Chapter 1
7years later…
There’s a reason why I don’t drink more than two glasses of wine anymore at any given time.
I sat in the living room of my small flat, staring at the paper shopping bag that sat on my coffee table and trying to calm my racing heart.
I didn’t buy what I thought I bought, did I? I couldn’t have.
I wasn’t that drunk last night, was I?
Okay, yes, I was that drunk. But I wasn’t that stupid, was I?
Taking a deep breath, I reached into the paper bag with the stamp Olsen’s Books and Antiquities inked on the front and pulled out the hardbound, gorgeous green book with gold peacock feathers embossed on the front.
Oh no.
It turned out, I was that drunk and stupid.
With a chirp, my tuxedo cat, Jules hopped up on the coffee table and brushed her head against my knuckles, trying to get some scritches out of me.
I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, gasp, or dance around my living room.
The book in my hands was a first edition copy of Pride and Prejudice.
But not just any first edition. Nope, that would be too simple…. And I, Addy Meyer, was known for being extra.
This was the 1894 first Peacock edition signed by the legendary illustrator, Hugh Thomson… from his own private collection.
I’d been staring at this book, drooling over it, for more than a year since it entered the doors of Olsen’s Books and Antiquities. But the $8,000 price tag made it so that it was never more than a pipe dream.
With trembling hands, I placed the book back into the archival bag it came in, then dropped my forehead onto the coffee table, just as my ringtone pierced the quiet patter of London’s drizzle against my window panes.
I didn’t even look at the screen, forehead still on my coffee table as I lifted the phone and pressed it to my ear. “H’llo,” I mumbled.
“Let me in,” Daphne said, her thick Manchester accent still as charming as it was the first day I met her. “I’m downstairs and I’ve got the biggest Americano they serve around the corner.
Which meant it was basically 10 oz. Europeans didn’t serve the massive sized drinks we did in America. Even still, beggars can’t be choosers. And since I’d apparently just spent the last of my savings on a freaking book, well,it wasn’t like I could afford my own damn cup of coffee today.
Practically near tears, I peeled myself off of the pine coffee table and made my way down the narrow staircase to let Daphne in.
Brown eyes wide and excited, she shoved the coffee into my hands and brushed past me, sweeping up the stairs. “I can’t believe you did it! You actually did it, Harp! Can I see it? Can I touch it?”
I gaped at her, fury and panic swelling in my lungs. “You knew that I was going to buy that stupid book and didn’t stop me?”
“Stop you!?” Daphne paused and swung around on the top landing of the stairs to face me. “Luv, I helped you haggle that price down! Nothing a little liquid courage and Daphne couldn’t handle.”
She puffed her chest proudly and walked into my apartment, giving my Jules a quick pat to her head.
Last night’s events were foggy, at best. While two glasses of wine is supposed to be my cut off, Daphne was moving to Italy tomorrow for a two-year residency at the Biblioteca Angelica. We’d celebrated her achievement last night… hard.
Too damn hard, apparently.
I vaguely remembered men at the pub buying us round after round last night when they discovered we were celebrating Daphne’s residency. That was the beauty of London. When you have a local haunt—and everyone has a local pub—they treat you like family.
Sitting down on the loveseat that came with my furnished flat, she reached into the small shopping bag and pulled the book out with a low whistle. “I was too drunk last night to really relish in holding this beauty.”
I smiled at my best friend. She was the only person in my life who understood how sacred books were to me.
We’d met at Oxford while getting our Masters of Library Sciences… it was already a small program, made smaller by the fact that I was the only one in my program who wanted to use my degree for book conservation and restoration. Most of the other masters candidates were solely looking to run the libraries.
“Harper,” she whispered. “It’s even more beautiful than it was last night.”
I groaned and flopped onto the loveseat next to her. “What am I going to do, Daphne? I spent every last penny I had on this stupid thing.”
Daphne blinked at me. “Are you joking?”
“I mean, I haven’t checked my bank account or anything this morning, but yeah, I’m pretty sure that every penny I had from my first gig here in London is right there in your hands. How the hell am I going to make my student loan payment next month?” Let alone pay for rent, food, cat food, and just all around living expenses in one of the most expensive cities.
Granted, I was lucky that my stepdad and mom owned this building and gave me a great rate on the rent. But still, even paying cost, it wasn’t cheap by any stretch of the means.
“No,” Daphne said. “I meant are you joking that you don’t remember the plan?”
“What plan? What the hell are you talking about?”
Daphne’s face paled and she shook her head. “Holy hell, how drunk were you last night?”
“I warned you that when I have hard liquor, I black out!” I jumped off the couch and Jules darted under the couch to hide. “But nooooo, let’s do shots, you said! It’ll be fine, you said!”
“I thought you were exaggerating!” Daphne shrieked at me, jumping up, too.
“Well, I wasn’t!”
She gripped my hands, squeezing them hard. “Harper, breathe. You came up with a plan last night. A good plan.”
“A drunken plan,” I added.
She considered that a moment, then nodded. “Okay, yes. A drunken plan. But still, it’s a good business plan.” She dove into the paper bag and pulled out a napkin with scribbles all over it in my handwriting. At the top, it said:
Meyer’s Book Restoration and Conservation.
It had been my dream for the better part of four years. Starting my own business, traveling around and restoring rare and valuable books. But it was damn hard to make a name for yourself in that field. Academia was already snobbery at its finest. And even having gone to Oxford didn’t guarantee me a face to face with higher ups at libraries and universities.
I groaned. “So what? I wrote down my business plan drunkenly on a cocktail napkin?”
Daphne shook her head. “You didn’t just write it down. You started making calls last night.”
My face drained of color and for the first time all morning, I thought I might puke. “I did what?”
“You called several universities back where you grew up and asked if any of them wanted to add this book to their collection. You promised that it would be in near mint condition.”
I lunged for my cell phone, pulling up my call history. Sure enough, there were multiple calls made to the states. Harvard University. Columbia. Yale. Dartmouth.
I gasped, shoving the phone into Daphne’s face. “One of these phone calls lasted for 98 minutes, Daphne! Who the hell did I talk to for ninety-eight minutes?! I must have sounded like a raving lunatic!”
“Actually,” Daphne said, smiling. “You sounded confident. Professional. And you finally took those risks that Professor Locke always encouraged you to do.” She paused for effect, then added, “And one of them said yes.”
I blinked, looking up at Daphne. “One of them said yes?”
The memory was tickling something in the back of my brain. A faint wisp of the memory of the phone call.
That’s right… I’d talked to the head of the English department. It’d been 11 p.m. here, but only 6 p.m. back in New Hampshire. “Dartmouth,” I whispered. “Dartmouth said yes.”
Daphne nodded. “That’s right. So we called Olsen’s and told them we needed to buy that book ASAP. But only if he came down on the price and?—”
“And threw in the other first edition peacocks he had,” I finished for her.
Oh my God.
I lunged for the bag once more. In my panic and haste this morning, I didn’t bother looking to see if anything else had been in the bag.
I set the copy of Pride and Prejudice aside and dug into the bag to pull out the other books. There were four other first edition Peacock Austen books, but they were in much worse condition than the first. Torn pages. Stained, ink that was rubbing off of the illustrations and text.
Tears filled my eyes as I pulled the receipt out from the bottom of the bag and gulped.
“Seven-thousand dollars,” I whispered, reading it.
Holy shit. We’d haggled Olsen down from the eight thousand dollar price tag and managed to get him to toss in a few more valuable books.
I had just enough left in my bank account to buy a plane ticket to New Hampshire and buy the supplies to restore these books.
I blinked back tears as I looked up at Daphne. “This is all thanks to you, Daph.”
She waved me away and shook her head. “Not even close, This had always been your business plan. Your genius idea to buy, restore, and flip rare books. I just gave you the little nudge you needed.” She paused, tears glistening in her eyes. “Consider it my going away gift to you.”
I launched myself at Daphne, pulling her in for a hug and clutching her hard against me as tears spilled from my eyes. “Thank you,” I whispered through my sob. “But I’m pretty sure I was supposed to get you the going away gift.”
We both laughed through our tears, then pulled away from the hug. I wiped at my damp cheeks. “Seriously, Daphne… what am I going to do without you?”
She bit her trembling lip and shook her head. “You won’t be without me. We’ll be across the world from each other, but you’ll always have me. And I’ll always have you. That’s what Facetime is for.”
Facetime. Right. It was how I kept in touch with all my friends and family in Maple Grove.
I didn’t get home nearly enough. I’d only seen my little brothers Coen and Cole a handful of times since they were born six years ago.
“I’ll miss seeing you every day, though,” Daphne said.
“Me, too.”
“And if you ever find a first edition of Little Women, I expect that bitch gift wrapped and delivered to my door!”
“You got it,” I laughed. “What do you say we finish these coffees, then grab some breakfast and I help you finish packing?”
Her brows lifted. “My packing is done, girl. We’ve got to get you packed up, though. Your flight leaves tomorrow.”
“I already booked my flight?! What the hell else had I arranged when I was drunk?”
Daphne laughed. “A lot. Apparently, vodka is like the equivalent to adderall for you. Your mum is arranging for a subletter to take over your apartment next month.”
“Holy shit,” I exhaled. “This is happening. Like, really happening.”
Jules purred and hopped up on the coffee table. I bent and scratched the base of her tail as she arched her back. “Don’t worry girl. I’ll make sure you’re coming with me.”
With a deep breath, I looked around my seven-hundred square foot flat. Luckily, there wasn’t a lot to pack up.
I bent over the first edition of Pride and Prejudice and flipped open some of the pages. “Thank God this one is in great condition, at least,” I said.
Unlike the other books Olsen had included in the sale. This book barely needed any work from me to flip it for a profit. I could easily make a thousand dollars off this book alone… it was well worth the eight thousand dollars Olsen had originally asked for.
I stopped flipping through the pages as I reached an illustrated image of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy, admiring the beautiful art from the iconic illustrator.
As I stared, mesmerized by the page, I heard Daphne gasp. “No!” she cried. “Jules!”
Before I realized what was happening, Jules was squatting right over Mr. Darcy’s face… peeing.
Peeing on my seven thousand dollar investment.
It’s a good thing I loved that damn cat as much as I did.