Chapter 2
A rush of cool air washed over Shelby as she entered the offices of Barclay and Greenwood set on the edge of town just past
Dottie’s Donuts (which she might or might not have visited on the way). She’d passed the office a million times but had never
had reason to enter. The lobby smelled like lemon Pledge and fresh reams of paper.
From behind her desk Becky Field’s brown eyes softened on Shelby, her laugh lines visible even though she wasn’t smiling.
She was at least sixty, but her hair had been a coiffed platinum blonde for as long as Shelby could remember. They attended
the same church, but Becky wasn’t a reader and only ever came into the bookstore to shoot the breeze.
“Hi, honey. How are you doing? It was such a lovely service yesterday. Your gram would’ve loved it.”
“Thank you, Becky. It’s been a rough week.”
“Of course it has. If there’s anything I can do, you just let me know.”
“Thank you. We’re just trying to take one day at a time.” Everyone had been so helpful. Dad already had over a dozen meals
tucked away in the freezer, and Shelby had at least that many. The whole town had shown up to honor Gram yesterday. Shelby
stopped at the desk, hitching her purse on her shoulder.
“I understand completely. Listen, this is terrible timing, but a few of my friends from church are heading up a fundraiser for the humane society, and we’re collecting donations from area stores to give away in a silent auction.
I meant to ask weeks ago... Would the bookstore be able to donate a book or two for that? ”
“We’d be glad to.” Though there was really no more we . Shelby’s heart squeezed tight but she smiled through the sensation. “When do you need the donation?”
“Would tomorrow be too soon? I can swing by and pick it up.”
“Sounds good.” Shelby glanced past the desk. “Is anyone else here yet?” She hadn’t seen her dad’s or brother’s cars, but she’d
parked on the street.
Becky glanced over her shoulder. Then she stood, leaned over the desk, and lowered her voice. “Listen, honey, I thought you
might like to know—”
“Becky, can you bring back some coffee, please?” Javon Greenwood appeared in the doorway, tall and handsome in white shirtsleeves
and khakis. “Oh, hi, Shelby. I didn’t hear you come in. Come on back. We’ll be in the second room on the left. Make yourself
comfortable.”
“Thank you, Mr. Greenwood.” Javon (legal suspense and true crime) was a fiftysomething newcomer to Grandville, which only
meant he hadn’t been born here. In truth he’d been in town for at least ten years.
Shelby shot Becky a parting smile before heading down the short hallway. The reading of Gram’s will was just one more thing
they needed to get through. But after yesterday this should be a piece of cake. Shelby had, however, forgone makeup altogether
today. If there was one thing she wasn’t, it was a slow learner.
They’d been surprised by the invitation to Mr. Greenwood’s office. But apparently Gram had appointed him as executor and given
him explicit instructions about how she wanted everything to play out.
Shelby was happy to comply with Gram’s wishes. She just wanted to get past this difficult week so she could get back to the bookstore, which she’d mostly left to the other booksellers this week. Janet and the others had been so good about stepping up to the plate.
Shelby arrived in the doorway and blinked at the dark-haired man sitting at the conference table.
Grayson Briggs.
Her feet slammed to a halt. She gaped at him. Snapped her lips shut.
Gray eased to his feet, gaze locked on her like a laser. He had the nerve to look well rested and handsome, even under the
harsh fluorescent lights.
He was supposed to be gone by now, not hanging around Grandville making her nerves twitch. And certainly not here at what
would be the reading of her grandmother’s will. “What are you doing here?”
“Mr. Greenwood asked me to come,” he said in that slow drawl she used to find utterly sexy.
“What for?”
He lifted his shoulders, drawing her attention to them. They were broader than they’d been back then. His whole build seemed...
thicker. Sturdier. She hadn’t seen him this close-up for years. Time and maturity had sculpted his face. The boy had become
a man. And the man was far too appealing for his own good. She frowned at the thought.
A shuffling sounded down the hall. Caleb approached, seeming somber even as he offered a wan smile. He lugged the baby carrier,
Liddy on his heels.
Thoughts still roiling, Shelby greeted them and stepped inside to make room for the couple.
Once through the doorway, Caleb stopped so suddenly Liddy nearly crashed into him. “What are you doing here?”
Gray’s blue eyes toggled between Caleb and Shelby.
Caleb moved forward and set the carrier down. “You have no business being here.”
“Mr. Greenwood invited him.”
“Why would he do that?”
Shelby could practically see the wheels turning in her brother’s head. “I don’t know.”
Caleb scowled at Gray. “Why would you need to be here? What have you done?”
Gray put his hands up, palms out. “I didn’t do anything. I don’t know why he invited me.”
“Alrighty then!” Mr. Greenwood swept into the office, seemingly oblivious to the thick fog of tension. “Your dad’s on his
way in so we’ll get on with the reading in just a moment. Have a seat. Make yourselves comfortable.”
They all settled as Becky brought in coffee service and set it on a buffet table behind Gray. “Can I pour y’all a cup?”
Since Liddy was taking Ollie from the carrier and her brother was busy glaring at Gray, Shelby answered. “We’ll just help
ourselves. Thank you, Becky.”
Becky offered a parting smile that toppled when she glanced Gray’s way, then she vanished through the doorway.
Mr. Greenwood pulled documents from a file while Shelby’s mind spun. Gram must’ve left Gray something. She couldn’t think
what. Gram didn’t have anything that— Oh. The necklace and china. Gray’s grandma had left Gram a pearl necklace and her wedding china. Gram would now pass those items
to Dorothy’s grandson. Of course. It all made sense now. Shelby’s shoulders slumped on an exhale.
Dad entered the room, seeming a little harried. “Sorry I’m a little late. There was—” His gaze stopped on Gray, his prominent
brows pinching together over soft blue eyes. He’d combed his salt-and-pepper hair back, showing off a hairline that hadn’t
receded so much as a centimeter. He’d dressed casually in jeans and a button-down.
“You’re right on time,” Mr. Greenwood said. “Come on in and take a seat. Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“No, thank you.” Dad pulled his gaze from Gray and took a seat on Shelby’s other side.
As he settled, Shelby dared a glance at her ex-boyfriend. He burned a hole through the conference table as he spun a to-go
cup from Latte Da with his left hand.
“Alrighty then. Thank you for coming down today. You’re all here as beneficiaries of Miss Viola’s will. And as I conveyed
on the phone, we usually don’t hold formal will readings, but this is what Miss Viola requested.”
He continued talking, but Shelby made a connection while he did so. Gram had always rooted for Gray and Shelby. She’d been
so convinced they were meant for each other. Shoot, at one time Shelby had been just as convinced.
Gram had pushed her on it for a while. For years, really, until Shelby finally put her foot down.
“It’s over between us, Gram. I know you don’t like change, but sometimes it’s for the best. Sometimes change is necessary
for growth. Let it go.”
But Gram had been stubborn and convinced she was right. She’d probably set up this reading to force them together in the same
room. Ridiculous, since she couldn’t have known when she was going to pass. For heaven’s sake, Shelby could’ve been married
by now. Not to mention Gray.
Her gaze flitted toward the hand still fiddling with the coffee cup. To the fourth finger. Bare.
“Did you just check out his ring finger, Sweet Girl?” Gram’s voice held that familiar note of humor.
I’m just curious. It’s completely natural.
“Whatever you say.”
“Is that okay with everyone?” Mr. Greenwood said.
“Of course,” Dad said.
Caleb folded his arms. “Fine by me.”
Gray offered a nod.
All eyes were on her. What was the question again? Shelby squirmed in her seat. “Uh, yes. Sure.”
“Overview it is then,” Mr. Greenwood said. “I’ll go ahead and pass these out so you each have a copy for your records.” He
proceeded to do just that.
Shelby took the stapled document and set it on the table, her eyes pinned on the heading: Last Will and Testament of Viola Elaine Thatcher .
Gram was dead.
No matter how many times Shelby told herself that, it still didn’t seem real. Just last week she had entered the bookshop
to find her grandma on a ladder, shelving a new first edition of The Exiles. After Shelby had shooed her off the ladder, they’d debated whether or not they needed a website—they did. Then they chatted
about a few new releases, then Normal People , which led them as always to that dream trip to Ireland they’d always wanted to take.
And never would now.
Shelby tried to take comfort in the fact that Gram had had a good, long life and had passed peacefully in her sleep. Who could
ask for more? But that wouldn’t stop them all from missing her terribly. It wouldn’t fix the gutted feeling that left her
chest hollow and aching.
Mr. Greenwood interrupted her thoughts. “So I’ll run through the list of assets in the order Miss Viola requested. Feel free
to stop me if you have any questions.”
Ollie let out a little squeak as Liddy shifted him in her arms.
Dad’s face was stoic, his eyes tight at the corners.
Shelby took his hand under the table and gave it a squeeze.
He squeezed back.
“The first asset is Miss Viola’s house.” Mr. Greenwood made eye contact with her brother.
“Caleb, she wanted you to have her home to do with as you and Liddy wish. Though she loved the home and cherished the memories made there, she wanted to make sure you felt no obligation to keep it. The contents are yours also, except for the items she designated for others. Though she asked that you allow your father and sister to take whatever they might wish to keep.”
Caleb nodded. “Of course.”
“She also wanted you to have your grandfather’s wedding band and watch. She had fond memories of you playing with that watch
when you were a child.”
Caleb blinked back tears, gave a nod.
Liddy rubbed his arm.
Mr. Greenwood’s glance shifted to Dad. “Stanley, your mother wanted you to have any monetary assets once outstanding debts
are paid.” He glanced down at the papers. “She also wanted you to have the letters she and your father wrote to each other
when he was away at war, the grandfather clock he bought her for their twenty-fifth anniversary, and any gifts you gave her
over the years that you might like to have, including the hummingbird feeder you made her, which provided hours of enjoyment,
the diamond birthstone necklace you gave her for her sixtieth birthday, and the antique desk residing in her home office.”
Dad swallowed hard. His jaw flexed.
“Grayson...”
All eyes swung his way.
“Your grandmother was a wonderful, lifelong friend to Miss Viola. She felt Miss Dorothy would’ve wanted you to receive the
things she left to Miss Viola in her will—her pearl necklace and your grandparents’ wedding china will go to you.”
Gray offered a nod. Let go of his cup and slid both hands under the table.
Shelby’s shoulder muscles loosened a notch. She’d been right about the bequeathments. But Gram had been wrong about getting them into a room together. There was no crucible powerful enough to make her open her heart to Gray again.
“Shelby, you know how much your grandmother valued her wedding rings.”
“She never took them off.” Even though Pop had died almost twenty years ago. “Pop was her first and only love.”
“Exactly so. She wanted you to have those to remember them both by. Also, all of her first-edition copies in her home library
and all the books from her personal library. She wanted you to have the antique settee in her living room. She had many fond
memories of late-night chats dating back to your childhood. She wanted you to have her tea service, the diamond earrings your
grandfather gave her for their twentieth anniversary, and the antique lamp that belonged to her mother. She also asked that
you would care for Chaucer. Lastly, in regard to The Second Story Bookshop, which includes the business and the building’s
contents, she bequeathed you 51 percent.”
Shelby blinked at Mr. Greenwood. “Did you say 51 percent?”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Dad said. “Shelby and Mom have run that place together for years. She always intended for Shelby
to have it after she was gone.”
“Who’d even get the other half?” Caleb said. “Not me. I have no interest.”
“I understand your confusion. But I’d like you to recognize that Miss Viola was very clear in her wishes. Shelby, running
the bookshop with you was one of your grandmother’s biggest joys. She wanted me to express how thankful she was for the time
she had with you over the years. Those memories were very dear to her. She realized you might not understand her wishes, but
nonetheless”—his gaze shifted across the table and locked on Gray—“she bequeathed the other 49 percent of the bookstore to
Grayson Briggs.”