Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Truly, there’s not much I need in town, but it’s fine. I stop in and get breakfast and an espresso at the coffee shop. I had the forethought to bring a book with me, so at least I’m partially distracted from the problems that await me at home.
Once I’m done eating, I give Patrick a call because it’s expected. A weekly check-in is the least I can do, even if it’s only a few minutes. This week, for the first time in a long while, I have good news to report.
“I’m working,” I tell him once the call connects.
“On the book?”
I’m not surprised he wants clarity. I’m sure he half-expects me to be talking about my fence project.
“Yes. Summer and I have started plotting. It’s loose and it’s only been a few days, but the spark is there.”
I can feel his relief through the phone. That heavy sigh speaks volumes, as if he’s unburdening his soul.
“I haven’t put pen to paper yet,” I say, not wanting him to get too carried away with hope.
“That’s okay.”
It’s quiet for a moment.
“Is she helping?”
I’m glad he can’t see my responding smile through the phone. Helping? I’m not sure that’s the word for it.
“She’s a force to be reckoned with, I’ll just say that.”
“Interesting,” he muses. “I won’t say anything to InkWell yet.”
“Of course. There’s nothing to say anyway. It could all go up in flames.”
“Take it easy then, don’t let that happen.”
His words echo in my mind as I drive down to visit Martin. I end up spending half an hour chatting with him. I buy bags of groceries—anything that looks good—and nearly his entire stock of Cadbury chocolate bars. Summer and I need them for plotting. Wine too.
“How’s the girl? Summer?”
“She’s fine.”
“Beautiful, no?”
“She works with me,” I point out, like that’s answer enough to his question.
He chuckles. “Like Freya’s stepmom worked with me…” His brows rise as he shakes his head. “I know how that goes.”
If I think I’m going to find solace elsewhere, it’s not happening, but I can’t help trying one more place.
I stop into Main Street Books on my way back out of town. With how cold it is, my groceries will be fine in the car for a while. Alice is inside with her reading glasses perched on her nose as she flips through a stack of receipts behind the counter.
The door chimes as I enter, and she looks up with a big smile. “Nathaniel!”
“Hey, didn’t think you’d still be in today.”
She pushes her glasses up onto her hair. “I needed to do some bookkeeping. I’m behind, which is embarrassing because it’s not like I’m dealing with customers all day long. Time just gets away from me. There’s always something else to be doing—shipping orders, cataloguing inventory. Anyway, what brings you in? Need something good to read?”
I can’t tell her I’m here because I’m avoiding going home, so I nod and tell her I’m looking for a good book. Alice is great at giving recommendations. Even if her grandmother hadn’t pushed her into owning a book shop, she would have found her way to the profession eventually. It’s what she’s meant to be doing.
I have a stack of books on my bedside table that will be pissed at me when I add yet another to their pile, but Alice talks me into a murder mystery, and well, you can never have too many good books in your to-be-read pile, right?
“What are you doing for dinner? Want to round up the gang and come by the cottage?”
The invitation is out before I’ve even decided it’s a good idea. I want a buffer between Summer and me. With the way things were going last night and this morning, I know what will happen if she and I are left alone for too much longer.
“I could,” she says, mulling the idea over in her mind. “I’d planned to make a lasagna, but I could easily bake it at your place. Freya and Mike were going to come over for dinner.”
“I’ll let them know to stop by too. Oliver, whoever. Pass word around.”
“Fun! It’s been ages since we’ve had a proper dinner party. Freya was planning to bring a dessert to my place, so that’s already covered. I’ll have Oliver bring a few extra bottles of wine.”
The plan is set in motion so easily I don’t have time to backtrack and rethink my decision.
When I get home, I find the cottage cleaner than it’s been in months. A candle I didn’t even know I owned is burning on the kitchen table, and Summer is cuddled up with Cat near the fire, reading a book. Her chin is resting in her hand, and she looks so thoughtful and serene.
The sight stops me in my tracks. I didn’t know how lonely I felt before, coming home to an empty cottage instead of this.