Not Quite by the Book

Chapter Thirty-One

Jeffrey arrived early as promised, a large bouquet of dahlias, Annie’s favorite, in one arm and a bagged spread of breakfast foods in the other. I sent him to her room with the flowers while I set up breakfast on the patio.

They made up instantly, both too desperately in love to imagine another night apart.

After our meal, we spent the day together, laughing and exploring the town where they’d met and fallen in love. Eventually, Jeffrey suggested they get a room at an inn downtown for some much-needed alone time and for Annie to stay off her feet and rest.

I hugged Annie tightly and vowed to be present in her life and her baby’s. She wouldn’t lose me to books or busyness ever again.

It was hard to believe that five short days from now, Annie and Jeffrey would be parents.

I would be an aunt.

I slept soundly that night, in the knowledge my little sister was in good hands and an addition to the family was on the way. I dreamed of the kick-ass shop for book-loving people and their pets my sister and I planned.

All in all, my future was shaping up beautifully.

Thoughts of Davis followed me the next few days as I puttered around the manor, soaking in the last of my stay. I wrote letters to Forever Yours that I didn’t send, and a few to myself, reminding me of all the new things I’d experienced in Amherst. The hikes and friends. Embroidery and baking. Bunnies and pilot lights. Every day delivered something new here. I resolved to keep the magic going long after I returned home.

I deleted half-finished texts to Davis before bed each night, always overthinking the content. My heart splintered between forgiveness and frustration. Why had I made such a big deal of things? Why hadn’t I texted the moment Jeffrey took Annie to the inn?

Then I recalled the pain of wanting a man who couldn’t tell me how he felt. Or that he was my longtime online bestie.

Then again, maybe his feelings weren’t what I thought.

The more time passed, the harder it became to reach out, and before I knew it, my bags were packed for the trip home.

On my final evening in Amherst, I went to letter-writing class.

Daisy and Grace stood close together, whispering excitedly when I arrived.

“There she is,” Daisy said, breaking away to meet me and grab my arm. She rushed me back to Grace, then released me with a wide grin. “I can’t believe it,” she said, faux irritation on her brow.

“What?” I asked, glancing from her to Grace, then back.

“He’s in Chicago for an interview on national news, and you didn’t tell me!”

“Who? Davis?” I asked, wholly stunned.

Grace nodded, her pink lips pursed into the proudest of smiles. “Now maybe Carter can stop feeling superior to his son and gloating about it.”

“No kidding,” Daisy said. “This is next level.”

I blinked, blindsided by the news and rush of emotions. “Davis is in Chicago?”

“Yes!” Daisy said. “He left this morning. Wait. You mean you didn’t know?”

Grace looked equally confused. “The contest thrown by Architectural Digest scheduled a local-interest segment that will air on stations across the US. They invited Davis to speak with the anchor because his interview in the article did so well. It was all very last minute, but not exactly something he could pass up, especially given the pressure Carter and his investors are putting on him.”

“They say he’s become the face for the contest,” Daisy said. “And for saving historical homes.”

My gut ached selfishly with remorse. I was thrilled for Davis but brokenhearted for me. Not long ago, I was Davis’s first call when sharing news.

“Emma?” Daisy asked. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, numb to my toes. What was real anymore? If not the bond I’d formed with Davis this month, then what about the years we’d spent becoming friends online?

The content of Grace’s letter-writing lesson was lost on me as I doodled more than I listened or wrote. It had only taken a moment for me to realize something worse than knowing Davis hadn’t mentioned his enormous victory to me.

With Davis in Chicago, I couldn’t even say goodbye.

I packed my car the next day, ready to go home and start living.

I took pictures of the manor, my garden, and my murder board, for memories’ sake. Then I filled a basket with fresh-baked muffins for Grace. I left the nineteenth-century soup recipes for another visitor to try.

As it turned out, I wasn’t a recluse, a poet, a gardener, or a baker. I was a bookstore owner with a complicated but incredible family and so much life still ahead.

I ran a hand along the stained glass at the top of the stairs, mentally thanking a woman I’d never meet for the wonderful human she’d brought into this world.

I left my key on the foyer table and saw myself out.

My phone rang as I waved goodbye to Michael and Grace at the bookstore a few minutes later.

“What’s up, sis?” I asked, smiling as I climbed into my car.

“I need your thoughts on a name,” she said. “I’m two days from having this baby, and we haven’t decided.”

“Edward,” I said.

“We’re having a girl.”

“Bella.”

“Stop.” She laughed. “Be serious.”

My chest tightened with an unexpected burst of emotion. “You didn’t tell me you were having a girl.”

Images of Annie as an infant popped into mind. She’d had tufts of thick dark hair on her head, along the rims of her ears, arms and shoulders. The visual was hilarious in hindsight, but seven-year-old-me had been greatly concerned.

“We haven’t told anyone else the gender, so keep it to yourself,” she warned. “I need help. I’m desperate.”

Glee replaced nostalgia as her words sank in. She’d come to me for help. Not our parents or even her friends. “What about Mom and Dad?”

“Nope. They’re going to be surprised, and you’re going to pretend you are too.”

“Absolutely,” I vowed, and a few pesky tears stung my eyes.

“We like Virginia,” she said. “I want something that’s a little old-fashioned without trying too hard. Something less common but beautiful. There are too many Michaels and Kaitlyns. Jeffrey says I’m overthinking and I should pick the name I like best. This is really hard.”

“I think Virginia is perfect. Like Virginia Woolf.” I smiled as a famous line of hers presented itself in my mind. It is a thousand pities never to say what one feels. I planned to start telling my family how much they meant to me as often as it crossed my mind.

“Okay,” Annie said. “She’s not the reason, but yes. Like Virginia Woolf. Thank you. When are you coming home?”

“Now, actually. I’m in my car, at the end of the lane.”

“Good. Come see me. If not today, then tomorrow. Don’t wait until I’m at the hospital. I’ll be freaking out then.”

Jeffrey’s laughter boomed in the background. “You’re freaking out now.”

“Am not!” she yelled. “No, he’s right, I am,” she added softly.

“I’ll be there in an hour,” I promised. “Don’t go into labor without me.”

“Bite your tongue.”

“See you soon!” I buckled up and shifted into drive. “I’ll swing by my apartment and grab a few of your baby pictures to bring over.”

“Great.”

I laughed. “Love you too.” I gave the manor one last look in my rearview mirror, then headed home.