We locked gazes, hers strangely intense as she replied softly, “Everyone has asked that, and I just tell them that it’s time, but the truth is, I’m not sure. Time for what? My sister lives in Australia, and she thinks I’m wasting what’s left of my life in a small village where I can’t meet anyone. She wants me out there with her. She thinks I can’t move on from Arthur if I stay here. I’m not sure she’s right. But I’m not sure she’s wrong.”
Sympathy ached in my chest as we stood quietly for a moment. Then I asked, “Are you happy here, Penny?”
Her sigh was heavy, weighed down. “With the business, aye. And I love the people, my friends . . . but I think . . .” She trailed off, lowering her gaze.
“You think?”
Her small smile was chagrined. “Maybe I am lonely.” Her eyes widened as soon as the words were out of her mouth, and she suddenly gave a bark of confused laughter. “Now how did I end up telling you that?”
My answering smile was kind. “Because maybe you needed someone to tell.” I stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on Penny’s shoulder. “Follow your gut. I followed mine here and I already know it’s the best decision I’ve made in years.”
* * *
• • •
After lunch I began working on my new display. I moved everything from the top shelves of the front-facing bookcase to the two bottom shelves, and then took out the copies of Shakespeare that Penny had in stock. There were a few more copies of his completed works in the storeroom, so I brought those out too. She had multiple copies of Much Ado About Nothing, which made sense since the store name was clearly inspired by it.
For a while I stared at what I had, trying to figure out what I wanted to do with this display.
Flicking through plays to pull out quotes, I realized that I’d only ever read Much Ado About Nothing once, and before I knew it, I was standing in front of the bookcase, engrossed in the play. I decided Hero was an awesome name for a little girl, but that Shakespeare did her a disservice by matching her with Claudio in the end. Claudio believed the deception of Don John and Borachio, who convinced everyone that Hero had had sex with another guy before her wedding to Claudio. Claudio humiliated her at the altar, her family convinced everyone she died of shock and grief, and when her innocence was finally proven, they forced a devastated Claudio to marry her “cousin,” only for her cousin to be revealed as Hero. And they lived happily ever after.
“Bad call, Will,” I muttered, closing the play. Claudio was undeserving of Hero. He was supposed to love her and yet he believed the deceptions of others over her. And then she was just supposed to be happy she got to marry him in the end? Nope. I preferred the other couple in Much Ado About Nothing: Benedick and Beatrice. They were hilarious together, trading barbs and witticisms, until their friends decided to play matchmaking tricks to get them to admit they were actually in love. Plus, Beatrice was badass. Not only did she banter as well as Benedick, but she was a feminist of her day, not wanting to marry where she didn’t love, or be a pawn in the games of men; furious at Claudio on Hero’s behalf, wishing she weren’t constrained by the trappings of gender so she could avenge Hero like only a man could back then.
The play was all about deception. Hero’s story was actually tragic and yet it had been depicted as a romantic comedy. But I guess that was me thinking as a twenty-first-century woman.
Or maybe I was just too unforgiving?
“Renegades” by X Ambassadors suddenly blasted into the room, jolting me from my musings and my untouched display. The song was my ringtone.
Hurrying over to the counter where I’d left my cell, I smiled at the name flashing on my screen.
Roane and I had exchanged numbers last night.
That smile turned to a frown as I caught sight of the time on my phone. I’d spent over an hour reading the play instead of working.
Maybe there was a downside to a book nerd running a bookstore.
“Hey,” I said a little breathlessly as I answered.
“Sorry, did I catch you at a bad time?”
Ignoring the way my heart sped up a little at the sound of his deep voice, I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me. “No. Is everything okay?”
“Not really.” He sounded glum. “I’m sorry, Evie, but I need to cancel our plans this afternoon.”
We’d planned for me to close the shop a little early so Roane could drive me into Alnwick, the largest nearest town, to pick up a rental car. Disappointed I wouldn’t see him, I pasted on a breezy smile and hoped it translated in my reply. “That’s okay. What’s going on?”
“I’ve been called away from the farm to one of the houses we maintain. A neighbor reported a loud party to the police last night, and I’ve turned up and the renters have smashed up the place, including the kitchen window.”
“Oh my God.”
“Aye, I’ve had to call the police again, as well as the owners, so I don’t know how long it’ll take to sort this mess out. I’m sorry.”
Irritated for him, I sighed. “You have nothing to be sorry for. That’s awful. Is there anything I can do?” It was probably a stupid question, considering I was carless.
“You’re doing it.” I thought I heard a smile in his voice. “Meet me at The Anchor after dinner? Eight o’clock?”
“Of course.”
I wished him luck sorting out the vacation home crisis and we hung up. Staring out at the sea, I thought about how disappointed I was that I wouldn’t get to spend the afternoon with Roane and wondered if maybe bonding with this guy so quickly wasn’t a very foolish idea after all.
Yet I knew I wasn’t going to do a damn thing to stop myself.
Eight
Before I knew it, my first two weeks in Alnster were almost up. It was a frustrating quirk of human nature that time seemed to slow when you were going through something difficult or when you were bored. Yet it sped up, racing away from your control when life was pretty darn good.
My second Sunday arrived with alarming alacrity, and it followed a busy Saturday at the bookstore. Saturday morning had started with a book bang. The books I’d ordered for the new releases bookcase arrived. I was a kid in a candy store! Pulling the beautiful paperback and hardback books out of the boxes; smelling that new book smell and feeling crisp, unread pages beneath my fingers; and wishing they were all mine. Organizing the books on the shelves, I’d posted a selfie on Instagram of me hugging the bookcase with longing in my eyes.
Apparently, Saturday was the store’s sweet spot, because almost as soon as I’d finished organizing the new titles, the bell above the door tinkled. A couple ventured in, each holding the hand of the little girl between them. Nostalgia filled me as I watched them peruse the children’s titles with her, remembering days when my mom and dad had done the same thing with me.
I loved how the hours melted away as I engaged with my customers. As it turned out, my bookworm tendencies did come in handy when customers asked for recommendations or asked if I’d read a certain book and had an opinion about it. As a voracious reader, I was super helpful.
Unless a customer asked me about Northumberland and the best I could do was direct them to the books written about the area.
I was counting that as helpful too.
My daylight hours during my first two weeks were spent at the store, working on edits when things were quiet, and then taking walks on the beach during my lunch hour if the day was dry. In the evening, I met Roane and Shadow at The Anchor. Sometimes we met early to eat, other times at night just to catch up on our day and chat among the locals.
The mystery of why we never socialized at The Alnster Inn was finally solved my first Friday night when Mr. Thompson cracked a joke about Milly leaving Dexter for someone called West Elliot. To me it was an offhand comment based on the fact that Milly was rushed off her feet behind the bar at weekend nights, with waitstaff jumping o
n to help her out because Dexter insisted they needn’t hire another bartender. Milly had joked, “It’s because he wants the cash for his precious produce, never mind his precious wife.”
However, after Mr. Thompson’s (or Old Man Thompson as Roane called him) crack about some guy called West Elliot, Milly shot him a frosty look and tension descended over the occupants of the pub.
Waiting until we were alone at our table by the fire, I asked Roane about it. It turned out West Elliot owned The Alnster Inn and, like Milly, had inherited it from his parents. Back when they were teenagers, Milly and West were in love, but while West stayed in Alnster to run the family business, Milly took off for Newcastle to attend university. It was there she met Dexter.
“You’ve met Milly.” Roane leaned in to whisper in my ear, goose bumps shivering down my neck at the ghost of his words on my skin. “She’s a good woman. She never meant for anyone to get hurt, but when you know, you know, and Dex was it for her.”
I winced. “It’s a shitty situation.”
Roane nodded. “And West has never made it easy. Even though he married a girl from Alnwick and they had kids together who are now grown, he’s never let it go. His love for Milly turned into bitterness, even though he knows things haven’t been easy for her.”
I frowned. “In what way?”
“Well, you know they have a daughter, Viola?”
I nodded. Milly had proudly shown me photos of Viola, a beautiful young woman currently finishing her sophomore year at Newcastle University. She was excited because Viola would be home soon for the summer.
“They tried many times before they had Vi.” Roane’s dark eyes filled with sympathy. “After a number of miscarriages, Milly couldn’t take it anymore. They stopped trying.”
My heart ached for her, for them both. “Poor Milly. Poor Dexter.”
“Aye.” Roane sighed, his gaze darting to The Anchor’s owner. “But once they stopped trying, it miraculously happened. Viola was born.”
I was glad it had worked out for them. From what I’d witnessed, Milly and Dexter were an example of a marriage to aspire to. Married thirty years and, yes, they still loved each other, but more impressively they still liked each other. After a moment’s contemplation, I whispered, “I do feel kind of bad for West. He must have loved Milly a lot.”
Roane nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Aye, I wouldn’t wish having to live in the same village with the object of your affection, watching her live her life with some other man, on my enemy. But he made a choice to move on, marry Kathy, have kids. That should have been it. Instead he turned it into a war with everyone taking sides. Some locals patronize here, others The Alnster Inn—some are people who didn’t even live here thirty years ago but have somehow gotten caught up in their story. And worse, they have two boys. Lucas, the youngest, is Viola’s age. The war continued with them. The two of them are forever at each other’s throats when they’re home. Kathy has to see that. Can you imagine marrying a man and standing by his side while his bitterness over losing the love of another woman pervades an entire village and affects your kids?”
Sometimes I loved the way Roane talked. Realizing I was staring at his mouth, I shook my head and returned my attention to our conversation. “Poor Kathy.”
My friend contemplated me a moment, those entrancing lips of his twisting into a smirk. “Aye, poor Kathy. Poor Milly. Poor Dexter. Maybe poor West. You could write a book about this place.”
I chuckled. “One day I might.”
Over a week after our conversation about Milly and West, Roane had commandeered my day off. I hadn’t had time to rent a car just yet. Penny drove me along the coast on one of my days off, and I’d visited a few of the coastal towns. As for food, I’d had groceries delivered to the apartment. When Roane found out, he’d insisted on taking the following Sunday off work to drive me into Alnwick so I could buy some groceries and check out the car rental place. Upon our return Roane would cook dinner for me.
The man was perfect.
I had to find a flaw. It was imperative that I find a flaw.
He picked me up in his old Land Rover Defender, and I bubbled with excitement at the prospect of finally venturing into Alnwick. Roane laughed as I settled into the SUV. “You’re like a five-year-old going to her birthday party.”
“I feel like a five-year-old going to my birthday party.”
“Aye, well, I’m not far off that feeling myself.” He shot me an affectionate look. “It’s my first day off in I don’t know how long.”
This surprised and dismayed me. “Seriously?”
He nodded, pulling the Defender away from the curb. We waved at a few locals as we drove out of the village.
“So, do you not have time for a day off?”
“I’ve got people to cover me . . . I’ve just not seen the need to for a while.”
That was miserable. Roane deserved better than to be working 24/7. “Well, I’m glad to give you an excuse to relax. Roane, you need to take better care of yourself. Everyone needs a day off.”
He grunted as only men can grunt, and I couldn’t decide if that was an agreement grunt or an “it is what it is” grunt.
“Where’s Shadow?” I changed the subject.
“He’s with Caro. I didn’t want to leave him in the car when we go to the supermarket. I’ll pick him up after tea.”
I nodded and we lapsed into comfortable silence as I watched the beautiful countryside pass us by.
“I was thinking I could take you to Barter Books before we go to the supermarket.”
My eyes lit up. “Ooh. A bookstore?”
Smiling, possibly at my utter nerdiness, Roane replied, “Not just any bookstore. It’s a used bookstore inside the old Alnwick railway station. It’s famous round here.”
“You sure know how to show a girl a good time, Roane Robson.”
“See, from any other woman that could be construed as sarcasm, but I think you actually mean it.”
“I do.” I chuckled. “Books are life.”
He took his eyes off the road for a second to flash me that teasing smile of his, and I pretended not to feel the effects of it in places a friend shouldn’t.
* * *
• • •
I was in love.
Inside the old station with its vaulted aluminum roof with shafts of light pouring in through skylights, I stared at the rows upon rows of bookcases. Through the bustle of people, there was something to catch the eye at every turn. Not just books, but interesting chandeliers that looked like something out of a steampunk novel. Reading areas set up in breaks between stacks, tables with chairs so people could lounge, read, drink their coffee as crowds milled around them. The rows of bookcases down the middle of the large room were connected at the top by strips of wood painted white and printed with a verse I recognized from the Song of Solomon. Each strip was a line from The Beloved’s Request: The Shulamite.
My favorite line from the verse they’d used was “For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone.” I took out my phone and snapped a shot of it.
“So pretty,” I murmured, wondering at the choice behind using the verse.
Roane took my hand, drawing my attention to him, and he nodded to our right. There was a café in the bookshop called the Station Buffet.
There was a possibility I would die at the whimsy of it all.
“It’s like something out of Harry Potter.”
Laughing at my overexcitement, Roane squeezed my hand. “You’re very cute.”
Something in his eyes made me feel flushed. I looked away and tugged on his hand. “Let’s explore.”
I expected him to let go of my hand, but he didn’t, and I should have questioned it, but I didn’t.
“You know they filmed scenes from the Harry Potter films right here in Alnwick,” Roane told me as he followed me throug
h the stacks. “At Alnwick Castle and Gardens.”
“Really? Will you take me there sometime?”
I was too busy studying the shelves to see his expression, but I heard the affection in his tone when he replied, “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, Evie.”
That’s when I discovered there was such a thing as a word-provoked heart flutter.
Commencing “ignore heart flutter.”
To do that, I found a way to release his hold on my hand without it being too obvious, using the crowds as obstacles. However, Roane stayed with me, seeming content to watch me peruse the shelves, moving from bookcase to bookcase. The book titles quickly became a blur as my awareness zeroed in on one thing, one person.
Him.
I felt the warmth of his presence, hovering at my back, and felt the heat of his gaze on my face. The skin on my cheek tingled, and I wondered if it had turned red under his intense regard.
My breathing grew more shallow as Roane’s fingertips brushed against the small of my back, as if he were afraid that without that lack of connection I’d somehow disappear as I moved along the stacks.
What the hell was I supposed to do with this inconvenient attraction?
Most times we hung out at The Anchor with other people as buffers. There were moments we were alone, and we were comfortable, but then I’d catch Roane looking at me in a certain way or he’d notice I’d been staring at his mouth, and the sexual tension would fill the air between us.
Like now.
Busy frantically pondering how to defuse the chemistry we shared, I hadn’t realized what book I’d halted in front of until it was too late.
A historical romance novel with a couple in a sexy clinch on the cover.
Perfect.
My cheeks were definitely bright red.
Roane’s fingertips pressed deeper against my lower back, and then I felt the whisper of his lips on my ear as he commented, “Interesting choice.”
I made the mistake of turning my head toward him and found his nose inches from mine. Our eyes locked for a second before his gaze dropped to my mouth.
Much Ado About You Page 9