Chapter 4 #2
She had been active in the running of the bookstores until three years ago when a stroke had rendered her incapable and helpless for close to six months. During which time, the doctors had warned her to take a step back.
Now she sat in on board meetings and dispensed her vast knowledge to her son, daughter-in-law and granddaughter.
She spoiled her great-granddaughter, ignoring the protests from the child's mother. She would pop in with bags of clothing or some very expensive toy and insisted on spending time with Zoe.
Now she was seated in the conference room, a cup and saucer perched on one knee. The board meeting was over, and she decided to linger. A satisfied smile touched her lips as she looked around the elegant room with its long mahogany table and chairs and comfortable sofas.
Her son was putting away his portfolio, and his wife was fetching him a cup of coffee. Her gaze switched to her granddaughter and felt the pride blooming. The girl was not only a beauty, but she was also as smart as a whip.
She had found a way to make so many ideas that had at first seemed foolish and trivial work to the business's advantage.
Right now, she was brainstorming new ones to implement for the coming winter season.
A Winter Wonderland series, with the set up in one corner of the store, where plays could be enacted and Santa and his elves catering to the younger children.
Christmas books with stories by local authors, exchange of gifts, packages that include age-appropriate books and toys. The girl never stopped. She reminded Adelaide of herself almost fifty years ago. And she had excess energy.
As much as she liked the idea that her granddaughter was such an exemplary and successful businesswoman, she worried that the girl did not have time to socialize. Which was why she had come up with the idea of a party at her place.
The country manor was woefully empty and needed some energy.
"Now," putting aside her tea with a brisk snap of her hand, she tracked her eyes around the room to get everybody's attention. "Put that thing away, honey. We have some serious discussion to see to."
"Just one..."
"No. Time and a place for everything. I need you and your mother to help me with the planning of this party.
" She lifted an elegant hand when she sensed a protest forming on her granddaughter's lips.
"Yes, it's the busiest time for the book industry and blah, blah, blah.
I happen to know the drill, seeing as I've been part of it for most of my life.
The fact still remains that we have to have some fun.
I was thinking of hiring Coolidge to do the indoors decorating and Holland for the outdoors. "
She gazed at Abigail. "I would like you to come up with a theme."
Tamping down the irritation at how her grandmother had neatly backed her into a corner, Abby put away her iPad. "A theme?"
"Yes. Something to do with the winter."
"Grams, you're talking about planning a party in four weeks. That's not enough time."
"You're young and clever. Get that red-haired gal to help you."
"Jillian is very busy."
Adelaide sniffed. "Not too busy to plan a function. Besides, this will give her enough time to rope your brother in." She lifted a thin brow. "I might be old, but I have eyes and a very sharp mind. I will be calling him to do his part. Draw up a plan and send it to my secretary."
She rose and her son jumped to his feet to fetch her jacket.
"Thanks, darling." Her expression softened as she lifted her face for his kiss. "Call me later. Abigail, walk with me please."
It was not a request.
*****
He liked the look of the bookstore. From the outside it was an old, weathered building that reminded him of a graceful woman decked out for tea.
The red bricks were faded, the white trim giving it a slightly modern look.
Inside, the scent of fresh coffee mingled with the faint aroma of well-loved pages, creating an inviting atmosphere that welcomed every visitor.
The shelves, lined with books of every genre, seemed to beckon, promising adventure, knowledge, and comfort to those willing to explore.
Soft lighting illuminated cozy reading nooks, where patrons could lose themselves in stories for hours on end.
People mingled. Mothers towed their children towards the neatly stacked shelves. There was an air of merriment and excitement. Conversations were muted. Cashiers, a line of them, rang up sales.
Music, something classical, played softly from hidden speakers.
The place was huge, a split-level deal with more books upstairs and a bank of what looked like offices. He stood there in the middle of the floor and just looked around. That was until he was noticed by a perky blonde, who came rushing forward.
"Mr. Tyrell." She gushed, hands fluttering towards her generous chest. "Kincaid Tyrell. Welcome. How can I help you?"
Her eyes were sending out an obvious invitation that had him grimacing.
"I need to speak to Ms. Abigail Blake."
"Oh." The disappointment that she was not going to be escorting him around showed on her face. "She's in the story time. Why don't I show you..."
"Just point me to it and I'll find my way."
Her face fell. Shrugging, she gestured to the left, past shelves of toys of every child's imagination. "They should be about finished now. Well, if you need anything..."
"I'll find you." Without waiting for her response, he started winding his way through throngs of last-minute customers.
He had spent last night and early this morning thinking of a different approach.
Obviously she had not taken too kindly to his attempt to apologize.
He would approach it from a business end and go on from there.
Ignoring the curious looks thrown his way, he continued until he came to a wide open space filled with children.
The woman he was seeking sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor, surrounded by kids of varying ages and they were listening raptly as she read from a Jane Eyre book. She had a beautiful voice, he mused, one that was made to tell stories.
Leaning on the jamb, he shoved his hands into his pockets, prepared to be entertained. Her hair was caught in a tidy bun at the nape of her neck. The coral pink sweater was stunning against her skin. Knee-high boots covered black slacks, and she looked as beautiful as he remembered.
He was not surprised to feel the heat rising inside him.
The story finished and questions were asked and answered. Children started filing out, some of them lingering to speak with her. He noticed how patient she was, tilting her head to listen to a child and responding with a smile. Her smile was lethal, he mused.
A child, one he judged to be about four or five, raced towards her, wild dark brown curls flying. Abigail wrapped her arms around her and kissed her forehead. A frown touched his brow when the child called her mama.
She had a daughter? He felt a funny twist inside his chest. Did that mean she was married? He hadn't seen a ring on her finger, but that meant nothing.
He was contemplating that particular hitch in his plans, when the child happened to turn her head. Shock slammed inside him and had him going still. The little girl was the most beautiful child he had ever seen, but that was not what struck him and had his heart racing.
It was like looking in a bloody mirror. The nose, mouth, forehead and chin were his. No, he shook his head dazedly. No, it couldn't be. He was seeing things. Then she smiled and the uncertainty vanished.
Time seemed to slow as a thousand thoughts collided in his mind.
He gripped the doorframe, trying to steady himself while reason warred with a surge of emotion he hadn't expected to feel.
For a moment, the lively bustle of the bookstore faded, replaced by a buzzing in his ears and the unmistakable realization that his life had just shifted on its axis.
"Mama." Zoe tugged at her sweater to get her attention. "There's a man standing there."
"What..." She looked up, annoyance flickering over her face at first and then she saw the shock and accusation on his.
She went still, heart rapping against her ribs. It was bound to happen one day, but she had not expected it to be so soon. She barely noticed when her daughter left her lap and went over to him.
"Hi. My name is Zoe. Are you a friend of my mom's?"
He finally found his voice as he continued staring at her, noticing every little thing. She was smiling and had an identical dimple at the left side of her mouth. He had one there too. Hunkering down, he struggled to appear normal as he smiled at her.
"Yes. We know each other. My name is Kincaid Tyrell."
She tilted her head to stare at him. "That's a funny name."
"Is it? How old are you?"
"Four." She held up four fingers to demonstrate and had him smiling. "Mama and everyone says I'm smart for my age. I can read."
"I bet you can." He rose just as Abigail came over.
"Darling, why don't you go and find grandma?" She clamped a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "You have dance class in a few minutes."
"Can I get a cookie?"
"Just one. Grandma is planning on taking you out for pizza after."
"Yay." She started to race away but turned back and flung her arms around her mother's waist.
Letting go, she flashed a smile at Cade before dashing off.
Wiping her moist palms on her thighs, she took a deep breath. "Why did you come?"
He gave her an incredulous look. "Is this what we're doing? Let's talk, shall we?"
"I can't..." She shook her head when he opened his mouth. "I'm not trying to avoid you, but I have a meeting, and I cannot miss it."
"Then meet me..."
"Tomorrow."
"Tonight." His expression was forbidding. "Here..."
"No." She pressed her lips together. "At Paradise Park. It's..."
"I know where it is. What time?" He snapped it out, not in the mood to be charitable.
"Seven."
He nodded curtly. "If you're not there..."
"I will be."
"I will find you." He continued as if she had not interrupted.
Without another word, he turned on his heels and left.
Leaning against the wall, Abigail closed her eyes in despair, realizing that her world had just imploded.