His hands moved to my other foot. “So, tell me more about your idea for Mason’s college tuition.”
I melted back into the couch, savoring the massage. “I guess I’m still trying to figure him out. I know Uncle Paul would want me to help him, but Mason doesn’t seem to want my help.”
Keith chuckled as he kneaded the arch of my foot. “He wants it. But he doesn’t want ‘help.’”
I raised my head. “Got it. He wants help, but he doesn’t want help. That makes a lot of sense. Thanks.” There was no possible way for him to miss my sarcastic tone.
“Think about it.” He reached for my other arch. “He’s trying very hard to be a man who stands on his own two feet. Yet at every turn, you’re there like a mothering safety net.”
“I am not.” Yes, I was. And I knew it. “I only want him to be happy. He just brings out that instinct in me.”
“Yeah, well, you need to ignore some of that instinct before you either turn him into a leech, although I doubt that will happen, or he stops letting you know if he needs something.” Keith picked up his wine glass and sipped. “Wouldn’t you rather help him figure out how to do things on his own instead of handing him your own easy answers each time?”
I considered this as I slid my feet from Keith’s lap and tucked them underneath me. “I see what you’re saying. Help him find a way to help himself. Don’t hand him money or find him a place to live.”
“Exactly.” Keith scooted over next to me on the couch and draped an arm across my shoulders. “Even if he has to work harder for it, that’s how it has to be. Without his own hard work, he won’t have the satisfaction of accomplishment. That sense of ‘I did this.’”
It went against the grain, but I knew Keith was right. Mason had to struggle in order to build resilience.
“Should I rescind my offer of a loan?” I swirled my wine glass, watching the golden liquid circle the bowl.
“No.” Keith planted a kiss on my head. “I think the loan, which he has to pay back, is okay. But stop offering to bail him out without him having to work for it in the future.”
I nodded. “Got it.”
Apparently sensing a closed subject, Keith asked, “Are you going to pick up Eddy tonight?”
I shook my head. “No. Rita said she was turning in early, so I’ll go get him in the morning.”
“Isn’t it a bit too early?” He twisted his wrist to look at his watch. “It’s only nine o’clock.”
I chuckled and tucked my feet up onto the couch. “Actually, I think she said that in order to give us more time together without distraction. She’s probably wearing fleece pants and binge-watching old movies, snuggled in bed with my dog.”
“How’s he doing with the new situation?” Keith finished his wine and set the glass on the coffee table.
“Overall, better than expected.” I thought of his actions in the store. “He’s still a bit skittish with people coming in and out downstairs, but I think he’ll get past it.”
“With all of this attention, he’ll adjust in no time.” Keith squeezed my shoulders once more and stood. “I’m sure I’ll get over the idea of another guy living with my girl.” He winked.
I giggled and rose. Gads, what was wrong with me? I didn’t gigg
le. Yet I just had. “I think you’ll live.” I grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch, draped it around my shoulders to ward off the evening chill, and followed him to the door.
Keith slid his arms into his coat. “I’m actually glad he’s here. It’s not a bad idea for you to have a watch dog.”
Before I could answer, he tipped my chin up and placed a soft kiss on my lips. “Be careful, Jenna. I …” His voice faded.
I looked into his liquid gaze, losing myself in what I saw there, afraid to hope it was real.
He shook his head. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.” He pulled me into his arms for a deeper kiss before striding though the door and down the walkway toward the parking lot.
Chapter Nine
Sunlight filtered through the buttercream-yellow organza curtains I’d hung in the primary bedroom. After a month in the windowless spare—which reminded me all too much of the three months I’d spent in jail for a crime I did not commit—I’d finally moved my things into what had been Uncle Paul’s bedroom. It had taken two more weeks to get past the twinges of guilt, the feelings that I was intruding on a space that should never have been mine, before I’d finally shaken myself and told myself I was being ridiculous. Uncle Paul had wanted me to be here. I belonged.
Letting my eyes crack open to take in the bright room, I inhaled deeply, appreciating the smell of coffee wafting in from the kitchen, where I’d set the coffeepot to automatically brew at seven AM. What a lovely way to wake up. I smiled and sat up, stretching my arms overhead and yawning widely.
I rose, showered, dressed, and padded into the kitchen for that first delicious cup of coffee, all the while reveling in Keith’s kiss from the night before, suspecting he had almost said those three special little words. We’d only known each other for a couple of months, but I knew I loved him. However, I suspected he needed a bit more time to come to that same conclusion.
I enjoyed a simple breakfast of Raisin Bran before slipping on a pair of lined clogs and all but skipping toward my front door to go get Eddy. I opened the door and saw Rita already headed over from her apartment, Eddy at her heels.
She stamped her feet as she walked, as if trying to warm them. “It’s freezing out here.” She pulled her sweater tighter around her waist.
I opened the door wider, and she followed Eddy inside.
“Eddy’s already been walked.” Rita handed me his leash and made a beeline toward the coffeepot. “And I can’t feel my toes anymore.”
I leaned down, unclipped the leash, and hung it on one of the coat hooks beside the front door. “I could’ve walked him after you brought him back.” I chuckled.
Rita picked up her now-full mug of coffee and wrapped her fingers around it. “Mmm,” she hummed contentedly as she sagged onto a barstool beside the island. “Warm.”
Eddy danced around my legs, happy to see me, and I knelt to scratch the dog before getting my own cup of coffee.
“How did he do last night?” I sipped the hot liquid carefully and sat on the stool next to hers.
Her eyes popped open, and she glanced at the dog. “We told ghost stories, braided each other’s hair, talked about boys … oh, wait, that was with you.”
I almost spit out the coffee in my mouth but managed to contain the laughter.
Rita grinned. “He was great. He snuggled with me on the couch while I watched The Philadelphia Story. Man, Cary Grant and Jimmy Stewart in the same movie? What could be better? They don’t make them like that anymore.”
I’d have to be sure to tell Keith I’d been right about Rita’s evening activities. “Sounds fun. Did he sleep okay? He can be restless.”
“He did get up once and need to go out.” Rita swiveled her stool toward the dog and continued in a baby voice. “But we had fun, didn’t we? Yes, we did.”
Wow, okay. That just happened. My friend was losing her mind. My thoughts must have been mirrored in my expression.
Rita rolled her eyes. “Oh, stop it with the who-is-this-crazy-woman look. Have you not ever talked like that to a pet before?”
I shook my head, watching as Eddy jumped to the couch, turned one circle, and curled up with his head on his paws. “I’ve never had a pet before. Mom was allergic to cats and dogs, and Dad didn’t like putting animals in cages, so hamsters, turtles, and lizards were out. I never had the desire to have a fish.”
Rita’s brows rose. “Okay, then. You really are a newbie at this.” She shook her head in seeming amazement. “Well, if you haven’t ever done it, give it time. You will.”
“If you say so.” I shrugged and set my mug on the counter. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” Rita swiveled back around to face me. “Shoot.”
“It’s about Keith.” I stood and walked around to the coffeepot.
“And?” Rita held her mug out for a refill.
I shrugged again. “I don’t know. I guess I want to know how to really tell if someone is into you.” I looked up at her to see her jaw drop.
“Okay then. I guess pet ownership isn’t all you’re new at.” She sipped her coffee. “What brought this on?”
I sighed and dropped onto the stool again. “It’s been a couple of months, and I don’t know … it seems to be going really slowly. Maybe I’m misreading things or wishfully thinking.”
A slow smile spread across Rita’s face. “You like him.” She leaned in and looked at me more closely. “You love him.”
“Maybe.” I raised my mug and gulped too-hot coffee, trying to cover my embarrassment.
Apparently sensing my discomfort, Rita reached out a hand and squeezed my shoulder. “Hon, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to tease. But I’m a bit confused. I thought you’d been in serious relationships before. Weren’t you engaged before you came here?”
I let my mug plop onto the counter with a thud. “I try not to think about that. But since you mention it, yes. I’ve been in relationships before, in high school. In college, I was too busy, too driven, to get into anything serious. Once I started working, my long hours eliminated most of the possible dating pool. Blake Emerson was the first adult relationship I’d had. He wined and dined me, and it was all rather whirlwind. A month after we started dating, we were living together and he had proposed.”
“No chance to stop and think it through, huh?”
I chuckled. “Not even one second.”
Rita sat quietly for a moment, draining her mug of coffee. “You’re worried that because Keith is taking things more slowly, he’s not that interested?” At my nod, she continued. “Honey, let me tell you this much. I’ve watched how that man stares at you when you’re not looking, and I can tell you he’s way beyond interested.”
“If you say so.” Then what was the deal?
“Has it occurred to you he’s being patient to give you a chance to be ready? I’m sure you told him about Blake.”
My head snapped up, and my jaw dropped. “I hadn’t even considered that. What do I do?”
Rita waved a hand in the air. “Girl, be patient. Give it time. When it’s right, there honestly is no need to rush.” She thunked her twice-emptied mug on the counter. “Except when it comes to those books. I only have one day.”
“Oh my gosh, I almost forgot.” I snagged her mug and put both mine and hers in the sink before grabbing Eddy’s leash, waking the dog, and heading downstairs.
“The boxes are in the back.” I led the way toward the back room, where a shipment of thirty-eight boxes of books had arrived. I’d purchased the lot of them at an estate sale two weeks ago, my first since inheriting the store. I couldn’t wait to see what was inside, and I was tickled Rita had offered to help out when I’d dropped Eddy off the night before.
“Do you have any clue what’s in any of them?” Rita reached for a box cutter, careful not to damage the books inside the closest box as she slid the cutter along the tape that sealed the box shut.
I looked over her shoulder into the box. “Not a clue.”
/> She looked up at me, and I grinned.
“It’ll be like Christmas.” She flipped the flaps open and pulled out a stack of 1970s copies of Agatha Christie paperbacks.
I flipped through the stack, recognizing titles and mentally preparing space on a shelf for them. They would sell well.
“How are things at the inn this week?” I opened another box and peered inside at old cookbooks. Oh well, every box wouldn’t be a winner.
“Oh, didn’t you hear?” Rita plopped down a stack of Louis L’Amour Westerns. “Selina is throwing a turn-of-the-century ball next week.”
My head popped up, ignoring my newly opened box. “What? I thought Douglas told her she couldn’t do it. I think Keith’s words were that he finally put his foot down.”
Rita snorted. “Douglas March wouldn’t know how to put his foot down when it comes to that woman if his life depended on it. Although he did try. But she threatened to divorce him if he didn’t let her have her way.”
“Wow.” I shook my head and looked down into my open box to see current romance novels. I picked one up and turned the picture of a man and woman in a steamy embrace to face Rita. “I guess they don’t have this kind of relationship.”
“Not for a long time, honey.” Rita opened another box. “Although from what I understand, he does love her deeply. I’ve never figured out why.”
“Isn’t a week’s notice a bit short?” I dropped the romance back into the box, refusing to get dreamy thinking of Keith’s kisses.
“Yep, which is why we’re all pushing hard to get it all ready. We’re lucky we’re not also working on a Sunday.” She dusted off her hands and reached for another box, gingerly sliding her box cutter through the shipping tape and opening the flaps. “Jackpot!”
I stepped over and peeked inside. “Aren’t you glad you’re here instead?”
Gently, I pulled four matching volumes from the box. Gold lettering stood out from brownish-burgundy covers, and I picked up one of the books. Shakespeare’s Works: Falstaff Edition, Volume I. Golden scrollwork elegantly encased the title, and gold gilt edges shone in the overhead lights. Black embossed scrollwork decorated the front cover. I eased it open and turned the first few pages. A black and white artist’s rendering of Shakespeare, a thin rice paper half page to protect the rendering, a title page noting the publisher. I turned a few more pages and found what I sought. The preface was dated 1859.
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