Chapter Two
Alice
I was deeply familiar with paper. I spent my days in a world filled with it.
Rows and rows, stacks and stacks. The scent of old books—made of dust and ink and paintings formed with words—was as close to home as I had found.
I could tell the difference between a vintage encyclopedia and the soft weight of a new novel with the brush of my fingers.
And when I rubbed them together just right, my nerve endings sparked with memory, like I could summon my favorite page of a book from thin air.
Paper had never been just paper to me. It was comfort. An escape. The one thing in my life that made the most sense.
Which was why the envelope felt so wrong.
It was heavier than paper had any right to be.
Not the cardstock or thickness of what was inside, the ink itself.
Like it had its own gravity. Like the words typed across the front had mass, giving it a foreign weight in my hands.
As I pushed into Joy’s Elbow Room for my shift, I clutched it close, holding it like it might slip free and cause a scene.
Knowing my luck, that was exactly what would happen.
The door banged shut behind me. I ducked on instinct, but didn’t drop the envelope. A few heads turned to look at me, but I was a familiar sight around here, so no one’s stare lingered.
It was only five, and the bar was already half-full. Friday nights were always busy, and since Joy’s drew in ranch hands whose days started with the rise of the sun, their drinking started early too.
A familiar country song played on the vintage jukebox, and the smell of beer, fried onions, and old wood hit me square in the face.
I never would have guessed I’d find comfort in this scent too, but the last four years I’d waitressed here as a second job, it had become as familiar as the library where I spent my days. My home away from home, in a weird, unexpected way.
Joy looked up from behind the bar, where she’d been wiping a sticky patch with the ferocity of someone personally offended by other people’s fingerprints. But she always kind of looked like that.
When we first met, she’d scared the dickens out of me. But I quickly learned behind Joy’s gruff, no-nonsense nature was a heart of gold.
“’Bout time you got here.” She narrowed her dark eyes at me as I rounded the bar. “Why do you look like that?”
Alarmed, my feet stopped moving. “Like what?”
“Like you either committed a crime or you’re trying to sneak a stray kitten in under your coat.”
If I hadn’t been holding on to the envelope for dear life, I would have patted my face to check my expression.
“No kitten here.” I wished that was what I was holding. Then again, I already had the look and lifestyle of a spinster cat lady; actually having a cat might’ve been a bridge too far.
Her brows rose, crinkling her forehead. “What crime did you commit?”
I shook my head, my lips twitching toward a smile. “No crime either, I swear.”
She jabbed her rag at me. “What’ve you got there?”
“Oh, nothing. Just mail.” I skirted around her, heading toward the back so I could drop my things and grab an apron.
Joy was a dog with a bone, nipping at my heels. “I’m not buying it. Mail doesn’t make you look like you’re going to faint. What’s going on, Alice?”
She herded me into her office, and I sank down on the lone stool, accepting my defeat, while she perched on the edge of her cluttered desk.
Joy wasn’t the kind of woman anyone messed with. She was capable of making a grown man cry with a single hard look. But she’d been nothing but kind to me from day one. Even in the early days when I screwed up more orders than I got right, she never lost her patience.
She was old enough to be my mother, but she wasn’t exactly maternal.
Though I could say, without a doubt, she was much more than a boss.
Joy had become the closest thing to a best friend I’d ever had.
We’d never braid each other’s hair or gossip about boys, but if I ever needed to lean, she’d be there to prop me up.
I set the envelope in my lap and smoothed my fingers over the stark black ink. “It’s from a lawyer.”
That made her raise one brow. “A lawyer, huh?”
“Yes. My sister passed away,” I said quietly. “Three weeks ago.”
Joy’s face softened, which didn’t happen often. “Didn’t know you had a sister.”
“I guess I never told you about her. We weren’t close.” I hesitated, then added, “At all.”
She didn’t say anything, waiting for me to fill in the rest. That was her way with me. She didn’t push, and more often than not, I came to her with my thoughts. This time, though? I didn’t know what to think or how to feel, so I gave her the facts.
“She left me everything,” I said finally. “The letter says I’m the sole beneficiary of her estate.”
Joy let out a slow whistle. “Everything? That a lot?”
I wasn’t exactly an open book. Not because I was especially private, I just assumed no one would be interested in the ins and outs of my family matters. But I’d spent a lot of time around Joy. Sometimes when the bar was slow, she’d ask questions, and I’d answer.
She knew my parents had died within two years of each other. My mother first, after a short battle with cancer, then my father followed twenty-two months later from a heart attack. I hadn’t seen them for years, and we’d never been particularly close, but I’d been sorry they’d passed too young.
Now…my sister. This one was trickier. I didn’t know what to feel.
I nodded. “Our parents left everything to Silla. I guess she didn’t have anyone else to put in her will, so she listed me.”
She looked me over like she was seeing me anew. “Were they rich?”
“Yes, they were well off.” I shuddered. “They were both in banking, and my mother had family money.”
That earned me a grunt. “Guess you’re rolling in it now too.”
I let out a weak laugh. “Technically? Yes, I guess so.”
“Good for you. I’d understand if you wanted to quit, though I’d miss the hell out of you now that you finally stopped breaking all my glasses.”
I gasped at her teasing dig. In my early days, I had broken quite a few glasses, but I was as steady as they came now. “I haven’t broken a glass in at least two years.”
She shrugged and shot me a grin before getting serious. “My point is, if I have to lose you working here, I’ll understand. Just don’t go running off to Cancun or something stupid like that. You’re too pale for all that sunshine.”
“I haven’t even considered quitting…or what this money will be used for. It’ll probably sit in my account,” I admitted, as terribly embarrassing as it was. I should have been able to think of one thing I wanted.
She huffed. “That’s why I worry about you. You should have an idea of something you want to spend some of that money on to make your life easier. Or something fun, just for you.”
As soon as she said it, it came to me. “Books. If I spend it, it’ll be on books.”
She clucked her tongue. “You’re surrounded by free books day in, day out.”
“But those books live in the library. I want them to come home and live with me.”
I’d disappointed her, I could tell. I wondered what she would have bought if she had piles of money to spend. I would have given her mine to find out, but she would have given me a swift kick in the butt for even trying.
Elbows on her knees, she contemplated me. “You doin’ okay with this news?”
“We weren’t close,” I repeated, hoping she’d let me off the hook.
She didn’t. “That’s not what I asked.”
I pulled in a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I’m not sure. Silla was sick for a long time. My whole life revolved around getting her well. Her being gone now…I don’t know. It’s sad. I know it’s sad. But—”
“You’re not feelin’ it yet.” She nodded like that made sense. I wished it did to me. I was still somewhere between numbness and riding the cusp of overwhelm.
“Not yet,” I almost whispered.
She gave my knee a rough pat. “If you need the night off, take it. I don’t want you crying in anyone’s beer.”
I shook my head. “No, I’d rather be here working. I won’t cry, I promise.”
She climbed to her feet, giving me one last wary look. “All right. That’s my final offer. I have to get back out there before the guys start helping themselves to drinks.”
I laughed. “They know better.” As she passed, I brushed my fingers over hers. “Thanks, Joy. I’ll be out in a minute. All pulled together.”
She looked like she might’ve wanted to say something else, but she squeezed my hand then hurried out of the room.
I didn’t linger either. After tucking the envelope away, I tied my apron around my waist and put my hair up in a ponytail.
I probably should have swiped on some lip gloss—more than a few guys had mentioned if I made some effort, my tips would be higher—but I’d never really mastered makeup. I wasn’t sure it was me.
And I guess I no longer needed to worry about how high my tips were.
A wave of sadness lapped at my shores. Overfilled coffers were all that was left of the family who had turned away from me when I’d stopped being useful to them. It was…such a waste.
I didn’t have time to dwell on it, though. As soon as I emerged from the back, one of the regulars called out to me.
“Allie-bo-bally. Fancy seeing you here.”
I stopped by Bryan Thomas, who was seventy if he was a day, perched on the stool he’d long ago claimed as his, offering him a smile. “What are the chances?”
He slapped his weather-worn hand on the lacquered bar. “Don’t know, but it feels like my lucky day. How are ya?”
“I’m all right.” I touched my shoulder to his arm. “Is Joy taking care of you?”
“Always.” When he smiled, his face looked like a field of clay in summer, all craggy lines and cracks along sunbaked skin. “Your guy’s here. Looking cranky. You might wanna go cheer him up.”
I stiffened, and my ears burned. I didn’t have to ask who he meant. Bryan might have been half in the bag most of the time, but he knew.
Joy knew.
I didn’t want to think about how many other people knew.