Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
A bigail wandered to a display of books marked Novels for the Tender Heart. She loved the way Mr. Troeh arranged his displays, and knew this section must be filled with romance novels. Stealing a glance at Mr. Bailey, she saw him standing at the end of an aisle, picking up what looked like a book of poetry. He glanced her way before beginning to leaf through its pages.
Abigail quickly looked away and picked up a book with an illustration of a couple holding hands on the cover. She flipped through it, searching for more illustrations.
“So,” Mr. Bailey said as he approached, “you really do like romance novels.”
Abigail closed the book and noticed he was still holding the poetry collection. She turned to him unabashed. “There’s a lot of truth in them, if ye must know. And what about you, Mr. Bailey?” She glanced at the book in his hands. “Other than poetry, what do ye like? Adventure? Swashbuckling pirates?” She smirked. “Oh, that’s right, ye like murder . And ye write it, too. What does that say about ye?” Her cheeks grew hot, and she hoped he hadn’t noticed.
Fat chance of that.
He smiled, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. “I admit, I love a good adventure story. And I incorporate a lot of it into my books, along with mystery, of course. And a murder to solve.” He tilted his head. “I’m curious if you’ll be able to figure out who performed the deed in Murder in the Glen .”
She placed the book in her hand back on the shelf and chose one with a red cover. It was an attractive book with gold lettering. Placing it atop Mr. Bailey’s book, she held it to her chest.
“Are you familiar with that book?” he asked.
“No.” With her free hand, she picked up another book and leafed through it.
“Do you know what it’s about?”
Her eyes flicked to his and back. “No.”
He laughed. “So you’re just going to purchase it without knowing what it’s about?”
“It’s a romance. That’s all I need to know. And it’s pretty.”
He chuckled; his eyes bright with amusement. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be downright handsome looking that way. “But what if the story is terrible?”
“Well, no one knows if it’s terrible if they haven’t read it yet, now would they?” She lifted her chin. “I like it. It’s pretty. And I’m taking it home to read.”
He held up his hands. “Fine, I didn’t mean to offend. I usually read a bit of the first chapter to see if I’m going to like it. Sometimes I read the ending.”
She gasped. “How could ye do such a thing? Why, that ruins it!”
“I don’t read the very end,” he said in his defense. “Usually just the beginning of the last chapter.”
“Still doesn’t seem right if ye ask me. Which, of course, ye won’t.” She put the book down and picked up another.Good grief, why was she so nervous around this man?
“Shall we go to the park next?” she suggested. Unfortunately, her voice cracked on the last word.
He gave her a slight bow. “I can’t think of anything I’d enjoy more, unless it involves food, and we eat it in the park?”
She caught the hopeful tone in his voice and sighed. “Very well. We can get something from the deli and take it across the street to the park. Unless ye want to try some of Mr. Ross’s roasted potatoes. He runs the ice-skating shack in winter and rents canoes in spring, summer, and fall.”
“How lovely,” Mr. Bailey said. “Sounds like the park is the place to be.”
“Make no mistake, a lot of people use it,” she said with a curt nod.Heavens, he was making her nervous. She didn’t start nodding a lot like that unless she was antsy.
They made their purchases, collected the small stack of wrapped books Mrs. Pettigrew had ordered, and returned to the deli near the print shop. Mr. Bailey bought them both a sandwich, and they headed to the park. Mr. Ross often sold lemonade and other beverages, and they could buy something to drink there.
When they reached the park, Abigail led them down a path that wound its way to the lake. Spring and summer were her favorite seasons to spend here, and she loved the flowering trees that lined the path. Occasionally, they passed a bench occupied by nannies with their charges or a courting couple accompanied by a stalwart chaperone.
Mr. Bailey walked quietly beside her, taking in their surroundings. At least she wasn’t so nervous that she was tripping over her tongue, or quite literally tripping and falling flat on her face. All in all, he was a fair enough companion. She couldn’t complain about having him along. Besides, she might as well get used to the man, seeing as how they were going to be working together.
“Ye seem to be enjoying yourself,” she remarked.
“I love nature,” he admitted. “I get some of my best ideas while out in it. I’ll be spending some time here and will have to bring pen and paper with me.” He smiled at her, then nodded at their surroundings.
The park was an expanse of lush green grass and meandering paths, much like the one they were on. And of course, there was the beautiful, sparkling lake. It was a lovely retreat, and she had already brought Carson and Esther here twice since the weather had improved.
They strolled past a cluster of evergreens, the sound of children playing carrying through the trees. She knew there was a large grassy area just ahead where children often played with balls, kicking them here and there.
“You know,” Mr. Bailey said, “Mrs. Pettigrew’s manner is much better than mine. Tell me, what’s it like working for someone who’s… how shall I put this… extraordinary?”
Abigail tried to hide her smile and failed. Fixing her eyes on the path, she bit her lower lip. “All I can say is that it’s never boring.” She cast him a sidelong glance. “Mrs. Pettigrew is much more perceptive than people give her credit for. Rather than voice her observations, she keeps them to herself and uses them later when it suits her.” Her lips twitched. “Trust me, ye’ll catch her watching you.”
His brows lifted, intrigued.
“But she’s also a kind soul, even if she is odd,” Abigail continued. “And she’s a challenge to keep up with, just so ye know.” She gave him a knowing look. “Good luck with that.”
He laughed. “I like Mrs. Pettigrew. I like that she’s different.”
“Oh, aye, she is different, all right. The woman smokes cigars, for one. And she cuts Mr. Tugs’ hair for him. He’s an odd sort, too—he was once in the circus and got his start in carnivals.”
“Did he? How remarkable! I’ll have to ask him about it.”
“He’d love it if ye would. The man enjoys talking about his time in the circus.”
“And you, of course, are able to keep up with Mrs. Pettigrew,” he stated.
“I do my best. Besides, it’s preferable to being left behind.”
“What do you mean by that?” he asked.
“Only that when Mrs. Pettigrew gets an idea in her head, she’s like a tornado.”
“You say that with great affection in your tone, Abigail. You care for the woman.” He gave her a warm smile.
Her chest warmed in response. “Aye, one can’t help it. Mrs. Pettigrew may be odd, but she’s the most generous, loving woman ye’ll ever meet.” She glanced his way, her eyes sweeping over him in a quick perusal. “And what about yerself? Why did ye come to America?”
He shrugged. “Partly, to write something worth reading.”
She held up one of the packages in her hands and laughed. “ Murder in the Glen isn’t worth reading, is it?”
“I didn’t say that. I love writing my mysteries. What I’m talking about is something that touches a person’s heart so profoundly they can’t stop thinking about the story.”
“Then ye ought to be reading romance,” she said.
He chuckled and nodded at the books in her arms. “Will you loan me one? The red one, perhaps?”
“Once I’m done with it,” she said, aghast. “I’ll not risk ye giving away the ending.”
He laughed as they broke through the trees and faced the lake. “I say, will you look at that? How lovely!”
“Aye, it is, isn’t it? Ye should see it in winter when all the ice-skating is going on.”
“Does the entire lake freeze, then?”
“Oh, aye. But they still have to check for thin ice and keep the skating to this side of the lake. Mr. Ross makes a barricade, so idiots don’t go too far out and wind up drowning themselves.”
He nodded sagely. “Good idea. Now, shall we find a place to sit and have our lunch?”
She smiled before she could stop herself. “Aye, that would be agreeable.”
He smiled back, his eyes bright. “Then lead on, Miss O’Connell, and let us have our lunch.”
Her cheeks heated as she turned from him, spied a bench, and led him to it.