Chapter Twelve
I tossed and turned through the night, unable to get Davis’s kiss out of my head. I felt the weight of his strong hands on my waist until dawn and would savor the delicious scrape of his calloused fingers along my neck, cheek, and jawline until I died. Our embrace had been a moment of sweet perfection for me.
For him, it was a mistake.
How could I have misinterpreted something so severely?
The memory played on a loop in my mind. He should’ve flung me over one shoulder, fireman style, and carried me back inside. We should’ve ended the night giddy with the knowledge that something new and intimate existed between us.
Instead, he’d expressed his instant regret, thoroughly crushing my hope and joy while nearly embarrassing me to death in the process.
I spent the next several days hiding from Davis, and my feelings, while establishing new routines. Mornings at the manor afforded me the time I needed to work on my baking. I’d gotten marginally better as a result. And I read a variety of books on Emily Dickinson’s life while I waited for my sweets to cool. I found a rhythm of journaling in the evenings, then writing poetry at night. Which meant I consistently checked off numbers one through five on my list of goals. Happiness came and went as I worked on finding peace in the solitude.
I filled my notebook with thoughts about my personal growth and penned an excessive number of haiku. Most were about Davis.
A grouchy-faced man
Nearly upended my plan
Ignore him, I can
Best of all, I received letters from Cecily and my mom. I wrote them back immediately and anticipated more responses soon.
Cecily’s first letter was short, a brief response to my request for a pen pal.
Dearest Emma,
I’m writing to accept your proposal. Pen pals for six weeks. But I will also be texting, because I live in the modern world, and some news is far too important to wait on, unnecessarily, for days. Example: I need more information about this handyman. Does he have dreamy eyes and enough hair to run your fingers through? Does his voice give you goosebumps? Have you seen him without a shirt? Please describe. The moment you kiss him, I want details.
Your deeply invested friend,
Cecily
As it turned out, a lot could happen in the space between one letter and the next. I wrote Cecily immediately and a number of outraged texts arrived two days later. The digital messages populated when I took my daily walk into town. Each contained multiple swear words and exclamation points. I chose to respond with another letter, and she followed suit.
Dearest Emma,
You kissed him! That was so brave! It doesn’t matter if you went there looking for romance or not. Romance found you, and you went for it. It’s his fault for being so particularly stupid that he left without carrying you away to ravish you. I think his apology was about your list. I’m sure it wasn’t you. I’ll bet he didn’t want to ruin your quest to become a crazy cat lady. Unlike me. I think you’re already perfect, and you should consider this a fabulous vacation instead of time to improve yourself, because like I said. Perfect.
Your cheering friend,
Cecily
I set her letter aside and dressed in jeans and a tunic after my tepid bath. I made a mental plan for the day while my minimuffins baked.
I peeked outside on my way past the back door but didn’t see the bunny. I’d borrowed a book on rabbits from the library during my last outing and learned the animals were crepuscular, meaning they were apparently busiest at dusk and dawn, then slept most of the day. The description tracked with my experiences, typically seeing it munching on my flowers or plants while I enjoyed my morning coffee or the evening sunset. I’d added a few pansies, violas, and asters to the ring of mulch around the patio yesterday. They were already missing most of their petals and leaves.
I returned my attention to the oven, donned a mitt, then moved the pans onto the stovetop, where they could cool.
“Please don’t be disgusting,” I whispered, pinching off a bite to taste. Then I smiled. “Not bad, Rini. Maybe you’re becoming a little like Emily after all.”
I loaded my finished products into the welcome basket Grace had left me, then carried it to town. Amherst was a kaleidoscope of fall colors, cheery voices, and laughter. Shops had set up pumpkin and gourd displays in their windows and at their doors. Scarecrows and hay bales adorned every flower bed along the main drag. October was coming, and this town was ready.
I adored slipping in and out of the familiar shops and making small talk with new friends. I ran into Daisy shopping at an adorable boutique, and she invited me out after our next letter-writing class. I didn’t see Paul, but he’d given me a letter at the end of each class.
I nibbled on apple pie biscotti and enjoyed my coffee all the way home. I was putting myself out there, and the effort was paying off in fantastically social ways.
Emily Dickinson once wrote that fortune came to those bold enough to go after it. And as usual, she was right. I liked that Cecily had called me brave. I was taking steps in the right direction.
When I reached the lane to Hearthstone Manor, I collected the letters from my mailbox, then climbed the steps to Village Books and took a seat on the rocking chair outside the door. I loved this end-of-day ritual. I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed my mom, who insisted on a proof-of-life call daily.
All the time spent at Rini Reads during my absence had helped my parents see how much had changed since I’d taken over. And it’d given them a realistic perspective on how badly we needed to hire some part-time help. Yesterday Mom even admitted to understanding why I’d wanted the time off.
Neither of us broached the subject of their retirement. But at least she’d stopped asking me to come home.
I tucked one foot beneath me on the rocker. Village Books would close soon, but I’d learned from previous evenings spent this way that Grace never left at closing time. She stayed late to prep for the next day. A practice I embraced as well.
The setting sun backdropped the distant downtown and the leafy trees, lighting them on fire as I waited for my call to connect. Curlicues of smoke rose from nearby chimneys, and the faint beat of the UMass marching band made me smile. I’d miss tonight’s game because I didn’t have a ticket or the internet, but I didn’t mind. In moments like these, though I was technically alone, I didn’t feel lonely at all. I certainly didn’t feel as if I were missing out on anything.
I felt like one little piece of something much bigger. I was someone who delivered appreciation muffins to members of the community, many of whom were beginning to recognize and greet me by name. It was both strange and wonderful to think I could belong to a new place in barely more than a week. And it inspired me to get out of the bookstore back home and make more connections there too.
“Hello, Emma.” Mom’s chipper voice sprang through the line, bringing my thoughts back to her. “I’ve been looking forward to your call. I love hearing about your adventures. I only hate that we never talked this much when you were here.”
My spine stiffened at her words, which sounded like a complaint. Part of me wanted to point out how little time I’d had in Willow Bend to make calls or do anything outside of work. But I kept those thoughts to myself because another part of me wondered if it wasn’t just about my long hours.
I hadn’t called or reached out to her or Dad very often before leaving town. I’d shown up for Saturday-night dinners, but otherwise waited for my family to come to me at the bookstore. Whenever they hadn’t, I’d added it to my list of reasons to be upset with them.
The realization was a little startling. So instead of trying to defend my behavior by complaining about hers, I simply said, “Me too. I look forward to calling.”
She sighed, and the amount of evident relief and love in that breath pinched my heart. “I love you, sweet girl. Are you having fun?”
“I am.” I told her about my day and all the things on my mind. Then we laughed over the ridiculous but infuriating bunny who’d hit the jackpot when I arrived.
Mom told me about her day too. She and Dad were catching on to my new, streamlined systems at the store. She liked some, and hated others, but they saw that the revised processes worked.
When I asked about Annie, Mom told me to call her.
After saying goodbye, I sent Annie a text. Like the nightly messages I’d sent before, this one was quickly marked as delivered, then read. Then ignored. This time, I sent a follow-up, making sure she knew I loved and missed her.
Next, I got comfy and opened my newest letter from Cecily.
Dearest Emma,
Amherst sounds adorable. I can’t wait to get some time off so I can visit. The ER was infuriatingly slow today, which is nice for everyone who isn’t in need of emergency medical attention, but it’s been a bummer for me, personally. I can’t help people if they insist on being safe and healthy.
I laughed. “How completely ridiculous of them.”
I’d filled Cecily in on the details of my daily routines in my last letter, emphasizing how I’d doubled down on my stance against finding love. Then I’d complained a little about Annie.
Some days I’m completely brokenhearted by her, I’d written. And other days I wake up thinking I should drive back to Willow Bend and pull her hair.
Her response and reference to my complaint about Annie surprised me.
I miss your contagious energy, she’d written. There are only ever two options with you. And both are extreme.
I stared at the words a long moment before reading on. Cecily thought I was being dramatic.
Just like Annie.
My sister’s words returned like a slap in the face.
I moaned. Was Annie right?
An older man with a mini sausage dog crossed the street in my direction. “Hey, Emma.”
“Hi, Frank. Hey, Archie.”
The foot traffic increased as folks headed to and from dinner.
My heart grew heavy when Cecily’s letter ended, and I briefly considered calling her. The nights were long and lonely, but I had something extra to process tonight. Apparently I should’ve been a theater major.
I peeked through the bookstore’s window as I rose, contemplating popping inside for a few minutes with Grace, when a soft bark turned me toward the street.
A golden retriever flounced in my direction, its long blond hair lifting in the breeze.
“Hey, you,” I called, reaching for the friendly dog on instinct.
The incredibly attractive man on the other end of the leash arrived a heartbeat later. It took an extended moment for my brain to realize the man was Davis.
Dressed in sneakers, a UMass T-shirt and gray joggers, he looked youthful and fun. Like a college kid on his way to the game with friends, instead of a successful thirtysomething architect.
My body straightened, and I contemplated a fast escape. My brain, however, wanted to stay and get to know his dog and learn what Davis’s life was like when he was off the clock. But that was the problem. The sparks I felt in his presence would burn down my entire mission if I let them. And he’d already apologized for kissing me. Before he ran away.
“Hey,” he said, brows furrowed as he glanced from my face to the shop behind me.
“Hi.” I moved off the bookstore’s porch and onto the sidewalk. “What are you doing here?”
“I worked late and missed kickoff, so I decided to spend the evening with my favorite girl instead of at the game.”
My mouth fell open.
Davis adjusted the dog’s leash, and I chastised myself internally.
The dog was his favorite girl. Not me. Obviously.
Get it together, Rini.
I squatted to hone my focus. “Introduce us?”
“This is Violet,” he said. “Violet, Emma.”
“That’s a very ladylike name,” I told her, digging my fingertips into the doggy’s soft fur.
“I found her on a jobsite a few years ago. The vet suspected she’d been abused and ran away. She was starving and freezing, so I took her home and nursed her. At the time I thought it would be a foster situation, but the minute she raised those big brown eyes to meet mine, finally feeling safe and no longer afraid, I was a goner.”
I gave up on squatting and sat on the ground, pulling Violet onto my lap for a full-body cuddle.
“I was reading a book with an awesome orphaned heroine at the time, so I gave the name to this girl.”
I raised a brow in question. “Give me another hint.”
“About the book?”
I nodded, and he wrinkled his nose.
“ The Bad Beginning .”
I laughed. That wasn’t much of a hint. It was the title. “Lemony Snicket?”
He shrugged. “I saw an ad for the series on Netflix, and it made me want to reread the books. Violet was always my favorite, and she was an orphan. Not quite the same thing, but—”
“It fit.” I bobbed my head, understanding. “I reread the Harry Potter series every time a new movie hit theaters. There were times I’d barely finished and another movie was on the way.”
Violet licked my face and lowered her head to my lap, tail flopping.
“She loves people,” Davis said. “But it usually takes her a few introductions before she climbs into someone’s lap.”
“Clearly she has fabulous judgment. Plus, I have an effect on people. Keep running into me like this, and you’ll be next.”
Davis snorted, and my cheeks flamed.
“You know what I mean.”
He crossed his arms, a pleased smirk on his handsome face.
“‘Dogs are better than human beings because they know but do not tell,’” I said, lost in a sea of fluffy golden fur.
“Are you quoting Emily Dickinson?”
I guffawed. “You knew that?”
“I grew up in a bookstore. In Amherst,” he said. “Plus, our local school system is obsessed with her and Frost.”
I bit my lip, hating how much I liked knowing those things about him.
The lights inside the bookstore went out, and I sucked in a breath.
The door opened, and Grace stepped into view.
Violet jumped up to greet her.
Grace looked from me to Davis, then smiled. “Hello, young people.”
Davis bent to press a kiss to her cheek. “Hello, Auntie.”
Something fluttered in my chest at the sweet show of affection.
“Enjoying the night?” she asked.
“Yes,” we answered in near unison, and her smile grew.
“Well, don’t look so guilty about it. Life is supposed to be fun. I’m going to the farm to split a bottle of wine with Olivia and talk about the men in our pickleball league. Let me know if you ever want to join us, Emma. For pickleball or boy talk.” She rubbed Violet’s head, then winked.
“I will,” I said. “Thank you for the offer. Tell Olivia I’m fighting a bunny to keep her plants alive. I’m losing shamefully.”
Grace snickered as she headed for a yellow convertible Volkswagen at the corner. “We’ll have to come by sometime and take a look,” she said. “Olivia can fix it. I’ll bring the wine.”
“Deal.”
“Wait,” Davis called. “I thought you needed help with something in the store.”
She shrugged. “Nope. I’m all set. You kids have fun!” Grace dropped behind the steering wheel and drove away.
I creaked upright, dusting my clothes and backside, then collected my basket and bags. “Sounds like you got your night back.”
“Really?” he asked. “I was just played by a meddling old lady.”
I wanted to ask him for clarification but decided it was better I didn’t know. “I should head back to the manor.”
“Why don’t we walk you?” Davis offered. “I hear it’s unwise to be out alone after dark.”
“You’re alone after dark.”
He tipped his head over one shoulder, as if weighing my words. “I have a dog.”
I cast a pointed look at Violet. “I’m sure she’s incredible protection.”
Davis shifted her leash into the opposite hand, then tugged the bags from my grip. “Apparently. No one has ever tried to attack me on our evening walks.”
I sighed playfully. “Fine. Let’s go.”
We moved down the lane at a snail’s pace. I wasn’t sure if I was prolonging our inevitable goodbye or avoiding our arrival, when I would definitely invite him inside. I thought again of our kiss, and my confusion returned. Why had he run away that night? The only reasonable explanation was that he didn’t want to become romantically involved. But if that was true, then why volunteer to walk me home?
“How’s everything at the manor?” Davis asked. “Are you staying warm? Not still heating bathwater on the stovetop?”
“No. Things are good. The water isn’t especially hot, but it’s not cold, either, and I can live with that.”
“Very patient of you,” he said, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. “The offer stands to help you find another place, if you get tired of this one. No hard feelings.”
“I’m okay,” I said, taking the final steps to my front door. “I appreciate the offer, but I like it here.” I inhaled to steady myself, then braced for rejection. “Do you want to come inside for coffee? Or I could probably drum up some tea and brandy.”
Davis stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked at me from beneath dark lashes. “Coffee sounds nice.”
I nodded, then unlocked the door to let us in.
Violet trotted ahead of us.
I followed her to the kitchen, wondering if Davis would mention our recent kiss or if I should. Maybe that was his reason for accepting my invitation. I winced. What if he planned to apologize again. “I’ll get Violet some water.”
Davis unfastened her leash, then paused to check the thermostat. “Do you mind if I use the restroom? It’s been a very long walk.”
“Help yourself.”
I put on a pot of coffee and set a bowl of water beside the back door.
Violet took a sloppy drink, then collapsed beneath the kitchen table.
Davis returned a few minutes later looking mildly concerned.
“You okay?” I asked.
He nodded. “Just making a mental list of things I need to get done.”
I filled two mugs with coffee and ferried them to the table. “You usually go to the UMass games?” I asked, nodding to his shirt and recalling something he’d said when he’d arrived outside the bookstore.
He glanced down at himself, then back to me. “Yeah.”
“Ever go with Grace?” I asked, taking the seat across from his.
He frowned. “No. Why?”
I considered his response and the strange sensation I couldn’t quite put my finger on, then shrugged.
Davis looked at me, pale-gray eyes flickering over my features.
For a moment, I wondered if he felt the looming awkwardness I did. Or the equally powerful urge to examine the tension further. Preferably with another kiss.
He stood abruptly, chair scraping over the floor.
For a moment I worried I’d said my thoughts aloud. “What’s wrong?”
“I should go,” he said. “Grace obviously set this up. She somehow knew you’d be there tonight and tricked me into coming.”
“I go there every night,” I said, bristling at his use of the word tricked . I rose and crossed my arms. “What’s wrong with running into me?”
He released a humorless laugh. “Nothing, except that this”—he motioned between us—“is Grace’s doing. And you’re here on a mission. I don’t want to take up any more of your time.”
“What—”
Davis snapped Violet onto her leash again and headed for the door. A moment later, they were gone.
I locked up behind them, stunned and hating everything about the strange encounter.
At least I had a pot of coffee to keep me awake. I had a feeling my journal entry would be extensive. What sort of person kissed another person, then ran away? Only to walk the other person home a few days later, accept an offer for coffee, then rush off again without taking a single sip of the coffee?
And what did he mean by You’re here on a mission. I don’t want to take up any more of your time ?
Did Davis want something romantic from me? Was that the reason for his erratic behavior?
This was why I needed to give up on love. Men were too confusing.
I returned to the kitchen on a groan and caught a glimpse of something white through the window. I peeked into the yard, clearly a glutton for punishment.
Outside, the bunny and three very small versions of itself ate my flowers.