Читать книгу Storybook Romance - Lissa Manley, Lissa Manley - Страница 9

Chapter One

“Thanks for coming in, Mr. Fibley.” Allison True handed the dapper older gentleman his purchase. “I’d be glad to order more books on philately.” Which was better known as stamp collecting, but Mr. Fibley, a retired pharmacist, was serious about his stamp studies and seemed to like it when Allison used the technical term for his hobby.

Thanks to the town of Bygones’s Save Our Street Committee having faith in her entrepreneurial abilities, her life’s dream had now come true. She was now the official owner of Happy Endings Bookstore, and she wanted to do everything possible to find, draw in and keep customers. The survival of Bygones depended on her success.

And so did her own happiness and self-respect.

Mr. Fibley’s thin mouth curled into a smile. “Thank you, Miss True. I’m a dedicated philatelist, and as such, am hoping to increase my library of books on the subject.” He tucked the package under his arm. “Like most of the other people in Bygones, I’ve been quite skeptical of the SOS Committee’s plan to revitalize the town by awarding new businesses to newcomers. But I have to say, I do enjoy having a new, well-stocked bookstore here as a resource for my philately studies.”

Allison returned his smile, thrilled that Mr. Fibley had changed his tune about the committee’s plan. She only hoped the rest of the townspeople followed suit. Now that Randall Manufacturing had closed down, many Bygonians had been left without jobs, and many town services, such as the police force and the schools, had been put at risk. The new businesses’ success was essential.

She planned on working night and day to make sure Happy Endings stayed out of the red. After four jobs in the ten years since she’d left Bygones, she was determined not to flit away. Never mind she’d have to pay back the matching funds she’d been given to start Happy Endings if the store wasn’t in the black after two years. It was do or die, and she was going to be a doer or die trying.

“Thank you, Mr. Fibley, I appreciate your support.” She picked up a few of the calendar bookmarks Vivian Duncan, her one employee, had whipped up on the computer and handed them to him. “Perhaps you could hand these out to some of your friends in town and spread the word about this store, and the bakery, florist, pet store, hardware store and café, which I’ve listed on the back.” They all had to survive to make the SOS plan work.

Bygones was hanging by a thread, and she was part of an effort to revitalize the town by starting new businesses here on Main Street while also infusing new blood into the town. Of course, she wasn’t exactly a newcomer, but had been deemed eligible for one of the start-up, matching-fund grants provided by an anonymous benefactor because she’d been gone from town for so long. She’d be forever grateful to her sister Amy for letting her know about the SOS Committee’s plans. Allison had worked all night long to get her application in on time and, thankfully, had been awarded one of the businesses.

Mr. Fibley turned his blue eyes down and perused both sides of the bookmark. “Hmm. Very clever, making this useful advertising.” He drew his reading glasses out of his coat pocket and put them on, and then paused, obviously reading the text. He looked up. “Yes, I’ll hand them out. In fact, my grandniece will be planning a wedding soon. I’ll have her look into Sweet Dreams Bakery and Love in Bloom florist.” Another small smile—just the slightest upward curve. “Definitely.”

Allison glowed under his praise and was happy for his cooperation. If he could be convinced to support the newly renovated stores on Main Street, she had hope for the rest of the town. The SOS Committee had faith in her; it was good to see some of the townspeople follow suit.

Now she just needed to have faith in herself. Failing wasn’t an option. Not this time.

“Wonderful. And I’m also starting creative-writing classes for teens, and have already had Story Time for the little ones several times.” She glanced at her watch. “In fact, the next Story Time starts in about twenty minutes.”

Mr. Fibley inclined his head. “Excellent. I’ll tell my granddaughter about the Story Time program so she can bring her children.”

“Thank you, Mr. Fibley, I appreciate your help, really I do.” One customer at a time. Allison was determined to make this business a spectacular success. She’d given up a decent job as the manager of the Book Barn in Kansas City to come back to Bygones. And while she’d been disheartened by the big-box store’s emphasis on toys and electronics, she had still walked away from her only source of income. She had invested all her savings in the funds she’d had to match to be chosen as one of the new store owners here in Bygones. Her future—everything, really—depended on making this store work.

Though it wasn’t a large store by any means, it was hers, and she’d put her own stamp on the place with walls painted in soothing shades of blue, green and tan. There were comfy upholstered chairs for reading and bookshelves Allison had built herself at one of the Workshop for Women classes Gracie Wilson held at the Fixer-Upper hardware store right here on Main Street.

She still had a few bookshelves in the back room to install over in the nonfiction area, and she and Viv planned on painting some fun murals on the walls, featuring literary characters. Allison also planned on setting up a desk and computer in one corner of the store so her customers would have a place to search online for titles. In fact, the equipment was due to be delivered any day. She hoped she could figure out how to install it herself, but if not, Josh Smith, who owned the Cozy Cup Café down the street and was good with computers, would certainly help her out free. She had plenty to do and wondered how she’d get it all done. By working day and night if she had to.

Something clunked from the back of the store, drawing Allison’s ever-vigilant attention. Her ears perking up, she rounded the end of the front counter and gave Mr. Fibley a wave. “Excuse me while I go see what’s going on back there. Thanks again for coming in!” She glanced over and saw Viv nearby, sorting some books from a delivery that had come earlier today. Good.

Mr. Fibley waved back, a quick flick of his skinny hand in the air, and then turned to go. “I’ll be back when I decide which other books I want to order.”

“I’ll look forward to it, Mr. Fibley,” she replied as he headed out the door. “Soon you’ll be able to search for titles yourself.”

“Excellent,” he said with another stiff wave.

Another clunk sounded, and then another. Allison decided the noise was coming from the Kids’ Korner, so she picked up the pace and veered toward the back-right part of the store, creasing her brow.

She arrived in the area set up for kids, pride filling her as she noted the colorful rug and small table and chairs set up for young readers. Her gaze zeroed in on a dark-haired toddler dressed in jeans and a red shirt slowly yet methodically yanking books off a shelf, one after another. Each book fell to the floor with a heavy clunk, and in between each sound, the little guy laughed, clearly enjoying the sound of his relatively harmless yet messy play.

Allison rushed over, noting there was no adult in sight. “Hey, there, bud,” she said, keeping her voice soft and nonconfrontational. “Whatcha doing?”

He turned big brown eyes fringed with long, dark eyelashes toward her. He looked vaguely familiar, even though she was certain she’d never met this little boy. Odd.

“Fun!” A chubby hand sent another book crashing to the floor. He giggled and stomped his feet on the floor in a little happy dance, clearly thrilled with his own antics. “See?”

Carefully she reached out and stilled his marauding hands. “Whoa, there, little guy.” She gently pulled him away. “The books are supposed to stay on the shelf.” Holding on to him, she cast her gaze about the enclosed area, but her view was limited by the tall bookshelves lined up from the edge of the Kids’ Korner to the front of the store. “Are you here with your mommy or daddy?” She hadn’t seen this little guy come in, but then again, she had been busy with Mr. Fibley back in the nonfiction area.

The boy tugged. “Daddy!” he squealed.

“Nicky!” a deep masculine voice replied behind her. “Oh, man. Looks like you’ve been making a mess.”

A nebulous sense of familiarity swept through her at the sound of that voice. Not breathing, still holding the boy’s hand, Allison slowly turned around. Her whole body froze and her heart gave a little spasm, then fell to her toes as she looked into deep brown eyes that matched Nicky’s.

Sam Franklin. The only man Allison had ever loved.

* * *

Sam tightened his hold on Rosalie and stared at the slender, pretty brunette holding Nicky’s hand. She stared back at him, her gorgeous blue eyes wide, her glossy pink lips slack. Something about her rang a distant bell, but...why?

Rosalie squawked and squirmed in his arms, yanking his thoughts away from the attractive young woman obviously trying to keep control of Nicky. “Daddy! Put me down!” Rosie commanded.

“I’ve got this one,” the blue-eyed gal said.

“Thanks.” Sam’s parenting persona clicked into action. “What’s the special word, Rosie?”

“Pleeeze?” Rosie squeaked, still squirming.

“All right, here you go,” he said, setting her on the floor, straightening the pink-and-white-striped top she wore. Pink was her favorite color, followed a close second by purple. Or poiple, as Rosie said.

Rosie ran over and held a finger up in front of her brother’s face. “No, no, Nicky!”

Nicky scowled. “Don’t boss me, Ro-ro!”

Sam shook his head, amused by the push-pull dynamic between the twins, though he was sure his amusement would fade by the time he wrestled them into bed tonight. He loved them more than anything, but they exhausted him. Being a single parent wasn’t easy, although his ex-wife had certainly seemed to sail through handling the twins when she’d had them. Of course, her new fiancé, Spense O’Laughlin, was there to help. That thought sent a dart of bitterness through Sam, which he did his best to ignore.

The brunette raised her brows. “Oh, she’s quite the bossy one, isn’t she?”

Sam stepped forward, noticing how the young woman’s pink sweater set off her blue eyes just right, and gently took a hold of Rosie’s rigid finger. “She was born bossy.”

Nicky tried to dart away, but his pretty captor held him tight. “And he’s the mischievous one, right?”

Sam plucked Nicky up with his free arm. “Right,” he said, impressed by her kid-corralling skills. “Rosie here bosses, and he causes trouble.”

“You’ve got your hands full, then,” she said with a quirk of her lips, putting her hands into the front pockets of her well-fitting jeans.

He hiked Nicky up farther as the little boy squirmed. “You could say that. Twins are very challenging.” Understatement. Never mind that he never felt he had a very good handle on the single-dad thing.

Big blue eyes regarded him for a long moment, and again that sense of familiarity misted through Sam. Where had he seen her before? Unease had him shifting from foot to foot.

Rosie pointed at Sam’s rescuer and piped in with, “I want to see that necklace.” The woman gave Rosie an indulgent smile and squatted until she was at Rosie’s level. “See?” she said, holding out the chunky gold chain around her neck.

Rosie fingered it. “It’s pretty!”

“Thank you,” the woman said. Then after a few moments, she looked up and said, “You don’t recognize me, do you, Sam?”

His face heated. Yeah. She obviously recognized him, but he had no idea who she was. Awkward. “Um...no, I don’t,” he answered honestly. “But you do look familiar.”

She lifted the necklace over her head and handed it to Rosie.

Rosie crowed in delight.

The gal rose and stepped forward. “I’m Allison True, your sister Lori’s best friend from growing up?” She held out her hand. “Long time, no see, Sammy.”

Sammy? He blinked as shock rolled through him, and he froze for a second, staring at her. Suddenly, everything meshed and recognition clicked into place. “Oh, wow!” He took her small hand in his. Little sparks skidded along his arm as soon as they touched.

“Surprise!” Allison smiled, exposing straight white teeth devoid of the braces she’d worn in high school. “It’s me.”

He cleared his throat and reclaimed his hand. “I knew I knew you from somewhere, but I couldn’t place you.” He roamed his gaze over her face, noting her smooth, creamy complexion, with just a hint of freckles across her nose. She had a delicate jawline and cornflower-blue eyes, which he now recalled were called the True-blue eyes because everybody in the True family had them. “But, man, have you changed.” Another understatement. He remembered her mostly as a nerdy bookworm who wore glasses and her hair in braids, though she had blossomed in high school and he’d actually wanted to ask her out.

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Good thing. I would hate to look like the gangly teenager I was the last time I saw you.” She made a face. “Ugh.”

He nodded. “Nope, you’re definitely not a gangly teenager anymore.” Far, far from it. In fact, she’d grown into a beautiful woman. Not that he was really noticing.... All right, he was, but only in a very observational kind of way. As in, hey, she’d changed a lot.

“Glad to hear it,” she said with an impish smile that he found very appealing.

Nicky kicked his legs. “Put me down, Daddy!”

“Let’s stay up here, dude,” Sam replied. “We need to leave the bookstore standing.”

“Nooo!” Nicky cried. “I want down!”

Allison stepped forward. “Hey, Nicky. What’s your favorite thing in the whole world?”

“Cars,” Nicky replied, pushing at Sam’s shoulders. It was hard to contain this busy little boy for long. On the other hand, Rosie had plopped herself down on the floor to play with the necklace Allison had given her to look at. How could two siblings be so different?

“Cars?” Allison cocked her head to the side. “Well, I know where we can find some books about cars.”

Nicky stilled and turned to Allison. “You do?”

“Sure,” Allison said. “Would you like to see?”

“Yes!” Nicky replied.

“What’s the special word?” Sam automatically asked as he put Nicky down.

“Please?” Nicky responded.

Sam looked at Allison. “You sure you don’t mind?”

“Of course not. This is a bookstore, a place to look at books.” She held out a hand to Nicky. “Right, Nicky?”

He took her hand. “Right!” he said, jumping in place.

“Well, right this way,” Allison said with a tug on Nicky’s hand.

“Can I come, too?” Rosie said.

Allison held out her other hand. “Of course. What kind of books do you like?”

Rosie took her hand. “Princess books,” she replied with a jump of her own.

“Okay, we have those,” Allison said with an indulgent smile.

Sam shook his head. Boy, she really had a way with them.

Allison led them to a kid-size table and chairs set in the corner. “Why don’t you two sit down here at the table and I’ll get you the books you want, all right?”

Both three-year-olds immediately sat down. “’Kay,” they said in unison.

“We’ll stay here,” Rosie said.

“Yeah, right here,” Nicky added, patting the table with his chubby little hands.

Sam’s jaw fell. He could never get the twins to do much of anything at the same time, much less sit still. One of the many challenges of parenting twins. It didn’t help that his former wife, Teresa, was always criticizing everything he did. “Wow, you’ve really got the touch,” he said to Allison.

She smiled and waggled her eyebrows, then gestured at the shelves surrounding them. “No, I’ve just got the books.”

“Well, whatever you’ve got, it’s working.” Sam rubbed his jaw. “Maybe I need some pointers.”

“Ask away,” Allison said as she went to a shelf on the left side. She pulled down a large book. “I’m somewhat of an expert on kids.”

He drew his eyebrows together. “Do you have kids?” He forced himself not to look at her left ring finger.

“No, I’m not married, so no kids. But, if you remember, I took care of my younger sisters all the time when we were growing up, so I’ve got some experience.” She set the book on the table in front of Nicky.

“That’s right. You had, what, three younger siblings?”

“Just two,” she said, holding up two fingers as she went to a different shelf. “Amanda and Amy.”

“I remember now. You were the oldest, and Lori often went to your house because you had to babysit all the time.” More details came back to him. “Your parents owned the wheat spread on the outskirts of town, right?”

She pulled another book from the shelf. “Yup, and they still do.” She shrugged stiffly. “Although I don’t babysit for them anymore.”

He noticed her rigid shoulders and wondered what they signified but didn’t want to pry. Instead, he said, “Your sisters are still in high school, right?” He’d seen them around the school, but he hadn’t had either of them in class yet.

“Right. Amanda works at Sweet Dreams Bakery.”

More details materialized. “I seem to remember Lori telling me you moved away some time ago, correct?”

Allison set the book in front of Rosie. “Here you go, sweet pea.”

The endearment made his throat tight.

Allison looked up at Sam. “That’s right. I had a job opportunity in Kansas City after I graduated from high school, and I lived there until just a few months ago when I was selected by the SOS Committee to run this store.”

“You always were a book lover, weren’t you?” Another memory surfaced. “In fact, didn’t you and Lori start your own book club way back when?”

Allison’s big blue eyes went round. “You remember that?”

“I do.”

She smiled. “Good memory. Yes, I’ve always loved books.”

“You must be thrilled to have this store, then.”

She sat down next to Nicky. “Definitely. This is my dream come true, honestly. I have to make this place work.”

“Yeah, a lot’s riding on the SOS plan panning out.” Such as his job as a math teacher at the high school. If the plan didn’t right the economy in Bygones, the schools and the police force would be the first to go. In fact, Sam had already put out feelers for teaching jobs elsewhere in case the SOS plan didn’t work. Although with Teresa threatening to try to get sole custody, his future was up in the air in a lot of ways.

“I work at the high school, and my job is at risk,” he confided. They’d managed to keep the school district going since Randall Manufacturing had closed, but how much longer would funds hold out? He hoped the SOS Committee’s plan to revitalize the town with the six new stores on this block would pan out. Then his job would be safe, and he could focus on the kids.

“Yes, I realize that.” Her eyes shone with determination. “But all the other new shop owners are just as determined as I am to make this block a success.”

He shook his head. “I’m sure you all have good intentions, but I have my doubts about the SOS plan. A lot of people have already moved away, and despite the anonymous benefactor’s generosity, the town is still floundering.”

“Hopefully that will all change.”

“Well, I’m not counting on anything,” he said. “I’ve already put out feelers for other jobs.”

“Oh, no. You’re planning on moving away?”

He set his jaw. “Hopefully not. But I need a job, and I might not have one here. I have to be practical.” His life was a mess right now.

“Yes, I suppose so.” She gave him a look rife with speculation. “Who do you think the benefactor is?”

“No idea,” he said. “Whoever it is has taken great pains to stay anonymous.”

She opened her mouth to reply, then froze. “Oh!” Glancing quickly at her watch, she sprang to her feet. “It’s almost time for Story Time.”

“Story Time?” he repeated.

“I want to go to Story Time,” Rosie announced. “Please, Daddy?”

“Me, too,” Nicky said. “I like stories.” He stood, his small hands struggling to pick up the big car book Allison had brought him. “Lots.”

Allison grinned and her nose crinkled in the most appealing way. “I’m sure they’d love it.” She came closer.

The scent of peaches floated to him. He once again noticed the barest hint of freckles sprinkling her pert nose and he had to smother the urge to count every one. Words stuck in his throat. Whoa. He hadn’t ever had the urge to count anyone’s freckles...

“Whaddya say?” Allison leaned in. More peaches.

He fought the urge to inhale deeply.

At that moment, Nicky took off, shouting, “Story Time! Let’s go!”

Allison went after him, looking back, her eyes alight with excitement. “If you stay, you might get a few minutes of peace and quiet,” she said. “I’ll round him up.”

Sam cleared his throat, liking her can-do attitude. “Oh, well, sure, we’ll stay. Thanks.” Anything to keep the kids occupied, Nicky in particular. Though watching Allison wouldn’t be a chore on Sam’s part— Oh, man! Where had that thought come from?

She gave him a thumbs-up. “Great.” She disappeared around the corner bookshelf, hot on Nicky’s heels, taking her appealing peach scent with her.

Sam started breathing again.

Rosie, ever the calm little lady, sedately carried her book over and stood next to Sam. “I like her,” she said, her chubby cheeks creased with a smile. “She’s nice.”

He put his hand on Rosie’s dark hair. “I do, too, sweetie.” In another life he’d probably ask her out.

Rosie took his hand and tugged on it. “Come on, Daddy. Let’s go to Story Time!”

He let himself be led by his daughter, taking a moment to corral his thoughts, reminding himself that he wasn’t looking for any kind of romantic relationship. Teresa had cheated on him and left him for Spense. That was bad enough. Terrible, actually. But worse yet, she’d been making noises about going for full custody. At this point, fresh off a traumatic divorce, Sam was leery of romance and had, on the advice of his lawyer, chosen not to risk custody issues with any kind of dating at the moment. Nothing was worth losing his kids.

Right now his life was about his job and Nicky and Rosie. There wasn’t room for anything more. That was just the way it was, and he didn’t have the time or energy to fight the truth, much less the stomach for constant conflict with Teresa. What else could a good father do?

* * *

The story rug was right around the bookcase, tucked into the far corner of the store. Allison already had Nicky sitting on the round, fluffy, bright red rug alongside three other kids who looked to be about the twins’ age. Sam spied Allison at a bookshelf to the left, searching for a title.

Women who were obviously the moms of the kids sat in adult-size chairs lined up at the outer rim of the rug. Sam led Rosie to the rug, and then retreated to the background, wanting a bird’s-eye view of Nicky since he rarely sat still for much of anything. The kiddo had two speeds—off and way, way on—so Sam wanted to be prepared to herd him back to the rug when Nicky popped up, on to whatever caught his fickle attention.

Allison settled herself into an upholstered chair facing the kids, a book in her hands, her face glowing, her mouth formed into a brilliant smile that had his breath hitching again in a very alarming way. Even so, he felt himself automatically honing in on her pretty face, her big, expressive eyes in particular.

“Okay, story listeners, can we all quiet down, please?” She paused, her brows raised, clearly waiting for the kids to focus in on her.

After a few moments all five kids quieted and turned their attention to her. “Excellent work at listening,” she said, giving a gentle nod to each child in turn. “So. Are you all ready for a really fun story about a steam shovel?”

An excited chorus rose from the children. “Yes!”

Nicky stood up. “I love steam shovels!” he crowed, his hands in the air.

“I do, too,” Allison replied with a patient smile. “But we all have to sit crisscross applesauce on the story rug before the story can begin.”

Rosie tugged on Nicky’s arm. “Sit down, Nicky.” She pointed to her crisscross position on the floor. “See?”

Sam held his breath, hoping Nicky went against tradition and sat down, preparing himself to swoop in and take control if necessary.

Nicky jerked his arm away from his sister, defiance clear in the tilt of his chin. “Don’t boss me, Ro-Ro.”

Uh-oh. Typical conflict between the twins: Rosie trying to boss Nicky and Nicky rebelling. Sam prepared to head their way to break up the skirmish.

Allison piped in, her voice calm and soothing. “Nicky, I forgot to say that every story listener who sits quietly will get to come up here and help me turn the pages.”

Nicky’s head swung her way. “Me, too?”

“If you sit quietly, yes.” She pointed to the spot on the rug next to Rosie. “So, would you please sit down crisscross applesauce, and we’ll start the story about the steam shovel?”

Sam braced for a meltdown; it could go either way with Nicky. He was a good kid, but not as mature as Rosie, and didn’t always deal well with following directions, especially if they went against what he wanted to do. Pair that with his headstrong personality and the end result was often a messy fit that could be heard three blocks away.

“Can I help first?” Nicky asked.

Sam cringed as his son’s impatient side made an appearance. He sneaked a glance at the other moms, embarrassed, but they seemed to be taking the holdup in stride. In fact, one was texting on her cell phone and wasn’t paying any attention at all.

“Whoever sits still and is quietest gets to help first,” Allison said.

Nicky instantly plopped down. “I’ll sit.” He rested his chin on his knees.

Allison gave Nicky an approving smile. “Good choice, Nicky.” She held up the book, facing outward, and turned to the first page. “Let’s begin.”

She proceeded to read the story about Mike Mulligan and his steam shovel, Mary Anne. Sam had heard the story when he was a kid, so he was familiar with the plot, and how Mike and Mary Anne went to the country and dug the town hall basement in a day but didn’t leave themselves a ramp to get out.

Even though the story wasn’t new to him, he listened, transfixed, as Allison made the story come alive using uniquely creative voices for each of the characters. She read at just the right pace and knew how to point out relevant things in the illustrations as she narrated the story. She truly had a gift for storytelling.

All the kids listened intently, including Nicky. Partway through the book, Allison invited Nicky and a little blonde girl with curly hair to help her turn the pages. Nicky jumped up, grinning, and stood still at Allison’s side and took turns turning the pages with the little girl.

Amazed, Sam watched Nicky follow directions and share responsibility. Willingly. With his heart getting mushy, Sam let his gaze drift to Allison. She had a way with kids, no doubt about it. His kid in particular. She knew exactly how to handle Nicky. He only wished he could be half as patient and able as she was. Guilt shot through him and struck a familiar blow to his conscience; the divorce had been hardest on the kids.

Relaxing for a few precious moments, he let his gaze wander to Nicky and Rosie, then over to Allison. Inevitably, he thought back to his senior year in high school, when Allison had started to bloom and he’d started noticing her as more than just a friend. She may have considered herself a “gangly teenager,” but Sam now recalled when that had all started to change.

Lori had discouraged him from dating Allison, afraid it would cost them their friendship if a relationship between him and Allison didn’t work out. Besides, Lori had asked, would he remain committed to her after he went off to college? He hadn’t been sure—what eighteen-year-old guy would be?—so he’d dropped the idea, not ready to settle down. He’d gone off to college, and that had been that.

He looked at Allison now, noting her patience, kindness, ready smile and fresh, understated beauty.

And couldn’t help but wonder if he hadn’t made a big mistake ten years ago.