Jennifer Snow – Falling for Leigh (страница 7)
“Can I point you in any certain direction, Mr. Walters?” She refused to elaborate, despite the intense curiosity written all over his handsome face. At least curiosity softened the sharp edges of this man she’d only known for a few days.
“I don’t know. Where are you headed?”
Leigh thought fast. “The gynecologist.”
Logan smiled.
Huh, dimples—hadn’t noticed them before. They should make an appearance more often, she thought.
“You’re getting better with the lies. I’ll catch you later. Same time, gazebo?”
“Sure thing.”
She watched as he dashed off down the block before heading in the opposite direction.
Moments later Leigh stepped into Dog Eared Books. It was discouraging to see the going-out-of-business sale posters in the window behind their annual Halloween decor of orange lights and pumpkins carved in the images of bestselling books. The bookstore had been in Brookhollow for over fifty years. Grandma Norris had taken her there for the first time on her fourth birthday, when she and her parents had stayed longer than usual after the holidays. She’d filled almost another full suitcase full of books for her trip overseas to the new mission her dad had been appointed to, and they had been such a comfort—she remembered that clearly even though she’d only been four years old.
As a teenager, after her parents sent her to live with her grandmother to attend Brookhollow High, she’d visited the store almost every day, spending the money she earned from her part-time summer job at the Theatre Under the Stars drive-in.
“Hello,” she said, stepping over boxes of books in the entryway. She would miss the landmark once the store closed in the new year.
Danielle O’Connor came from the back storage room, another box of books in her arms. “Hi, Leigh. Sorry for the mess. Just trying to reorganize some things.”
Leigh scanned the labels on the boxes near the wall. “Those are books for the library?”
“Yeah, they’re all fairly new—novels released this year. There are some children’s books in there, as well. You’re welcome to take a look.”
“Thank you, but trust me, I’m running out of space for more books.”
“That’s not possible,” Danielle said. “You just have to build higher shelves.” She gestured to the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves along the first floor of the two-story space.”
“I guess so,” Leigh said with a laugh. “Anyway, I did stop by for a couple of specific novels. Do you think you could search your database to see if you have them? They’re seven or eight years old. If they’re already packed away, don’t worry.”
Danielle moved to the other side of the counter to her computer. “Romance?” she asked with a knowing smile.
“Actually no...um...mystery?”
“You—mystery?” Danielle raised an eyebrow.
Leigh shrugged. “Thought I’d broaden my horizons a little.”
Daniel shook her head slowly as she clicked on the mystery tab and they waited for the page to load. “Name of the book?”
“
If Danielle had heard, she didn’t reveal it. “Here it is...part of the Van Gardener series, right?”
“That’s it. Do you have the complete set?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I just put them on the fifty-cent table outside.”
Leigh suppressed a cringe. Logan would certainly take a blow to his ego if he knew the first four books of his popular series were reduced to the quick-sale bargain table.
If he found out she bought them, she’d claim she’d spent at least a dollar on them.
“Great, I’ll take them all.”
* * *
THIS TOWN REALLY had changed a lot since the last time he was here, Logan thought as he left the sports museum, Legend’s, with a signed NFL jersey he’d paid a premium for. Most of the items in the museum were rare collectables, things that used to belong to Don Jamieson, the late NFL quarterback who used to own Legend’s when it was a sporting-goods store. Logan wasn’t that into sports, but he knew his agent would love the signed jersey. He owed the man a good Christmas gift after the headache of a year they’d suffered.
As he turned the corner of Main Street and Commerce Avenue, he came to a halt as a long line of children getting off a school bus blocked his path.
The young schoolteacher smiled. “Sorry, we’re almost at the end of them,” she said, continuing to check off her list of students as they went past, up the stairs to the... Logan glanced at the building, shielding his eyes from the midmorning sun. Library. At three stories, it was by far one of the largest buildings in Brookhollow.
“No problem. Field trip?” he asked.
“Yes, sort of. It’s literacy week, so we’re here to listen to today’s readers.”
Literacy week. That’s right, in New York every year he donated proceeds from his book sales to this great cause. He’d credit books with helping him find his own future path, often providing an escape and hope that was rare in the harsh reality of his foster-care situations. As the last child passed, Logan followed the teacher up the stairs. In truth, though New York was home to one of the country’s most beautiful libraries, he hadn’t been inside one in years. Maybe it would help with the writer’s block. “I think I’ll check it out myself. Thank you, Miss...?”
“Ally. Miss Ally.” With a wave, she disappeared after the children inside.
Pausing at the top of the steps, Logan took a moment to read the literacy-week schedule posted on a sign on the door. Readings for children and adults...book discussion groups...a book sale that weekend. All the same events hosted by the big-city libraries. Without the crowds, he speculated, as he entered the building.
Two school groups were gathered in a reading room to the right of the main entrance. He could tell they were two different groups by the colored uniforms they wore. The sight of the smaller ones in their navy smocks and tights reminded him of his daughter. Amelia, eight, attended a private school in New York, one of the few that still insisted on a dress-code uniform.
Amelia.
He missed his little girl so much. She would have loved a school outing like this. Her favorite subject was English. Liked to make up stories...some of which he’d illustrated for her. He had those stories saved in the top drawer of his writing desk in his apartment in Manhattan, one of the few things he’d taken from the home he’d shared with Kendra when he moved out two years before.
Two years.
Some days it felt as if they’d been battling in court over the separation and custody forever, and other days it felt like no time at all. He just hoped they reached a conclusion next month. He couldn’t take much more of this.
His weekly phone call to California to speak to his kid was hardly enough, but with the time difference and his daughter’s need to adjust to her new surroundings, he was biting his tongue and giving them space. He didn’t want to make things harder on Amelia. But next month, regardless of the outcome of the custody case, things had to change. He deserved and wanted more time with his daughter.
He stepped into the library.
To his relief, it looked pretty much like he’d expected it to, which was soothing to his frayed, blocked nerves. Big city or small, there was comfort in the familiarity of the rows of shelves and the smell of books.
To his right was a children’s section, complete with a puppet theater. But the focal point was a floor-to-ceiling plastic oak tree with the alphabet in its leaves, benches around its trunk and books stashed in the bark.
A librarian reshelving books asked, “Can I... Oh my God.” Several browsers on the other side of the shelf turned to look at them.
“Hi,” he said.
“You’re Logan Walters.” The woman, not old but older than him, stood.
“Yes, I am.” He extended his good hand to her.
She stared at him, wide eyes, mouth agape, not moving.
Maybe he should have said no, he thought when she continued to stare. Uncomfortable, he shifted from one leg to the other. Then he dropped the hand he’d extended. “You okay?”
“Yes...this is incredible,” she said, finding her voice. “I’m sorry, I just wasn’t expecting... I mean no one told me you were coming. That’s the mayor’s office for you. They forget to tell us everything. Although maybe they wanted to surprise me—that was nice of them.” Her face lit up in a wide smile and she readjusted her thick, red-rimmed glasses higher on her nose and tucked a few strands of strawberry blond hair behind an ear. The unruly wisps just bounced right back toward her cheek.
Cute.
“Actually no one sent me. I’m staying at the Brookhollow Inn, working on a book.” Duh. He shouldn’t have said that. Guess his plan to stay here unnoticed was out the window.
“Oh, sorry, I thought since it was literacy week... We sometimes bring in guest authors, though no one as famous as you.” Her open admiration made him a little shy.
It had been years since he’d encountered a fan; mainly because he’d reclusively avoided all opportunities to meet them. But also because he hadn’t published a book in so long.