The Valentine Box (The Box Books #3)

January 10

Luke

M an, this place has changed. That’s all I can think as I walk down a chipped sidewalk on Main Street in the town where I was raised. I’ve been back for holidays and my mom’s birthday once or twice, but the visits have never led me into town. Not that there’s much left to be led to. The place was floundering my whole life, but it seems far worse now.

Which is part of why I’m still here. I’d planned to leave right after the funeral, but more than one thing has stopped me. Mostly, it’s about dealing with my father’s estate and helping Mom map out a future without him. But something else has come up that makes it about the future of the entire town.

The truth is, I don’t want to care very much. I haven’t lived here in a long time and I have a good life in Utah. But it’s my hometown. And so I guess I care.

I push through the door of the barber shop to see Stanley Ellis, who gave me my very first haircut—and now that I think about it, every haircut I had until moving away. He’s gone gray since I last saw him, and looks skinnier to me as he says, “You’re in need of a cut, young man. Take a seat in the chair and we’ll get right to it.”

He doesn’t recognize me, but still thinks I need a cut. He always did. I’m not the best about keeping up with that. It makes me smile as I tell him, “It’s me, Stan. Luke Montgomery.”

The older man’s eyes widen on me. “Well, good gravy, Luke, I didn’t realize.” Then his expression goes somber. “Was real sorry to hear about your pop.”

I give the same nod I’ve been giving for days now. “Thanks, Stan.” I leave it at that. I should be more emotional about it, I know. Instead, it’s only made me feel kind of empty inside. “But I’m not here for a trim.”

He gives his head a judgmental tilt. “Maybe you should be.”

I just laugh. “Another day soon.”

Then his silvery eyebrows shoot up. “You stayin’ in town?”

“For a little while. To help settle Dad’s affairs and deal with some business for Mom.”

“That’s good of you,” he says. “She’s a sweet woman, your mama.”

Everyone says that. Some people wonder how she ended up with Dad. She was always happy with him, though—she might be the one person in the world he had a soft spot for. “She is,” I agree.

Then I get to the reason I’m here, reaching in the folder I’m carrying to pull out a flyer. “Listen, I want to invite you to a meeting. Something’s come up, an offer on our property, that will affect all of Sweetwater, and I want to get input from the remaining business owners.”

As he takes the flyer I hold out, his brow knits. “What sorta offer could affect us here ? Your farm’s a good mile or so away.”

All I tell him is, “It’s not really that far when you think about it. But I don’t want to get into specifics until everyone is gathered together. Hope you’ll come.”

Now he’s studying the sheet of paper in his hand. “Oh, I’ll be there,” he says. I can see I’ve made him worry, which isn’t my intent. Or…maybe he should worry. All depends on how you look at it.

As I make my way back toward the door of his old shop, he calls, “And you get back in here for that haircut.”

I promise I will, and I mean it, not because I want the cut so much as I can see the guy needs the business.

When I stop into the deli next door—a newer establishment—I’m told the owner is away on an errand right now, but the older woman behind the counter promises to deliver the flyer. It’s just past noon and I’m glad to see that this business at least has a few patrons, and I decide to add to that by ordering an egg salad sandwich, which I eat with chips at one of the little two-seat tables lining the front window.

Afterward, I cross the street to the diner from my youth. As I push through the plate-glass door, it seems brighter than I remember, with a few people seated at booths and tables.

But then I spot something that jolts me—and I’m unexpectedly transported back in time, in ways both good and bad. A memorable wooden heart-shaped box sits on the counter. It was white the last time I saw it, but now it’s pink. Damn, I can’t believe she’s still here.

“Can I help you?” a pony-tailed girl asks in greeting.

I can’t hold in my smile as I gesture toward the wooden box. “I’d know that box anywhere,” I tell her. “Is Taylor Mulvaney here?”

“She owns the place,” the girl informs me, “but she’s away right now.”

Despite myself, I’m disappointed. When last we met, it was in the face of a rejection that wounded me more than I could have anticipated—but that was a long time ago, and it would be nice to say hi. “I went to school with her,” I tell the clerk. “She had that box as far back as elementary school. Her dad made it for her, and she’d bring it on Valentine’s Day when we all traded cards.” I’m not sure why I’m telling her all this, but maybe I’m still absorbing my surprise at finding out Taylor’s still in Sweetwater—and owns this place?

“Oh, I didn’t know that,” the girl says, sounding interested. “Now people put their business cards in and Taylor draws one out to win a cake or pie every week.”

The wheels of my brain are turning. “She only goes through it weekly, huh?”

I’m happily surprised when the young girl shrugs and tells me, “Actually, she takes a peek inside every day or two. Once someone thought it would be a good idea to place an order for ten pies by dropping a note in the box without telling anyone, and chaos ensued. So she checks for anything that’s not a business card like clockwork.”

“If I put something in, think you could make sure she sees it today?” Yeah, I could just hand the flyer to the clerk, but guess the sight of this box has me reminiscent.

“Absolutely,” she promises.

Of course, the last thing I dropped in it, back in high school, didn’t exactly have the desired effect, but even so, I wish I could see the look on Taylor’s face when she finds this. Will it take her back to a time when we were friends? Or maybe it’ll be more like: Ugh, him again. I never really understood why she blatantly ignored my invitation altogether, but we were just kids. And either way, it’ll give her a blast from the past.

Pulling one of the flyers from my folder, I reach for a pen on the counter and write a note at the top:

I remember this box almost as well as I remember my old friend, the keeper of the heart wishes. Luke

Then I fold the 8x10 sheet of paper a few times and slip it through the slot, an act that feels strangely familiar even after all these years.

Exiting the diner, my mind stays on the girl I used to know. I thought she hated Sweetwater and assumed she’d be long gone by now. I’m even more shocked to discover she bought a business in this doomed little town. Or…maybe she’s married and shares it with her significant other. Maybe it’s about family being here, or any number of other possibilities. I wonder if she still has that fiery red hair. Those curls seemed almost untamable at times, but I thought it was amazing. She always looked a little windblown—in a way I liked.

I hope she accepts this invitation—not only for the sake of her business, but because now that I know she’s in Sweetwater, I can’t leave town without seeing her again.

Taylor

I’m heading back from Sweetwater Drugs—where I took a surprise heart cake to the owner, Jeff Calloway, since today is his fortieth birthday. Everyone there—which was me, one employee, and one customer—sang happy birthday while he blew out the candles I stuck on top.

It’s cold but sunny, I’m having Caroline over for pizza and a movie tonight, and all feels right with the world—until I approach the bake shop, reach to open the door, and see none other than Luke Montgomery standing inside.

My heart nearly stops. How can this be? And why is he still so incredible looking?

Somehow, all this time, I’ve pictured him in that cowboy hat and beard—maybe because it’s the last image I had of him from pictures Jasmine posted—but in fact, he’s clean-shaven if still a little in need of a trim, and he’s aged like a fine wine. Well, better than a fine wine in my opinion, because I don’t really know wine, but I know that Luke Montgomery looks good enough to eat.

I’ve stopped outside, peering through the plate-glass door of my shop like a thief deciding my next move, and when it appears he’s getting ready to leave, I panic. Even more, since I’m already pretty panicked. I turn back the way I came, darting up the sidewalk until I reach the narrow alley between my building and the next, a passage just wide enough for the garbage cans tucked away there.

On pure instinct, I plaster myself against the old brick wall, trying to make myself invisible to any passersby. Well, mainly one passerby, who may or may not pass by.

That’s when Caroline approaches from the opposite direction and stops, squinting at me like she’s seen a ghost. “What are you doing?” The ghost of an idiot perhaps, because clearly my plan isn’t working.

Even so, I grab her wrist and pull her into hiding with me—a term I use loosely here. “Stay out of sight,” I whisper, then make the daring move to peek around the corner toward my own front door. It’s open and he’s exiting.

I re-plaster myself to the wall and motion for her to do the same. She’s looking at me like I’m crazy, understandably, but follows suit anyway. Which is a great example of why I love her.

“Shhh,” I say, my skin prickling as footsteps grow near.

Please don’t let him find us because this was dumb of me and I have no way to explain it other than I really am as weird as people thought in school. Or maybe, more accurately, they turned me weird. But that hardly matters right now.

I can barely breathe as this hot, handsome, grown-up version of my high school crush walks past. My chest tightens and my skin tingles in the cold air.

Caroline and I both stay silent and still as he moves farther up the sidewalk. Only once we’ve concluded that he’s gone into the drugstore does Caroline say very calmly, “That was Luke Montgomery.”

“It was,” I confirm.

“And you were hiding from him.”

“Correct.”

“Very mature.”

“Agreed.”

“Was he in your shop?”

I nod, then explain how I almost ran into him but didn’t. “I just…wasn’t mentally prepared, you know? I’ve been baking all morning and probably look awful.”

She tilts her head, giving me a once over, then reaches up to brush something from the curls next to my face. “You do have a little flour in your hair.”

I sigh. “Of course I do. And normally I don’t care about things like that—I just took Jeff a cake and obviously didn’t care enough to check a mirror first. But if I’m gonna see Luke for the first time since high school, with flour in my hair is not how I want to do it.”

She purses her full lips. “So you do plan on seeing him while he’s here.”

I shake my head. “No. What are you talking about? I don’t even know how long he’s in town. I just meant if I were going to. But I’m not.”

“I wonder how long he’s staying.” She pulls out her phone. “I’ll text my mom.”

After she hits Send, she looks back at me. “You really should connect with him. For old time’s sake.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Why? After all, your last communication from him was a nice invitation to a dance.”

“Correction. My last communication with him was him being snarly because he didn’t know I never got it. And…” I think it through. “I guess what it really comes down to, though, is…in some moments, I’m still that paranoid girl who doesn’t feel good enough because everyone treated me like I wasn’t good enough.”

At this, my longtime bestie lets out an understanding sigh. “Look,” she says, “I, more than anyone, get it. But you need to let that go. And honestly, I thought you had. You float through life with ease now, perfectly happy.”

“Until I’m confronted with the past,” I confess. “Then I’m dragged back there in my mind. It’s easy to be confident when everything’s going fine and people treat you kindly. But those reminders of worse days are hard.”

When her phone buzzes, she looks down and tells me, “Mom doesn’t know why he’s still here or for how long, darn it.” She shakes her head, appearing put out. “My top gossip source has let me down.”

“Nobody’s perfect, I guess.”

A little while later, as I help Kyra box up some online orders for a post office run, Luke is still on my mind. Oh, who am I kidding? He’s been there all week, ever since I found out about his dad’s death, but now it’s worse. Because now I’ve seen how good he still looks. And I’m a little more mired in wishing things had been different with him in the past.

“Before I forget,” Kyra tells me, “you need to check your heart box.”

My hand goes still on my tongs. Normally, this would have me asking her questions about why, but knowing who was just here a little while ago, I don’t bother. I just abandon the order, go to the counter, and take off the lid, happy the shop is empty right now other than her. Inside, on top, I find a folded sheet of paper, which I open and read.

Calling all Sweetwater business owners!

Come to a special meeting about Sweetwater’s future!

Sweetwater High School gym

January 12, 7:00 P.M.

An opportunity has been presented to my family that would have a significant impact on all of Sweetwater. Your attendance is important and your feedback valued. I apologize for being mysterious, but this will be better discussed in person, as a group. Thanks in advance.

Luke Montgomery

It’s a baffling invitation, to be sure, but what my eyes stay stuck on is the note from him, to me, at the top. He called me the keeper of the heart wishes once before, that day so long ago outside the lunchroom, the day he dropped an invitation in the valentine box that I didn’t see for four years. I always remembered because I liked the idea—of being the keeper of heart wishes. I’m amazed he remembers it, too.

That’s when my phone buzzes with a text from Caroline across the street. Did you get your invitation to a mysterious meeting?

I reply. Yep .

Going?

I hesitate before answering. I could just get scoop from Caroline.

But that’s when Maggie lets out a little bark, and I glance down to see a clump of her thick, wintertime fur has smushed itself into the shape of a heart. My eyes pick it out immediately, same as always since losing my dad nearly twenty years ago.

I release a long sigh. Hearts in unusual places have continued to be guideposts for me. And Caroline’s right—I need to be mature and face my past. Hiding in the alleyway a little while ago was not my finest moment.

I guess I’m just remembering…how long it took to get over him back in the day. Maybe it was more than a crush I had. I didn’t know him well , but I knew him for a long time—I let those feelings grow and evolve inside me for eight long years. And perhaps I’m afraid seeing him will bring back up emotions I worked long and hard to move past.

But on the bright side, at least I can control this encounter. I’m still the girl with red hair and freckles, but at least I can make sure there’s no flour in the equation. I can walk in strong and confident and ready. I can walk in basically being…me. The me I’ve grown into.

And sure, sometimes I really am the girl with flour in her hair, too—but I don’t need to show him that part.

Yes, I’ll go , I finally text back.

Good, Caroline answers. It’ll be fine, you’ll see.

I have no idea if that’s true. But despite what I told her in the alley, like it or not, sounds like I’m seeing Luke Montgomery again.