Chapter Twenty-Five
Eveline went down to The Turned Page earlier than usual on Saturday morning. Saturdays were always busy, especially during autumn when tourists wandered through Notting Hill's leafy streets in search of cozy bookshops. She wanted everything to be perfect before the day began.
The shop was quiet, morning light filtering through the windows and casting gentle shadows across the wooden floors. Eveline breathed in the familiar scent of books, paper and ink and the subtle aroma of aging pages as she moved toward the counter to begin her morning routine.
That's when she spotted it. Emery's laptop, still open on the counter where she must have left it the evening before. Eveline frowned. Emery was usually careful with her belongings, despite her tendency to bump into things. Leaving her laptop behind seemed out of character.
She approached it, intending to close it and put it somewhere safe, but when she touched it, it came to life and her eyes caught on the document displayed on the screen. Words jumped out at her: ‘heart pounding,’ ‘fingers tracing her cheek,’ ‘the bookshop fell silent around them.’
Eveline's eyebrows rose. A romance novel? Emery was writing a romance novel?
She'd known Emery was working on something, had caught her typing furtively during quiet moments, had noticed the faraway look she sometimes got when staring at the bookshelves.
But somehow, she hadn't expected… this. But then, she supposed it made sense. Romance seemed to be where Emery’s heart lay. She smiled a little to herself.
With a quick movement, Eveline closed the laptop, uncomfortable with the feeling that she'd intruded on something private. She carefully placed it beneath the counter, where it would be safe until Emery came in.
The shop bell jingled, and Zara bustled in, unwinding a colorful scarf from around her neck.
“Morning,” she called, dropping her bag behind the counter. “You're early.”
“Big day,” Eveline said. Then, trying to sound casual: “Did you know Emery was writing a novel?”
Zara looked up, interest sparking in her eyes. “I've seen her typing away sometimes. Is it any good?”
“I only glimpsed it,” Eveline said, arranging some bookmarks in their display. “It, um, seems to be a romance.”
Zara grinned. “I'm not surprised, are you? You must have seen her during the Romance Book Club meetings, taking notes like she’s studying for an exam.” She pulled her hair back into a ponytail.
“Actually, it makes perfect sense. The way she talks about books, you can tell she really gets what makes a story work.”
Eveline considered this, remembering Emery's passionate recommendations to customers, the way she could match a reader to exactly the right book. Perhaps Zara was right. Perhaps it did make sense.
“What makes sense?” Abe said as he shuffled through the door, looking more tired than usual.
“Emery writing a romance novel,” Zara said, moving to help him to his armchair.
“Ah,” he said, settling himself with a slight wince. “You discovered her secret project, did you?”
Eveline turned to him, surprised. “You knew about this?”
“Caught her at it a time or two,” Abe said with a nod. “Got quite flustered when I asked about it. Talented, though, from the bits I saw.”
“You read her work?” Eveline asked, a strange feeling tugging at her chest. Why hadn't Emery shared this with her?
“Just a wee bit,” Abe said. “She's rather protective of it. Private, you know.”
Before Eveline could respond, the shop door burst open and Emery practically flew in, her hair wild, cheeks flushed from running.
“I left my laptop,” she said breathlessly, eyes darting frantically around the counter. “Did anyone—“
“It's safe,” Eveline said, retrieving it from beneath the counter and holding it out. “I found it this morning.”
Relief flooded Emery's face as she took the laptop, clutching it to her chest like a precious artifact. “Oh, thank god. I was up half the night worrying.”
“It was perfectly safe here,” Eveline said with a smile. Then she felt herself blushing. “Um, I did notice it appeared to be a manuscript. I didn’t really read anything though, just closed it straight up again.”
Emery swallowed visibly. “Right. Yes. Just… working on something. Nothing serious.”
“Abe and Zara seem to think otherwise,” Eveline said with a slight grin. “They think you’ve got real talent.”
Emery shot a panicked look at Abe, who merely winked at her.
“I meant what I said before,” Eveline continued softly. “I'd like to read it someday. When you're ready.”
An unreadable expression crossed Emery's face. Relief, certainly, but something else too. Something that looked almost like… guilt?
“Thanks for keeping it safe,” Emery said finally. “I should put this away before I cause another disaster.”
As Emery disappeared into the back room with her laptop, the bell above the door jingled again. Ollie appeared, wrestling with a dolly stacked high with boxes.
“Morning, all,” he called cheerfully. “Special delivery for The Turned Page. Those Emerald Pearl books you ordered, plus a few surprises.”
“Surprises?” Eveline asked, moving to sign his clipboard.
“Yep. Publisher sent over some signed copies in a separate box,” Ollie said, gesturing to a smaller package on top of the stack. “Limited editions or something. Said you'd want to display them prominently.”
“How thoughtful,” Eveline said dryly, though she had to admit the signed copies would likely sell well, especially with the Romance Book Club's continued interest in Pearl's work.
“I'll help unpack those,” Emery said, returning from the back room, laptop safely stowed away.
The shop door opened once more, and a striking woman with dark hair, impeccable red lipstick, and an air of barely contained energy strode in. Her gaze swept the shop until it landed on Emery, and her face lit up with recognition.
“Emery, I've been looking everywhere for you,” she announced, her voice carrying through the quiet shop.
Emery's head snapped up, eyes widening in what looked like alarm. She shot the woman a look so sharp that Eveline could almost feel it slice through the air. The woman faltered mid-step, seeming to realize she'd said something wrong.
“Domi,” Emery said, her voice unnaturally bright. “What a surprise! I didn't expect to see you today.”
An awkward silence descended, during which some unspoken communication seemed to pass between Emery and the newcomer.
“Eveline,” Emery said finally, “this is Dominique Fischer, an old friend from university. Domi, this is Eveline Auclair, the owner of The Turned Page.”
“Enchantée,” Domi said, extending a manicured hand toward Eveline. “Emery has told me so… much about your charming bookshop.”
“Has she?” Eveline said, shaking Domi's hand while trying to ignore the prickle of suspicion at the back of her neck. Something felt off, though she couldn't quite place what.
“I was just in the neighborhood,” Domi said smoothly, “and thought I'd stop by to see where Emery's been spending all her time lately. I can see why she's so enamored with the place.” She glanced meaningfully between Emery and Eveline.
Emery shifted uncomfortably. “Domi was just leaving, weren't you, Domi? I know you have that important… thing.”
“Oh, but I only just arrived,” Domi protested, though her smile had become slightly fixed. “And I'd love to see—“
“The thing, Domi,” Emery interrupted firmly. “The very important thing you can't be late for.”
Understanding finally seemed to dawn on Domi's face.
“Right. The thing. Of course.” She checked her watch theatrically.
“Look at the time. I really must dash.” She air-kissed Emery's cheeks, whispering something Eveline couldn't hear, then headed for the door.
“Lovely to meet you all. I'm sure we'll see each other again soon.”
As the door closed behind her, Emery exhaled visibly.
“Old friend, hmm?” Eveline said, raising an eyebrow.
“Very old,” Emery said quickly. “We don't see each other much these days. Different lives, you know how it is.”
Before Eveline could probe further, Ollie cleared his throat. “So, about these boxes…”
“Yes, let's get those unpacked,” Eveline said, turning her attention back to the delivery. “I'll take the signed copies if you and Zara want to handle the regular stock, Emery.”
She picked up the smaller box and carried it to the counter, using a letter opener to slice through the packing tape. Inside, nestled in protective foam, were ten beautifully bound hardcover editions of The Woman Without a Past, each bearing an elegant bookplate with Emerald Pearl's signature.
Eveline lifted one out, admiring the quality of the binding. A promotional packet accompanied the books, containing glossy bookmarks and a signed note from the author to readers. As she examined the signature, something tugged at her memory.
The flowing script, the distinctive way the 'P' looped back on itself… it looked familiar.
Eveline glanced over at Emery, who was carefully unpacking books from another box, her head bent in concentration as she arranged them in neat stacks. Then she looked back at the signature.
A cold feeling washed over her. No, it couldn't be. It was impossible. And yet…
Eveline pulled open the drawer beneath the counter where they kept the shop's paperwork. She rifled through until she found an order form Emery had signed the week before. Holding it next to the promotional material, she compared the signatures.
Not identical, of course. One was clearly more practiced, more stylized. But there were definitely similarities. The same flowing hand, the same distinctive loop on certain letters.
Eveline stared at Emery across the shop, her mind racing.
Emery, who somehow knew publishing inside and out.
Emery, who could discuss romance novels with such authority.
Emery, who was secretly writing a romance manuscript.
Emery, whose “old college friend” had just shown up looking polished and professional, nothing like the awkward, slightly chaotic woman Emery described from her university days.
Eveline shook her head. No, she was reading too much into things. She was getting paranoid, foolish.
Emery glanced up then, caught Eveline staring, and smiled, that same slightly nervous, endearingly lopsided smile that had become so dear to Eveline over the past weeks.
No, Eveline told herself firmly. There was surely a reasonable explanation.
She was letting her imagination run wild, seeing connections where none existed.
After all, the idea that Emery, her Emery, who knocked over books and spilled coffee and blushed at the slightest provocation, could secretly be Emerald Pearl, bestselling romance novelist and literary phenomenon…
It was utterly unthinkable.
Wasn't it?
Eveline laughed, half to herself. She really was getting loopy in her old age.