by Jane Porter
“Everything is ready, and the casserole is in the oven. There is nothing to do, and since it is Christmas, I can’t think of a better time to talk than now, can you?”
Lesley led the way into the living room beautifully decorated with a tall slender Christmas tree. “Come sit next to me,” Lesley said, sitting down on the couch and patting the cushion next to her. “Tell me why you were calling. What happened? What did you need?”
“I don’t even know. This gift of the bookstore has baffled me. I honestly didn’t understand why you would give me something like this. I know nothing about books. I rarely read a book and the bookstore isn’t even in Southern California but all the way here in Montana. In the beginning, I just didn’t get it, but as I spent time in the store, and went through some of the boxes of books in the back room I began to fall in love with the books. I began to fall in love with the inscriptions. So many of the books had been given to someone for a birthday or Christmas. So many of the books were gifts from grandparents and parents and I found it really moving, and I’m not a touchy-feely kind of person. But it really made an impression on me that these books, seventy-five, one hundred, one hundred and twenty-five years old, all had mattered to someone. These books are well read, and loved, and as I added them to a database, I noticed certain names appeared over and over. Bessie… Dottie… Elizabeth.”
Rachel drew a deep breath. “Monday after work, my dad brought over two Christmas boxes that had belonged to my mom, and in them were two more books, books inscribed to Bessie and Dottie.” She looked up at Lesley. “My dad said my mother’s grandmother was named Elizabeth, and when she was young she was called Bessie.” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “Is it just a fluke, or are any of those books in the back room my mother’s?”
“We’re talking about the fourteen boxes in the back room,” Lesley said.
Rachel nodded.
“The fourteen boxes of books that aren’t on my shelves.”
Rachel nodded again.
“Those aren’t actually your mother’s books anymore, Rachel. Those are your books. I’ve been holding on to them ever since your mother went to college and didn’t return. They were family books, books that, as you say, belonged to her grandmother, and her great-aunt, Dottie, as well as other members of the family. I offered to ship the books to California several times but your mother said there was no place to put them, and then I had the store, and she said I should sell them since there really was no reason to hang on to them, but as your godmother, I knew they were your legacy. They’re a piece of your mother’s past, and I’ve been keeping them for you.”
“What if I didn’t want them, or the bookstore?”
“Then you’d sell the store and move on with your life.”
“You wouldn’t have minded?”
“It was my gift to you. No strings attached.”
“But you could have just sold the bookstore to Atticus. He wanted the store, and you would have made a lot of money.”
Lesley shrugged. “Life isn’t just about making money.”
“Yes, but… you’ve given away something you’ve loved.”
“To you, someone I love.”
The lump was back in Rachel’s throat. “You barely know me.”
“But I knew your mother, and adored her, and you are her only child.”
Rachel clasped her hands tightly, fighting for control. “I wish my mom had talked more about growing up in Marietta. I wish she’d talked about you.”
“Instead, she probably focused on you, and your studies, and your interests. That’s what good moms do. They take care of their families.” Lesley reached out and patted her cheek. “And your mother may not have talked about Montana and me, but she talked to me about you, and how proud she was of you, and of all the great things you were going to do with that brilliant brain of yours.”
“Did she really say that?” Rachel whispered.
“She did. Every time we spoke, and every time we wrote. You took high school math courses in junior high, and college math classes in high school. You were captain of the math team at your school, and you tutored math and science in your free time to earn money.” Lesley smiled. “Your mom was a smart, successful woman, but she always said you were her greatest accomplishment, and her biggest joy.”
The tears Rachel had been fighting fell. “I miss her. So much.”
Lesley covered Rachel’s fists, holding them tight. “I know. She left us far too soon.”
“She did,” Rachel agreed.
“And the bookstore, you don’t have to keep it. It’s not meant to be a burden. If Atticus wants to turn it into a steak house and you’re good with that, then do it.”
“I don’t think he wants it anymore.”
“The point is, it’s yours, and it’s not meant to be a ball and chain. If you can sell it and do something good with the money, then fantastic. If you want to keep it, and reinvent the store in some way, I support that. I simply want you happy.”
“Are you ever going to move back here?”
“That’s a good question. I don’t know. It feels really good to be back, but my sister has her kids and family in Queensland, and I like being surrounded by kids and young people.” She glanced up as Atticus appeared in the doorway.
“A timer is going off,” he said. “And your sister didn’t know if the foil needed to come off the casserole or if it’s ready to come out of the oven.”
“Tell her I’m coming,” Lesley said, before pushing a wave of Rachel’s hair back from her cheek. “Life is short. There are no guarantees. Seize happiness, and don’t let it go.”
They lingered after the late breakfast, staying into early afternoon, before saying their goodbyes to Lesley and her sister, and began the walk back to downtown.
It was cold but clear, and everything sparkled from last night’s snow. Atticus held her hand, keeping her close at his side, and Rachel enjoyed the brisk walk, relishing the fresh air and the exercise. As they traveled down Bramble they pointed out houses they liked, and which one they could see as a suitable first house. They played the game all the way until they reached Main Street, and as they turned the corner onto Main, Rachel felt a welling of appreciation. She’d been charmed from the start by the small town’s historic Western facades, and mellow brick buildings, and she loved the way snowcapped Copper Mountain rose up behind the domed courthouse. But most of all, she loved the people who were raised here, and were drawn here, and chose to make a life here.
She wanted to make a life here, too.
“You really don’t want the bookstore?” she asked as they crossed the street to Paradise Books.
“I’d have to pull out the books, and I don’t want to do that.”
“So it has to stay a bookstore.”
“Don’t you think it should?” he asked, looking down at her.
“What about your restaurant?”
“I’m in talks with the bank on the opposite corner. They are not yet ready to move, but when they are, they know I’m interested in their space.”
“So I get my bookstore, but you’re not sure if you get your restaurant.”
“I’m not worried.”
“But without a restaurant here, what will you do in Marietta?”
“The same thing I do in Houston. Return calls, answer emails, hold meetings, travel when needed.” He kissed her, and then added in a low voice, “As well as do all the things I couldn’t do in Houston… make love to you, kiss you senseless, fix up our house, explore the area, do ski trips… should I go on?”
“No. I’m still stuck on the making love part.” Heat bloomed in her cheeks as she unlocked the front door and then swung the door open. “But we could also make things work if you need to be in Houston, closer to your family.”
“That might be something for us to discuss one day, but I’d love to start our life together here. We met here.”
“Found love here,” she agreed shyly as he entered the store behind her, and c
losed the door. She wrapped her arms around him, and tilted her head back to see his face. “This has been the best Christmas ever—” And then she broke off, remembering he was supposed to leave. “What time is your flight? Don’t you have to leave soon?”
“I ended up canceling my flight,” he said, kissing her nose, and then her lips. “I called my parents this morning and explained that something had come up, but I’ll definitely be back for New Year’s. They host a big party at my grandparents in Galveston every year. It’s quite the shindig.”
“Were they upset that you canceled on them last minute?”
“No, because they knew I was hoping you’d show up.”
“They know about me?”
“Of course. You’re the girl I’m going to marry.”
She grabbed the pockets of his coat and held on. “You didn’t say that.”
“I did, and more.”
“You’re so sure of yourself,” she said, “but I do like a man with confidence.” And then she hesitated, a wobble in her voice. “So, when do you go to Houston?”
“Depends on when you can go. I’m planning on taking you home with me. I’d like to introduce you to my family. Maybe you’ll go with me for New Year’s?”
The idea was so incredibly tempting. “Won’t they think we’re moving too fast?”
He shook his head. “My mom and dad knew the moment they met that they were meant to be. They waited three months before they married, but that was a long engagement compared to my grandparents in Galveston. They eloped after just one week.”
“You Bowen men move fast.”
“We know a good thing when we see it.” He drew back and peeled off his coat. “Speaking of good things, I have something for you.” He led her toward the Christmas tree and kneeling down, he pulled out a long white tube from beneath the tree’s thick branches.
“It was just an idea,” he said. “You will probably have better ones.”
She carried the tube back to the counter, and drew out the roll of white paper. They were architectural plans, she realized, as she unrolled the paper. Plans for the bookstore from the look of it. She glanced at Atticus but his expression betrayed nothing. He helped her flatten the plans, though, by placing a book on one side, while she used a paperweight to hold down the other.
“So, tell me what I’m looking at,” she said, scanning the large rectangle with smaller black boxes and lines. “I see the front door, and the corner windows. I see the stairs, too, but what is all this?” she asked, gesturing to an area against the far wall, one that right now held nonfiction books, mostly travel and cookbooks and some self-help.
“That’s your coffee bar,” he said, leaning on his elbows and smiling at her.
“My coffee bar?”
“You’d really only need one, maybe two, baristas, and when it’s slow they can help you with your online book business.”
She arched a brow. “My online business.”
“It’s going to be profitable.”
“And what is this area back here, in what is currently the big storage room? Please tell me it’s not a kitchen.”
“It’s not. It’s your new children’s section, complete with a little stage for guest authors and story time.” He tapped another square. “That’s your elevator to the second floor, and this here is your fully accessible bathroom, so that everyone can use the facilities.”
“You have thought of everything,” she said, flipping the page over and studying the second page, and then realizing there was a third. “What is this? My little apartment?”
“Remember, it’s just an idea,” he said.
She frowned as she studied the plans. The kitchen/living room looked different, as did the bedroom. In fact, the bedroom was gone and the kitchen/living room looked considerably smaller. “What’s happened to it?”
“It’s an office, in case you wanted to have your own accounting business here. You already own the building. You’ve lost some of the kitchen because the elevator goes straight up to the third floor now, but you still have room for a small refrigerator, sink, and microwave. The living room is a meeting space, or reception space if you have clients coming, and the bedroom is now your office. You’ll note that we have your desk facing the window so you can see Copper Mountain and the Gallatin Range.”
She looked at him in wonder. “You’ve thought of everything.”
“I wanted to give you reasons to stay.”
Overwhelmed she reached out and put her hand on his chest just to feel the strong drumming of his heart. “You’re my reason to stay,” she said unsteadily. “You’re all I need to stay.”
“I know how important your work is to you—”
“I’ll be fine workwise. I’m not worried. I’m not worried about anything.”
He drew her even closer, his hands low on her hips. “Nothing?”
“For the first time in my life, I’m not worried. I have such confidence about the future. But not just confidence, excitement. This is going to be fun. You and me, together. We’re a team.”
“And we’re going to have an adventure.”
“I’m ready.”
“Me, too. Merry Christmas, Rachel.”
“Merry Christmas, Atticus. May this be the first of many, many.”
And then he kissed her, and there were no more words for a very long time.
Epilogue
They didn’t rush into marriage, or an engagement, because Rachel—despite being madly in love with Atticus—was practical. Sensible. Fortunately, she knew Atticus knew her, and she was grateful he waited to propose, giving her time to really be comfortable with all their plans.
For four months they dated long distance, and at first it was fine, but after two months, it became incredibly frustrating. She knew at New Year’s, when she met Atticus’s family, that he was the one she’d want forever, and she’d thought she’d be okay waiting for them to actually be together, but she was wrong. She wasn’t happy away from him. By Valentine’s Day she didn’t want to be in Irvine anymore. By March, she didn’t want to be at Novak & Bartley. She just wanted to be wherever Atticus was. Houston. Galveston. Marietta. She just wanted to be with him. She loved him, and now that she loved, she wasn’t ever going to stop.
One day during the third week of April he called while she was at work, letting her know that the Bank of Marietta was ready to sell their building, and asked if she’d want to go to Marietta with him and look at the building, and help them decide if this was the right thing, and if he should make an offer. She told him she’d be on the next flight.
“Would you be able to stay for a few extra days?” he asked. “We haven’t had much time together lately and I miss you.”
“Yes, yes, yes.”
“Can you get the time off on short notice?”
“We’ve survived April fifteenth. I’m sure I can get some time off. But, Atticus, I should tell you, that I’ve been shifting some work to the other accountants on my team. I’ve delegating more because I’m ready to move on. This isn’t what I want. I want to be in Marietta, in my bookstore. Living there, I could build my client base. I’ve looked into the accountants there, and most of them are older men, and I think they could use some fresh blood.” She hesitated. “I guess what I’m saying is, if you’re ready for Marietta, I am, too.”
“And if the bank isn’t the right place for me?”
“Then I go where you are.” She took a quick breath. “If you think that’s the best thing for us. If not, I’ll just go to Marietta and we’ll take it from there.”
“I just worry that Marietta is too small for you.”
“My world is even smaller here. It’s the office, and my condo, and that’s it. I have more friends in Marietta than I do in California.”
*
Atticus was in Bozeman when she arrived Wednesday at two thirty. He’d already rented a car and had his suitcase in the back. He took her luggage, added it to his in the back of the SUV, and they were off as they had an a
ppointment in Marietta and needed to drive straight to it, if she didn’t mind.
She didn’t mind.
In Marietta, she expected they would go to the bank. Instead, they went to the courthouse. It wasn’t until they were at the courthouse, speaking to the county clerk, that it began to dawn on her what was happening.
“A marriage license,” she whispered to Atticus.
“What do you say?” he answered. “Want to get married?”
“You’re proposing?”
“Want to get married today? There’s no waiting period in Montana.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“Just you and me?”
“Would you hate that?”
“No. I’d love it.”
“But of course, if we marry here, we’d have to invite a few friends. The Sheenans and Douglases.”
She thought of her father and felt guilty. “My dad should be here, though, and your parents. Especially your parents. I don’t think they’d forgive you for getting married without them.”
“We could always go to Houston for a honeymoon.”
She tried not to wrinkle her nose. “We could,” she said slowly, reluctantly.
The clerk returned their IDs and the completed paperwork and wished them well. Atticus took her hand, and held it as they left the clerk’s office.
“Well, think about it,” he said. “We can always do the wedding here, and a reception there.”
She smiled up at him. “Oh, I like that idea. I’m sure your family has tons of friends they’d invite.”
“Too many friends,” he agreed. “It’s not really my thing.”
“Or mine.” She tugged on his hand on the steps of the courthouse. “I’d love to marry sooner than later.”
“What about a big white wedding? Wouldn’t you miss all the fanfare and fuss?”
“Oh, no. It’s such a waste of money.”
He laughed, and kissed her, and then kissed her again, eyes still crinkling with humor. “How did I know you were going to say that?”
“I’m consistent.”