Chapter 43
FORTY-THREE
ROBYN
Robyn stood at the front of the bookstore with her copy of Isabel’s story in her hands and tried very hard not to faint.
The crowd was bigger than she’d expected. Bodies were shoulder to shoulder between the shelves, faces turned toward her, phones held high, recording her every move. Even the paper bats overhead seemed to be staring.
Robyn’s corset didn’t help. It looked gorgeous, yes. It also made breathing rather… difficult.
She took one shallow inhale and immediately regretted every decision she’d ever made.
Okay. Great. Fantastic. She was going to pass out in front of the entire town—on camera—while dressed like a tragic heroine. Yale would love that for her.
She shifted her weight, fingers tightening around the booklet. Robyn wasn’t prone to panic attacks, but if she was ever going to have one, now was the time.
And then her gaze found Tyler.
He stood just beyond the first cluster of people, near the counter. Black trousers, a loose white shirt open at the throat, and that sweeping overcoat that had no business being as devastating as it was.
He was so solid. That was the thing she kept coming back to, the thing she hadn’t expected when she first arrived in Maple Falls and definitely hadn’t planned for. The steadiness of him.
For a second, he didn’t smile. He just looked at her, anchoring her with nothing but his eyes.
She thought of Heathcliff and Catherine. Of love that burned so hot it scorched everything around it, ending in haunting grief.
And she smiled. Because their love was nothing like that. Tyler Marlowe was not a tragic ending.
Then he gave her a small nod, which Robyn read as, You’ve got this.
She took a relaxing breath, her shoulder dropping just a fraction.
She let herself return a small, private smile then turned back to the crowd and cleared her throat.
The microphone wasn’t necessary in a room this quiet. But it was there, so she leaned in anyway.
“Thank you for coming to Midnight in Maple Falls,” she said, voice a little thinner than usual, but it held. “What I’d like to share with you tonight is an excerpt from a long-lost romance my great-grandmother wrote decades ago.”
A ripple went through the crowd: anticipation, curiosity, the thrill of being in on something.
“This story was discovered by our local book club,” Robyn continued, glancing toward Mrs. C. and Edith, who both looked like they might explode with pride. “It’s a beautiful, heartfelt book… and I’m honored to read the opening for you.”
She cleared her throat again—more for herself than anyone else—then opened to the first page.
For a beat, her eyes skimmed the lines.
And then she began.
“Marilyn Montgomery arrived on a Sunday, just as the church bells were finishing their last hymn. She stepped off the bus with a suitcase in one hand and a letter in the other, the paper soft at the creases from being unfolded and refolded so many times it felt like a prayer.
Maple Falls smelled like woodsmoke and apples. She stood on the sidewalk and told herself she was only here for two weeks—long enough to settle an estate, long enough to pack up memories neatly into boxes, long enough to leave before anyone could look at her too closely.
She had made a plan.
Plans were what kept you safe.
‘Miss Montgomery?’ a voice called.
Marilyn turned.
A man stood beside a black truck parked at the curb, sleeves rolled to his forearms, a book tucked beneath one arm like it belonged there. He was not the sort of man who looked away when he caught someone staring. His gaze held hers—steady, assessing, and entirely too aware.
‘You’re late,’ he said, as if he’d been expecting her.
Marilyn’s grip tightened on her suitcase handle. ‘Excuse me?’
His mouth tipped, not quite a smile. ‘Your letter said you’d be on the noon bus.’
Marylin cocked her head. ‘How do you know about my letter?’ she whispered.
The man stepped closer, lowering his voice as if the town itself might be listening.
‘Because,’ he said, ‘I’m the one who sent for you.’”
Robyn’s voice settled as she continued to read the selected scenes.
The cadence and rhythm of the sentences slipped under her skin as if they’d all been hers all along.
Robyn could almost feel Isabel beside her, amused and proud that her great-granddaughter was reading her words in a corset in front of half the town.
And then Robyn reached the place where Isabel’s story ended and where her own began.
She took one breath. Then she kept reading. They were her words now, the ending she’d written at four in the morning with cold tea and shaking hands and everything she had left. Her voice didn’t waver, not once.
When she reached the end and looked up, no one spoke.
The second felt endless.
And then the bookstore erupted.
Whistles. Clapping. A few delighted gasps. Someone near the back actually squealed, “Oh my God,” like they’d forgotten they were in public.
Robyn’s chest filled with pride so sudden it almost hurt.
She couldn’t believe that it had all been worth it. All the fear. All the stress. Every moment that she’d wanted to crawl under a blanket and disappear—it had paid off in the end.
Robyn stepped down from the podium, cheeks warm as people leaned in to compliment her.
“That was incredible.”
“I need the rest.”
“Absolutely iconic.”
“Where can I get a copy?”
Robyn smiled and thanked them, moving through the crowd toward Tyler.
He stood near the counter with Meg—who said she couldn’t miss the event and had arrived just in time—and another woman Robyn didn’t recognize. The stranger’s posture was elegant, her hair sleek, her expression bright.
Meg spoke first, eyes wide as she took in the crowd, the decorations, the stacks of booklets steadily disappearing from Mrs. C.’s table. She looked polished in a fitted cream sweater that hugged her curvy figure, dark jeans, and heeled ankle boots.
“That was amazing,” she said, her long, deep-brown hair spilling over her shoulders.
She sounded genuinely shaken by it. “Such a beautiful story. And the store—my God, Robyn. It looks better than it ever did when I ran it.” She glanced around again, softer this time.
Her hands clasped in front of her chest. “You have a gift. Truly.”
Robyn swallowed. “Thank you,” she managed. “I had help. Lots of help.”
Tyler’s mouth curved. “Don’t let her fool you. We just do as she says.”
Robyn shot him a look that was part gratitude, part Don’t make me cry again tonight.
Meg squeezed Robyn’s arm and then turned as she was pulled into another conversation.
Tyler motioned to the other woman beside him. “Robyn, this is Claudia Spenberg. She’s an editor friend of mine from New York.”
Robyn blinked. “Oh.”
Claudia stepped forward and offered her hand. Her grip was firm, confident. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said. “I’ve heard so much about you. And I love your writing.”
Robyn felt her cheeks heat. “Thank you. That’s… wow.”
Claudia didn’t waste time. She had that polished, purposeful energy of someone who knew how to seize a moment.
“I’m going to be direct,” Claudia said, lowering her voice slightly as the crowd swelled around them. “Tyler sent me your work—the AfterHoursAuthor blog. I read it. My team read it.” She smiled, and it was the kind of smile that came with certainty. “We want you.”
Robyn’s brain stalled. “I’m sorry—what?”
“We’d like to publish your romances,” Claudia said. “Major release. Real distribution. The full dream.” Her eyes flicked toward the crowd. “And after seeing this tonight? The community. The demand. The voice? I’m even more convinced.”
Robyn’s mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Tyler’s hand brushed the small of her back. It was a gentle touch, centering her, reminding her that this was her life. And she could build it however she wanted to.
Claudia continued, calm as if she were discussing weather. “We’re prepared to offer a significant advance. We see this selling strongly in the US and internationally. We’ll move fast.”
Robyn stared at her, heart pounding. The bookstore noise dimmed, the room narrowing to this impossible moment.
“A-an advance?” Robyn echoed, because her brain had chosen that one word to cling to.
Claudia nodded. “Yes. Here’s what’s been approved.” She handed Robyn a slip of paper.
Robyn opened it and was stunned. She’d heard of authors receiving six-figure advances, but never thought she’d be one of them.
Robyn looked at Tyler. His expression was careful. He looked hopeful, but he wasn’t pushing. Like he’d opened a door and was letting her decide whether to walk through it.
Robyn’s throat tightened.
She thought of Yale. Of her parents. Of Maple Falls. Of Emma tucked into Zoe’s workshop with cats and fear. Of the bookstore shelves and lantern glow and the way this place had started to feel like home.
“I—” Robyn swallowed hard, then forced her voice steady. “Yes. Yes, I want that.”
Claudia’s smile sharpened into satisfaction. “Perfect. I’ll have legal send the official offer tonight, and we’ll schedule a call this week.”
Robyn nodded, still stunned. “Okay.”
Claudia shot her another winning smile, said something to Tyler, and then turned to explore more of the bookstore.
She turned around and sought out Meg before her courage could evaporate. Thankfully, she was still right behind them.
Meg rejoined Tyler and Robyn.
“Meg,” she said, voice trembling but clear, “I want to buy the bookstore.”
Meg blinked. “Robyn—”
“I’m serious.” Robyn’s hands tightened at her sides, grounding herself.
“This place should stay a bookstore. It’s…
it’s not just retail. It’s community.” She gestured around them: the packed aisles, the books, the laughter.
“It’s where people come to read and learn and meet. It’s where stories get shared.”
“And where people eat a truly unreasonable amount of pumpkin pie,” Tyler added.
“That’s true,” Robyn agreed. “This store is perfect as it is,” she said, meeting Meg’s eyes. “And I would love nothing more than to make it mine—so it can stay what Maple Falls needs it to be.”
Meg stared at her, mouth parted, emotion gathering in her eyes as the noise of the event swelled around them.
And somewhere behind the crowd, Robyn could sense Estevez waiting, willing to throw more money in, but Robyn had something he didn’t—heart. And a love for Maple Falls.
“I thought you weren’t staying,” Meg said, searching Robyn’s eyes.
“I didn’t think I was either,” Robyn admitted. “But then I fell in love.” With Maple Falls, with Tyler, with Emma. She could figure out Yale later. The university wasn’t going anywhere.
Tyler’s steady gaze met Robyn’s. Meg followed the look—and whatever she saw there softened her completely. Her eyes shone. “Okay,” she whispered. “Let’s figure something out.”