Chapter Nine
Emery arranged chairs in a semi-circle near the back of the shop. Her hands trembled slightly as she set out wine glasses on a small table Maya had provided. Things might not be so bad had the book club not been reading an Emerald Pearl novel. She felt a little bit sick.
“This is insane,” she muttered to herself, straightening a stack of napkins for the third time.
Maya bustled in through the back door, laden with pastry boxes and two bottles of wine tucked precariously under her arm.
“Let me help you with those,” Emery said, rushing forward to rescue the wine before disaster struck.
“Bless you,” said Maya, depositing the boxes on the table. “I've made these special for tonight. Raspberry tarts with little hearts. Romantic, don't you think?”
“Very,” Emery agreed, trying not to think about how her stomach churned with nervous anticipation. “Do you know how many people are coming?”
“Usually about ten,” Maya said, opening boxes and arranging pastries. “Though we might get a few extras, since word's spread that The Turned Page is hosting.”
The door that connected the shop to the flat upstairs opened, and Eveline walked in, looking beautifully elegant in a simple black dress. She'd let her hair down from its usual knot, and dark waves cascaded over her shoulders. Emery felt her mouth go dry.
“Is everything ready?” Eveline asked, surveying the setup with a critical eye.
“Almost,” Emery managed, tearing her gaze away to focus on uncorking a bottle of wine. The cork gave way suddenly, and a splash of red wine arced through the air, landing squarely on the front of Eveline's dress.
“Oh god, I'm so sorry!” Emery gasped, grabbing napkins and rushing forward. She dabbed frantically at the stain, then froze as she realized she was essentially pawing at Eveline's chest. She jerked her hand back as if burned. "I, um, I didn't mean to—"
“It's fine,” Eveline said tightly, taking the napkins from Emery's hand. “I'll go change. Try not to destroy anything else while I'm gone.”
As Eveline disappeared up the stairs to her flat, Maya shot Emery a sympathetic look. “Don't worry, dear. She's just nervous about having the club here.”
“Right,” Emery sighed. “It has nothing to do with me spilling wine all over her.”
“Well, that too,” Maya admitted with a chuckle. “But you must know by now that Eveline's bark is worse than her bite.”
While they finished setting up, Emery couldn't help but wonder if agreeing to this job was the worst decision she'd ever made.
Her manuscript was waiting for her at home, the words flowing in a way they hadn't for months, all inspired by the very woman whose dress she'd just ruined.
Domi was going to be thrilled with her progress, if she ever got back to actually writing instead of playing bookseller.
But there was something about being here, among the books and the warm lighting, something about watching Eveline move through the shelves with such purpose and care, that filled Emery with a kind of contentment she hadn't felt in a long time.
The bell jingled over the door, and Zara walked in, followed by several other women of varying ages, all chatting excitedly.
“Emery,” Zara said with a grin. “I didn't know you'd be here for book club. Have you read When a Bride Meets a Groom? We're about halfway through.”
“I'm familiar with it,” Emery said carefully, accepting a stack of books from Zara.
“Familiar?” Zara laughed. “That's diplomatic. It's either brilliant or trash, depending on who you ask. I'm in the brilliant camp, obviously.”
“Right,” Emery said, feeling her face flush. “Your thesis.”
“The feminist undertones are subtle but unmistakable,” Zara continued, oblivious to Emery's discomfort. “The way she writes about desire from the female perspective, without shame or apology, it's revolutionary, especially in a genre that's been so dismissed by the literary establishment.”
Emery nodded, a strange mixture of pride and embarrassment washing over her. She'd never heard her work discussed so earnestly before.
More club members arrived, and soon the back of the shop was filled with lively conversation and laughter. Emery busied herself pouring wine and distributing pastries, trying to blend into the background as much as possible.
Eveline reappeared, now wearing a dark blue blouse that brought out the warmth in her skin. She surveyed the gathering with a resigned expression, nodding politely to the club members who greeted her. When she caught Emery's eye, her lips quirked in what might have been a small smile.
???
Eveline watched from behind the counter as Emery charmed the entire Romance Book Club without even trying.
She'd changed her blouse, but could still smell the faint trace of wine, a reminder of Emery's endearing clumsiness.
It should have annoyed her, it would have annoyed her from anyone else.
But with Emery, it was somehow charming.
She shook her head, trying to dislodge the thought. This was ridiculous. Emery was her employee, nothing more. An employee who seemed to know an unusual amount about publishing and had a disturbing tendency to knock things over whenever Eveline came near.
And yet, Eveline couldn't help but notice how the soft lighting caught in Emery's curly hair, giving it an almost halo-like effect.
Or how her blue eyes crinkled at the corners when she laughed at something one of the club members said.
Or how her hands moved expressively as she talked, somehow managing to convey more meaning than her words alone.
“Stop it,” she muttered to herself, turning away to reorganize a display that didn't need reorganizing.
She'd spent years building walls around herself, creating a life that was orderly and predictable, safe from the kind of betrayal that had driven her from France.
The last thing she needed was to develop feelings for someone who probably saw her as nothing more than a grumpy bookshop owner with an accent.
“Eveline?” Maya's voice interrupted her thoughts. “Are you going to join us? Mrs. Hampton is about to lead the discussion.”
“I think I'll observe from a distance,” Eveline said. “This is your domain, not mine.”
“Nonsense,” Maya said, taking her by the elbow. “You ordered twenty copies of this book. The least you can do is participate in the discussion.”
Before Eveline could protest further, she found herself being steered toward the circle of chairs, and deposited directly beside Emery, who looked up with a startled expression.
“Ladies,” Mrs. Hampton, a formidable woman in her sixties with a penchant for bright scarves, called the meeting to order. “Before we dive into this week's discussion of When a Bride Meets a Groom, I want to thank Eveline for graciously hosting us on such short notice.”
There was a smattering of applause, and Eveline nodded stiffly, acutely aware of Emery's shoulder nearly touching hers.
“Now,” Mrs. Hampton continued, “we left off with Victoria discovering Edward's secret identity as the Duke of Westmoreland. Thoughts on her reaction?”
“I thought it was completely justified,” one woman piped up. “He lied to her for weeks.”
“But he had good reasons,” said someone else. “His family's expectations, his own desire to be loved for himself, not his title.”
The discussion flowed around Eveline, who found herself strangely drawn into the analysis despite her skepticism. These women weren't simply swooning over romantic fantasies; they were engaging with themes of identity, self-determination, and the nature of honesty in relationships.
Beside her, Emery remained uncharacteristically quiet, her fingers fidgeting with the pages of her copy.
“What about you, Emery?” Mrs. Hampton suddenly asked. “You've been quiet. What do you think about Edward's deception?”
Emery's head snapped up, her eyes wide. “Me? Oh, well, I… I think perhaps Edward never meant for things to go so far. Maybe he started with a small omission that grew into something bigger as he fell in love with Victoria. By the time he realized how much the truth mattered, he was in too deep.”
Eveline felt a strange shiver run down her spine at Emery's words, at the passion and understanding in her voice.
She turned to study Emery's profile, the way her brow furrowed slightly as she spoke, the nervous way she tucked her hair behind her ear. There was something about this woman, and she wasn’t sure what it was.
When Mrs. Hampton finally called for a short break, Eveline found herself lingering near Emery instead of retreating to the safety of her counter.
“You seem to have given Edward's motivations a lot of thought,” she said, trying to keep her voice neutral.
Emery jumped slightly, nearly spilling her wine again. “I just… I can understand how easy it is to get trapped in a lie, even with the best intentions.”
“Can you?” Eveline asked, raising an eyebrow. “You strike me as someone painfully honest, actually. I can't imagine you maintaining any sort of deception for long.”
A shadow passed over Emery's face. “You'd be surprised,” she said softly.
Before Eveline could respond, Zara bounded over, clutching her copy of the book. “Emery! You have to tell Mrs. Hampton what you were saying to me earlier about the symbolism of Victoria's garden throughout the novel. It perfectly aligns with my thesis!”
Emery's eyes widened in panic. “I don't… I mean, I'm not sure I…”
“Come on,” Zara said, tugging at Emery's arm. “Everyone needs to hear this.”
As Zara pulled a reluctant Emery back toward the group, Eveline found herself wondering about the contradictions of this woman who'd tumbled into her shop and, somehow, into her carefully ordered life.
There was more to Emery Parker than met the eye, Eveline was becoming increasingly certain of that.
And despite her better judgment, she was increasingly determined to discover exactly what it was.
“Everyone,” Mrs. Hampton called out as they settled back into their seats, “I have wonderful news.
Since we're only halfway through When a Bride Meets a Groom, I've decided that The Turned Page would be the perfect place for our next meeting as well. That is,” she turned to Eveline with a pointed look, “if our gracious host agrees? And, of course, we mustn’t forget that our tenth anniversary meeting is coming up. And what better place to spend it than right here?”
All eyes turned to Eveline, who found herself trapped between the eager expressions of the club members and Emery's wide-eyed gaze.
“I suppose that would be acceptable,” she said finally. Not that it would be her preference. But behinds in seats meant book sales.
A cheer went up from the group, and Maya clapped her hands in delight.
“Wonderful!” Mrs. Hampton beamed. “And Emery, you simply must co-host with us again. Your insights into Pearl's work are remarkable.”
Emery's face had gone pale. “I, um, that's very kind, but…”
“Emery will be delighted to help,” Eveline interrupted, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. There was something entertaining about watching Emery squirm at the prospect. “After all, she does know so much about romance.”
Emery shot her a look that was part panic, part resignation. “Of course,” she said weakly. “I'd be happy to.”
As the club resumed their spirited debate about Edward's potential redemption, Eveline couldn't help but feel a small thrill of satisfaction. Whatever Emery Parker was hiding, having her run the Romance Book Club was certainly proving to be illuminating.