by Teri Wilson
Meow.
Eliot quit grooming himself to paw at the ribbon. Jamie could take a hint, so she untied it and handed it over. The kitty rolled onto his back and batted at the blue satin with his front feet while she opened the first letter.
Then a chill ran up her spine as she unfolded the yellowed paper and began to read.
Dearest,
I know you told me not to write but you also told me to not wait for you while you go fight for our country. But you see, my darling, it is quite impossible for me to let you go. And so I will wait for you and give you glimpses of the world you have waiting for you here upon your return…
Chapter Nine
The following day marked the start of the set-up period for Waterford’s upcoming Valentine’s Day–themed Fire and Ice Festival, and since True Love had become far too busy to leave just one person in charge, Jamie and Lucy decided to close up shop for a little bit after the lunch rush to get a jump on things and move some supplies over to the festival grounds.
Was it easy to push a library cart loaded down with books and signage over bumpy, uneven cobblestones? No, definitely not. But Jamie made the best of it by telling Lucy all about the letters she’d discovered as they wheeled past the bookstore and headed toward the town square.
“They were so in love!” she gushed.
She couldn’t stop thinking about all the intimate words she’d read the night before. She’d pored over the letters for hours with her breath caught in her throat, and by the time she’d gotten to the final one, tears had been streaming down her face.
Lucy frowned. “Who?”
“Mary and Harris—the original owners of the bookstore. I found some of their letters in The Story of Us box. Harris broke up with Mary before he was shipped overseas for World War II because he didn’t want her to wait for him.” Sort of like the way that Sawyer had broken up with Jamie before he left Waterford for college, except their story hadn’t ended nearly as happily as Mary and Harris’s. “But she ignored him and kept writing to him anyway.”
What would’ve happened if she’d acted like Mary and written to Sawyer after he’d moved away? She couldn’t shake the nagging question of what if. At the time, she hadn’t even considered fighting for their future together. She’d simply accepted his decision and plunged headfirst into a carton of ice cream. Wasn’t that how heartbreak was supposed to work?
But Harris had gone to war. He hadn’t wanted to tie Mary to him because he’d thought he might die in battle and leave her heartbroken. Sawyer had left to go to school, and she could only guess he’d ended their relationship because he’d wanted to be free to chase after other girls. Really, their situations had been completely different. And if she and Sawyer had been soulmates—if they’d been destined to be together, like Harris and Mary—their breakup wouldn’t have stuck. Eventually, they would have found their way back to one another.
He is back in town, remember?
As if she could forget. Every time she turned around, Sawyer was right there…causing trouble for True Love at every turn.
“Good girl.” Lucy nodded her approval of Mary’s persistence.
“Yeah. Her letters about what was happening in Waterford were what kept him going while he was away.” Sawyer, on the other hand, appeared not to care what had gone on in Waterford after he left. If he cared, he wouldn’t be teaming up with Ridley Development to tear apart everything their town represented. If he cared, he would have come back to Waterford.
He would have come back to her.
A lump formed in her throat all of a sudden, which was ridiculous. Fifteen years had passed since she’d last shed a tear over Sawyer O’Dell, and she had no intention of doing so again.
She swallowed. Hard.
“Nowadays, she’d probably send him texts with some emojis mixed in.” Lucy rolled her eyes as they slowed the library cart to a halt in the festival’s assigned spot for True Love’s booth.
The official kick off for the Fire and Ice Festival wasn’t for another two days, but vendors had already begun setting up for the big Valentine’s-themed celebration. As the business district’s largest community event, it drew artisans and ice sculptors from all over the state.
“So not the same,” Jamie said. An emoji-filled text versus a handwritten love letter? No contest.
Not that she’d been on the receiving end of either lately.
“It sounds romantic.” Lucy sighed.
“Which makes sense for a couple who started a bookstore called True Love.” Much to Jamie’s annoyance, the lump in her throat seemed to double in size. “I mean, wouldn’t that be nice? To have someone want to do something so creative with you like start a bookstore?”
Instead of tearing one down, which was the complete and total opposite.
Lucy looked her up and down. “I thought you were on a romantic hiatus.”
Oh right. That.
“Doesn’t mean I can’t recognize romance in other people.” Jamie squared her shoulders. She wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince that she wasn’t at all interested in having her own romance—Lucy or herself. Things had just gotten so confusing lately.
Luckily, before Lucy could ask more questions, a woman carrying two steaming cups approached them and offered one to each of them. Jamie wasn’t sure what was inside, but it smelled chocolatey with a dash of cinnamon.
What a nice touch.
The festival had never handed out hot drinks on set-up day before, but it was a lovely idea, especially on a brisk morning like this one.
Lucy accepted one of the cups with a smile. “Thank you.”
Jamie did the same, the hot chocolate instantly warming her hands. But when her gaze landed on the blue geometric logo on the paper cup, she froze in place.
“Wait. What?” No…no, he did not. She turned the cup toward Lucy. “Does that say Ridley?”
What in the world? Had Sawyer signed Ridley up as a sponsor for the Fire and Ice Festival or something? She was sure that he’d never even heard of the festival until two days ago.
“Um. Don’t look now, but…” Lucy’s gaze darted to the opposite side of the town square and back again.
Jamie looked, because of course she did. Then she gasped out loud at what she saw. Not the most subtle of reactions, but she simply couldn’t help it, because there stood Sawyer in front of a quaint, old-fashioned beverage cart, complete with a glossy, high-end espresso machine and huge sign that read Free Coffee and Hot Chocolate, Courtesy of Ridley Property Development.
And of course a small crowd had already gathered around his fancy cart, including several of the business district’s shopkeepers—Chuck, from the pizzeria, and Beth, who owned a cute hobby shop just down the block from True Love Books. Both of them chatted away with Sawyer while they sipped from Ridley cups.
Jamie didn’t know whether to feel sick or enraged. Here she was, still smugly basking in the glow of yesterday’s newspaper article, and meanwhile, Sawyer was apparently plying the good people of Waterford with cozy winter beverages in an effort to win them over to his side. It was beyond despicable.
And also kind of brilliant. She would have been impressed if she weren’t too busy resenting him already.
Her grip tightened on her cup of evil hot chocolate. “No. Way.”
Sawyer glanced over at her. Ugh, she’d actually said that out loud, hadn’t she?
Yes, indeed. And the cocky little smile on his face left no doubt that he’d heard her, loud and clear.
He gave her a slight nod, then returned his attention to his coffee-swilling, hot chocolate-loving audience and said something that made them all throw their heads back and laugh.
Things had somehow just gone from bad to worse.
Sawyer would be lying if he’d said that the sight of Jamie Vaughn holding a cup with Ridley’s logo didn’t infuse him with a definitel
y sense of triumph. Maybe it was childish, but so be it.
Rick had been right. Embracing the community had been the way to go. His vintage barista stand had been attracting passersby for a solid two hours already, allowing him to engage in conversation with business owners from all over Waterford. It was amazing how willing they were to listen to what he had to say once they had complimentary caffeinated beverages in their hands. The cinnamon had been an especially deft touch—homey, just like Waterford itself. There wasn’t an IKEA in the world that smelled like cinnamon.
“I love Waterford,” he gushed, heady with victory. He was regaining some of the ground he’d lost in the wake of the viral article about True Love. He could feel it. “My mom and I moved here when I was twelve years old.”
Sawyer then used the Ridley cup in his hand to motion toward Chuck, both for emphasis and to spread the comforting scents of cinnamon and chocolate far and wide. “Chuck, your dad gave me my first job at the pizzeria.”
He’d been great at it. There’d been no arugula. And no Jamie Vaughn throwing a wrench in his plans at every turn.
“Oh, I remember.” Chuck nodded. He looked exactly the same as he had back in high school—except for the thick beard. That was new.
“So, this isn’t going to be just some random teardown,” he said, hoping they understood that he’d never let that happen. “I’m a hometown boy who’s come back to his roots to do what I can to help make things better for a place I care a lot about.”
It was the truth. He wasn’t the big, bad monster Jamie seemed intent on making him out to be. He was on Waterford’s side. The town council had reached out to Ridley for a proposal because they wanted a change—needed one in order to keep the business district going. This plan would be good for everyone. Sooner or later, she’d realize that.
Preferably sooner, because she’d already beat a hasty trail toward him from across the town square and was now staring at him with open skepticism.
“I’m sorry.” She shook her head, as if what he’d just said made no sense whatsoever. “‘Hometown boy?’”
He attempted a confident laugh, but it came out shakier than he’d planned. “That’s me.”
She arched a brow. “And when was the last time you were here?”
Jamie knew good and well how long he’d been away—fifteen years. In fact, she seemed to love throwing that number around as if it were confetti.
He flashed her a tight smile as Chuck and Beth looked on. “Um. Well. It’s been…a while.”
“Since you graduated high school,” Jamie said flatly. “Right?”
The smiles on Chuck and Beth’s faces faded ever so slightly. Was it only his imagination, or had they both stopped sipping from their Ridley cups?
“About that.” Fifteen years wasn’t that long, was it?
Jamie’s gaze narrowed. “So how did you even come up with these designs if you haven’t even been here in a decade and a half?”
Okay, put like that, it definitely sounded like a very long time. “Well, I don’t need to be on location in order to create my designs.”
Again, it was the truth. Any architect would agree, but of course Jamie had to make it sound like nothing more than an excuse.
“Because it’s all the same? Just some stores to be torn down…” She waved her coffee cup at their surroundings.
He shook his head. He could see at least one shop in the far-off distance that would remain unscathed. “Not at all.”
“…History to be ignored,” she said sharply. Then she gave him a long, meaningful look that he felt deep in the pit of his stomach.
Were they still talking about Waterford? Because it suddenly felt like they were talking about themselves. As a couple.
Sawyer’s mouth grew dry, and he was suddenly very aware of the perfect shape of her impertinent mouth. Bee-stung lips, perfectly pink, like a bow on a present, just waiting to be opened.
Then she abruptly looked away. “Beth, how long have you had your hobby warehouse?”
“Thirty-five years,” Beth said.
“Thirty-five years,” Jamie repeated, clearly for Sawyer’s benefit. “People have been coming to your store for everything they need, from scrapbooking needs to their homemade Christmas decorations.”
“That’s right.” Beth’s chest puffed out a little.
Jamie was on a roll now, talking a mile a minute. There was no stopping her. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so quick to provide her with complimentary caffeine. “But because of where your store is located, some people—in Portland—think it would make a great place for some retail, space station-like mega development, forcing you to sell your life’s work. Is that right?”
Beth aimed a death glare straight at Sawyer. “It is not.”
Even the guy Sawyer had hired to man the espresso machine was beginning to regard him with skepticism.
“No.” Jamie’s expression turned sweet, innocent—overly so, as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. “It is not.”
Sawyer squirmed as all heads turned toward him. Now was the time for a rebuttal, but he couldn’t seem to come up with anything that would justify putting Beth out of business or making her move to a completely new location. How was he supposed to compete with things like scrapbooking and homemade Christmas decorations? They were even more homey than cinnamon.
“It’s not a space station,” he finally said, a weak defense at best.
Beth and Chuck exchanged a dubious glance.
“It’s not,” Sawyer muttered again.
But no one seemed to be listening to him anymore.
And that’s how it’s done.
Jamie flashed Sawyer her sauciest grin, spun around and headed back toward her library cart. She could feel his eyes on her the entire time, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of looking back. No way. She was perfectly content to let him stew over there, neck deep in hot chocolate and lattes.
He’d really thought he could turn on the charm and convince everyone he was just a ‘hometown boy’ who wanted the best for Waterford? The nerve! Jamie wasn’t about to let him get away with that, especially since he obviously didn’t have a clue anymore about what the business district represented to the community. Free drinks couldn’t replace history and tradition, any more than a dash of cinnamon could make up for fifteen years of absence. That was a lot to ask of a common household spice.
She couldn’t wait to give Lucy a blow-by-blow of the conversation they’d just had. Beth and Chuck had practically been eating out of Sawyer’s hand until she’d pointed out his hypocrisy. Another point scored for True Love!
But gloating was going to have to wait, because as she drew closer to the spot where Lucy was busy setting up True Love’s Fire and Ice booth, she realized she wasn’t the only one headed that way. As Lucy pushed the latticework backdrop into place, Rick sprinted toward her from the street corner.
“Lucy, let me help you with that.” He picked up one side of the backdrop and hauled it into place.
Red and pink silk roses were tucked into the open spaces of the lattice and a swag of greenery interwoven with baby’s breath and tiny pink flowers draped from one end of it to the other. Aunt Anita had helped Jamie put it together two years ago, and it still looked pristine. Lush and romantic, perfect for True Love’s booth.
“Thank you.” Lucy smiled up at Rick.
Jamie veered off-course and hid behind another vendor’s collapsed tent so as not to interrupt what she hoped was the moment that Rick would finally ask Lucy out on a date. Doubtful, if past history was an indication, but a girl could dream.
“Where’s Jamie?” Rick said.
“Jousting with her ex.” Lucy glanced toward Sawyer’s coffee cart, where a new trio of business owners had assembled around him. The man was relentless. Why couldn’t he just pack his bags and move on?
Jamie’s
heart gave a tiny pang at the thought. Ugh, what was wrong with her?
“Sawyer has her going, huh?” Rick’s mouth curved into a lopsided grin.
Lucy placed a hand on one hip. “That and trying to save the store she’s loved since childhood and sunk her life’s savings into.”
Jamie couldn’t help smiling to herself. Lucy was firmly Team Jamie, as she should be.
“There.” Lucy tucked a fallen flower back in place, then turned away from the latticework to face Rick. “How do I look?”
She unbuttoned her practical trench coat to show Rick her new cashmere sweater—caramel-colored, with deep red hearts scattered all over it. Lucy had been with her when she’d bought it at a Valentine’s sale at a cute boutique in the business district a few days ago.
“The only answer is: gorgeous,” Rick said, as devoted as a golden retriever.
How could Lucy not see that he was head over heels in love with her? The mind reeled.
“Oh.” Lucy’s cheeks flushed pink as she re-fastened the buttons of her coat. “Aren’t you sweet?”
Jamie held her breath. It was the perfect opening for Rick to tell her how he felt. Come on, do it.
He cocked his head. “Why do you ask?”
Uh-oh.
“Quentin’s stopping by.” Lucy beamed as she unloaded a stack of books from the cart.
“Sweater Guy?” Rick said, with a heavy dose of sarcasm.
Oh, Rick. Jamie shook her head. Green-with-envy wasn’t his best color.
Lucy’s face fell. “It’s February, Rick. People wear sweaters. You have sweaters.”
“Yeah. But I make it look cool.” He flashed her another grin, showcasing his perfect boyish dimples. Sometimes Jamie forgot Rick had been known around Waterford as a lady killer, since any time he was within a one-mile radius of Lucy, he instantly became a lovesick mess. “So, um, do you like this Quentin guy? I mean, did you have that ‘wow’ moment you talk about?”