Сьюзен Виггз - The Lost and Found Bookshop

“Do you like being kissed?”

“Depends on the guy.” She took a step back, trying to regain her balance.

He grinned, then took her hand and started walking back to the ballroom. “Good to know,” he said.

Part Four

A book, too, can be a star . . . a living fire to lighten the darkness, leading out into the expanding universe.

—Madeleine L’Engle

20

Each morning, Natalie awakened with her heart racing. It was ridiculous. She was like a revved-up teenager in the first flush of infatuation. She’d made out with her share of guys. The awkward teenage make-out sessions. Beer-fueled sloppy kisses in college. Grown-up kisses with men she liked, or maybe even loved. There had never been a kiss like this, though. Not in her life. Maybe not ever, for anyone. In the history of the world. When thoughts like that greeted her each morning, she knew she was in trouble.

And quite possibly delusional. Because the morning after—she thought of it as the morning after, as if they’d shared a night of raucous sex instead of a mere experimental kiss—he had shown up on the job as usual, in his workman’s garb, an oh-so-casual smile on his face. “That was nice, last night,” he’d said. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“I’m glad you were there,” she said.

“I came on to you in the moon garden,” he said, direct as always.

“You did. Maybe it has a romantic effect on people.”

“Maybe you have a romantic effect on me. Hope you didn’t think it was rude.”

Rude? Rude? “Nonsense, you were a perfect gentleman.”

“Good to know,” he’d concluded, echoing his words from the night before. “I should tell you, though, that I have a policy about getting involved with a client.”

Her heart sank. And her guard went up. She felt too vulnerable with him. Retreat seemed the safest course. “Very professional of you.”

“Anyway, maybe one day you won’t be a client.”

After that, he had gone about his business, leaving her alone with her angsty, adolescent thoughts. Since that kiss, every word they exchanged seemed to have a different meaning. To her, anyway.

She’d never been comfortable with powerful feelings. In her experience, they couldn’t be trusted. She was her mother’s daughter, after all, shielding her heart from a deep and dangerous attachment. When it came to men, her judgment was flawed. Rick was the perfect example, a man she’d thought she could love, yet her heart had failed her.

Maybe this was different.

Then again, maybe not.

She was determined not to let that moment in the garden become a big deal, dominating her thoughts when she was supposed to be focused on work. It was perhaps serendipitous that Peach had another historical restoration job going over in the Russian Hill District. There was still plenty to be done on the Sunrose Building, but she couldn’t afford to do it all at once. Despite the bonanza created by the Trevor Dashwood event, she’d had to order all the books in advance and cover all the other expenses involved in putting on a major book signing.

She missed having Peach around, whistling through his teeth, humming under his breath. She missed hearing his easy conversation with Grandy, but she didn’t miss him enough to tell him so.

Tess came to the city to have dinner with her father, who was visiting from Tangier. After learning the stunning news that he’d been living overseas her entire life, Tess was moving cautiously to get to know him. She stopped in at the bookstore on a blustery November day. “It’s a boy,” she said, outlining the baby bump with her hand. “I wanted to be surprised, but the last ultrasound gave it away, even to my untrained eye. Takes after his brothers and father.”

“That’s wonderful,” Natalie said. “Need a baby name book?”

“We still have those from our first two. I do need a book, though. It’s my father’s birthday,” she explained. “So I thought I’d pick out some books.”

“What kind of books?” Natalie asked, gesturing at the display tables.

“Good question. I barely know the man. I mean, what do you do with a guy who faked his own death and disappeared for decades, and then returned wanting to ‘reconnect’ with the daughters he never knew?” She grinned at Natalie’s expression. “Complicated, right?”

“Like a telenovela. And I thought I had daddy issues.”

“After all the drama, I do want to get to know him. He was lost to us since before we were born, and I’m struggling to make peace with that. Now that I understand everything that happened, I get it. And even though it’s hard, I do like having him in my life. He reads all the time, so I can’t go wrong with a few books.”

“What about a novel?” She handed Tess a copy of The Extraordinary Life of Sam Hell . “About a guy who travels halfway around the world. Or is that too on-the-nose?”

“I’m not sure.” She set it on the counter and picked out a couple of can’t-miss nonfiction bestsellers—one by Erik Larson and another by Timothy Egan. “And this one, because it’s my favorite,” she added, grabbing The Art of Racing in the Rain .

“I’ve always thought you can get to know someone by the books they love.”

“Can’t hurt.” She chose a Clairefontaine notebook and pen.

“You’re going to need a bigger gift bag,” said Natalie, getting one from under the counter.

While she wrapped them up, Tess asked, “So how are things with Mr. Wonderful?”

“He has another renovation going over on Russian H—” Natalie stopped herself. “Oh, you mean Trevor Dashwood.”

“Do I?” Tess raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

“He’s not married,” Natalie blurted out.

“Slow down. Which Mr. Wonderful are we talking about?”

“Peach,” she said.

Tess paused. “Oh. The hammer for hire.”

“All this time I assumed he was married—because of the kid. At the gala, I found out he’s been divorced for a couple of years.”

“And this makes a difference because . . . ?” Tess’s eyebrow went up again.

“Because there was a vibe,” Natalie admitted.

“And of course you had been ignoring it because you thought he was married.”

Natalie nodded. “It’s different now, but . . . I don’t know, Tess. We had a moment at the Heritage Society gala. I guess it was a moment.” Actually, it had felt much bigger than a moment—more like an earthquake. “I have no idea what he’s thinking.” She was pretty sure he hadn’t tossed and turned half the night and awakened with his heart racing.

“Ask him,” Tess suggested. “Ask him what he’s thinking.”

“That would be weird.” Now that his marital status was clear to her, she had a million questions for him, things that would not have been appropriate to ask a married man.

She glanced at the computer screen. “It’s been taking all my willpower to keep myself from stalking him online. It seems sketchy to pry into his life by looking him up on social media or googling the name of his band or his ex or any other little detail he might have dropped.”

“Probably a good policy,” Tess agreed. “When a person wants you to know things about him, he’ll tell you.”

“Exactly.” Natalie realized Peach had told her only a little about himself. Lack of interest? Ambivalence about his family? Or did he consider her just a client? He had a policy.

“Or you could ask,” Tess repeated.

“Stop it. We’re not a match, anyway. He’s divorced with a kid, and he was really honest with me about how hard that makes things for him.”

“Dominic was divorced with two kids when I met him,” Tess pointed out. “And hell yes, it was hard. Still is. His older kids’ mom isn’t the easiest person to get along with—and I’m being generous here.”