Chapter 5
FIVE
ROBYN
Robyn wasn’t sure what to expect from the first official Maple Falls Book Club meeting. Mr. Darcy wasn’t either, and he hid out on the top of the steps, leading up to her apartment above, watching her and Tyler curiously. His tail flicked back and forth in an unsteady rhythm.
“It’s just a book club meeting,” Robyn told her kitty while setting out the fresh carafe of coffee to go along with the jug of apple cider she’d bought.
She set them along the back table, beside the disposable cups and plates she’d found in the back of a cupboard, while Tyler pushed together the tables and chairs, his cream cable-knit sweater pulling across his shoulders each time he reached for another chair.
When he glanced back at her, his dark eyes were warm with quiet amusement.
Robyn had to remind herself that she was preparing for a book club meeting and absolutely not here to flirt with her coworker.
In her mind, it would be a simple get-together to talk about Isabel’s story and open the first clue. Nothing major, just a handful of friends talking about books and discovering some Maple Falls history.
What arrived instead was a full-blown autumnal potluck in the middle of the bookstore, sending Mr. Darcy scrambling back upstairs.
Kit, the chef from the nearby Cinnamon Spice Inn, breezed in first, her chin-length black hair tucked under a red beanie, a leaf stuck in the folded hem of her jeans, carrying a plastic pie carrier.
“Okay,” she announced, setting it down with reverence, “I’ve been experimenting. ” She popped off the plastic lid.
“Which means we’re in luck,” Robyn said, walking over to peek.
“Hopefully. It’s a cranberry cream cheese tart. It might be too tart, though.” Kit looked down at the dessert, an eyebrow raised.
Robyn had no idea what she was talking about. Just looking at the tart, with its graham cracker crust, silky smooth filling, and bright cranberry compote topping, set her mouth watering. “I’m sure it’s perfect.”
Emily, who ran the local bakery, came in next with two boxes weighing down her arms.
Tyler met her and took the boxes, and she unfurled her warm, woolen scarf. “Hope there’s room for more sweets,” she said, retwisting her blonde hair up and securing it with the elastic band she kept around her wrist. “I brought pumpkin snickerdoodles and glazed maple leaf cookies.”
Cassidy, owner of the Maple Falls chocolate shop, arrived shaking a bakery box. “Espresso-infused chocolates,” she said. “For those of us who need a little pick-me-up.”
Madison, food writer and manager of the Cinnamon Spice Inn, and her boyfriend, local handyman Zach, were next, setting down two bottles of apple spice wine. Madison arranged everything just so, as if she was about to photograph it all for a magazine spread.
And then Mrs. Bishop and Mrs. C. bustled in together, carrying two crockpots.
“I couldn’t decide between meatballs or mini-weenies,” Mrs. Bishop said, setting her pot down with a thump. “So I brought both.”
Robyn stood behind the counter, watching the spread take over the pumpkin pie book nook, and tried not to laugh at how extra Maple Falls could be.
By the time everyone had filled a plate—cranberry tart, cookies, meatballs, brown sugar-glazed cocktail sausages, caramel apples from Liam, who’d slid in at the last minute—Mrs. C. clapped her hands, calling the meeting to order.
“Alright,” she said. “Let’s begin.”
Robyn taught college students for a living. She discussed literature in lecture halls, chaired panels, presented at conferences. So why did a handful of neighbors in a bookstore nook make her feel like she was about to be graded?
Mrs. C. lifted her chin. “As you all know, we’ve come into possession of a manuscript written by Robyn’s great-grandmother Isabel.”
“But only the first installment,” Mrs. Bishop cut in.
Mrs. C. shot her a look. “Yes. The first five chapters. The rest has been hidden somewhere in Maple Falls.” Then she looked directly at Robyn. “Do you still have the envelope?”
“I do,” Robyn said, the words coming out a touch too formal. She glanced toward the front counter, where she’d left the envelope earlier, wax seal unbroken. “Did you want to open it now?”
“No,” Mrs. C. said immediately.
Mrs. Bishop nodded. “Absolutely not.”
Robyn blinked. “Okay…”
“We’ll discuss the story first,” declared Mrs. C. “Did everyone read it?”
A strange, prickly sensation crawled up Robyn’s spine.
Which was preposterous—she hadn’t written it. It wasn’t her work. But hearing people talk about Great-Grandma Isabel’s words made her feel… exposed.
Like someone had logged into her computer and was about to read her story.
Cassidy leaned forward first, eyes bright. “The setting is gorgeous,” she said. “It’s got this slightly spooky autumn vibe.”
Madison nodded. “And the tension is so good. It’s romantic, but there’s this thread of self-discovery underneath, like something is about to happen.”
Emily let out a soft sigh, pressing a hand to her chest. “The way the heroine describes the hero,” she said, dreamy, “it’s already swoony. And I’m sorry, but the scene in the bookstore?”
“Right?” Kit said, fanning herself with a napkin. “Bookstores are just so romantic, one thousand percent.”
There were murmurs of agreement, and Robyn’s nerves relaxed a bit.
Tyler’s gaze flicked to her, coffee-dark and steady, as if he could tell she was having some sort of internal crisis over a manuscript she didn’t even write. Under the table, his knee brushed hers again, a tiny grounding point.
The meeting continued, with members discussing the story, making predictions as to what would happen next, and snacking on all the delish food. All the while, Robyn listened, familial pride blossoming in her chest.
After a while, Mrs. C. nodded decisively. “Excellent. Now, how about our clue?”
Robyn stood and went behind the counter, hands careful as she retrieved the envelope. When she returned, the entire table went quiet, the way children hush when someone is about to open a present.
Robyn broke the wax seal.
The paper inside was thick and slightly yellowed with age. Isabel’s looping handwriting sprawled across it, familiar now in a way that made something tug in Robyn’s chest.
She read aloud:
“Where lovers once kissed beneath autumn’s glow,
An ancient oak guards what only we know.
Reach inside the trunk where secrets hide,
There the next clue waits to be spied.”
Cassidy chewed thoughtfully on her cookie. “Okay. So, where in Maple Falls is there a hollow oak that lovers kissed under?”
“It could be anywhere,” Kit said, already vibrating with excitement. “We have, like, a thousand trees.”
Madison frowned. “Is it the one by the lake? The big one near the path?”
Emily shook her head. “That one’s not hollow.”
The group was silent for a moment.
“You know who might know…” Robyn mused.
“Zoe,” Cassidy replied instantly. Currently babysitting Emma, Zoe owned the local flower shop. Together with her boyfriend, Jackson, she had hiked just about every square mile surrounding Maple Falls.
Robyn looked down at the old clue again, and despite herself, a smile spread across her face. The knot of nerves in her stomach loosened, transforming into something warmer and brighter. It was excitement, real excitement. A piece of her family’s history waiting to be uncovered.
When she glanced up, Tyler was already watching her. There was that glint of amusement again, but something softer, too. Something that said he’d seen the shift in her before she had. His mouth curved, slow and private, and Robyn felt her own smile answer it before she could stop herself.
Then Cassidy cleared her throat.
Robyn blinked and looked away, heat rising in her cheeks.
Cassidy’s eyebrows had climbed halfway to her blonde hairline. “So,” she said, dragging the word out with far too much interest, “are we calling Zoe, or should we give you two another minute?”