The Little Bookshop Of Promises. Debbie Macomber
first time she’d used his given name, and she made it sound like the most incredible name a man could have.
“—I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she continued awkwardly.
“No?” Surely there was some mistake. He waited for her to explain.
“There’re some people who just don’t...gel together,” she blurted. “Certain people who aren’t meant to be more than friends. I’m honored that you asked me out, but I just can’t see the two of us...dating.” She paused and glanced guiltily in his direction, as if to determine the amount of damage her words had inflicted. “Don’t misunderstand me—I like you.”
“Obviously not enough.”
“I’m sorry....”
“Listen, Jeannie, if you don’t want to go out with me, all you have to do is say so.” Which she had. Adam set his hat back on his head and hurried for the door, eager to escape.
“I’m sorry,” she said again.
In an effort to save face, Adam shrugged as though it was of little consequence. “No harm in asking.”
“None,” she agreed earnestly. “It was very nice of you to be so understanding.”
Adam didn’t think that remark deserved a response and made a quick getaway.
Driving through town, he stopped at his father’s western-wear shop. He should have known, Adam decided. Women like Jeannie French didn’t date guys like him. Hey, maybe she had a boyfriend in Brewster. Some cowboy or other. She hadn’t said so, but it was certainly possible. And just his luck.
“How’s life treating you?” Max Jordan asked when Adam walked in.
“Fair,” Adam muttered, suddenly wondering why he’d bothered with this impromptu visit.
Max Jordan leaned both elbows on the counter and studied him.
“What?” Adam demanded sharply.
Max sighed heavily. “She turned you down, didn’t she?”
“Who?”
“That new teacher you’ve had your eye on for the past six months. You finally worked up your courage to ask her out, and then she turned you down.”
“You know how I feel about Jeannie?”
“Are you kidding? Half the town knows.”
Great, just great. No wonder Jeannie had been rushing him out the door. She knew how he felt—just like everyone else in town, apparently—and had been trying to spare him further embarrassment.
“She doesn’t want anything to do with me,” Adam told his father, disgusted with himself for not having figured it out sooner. It’d taken thirty years to find the right woman, only to learn she wasn’t interested in him.
“You want me to meet you at the café at noon?” Jane Patterson asked her husband, although the question was more of a reminder for Cal.
It was Saturday, a beautiful May morning, and he’d parked the pickup on Main Street. Jane had the distinct feeling Cal hadn’t heard her, and it wasn’t the first time this had happened lately. “Is something bothering you?”
Cal’s gaze drifted to her rounded abdomen and he grinned. “Not a thing,” he said and briefly kissed her cheek. “We’ll meet at noon.”
“Right.”
They simultaneously opened the truck doors and climbed out, then headed in opposite directions: Cal to visit his parents at the local bed-and-breakfast and Jane toward Tumbleweed Books to see Annie.
The moment Annie Applegate had opened her doors for business, she’d been swamped with eager customers. Jane was delighted to see Annie’s venture already a success—and delighted to have her company again.
Jane chatted with friends and neighbors as she strolled down the sidewalk. It seemed every rancher in the area made a trip into town on Saturday morning. Once she was inside Tumbleweed Books, Gina Greenville, the high-school girl Annie had hired part-time, rang up the book Jane had ordered—the latest blockbuster by their local writer, Travis Grant. Travis was very much part of the Promise community and something of a hero. It’d been Travis and his wife, Nell, who’d solved the mystery at Bitter End, the original settlement that had been abandoned in the 1880s and reestablished as the town of Promise.
Annie sat in the back of the shop, surrounded by a circle of children for Story Time. Among the ten or eleven gathered there, Jane saw Heather and Hollie Porter; they were huddled together, close to the front, their father, Lucas, leaning against the back wall.
A chapter from Beverly Cleary’s book, Ramona the Pest, had the children’s rapt attention. Hardly a sound could be heard above Annie’s voice. Jane hadn’t seen her friend look happier or more at peace with herself since their high-school days. Annie held the book up so the children could see one of the drawings, and caught Jane’s eye as she did. Annie smiled as if to thank her.
The bookstore was Jane’s first stop, and she hadn’t intended to stay more than a few minutes, but she couldn’t make herself leave. On Saturdays she crammed in as many errands as she could, and this morning’s schedule was heavier than usual. The baby was due in about two-and-a-half months, but she was only now buying clothes and equipment for the nursery. She’d be able to take time off both before and after the birth; besides the physician Promise had under contract, there was a midwife who’d been hired because of the town’s recent population explosion. The children gathered around Annie were testament to that.
Three-year-old Joey McMillen crouched next to Roy Weston, Grady and Caroline’s boy. The two were the very best of friends. Johnny Patterson, Ellie and Glen’s son, was only a few months younger. Jane saw all three mothers—Amy, Caroline and Ellie—chatting animatedly at the other side of the store, near the children’s book section. From what she’d heard, watching those three boys was like looking back thirty years and seeing Cal and Glen Patterson with Grady Weston. The three ranchers had been close friends their entire lives.
Jane knew she needed to leave, but was mesmerized by the story and by the simple joy of seeing her friend this happy.
“How’s it going, Dr. Jane?” Lucas Porter asked quietly.
“Great,” she whispered back. “How about you, Dr. Luke?”
“Fair to middlin’,” he said, keeping his gaze trained on his daughters.
“Your girls certainly seem to enjoy Story Time.”
“That’s not the half of it,” Lucas muttered. “Annie is all they talk about these days. It’s Annie this and Annie that. They’d come to the bookstore every day if they could.”
It did Jane’s heart good to see those motherless children bond with Annie. Of all the women in town, Lucas’s children had found the one who could really understand them, the one with whom they shared a common experience. It seemed as though the two little girls intuitively knew that Annie had also lost her mother when she was young.
All at once Jane saw the romantic possibilities between Annie and Lucas. It made sense; they were perfect for each other. Cal would probably be furious with her if she told him what she was thinking—but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. She’d invite them both for dinner, she decided, and nudge them in the right direction—just as Dovie and Ellie had once steered her toward Cal.
“Annie’s really terrific with kids, isn’t she?” Dovie commented, coming up behind her. “I knew we needed a bookstore, but I had no idea it was going to be this popular.”
Jane nodded happily. It looked as if the bookstore was about to become the new gathering place in town. Maybe Annie should buy an espresso machine