26. A Princess-Cut Diamond, Twinkle Lights, & Books
A Princess-Cut Diamond, Twinkle Lights, & Books
Casey went to jail. My parents’ ranch fully belonged to me. And by Thanksgiving, I had thrown myself into the business the way I’d always wanted to. Namely, I’d hired Derrick and one of his nephews full time.
I was also signed up to restart my degree online.
I was still doing just one class at a time, but I promised myself that once Derrick and I had a new rhythm going and everything running as it should, I would start taking more.
Even better, Amanda had moved in with me, rather than me moving in with her the way she’d once suggested.
And not only was she a great roommate, she surprised me by quickly learning her way around the ranch as well.
“With training,” Derrick told me one cold November evening, “she’ll be working full time here soon too.”
The biggest difficulty had been saying goodbye to Jaelyne. After the arrest, Harper wanted nothing to do with me, even though I’d offered to let them stay in their rooms until their grandparents came to pick them up, so she and Jaelyne stayed with Margaret instead.
Jaelyne, however, made it hard to say goodbye.
“I don’t want to leave you,” she sniffed as Harper climbed into their grandparents’ car. “Are you making me leave the ranch?”
“Oh, baby, no!” I whispered as I rearranged her hair. “No, love, you are welcome to come back here anytime your grandparents allow it. And to prove it to you,” I said, reaching into my backpack, “I want you to have this.”
Jaelyne’s eyes grew wide. “Your… your tiara?”
I smiled and nodded. “I’m going to miss you. And every time you wear this, I want you to think of how you insisted I become a princess.”
Jaelyne swallowed and rolled her eyes. “No, I told you that if you had to be a princess, you might as well be a good one.”
I chuckled. “Either way, this is your invitation. You’re allowed to come back whenever you want. Whether that’s now, or in six years when you’re all grown up and on your own.”
Jaelyne took the tiara before bursting into tears once more and throwing her arms around me. “Okay,” she sobbed. “I will!”
Winter came cold and early that year, and by Thanksgiving evening, when we all gathered at Miss Margaret’s for dinner, I couldn’t help mourning the passing of autumn.
I couldn’t mourn for long, though. Doing so would have been impossible with such a happy gathering crowded into her little cottage.
Asher had gone back to his base just hours after Casey’s arrest, and he’d been so busy that Thanksgiving was the first time he’d made it back since.
Then there was Jay, of course, and Derrick, his wife Amy, Brianna, and Derrick’s nephew, Davon.
Amanda was there, too, as her flight back to visit her parents had been cancelled.
And Miss Margaret just glowed as we all sat around her table (which seemed oddly larger than it had been the last time I’d been there) to feast on the countless steaming dishes that never seemed to grow cold.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed that much. Between Jay’s constant stories about Asher’s childhood mishaps and Brianna and Derrick’s teasing, and Margaret’s affectionate bossing, there was hardly a moment when someone wasn’t in stitches.
All except Asher.
Instead, as the evening progressed, he only looked more and more disgruntled.
“Hey,” I nudged him quietly after the pumpkin pie had been served. “You okay?”
“I know it’s cold,” he said, looking down at the table, "but could we take a walk?”
For the first time since Casey’s arrest, alarm bells sounded in my head, and I did my best not to look worried as we slipped out of the dining room and grabbed our coats.
He didn’t talk as we stepped outside. It was a blessedly windless night, which was a good thing, as I wouldn’t have lasted two minutes outside if it had been.
It was already cold enough to make my nose burn as we made our way toward the road.
Rather than turning down the road, however, Asher took my hand and led me up the front steps of Margaret’s bookshop porch.
After seating me in one of the cushioned rocking chairs, he chose one for himself before pulling a space heater shaped like a pumpkin out from beneath the coffee table.
Once it was turned on, he leaned back and folded his hands, his eyes never meeting mine.
Was he breaking up with me?
It was a weird question, seeing as nothing we’d talked about lately had hinted at any desire for separation. But then again, I hadn't seen him in almost a month. Maybe something had happened that I wasn’t aware of. Maybe he had met someone else.
My stomach, comfortably full a few moments before, now roiled inside me.
“So…” he finally said, his voice like ice against the cold silence. “Now that you’ve got the ranch, you’ll probably never leave it.”
I stared at him. “When did I say that?”
“You didn’t.” He leaned forward in the chair and restlessly fingered the stack of paperbacks that had been left on the table. “But I assumed now that you have what you wanted–”
Understanding hit me.
“I never said that,” I repeated, leaning forward to imitate his stance. “What I did say was that for me to consider leaving my ranch, someone would have to give me a reason.” I quirked an eyebrow. “A really good reason.”
He stared at me for what felt like forever before letting out a strange little laugh. Then he got up. Confused, I stayed seated, watching him. But then he knelt in front of me, one knee on the ground and one knee up.
“Would an engagement ring be a good enough reason?” he asked.
Suddenly breathless, I heard myself reply, “It would be… if there were one here.”
He paused and then began fumbling with his coat pocket, grumbling to himself as he did.
Finally, though, he produced a little blue velvet box that held the prettiest, daintiest princess-cut diamond I’d ever seen.
And there on the bookshop porch, surrounded by pumpkins and twinkle lights and books, I said yes to the man who held my heart.
As I was going to bed that night, reflecting on the joys of the day, I couldn’t help marveling at how well everything had turned out.
Derrick would be promoted to manager in my absence, a job he was most excited about.
He and his wife would move onto the property, where they could live rent-free and he could be with the horses around the clock.
Amanda had also readily agreed to being a part-time employee, managing more of the secretary-type responsibilities.
Asher and I had decided that we would visit the ranch as often as we could–and with it, of course, his father. And one day, when Asher retired and was finished with the military, we would move back together to build our own dreams there.
As I was about to turn out my light, however, I realized that Margaret’s storybook was on my bedside table beneath my lamp.
Which was odd, as I couldn’t remember placing it there.
I’d expected it to finish the story after Casey’s arrest, for it had recorded the stepmother’s arrest and removal from the girl’s home.
It had even included the return of the girl’s ball slippers.
But for some reason, after that, it had remained oddly unfinished.
“Give it time,” Margaret had said with a patient smile on the few occasions that I asked. “Apparently, your story’s not quite finished yet.”
Well, seeing as the book was on my table, I sat up and opened it once more, fully expecting the story to remain unfinished. But as I turned the pages, and the diamond on my hand glinted in the lamplight, I realized that there was one more spread there after all.
And after the wicked stepmother was arrested, the prince brought Ella to his palace, where they began a new adventure together and lived happily ever after.
The end.
Aurora and the Enchanted Bookshop
(The Enchanted Bookshop Fairy Tales, Book #2)
An Excerpt
I studied the cookies behind the glass display case, an open bakery box in front of me. “I can’t decide whether we should bring more sugar cookies or a batch of the spiced white chocolate chip ones instead,” I said as my aunt passed behind me, her arms full of more pink bakery boxes.
“Bring them both,” Aunt Marie said without looking. “But only do a dozen of the spiced cookies. They never sell as well as the sugar cookies.”
“Nothing sells as well as the sugar cookies,” Aunt Willow, my youngest aunt, piped up. She was in the kitchen, pulling a batch of Earl Grey shortbread cookies out of the oven. “But once they taste those, they get a little braver, and they start looking at the rest.”
With a smile, I nodded and started moving cookies from the display case to the open box in front of me.
Only two days ago we’d been stocked up on all things pumpkin.
Chewy pumpkin spice cookies, pumpkin spice thumbprint cookies, pumpkin spice cake pops, and more.
But Thanksgiving had passed yesterday, which meant our customers would now be asking for peppermint, gingerbread, and pure, unadulterated sugar.
And there was no better way to kick off the Christmas baking season than by introducing all our new (time-tested) seasonal flavors at the local hospital’s charity fundraiser.
Half of Buchkarte would be there. Our small Colorado mountain town never missed a reason to celebrate, which meant tomorrow’s event was going to be packed.
(By the way, it’s pronounced Book-heart. Say it wrong, and the natives will know you’re not one of them.)
Aunt Gale, the middle sister of my three aunts, came in and took one look at the box I was filling. “I knew it,” she muttered, shaking her head. “We need more sugar cookies.” And with that, she whirled around and headed back into the kitchen.