Chapter Thirteen
I managed to lay low for two full days, spending time at the library and around the manor. I’d even perfected a second muffin recipe, though I hadn’t dared attempt the black cake again. I’d go broke buying all the necessary fruit, and I could only drink so much cognac and hazelnut liqueur without an intervention. Mostly I’d thought about Davis, our kiss and chemistry. Why did his presence feel so warm and natural to me, and why did I crave his nearness when he kept running away?
The answer arrived in the next heartbeat and kicked me in my shins. It’s because I’m a glutton for punishment, a people pleaser, and terrible with rejection.
In a burst of restless energy and desperation for a steaming-hot soak, I armed myself with the broom and dared a trip into the ancient basement. The hot-water heater sat as far from the door and stairs as possible, forcing me to cross the entire space with my chicken heart in my throat. Cobwebs were thick in the rafters, and everything was dank and eerie. But my phone’s flashlight app solved the problem. As it turned out, the pilot light was lit, but the temperature on the tank had been set to low. I turned the dial to 120 degrees, then enjoyed a deliciously steamy bath. But the furnace refused to heat the home above 66 degrees, so I continued to wear warmer clothing and use more blankets.
I did not call Davis.
He messaged me daily to ask if I wanted him to stop by and look at anything. I received the messages when I left to explore the town and happened into signal range. I politely, but consistently, declined.
Occasionally, Davis texted random facts about Amherst, details about his day or an incredibly corny pun I couldn’t resist. Apparently Grace and I weren’t the only ones who enjoyed a good dad joke. I found him fun and easy to banter with via text, but tense and hard to read in person. My heart couldn’t take the chaos of his hot-and-cold behavior.
Unfortunately, it didn’t change the fact I loved everything I learned about him. And I was learning a lot through our messages. For example, he was a history buff, which Cecily would appreciate. And he watched Relatable Romance , which I found both unexpected and hilarious for reasons I couldn’t quite name. But my favorite thing was how he spent his free time. Volunteering at the local humane society.
I needed to look into volunteering at the Willow Bend Greyhound Rescue when I got home. Emily had adored the Newfoundland her father had gifted her for company on her walks in the woods. Carlo, as the dog was named, lived sixteen years at her side.
Maybe I could foster a retired greyhound and name him Carlo in homage.
I grabbed my journal and the fountain pen while I waited for my apple bread to bake, and I forced my thoughts away from Davis and dogs.
My skills with the pen had improved minimally, but I was learning to take all wins for what they were. I pulled the metal nib downward and began to write.
I wanted a life
With an epic love story
Instead I died alone
I hung my head, then closed the book and stared through the window at my pitiful garden. I would grow old, alone, fighting forest creatures for wilted plants and eating so-so baked goods.
And I’d be happy about it, darn it.
The doorbell rang, and I rose with a sigh of relief, then set my journal on the baker’s rack and went to welcome my visitor.
“Hello!” I called, opening the front door with a flourish and smiling brightly.
Olivia stood on the porch, holding a bouquet of white peonies and purple hyacinths. A large basket of small plants sat at her feet. “I heard you’re having trouble with your garden.”
I grinned. “I am.”
“These are for you.” She passed me the flowers. “No card.”
“They’re not from you?” I asked, turning the perfect blooms over in my hands and checking the paper wrapping for an indication of their origin.
“I found them on the doorstep,” she said. “Looks as if they came from that place by campus. I recognize the paper.”
“Oh.” I had no idea which place she meant, or who would send me flowers, but I loved them, and her for coming to my rescue. I made a mental note to ask my mom and Cecily about the bouquet later, then hustled Olivia inside. “I’m so glad you made it.”
“I wouldn’t miss it. I love bunnies, the little nuisances.”
I laughed, understanding completely. Why did a gardener’s archnemesis have to be so darn adorable? “I initially thought I was battling one bunny, but as it turns out, that little furball has a family.”
Her expression softened. “Well, you know that saying about the mating habits of rabbits. They all have families.” She grinned and winked. “It’s a good thing I have plenty of vegetables.”
I stepped aside for her to pass, then closed the door behind us. “Have you eaten lunch?”
“No, but don’t worry about me. I can’t stay long.”
“I made a charcuterie tray. It’s nothing fancy, but please help yourself, if you want to snack,” I said.
I’d been experimenting with more light meals lately, especially those that didn’t require use of the stovetop, which had recently stopped cooperating.
Olivia set her basket aside, interest clearly piqued. “I love these trays. And you have jam from Edith’s condiments.”
I smiled. “I do. She was one of the first shop owners I met, and she let me try all of her preserves. The pita chips and garlic crackers are from the gourmet olive-oil-and-vinegar place on Elm. I bought all the fruits and veggies at the farmers’ market.”
“Mm, mm, mm,” she hummed, nesting her hands together as she eyeballed the offerings. “You’ve been making friends.”
I pulled a vase from a cupboard near the sink and added water before arranging the bouquet inside. A smile pulled at my lips as I thought of how much Emily had loved flowers too. Not only had she grown and arranged flowers, but Emily had created an herbarium, or collection of pressed plants and flowers. Over four hundred specimens in total. The concept fascinated me, but I knew I would always prefer people to plants.
“I try to get out and visit the shops every day,” I said, responding to Olivia. “I get lunch, pick up coffee, see the sights. I’m becoming a regular at a lot of places.”
She smiled and gestured to the bouquet. “Then it’s no wonder you’ve gained an admirer.”
“These are more likely from someone back in Willow Bend,” I said. Though I couldn’t help wondering if someone I’d spoken to regularly since arriving had taken the initiative to welcome me. Maybe the card had fallen out in transport, or a busy clerk forgot to include it.
Or maybe, I thought, Paul sent them. He’d written me several letters. Could his affections be more than welcoming friendship?
I wasn’t sure how that made me feel, so I pushed the possibility aside.
“How’s the manor?” Olivia asked.
Something about her tone made me wonder if Grace had put her on some sort of reconnaissance mission. “It’s been good,” I said, hoping to sound positive. “I’ve had a few small issues, but Davis helped with the furnace. And I adjusted the hot-water tank, which was very simple. Other than that, I’m doing well.”
Olivia watched me closely for several beats, thin brows knitting. “I’m glad to hear it, but I hate that you’ve had trouble. It’s quite a surprise, because Grace prepared the manor extensively for your arrival.”
“It’s all under control now,” I promised. “As a bonus, I’ve learned a little about home maintenance.” I selected a small plate and added a few of my favorite meats and cheeses.
“This is a fantastic spread,” Olivia said. “Thank you for doing all this. You certainly didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to. My best friend, Cecily, is a charcuterie junkie, and I have fun making the boards. You’d like Cecily. She’s hoping to come for the night soon. I’ve got my fingers crossed it works out.” The words sounded calm as they left my mouth, but I was climbing the walls. I missed Cecily more than I thought possible and couldn’t wait to introduce her to the town.
“I’d love to meet her. You should bring her to the farm, or the bookstore,” Olivia said. “How are you enjoying the letter-writing class? Grace said you’ve become a regular.”
“I adore it,” I said. “I’ve made a bunch of friends, and I’m trading letters with my parents, Cecily, and classmates all the time now. Class is often the highlight of my day, honestly.”
She tucked a grape into her mouth. “Too bad the man who sent you flowers didn’t include a letter.”
I glanced at the arrangement, wondering again who sent them, then concentrated on lunch instead.
By late afternoon, Olivia and I had nearly finished the charcuterie tray and planted more vegetables in the garden. Replacements for everything the bunny family had eaten. She left with a promise to return soon. And we agreed that next time we’d invite Grace and volunteer to share her wine.
I dressed for the lower temperatures the next day, then grabbed my basket of muffins and the leftover charcuterie before heading up the lane to Village Books. I’d nearly filled my journals with doodles, poem attempts, and musings, so I needed to buy more. I planned to visit a local park to read and people watch. If I got hungry, I’d finish the meats and cheeses.
Emily’s poems circled my mind as I lifted my chin to the sky. She loved nature and found exquisite joy in living .
The weather was perfect as I strode up the lane. I’d been in town less than two weeks, but I could easily imagine living there, and parts of me had already laid claim to my little portion of Amherst.
I smiled at that truth. How had I ever thought I’d spend six weeks here without making at least a few connections? Had I truly believed I might sit alone in the manor for six weeks? If so, Cecily was right—I really hadn’t been thinking clearly when I’d made those plans.
An older man in a sharp black suit and burnt-orange necktie stepped out of the bookstore onto the porch, exiting as I reached the stairs. “Hello there,” he said, eyes twinkling with delight.
I startled briefly, and he released a good-natured chuckle.
“Sorry. I’m Carter,” he said, extending a hand. There was something oddly familiar about him, though we’d never met. “You’re Emma, right? I wondered when I’d finally run into you. Grace tells me you’re living at Hearthstone.”
I accepted his handshake and relaxed at the mention of Grace’s name. “I am, and it’s beautiful,” I said. “Stunning and peaceful.”
Carter nodded. He was tall and broad shouldered with salt-and-pepper hair, shiny shoes, and a watch probably worth enough to pay for my entire stay at the manor. “I can certainly appreciate the beauty, but I think I’d have stayed in one of the new condos with views of town or campus if I were you. I like modern-day amenities and Wi-Fi too much to spend more than a weekend there.”
“It’s definitely not for everyone,” I agreed. “But it’s exactly what I need.”
He smiled, and his pale-blue eyes crinkled at the edges. “Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying your time here.” He pressed the door open and moved aside, clearing a path for me to pass.
“Thanks.” I strode past him, wondering what else Grace said about me when I wasn’t around and how many people she’d told I was renting the manor. “It was lovely meeting you.”
I stepped into the bookshop, focused on the corner display of journals, notebooks, and stationery. Davis’s voice drew my attention to the counter, and my body changed direction on autopilot. Caught in his tractor beam.
He wore jeans and a plaid button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up again, just like he’d worn them the night we met. His soft brown hair fell across his forehead, and he pushed it back as he noticed my approach. His smile grew immediately.
I set my basket on the counter. “Muffin?”
He reached a big hand into the basket and grasped a plump breakfast treat. “Thanks.”
A tingle rushed over me.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, jerking my gaze away from his mouth and redirecting my thoughts.
“I’m ordering a few classics with holiday and winter scenes for a display next month. Any suggestions?”
“Uh, yeah. Of course.” I leaned against the counter, my bookish mind diving into action. “Are we talking classics in the literal or emotional sense?”
He cocked his brow and rested impressive forearms on the counter. “Both.”
“Then you’ve already got A Christmas Carol ,” I said, stating the obvious.
He nodded, and I rattled off numerous others that Grace and I always included for the holidays. “Of course.”
“C. S. Lewis?”
“Chronicles of Narnia get their own minidisplay around here,” he said. “What else?”
“ Murder on the Orient Express ?”
He grinned. “I forgot you like a little mystery with your holidays.”
“I do.” I paused for a moment, hung up on his words. “How did you know that?” We’d had a lot of conversations since my arrival, a few about books, but I hadn’t said anything about mysteries. At least not as far as I could recall.
Davis sobered. “You must’ve mentioned it.”
“I don’t think so,” I said. Then I thought of another possibility. A very chatty connection between us. “But I have told Historically_Bookish.”
The muscle in his jaw ticked. “What do you mean?”
“Grace.” I grinned. “I just ran into a stranger who knew my name and where I’m staying, because she told him. I’m guessing she’s the one who told you about my winter reading habits.”
Davis looked away, probably considering my hypothesis.
“Don’t forget Wuthering Heights ,” I said as I tapped a fingernail against the counter to regain his attention. “If you didn’t know, I read it every year when the snow begins to fall.”
Davis relaxed and turned a clipboard to face me. He’d already listed all the books I’d named. Along with the other titles forming a line in my mind.
“You’re good.” Or a mind reader.
Hopefully not the latter.
His lips twitched, fighting a mischievous smile. “I know.”
I laughed despite myself, and he chuckled in response.
Michael approached with a customer and a smile. “Hey, Ems!”
I waved as he rounded the corner, ducking behind the register to ring up the sale. He set a tablet beside Davis, then got to work.
“Thanks.” Davis lifted a hand to Michael.
“Sorry I ran off the other night,” Davis said a moment later, voice soft. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Which time?” I asked, still stinging from the way he’d left following our kiss. Still uncertain what had caused him to leave just as suddenly with Violet.
“Both. It’s been a strange—complicated—couple of weeks for me.”
A woman placed a stack of books on the counter in front of Davis. “Are you open?”
He nodded and moved away to handle the sale.
The tablet Michael had delivered caught my eye. A notification from IBOOM flashed onto the screen.
I stared, momentarily frozen. Was Michael an IBOOM user? I thought I knew everyone in the group.
His customer walked past me, a bag of books in hand, and I jerked my eyes to him.
Michael winked before greeting the next person in line.
Could he have sent me flowers?
I hurried to the notebook display. I chose a navy blue leatherbound book with long narrow ties and a set of new felt-tipped pens, because I was a sucker for colorful writing. And the fountain pen made me nuts.
Grace spoke to a couple near the local history books. I loitered nearby until they stepped away. “Emma!” She marched toward me with open arms. “How are you? How’s the manor? Davis fixed all your problems, I trust?”
I glanced at the man in question, unsure how to answer, since he was the cause of a few of my problems too. “Things are good,” I said diplomatically. “How are you?”
“Wonderful. You two looked cozy as I was leaving the other night. Did you find something fun to do after I left?”
I bit my lip, recalling the sting of his words. Grace obviously set this up. She somehow knew you’d be there tonight and tricked me into coming. “Not really.”
Her gaze slid from me to her nephew and back. “He talks about you, you know. He thinks you’re smart and interesting.”
I gave Davis a curious look, then turned back to his aunt. “You missed the UMass game the other night,” I said. Memories of her on the sidewalk, announcing plans to gossip about pickleball and boys, washed back to mind.
Grace wrinkled her brow. “I had other plans. How about you? Big plans today?”
“I actually stopped by to grab this.” I wiggled the notebook in my hand. “I’m on my way to check out another local park before tonight’s class.” Letter-writing was scheduled at a variety of times throughout the week, making it available to everyone. I didn’t have anywhere else to be, so I attended them all.
“Which park?” she asked, snapping into motion.
I followed her to the register.
“Puffers.”
Davis reached for my book when I stopped at the counter.
Grace turned to face me. “I hear you have a secret admirer.”
“Who?” Davis and I asked in unison.
“Whoever sent you flowers,” Grace said. “Olivia called on her way home.”
I looked to Davis, then Michael, and my cheeks flooded with heat. I forced a tight smile for Grace. “I’m sure they were from someone back home.”
Her brows rose. “Are you? Because the way I hear it, you’re making quite a splash around town. And I didn’t only hear that from Olivia.”
I puzzled a moment over her meaning. I had made a lot of new friends. “I’ll keep you posted,” I said, avoiding all eye contact and busying myself with my purse.
“I expect you will.” She chuckled softly as she floated away looking wholly self-satisfied. “Enjoy Puffers park,” she called. I returned the signed credit card slip to Davis with haste and grabbed the journal.
“Told you,” he said. “She means well, but she’s a meddler.”