Сьюзен Виггз - The Lost and Found Bookshop

She wanted to see him again, though. She needed to tell him that what he’d done for Grandy was beyond price. She’d never be able to thank him for that.

When she saw him in the foyer, she jumped up to let him in. He arrived on a gust of damp winter wind.

“You were right,” she said to him in a rush.

He grinned. “I like where this is going,” he said.

Dear God, she loved his smile. “About the mercury,” she said. “They started treatments right away. It’s helping a lot. The dementia is a separate issue, but the other symptoms have improved. He feels much better.” Now that he isn’t breathing mercury vapor every night , she thought with a wave of guilt. “I don’t know how to thank you, Peach.” What she really wanted to tell him was I miss you. Please come back. But she didn’t because she was dealing with so many changes, not the least of which was the fact that she was moving away.

“Is he around? I’d like to say hi.”

“He’s probably in bed already. The treatments are exhausting. Maybe tomorrow, if you have time. In other news . . .” Her hand shook as she showed him a business card. “I have a buyer for the shop. Apparently my mom had been discussing it with a big commercial outfit, but Grandy wouldn’t budge. I was on the verge of taking him to court. And now I don’t have to, because he finally decided to sell and settle all the outstanding debt. I just need to figure out a way to say goodbye to this place.” She felt a wave of nausea as she regarded Sylvia curled in her spot by the reading chair. “We’re moving to Archangel, up in Sonoma. I can get my old job back if I want.”

“I thought you hated that job,” said Peach.

“Not as much as I love my grandfather.”

“He’s one lucky guy. And I bet he knows that. I’m really glad he’s feeling better. Sad about the shop, though.”

“We both have too many memories tied up in this space. My mom … God, this whole place is a shrine to her. I can’t figure out if being here makes me miss her more, or if it’s a comfort to me.” Natalie looked around the familiar space. Her mom had been her first real friend. She could hear Blythe’s laughter every time the bell over the door rang. She could feel her touch when she brushed her hair or wiped away her tears. Even now, she still reached for the phone before realizing her mom wasn’t there. A part of Natalie would always dwell on the one moment that had stolen her mother from the world. But another part had come to realize that Mom would never leave her, because Natalie had known her all along. She saw Blythe Harper every time she looked in the mirror.

“I hope it’s been a comfort to you,” Peach said quietly.

She sighed. “It has been, and it’s going to be hard to leave. I never thought bookselling was for me, but it turns out I really love it.”

“Your—uh, Trevor. He’s not interested in helping you out?”

“Trevor?” She realized Peach wasn’t aware of what had happened. “He’s not . . . we’re not . . . whatever it is you’re thinking. Not like that.”

“He’s not your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Since the day his mother had come to the bookstore, Trevor and Natalie had talked a few times. She’d assured him there were no hard feelings, that his past was his past and no one would think ill of him for it. “Even if he were, I sure as hell would never lean on him to bail me out.”

“You might have told me, Natalie.”

“And why might I have done that?” She heard the tightness of irritation in her voice.

“Because I might have told you that it matters to me. You matter to me. Which you would already know if you’d talk to me.”

“If I talk to you? Like that’s my job?”

“I didn’t say that. But this would go a lot easier if you’d tell me what you’re thinking.”

“This? This? You’re going to have to be more specific, Gallagher.” She felt flooded with everything. Relief about her grandfather, apprehension about what lay ahead. Confusion about Peach, standing in front of her with his heart in his eyes.

“Look, I’m sorry you’re sad,” he said. “I’m sorry your mom died along with your boyfriend. I’m sorry you have to sell a place that you love. I can’t fix those things. Hell, I can’t fix anything but your old building.” He took hold of her hands. His were damp and chilled from the rain, rough and calloused from work. “What I can do is love you, Natalie Jean Harper. That’s what I can do. But only if you let me.”

She stared at him in amazement. She didn’t even know where to start. “How did you know my middle name?”

“I guessed. Was I right?”

“No.” She looked down at their joined hands, and then up at his face, and in that moment, she knew. Something was going to happen between them—something big. Bigger than her doubts and fears. Bigger than her bookstore woes. Bigger even than the road ahead for her and Grandy. It was going to be the biggest thing that had ever happened to her.

“You okay?” he asked. “You look a little pale.”

“I’m okay. Just so we’re clear. You said you can love me.”

“Yeah. If you’ll let me.”

“That’s what I thought you said.”

“What’ll it be, Natalie? Will you?”

She started to speak, but there was a lump in her throat. She looked down at their hands again. Held on for dear life. Swallowed hard. She had almost missed this. Her instincts had been right all along, but she’d kept questioning them when she shouldn’t have. In a small part of her heart, she resented her mother, because Blythe had taught her that men couldn’t be trusted. This was different, she thought. I’m different.

She’d almost failed to let Peach in, and that would have been devastating. Somehow in all the turmoil since the plane crash, she had found something she hadn’t even known was missing. That it was happening at all was kind of a miracle. She wanted to remember every moment. But remembering was not enough. The first time she saw him, had she known? She wished she could have those moments back, make them better, brighter, shinier. More memorable.

Instead, it had been an inauspicious beginning. He’d come upon her miserable on the sidewalk, crying, confused. Maybe that was what she should have noticed, right off the bat. He’d seen her at her worst, and he’d taken it all in stride. No judgment, just acceptance.

“Would you like to spend the night?” she asked him.

* * *

It was their first time, and there were some first-timey things that were to be expected. Awkward moments. Waves of bashfulness. But most of all, what broke through all the newness was an undeniable sense of wonder. That she could feel this way about someone. That someone could feel this way about her.

In the big bed, in the cozy apartment she’d slowly transformed into her own, she surrendered with a sigh that was part excitement, part relief. Something deep inside her was coming to life, something she’d thought was out of her reach. She was going to love someone at last.

His big, work-roughened hands were gentle, and he was generous, kissing and touching, looking at her, smiling when she gave a short, earnest gasp of pleasure, and then shattered. It was that quick, perhaps because it had been building forever. He gave a long, luxurious thrust and joined her, and they sank back to earth together, entwined, not speaking for long moments as their heartbeats settled and the world came back into focus.

She lit a candle, one of the scented ones they sold in the shop, the fragrance labeled “Old Library.” Then they smoked some weed from her small supply in the drawer of the nightstand, and she wished the feeling of bliss would last forever. “I dreamed of this,” she whispered, blurting out the admission on a wave of honesty before she could stifle herself. “But I never believed my own dream. I didn’t think it was possible. I thought it was . . . I don’t know, maybe like a story in a book somewhere, hidden within the pages.”