Smitten Book Club Page 8

  “What are you, twenty-five, Abby?”

  “It’s impolite to ask a woman’s age.” She gazed down at her feet, noting that they, too, were dressed like an eighty-year-old woman’s. “I’m twenty-seven.”

  “Are you a morning person? What about in the morning, before work? People have coffee in the morning, so it would be perfectly reasonable that we meet then.” He paused. “To discuss Persuasion. And something else. Something I’ve been putting off for far too long.”

  Whatever Wyatt was up to, she felt drawn to him as if someone had attached a winch to her waistline and was cranking it slowly, pulling her out of her imprisoned, muddy bog toward his carefree, sunny escape. “Persuasion seems appropriate, since you’re using that power to entice me.” She dropped her forehead in her hands as she realized that she’d said such a ridiculous thing aloud.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing.” She sucked in a deep breath and exhaled. “I need to go. I’m late for book club.”

  As she finished her rounds, she faced Wyatt, who was still at her side. Her gaze rose up to meet his eyes, and she allowed herself to drink in their light. She reminded herself that she was content, while Wyatt needed adventure to feel alive. He needed a woman like him. A woman like Anne Elliot, who would sail the open seas to be with Captain Wentworth. Abby, on the other hand, was out of sorts if she had to grocery shop on a different night from her usual one. Besides, her mother would take to the idea of her dating the way a cat takes to being tossed into a swimming pool.

  Wyatt lifted her hand and held it in his for a moment. “We’re friends, right?” He gave her his trademark sideways grin that should be registered as a lethal weapon. “Friends spend time getting to know one another. It’s just coffee, Abby.”

  She shrugged. “I guess.” Coffee seemed innocent enough. He wanted to talk about a book. She was a librarian. It made perfect sense. She just hoped she could keep her heart from getting involved—because men like Wyatt Tanner didn’t stay with their feet on the ground for long, and they didn’t seem to realize the effect they had on others. “I should get going,” she said and turned away from his outstretched hand to gather her things.

  Wyatt felt the loss of Abby’s hand immediately as his grasp emptied. Her small hand, with its slender fingers . . . her nails always trimmed short and painted with a natural pink color . . . it felt right inside his, like it belonged there. If only he could find a way to tell her so.

  “Maybe Monday morning, before work. Mountain Perks. Is seven too early for you?”

  “Seven is fine,” she whispered hoarsely.

  “Be ready to discuss Austen.”

  She smiled briefly, and he’d have given blood to know what she was thinking. Rather than risk giving her another chance to back out, he made a hasty exit with a smile he felt to his feet. Abby Gray is the perfect woman. With caramel-colored hair, which she always wore up in a studious bun, and deep, soulful brown eyes that hypnotized him. He’d spent the better part of a year trying to get to know her better. Trying to do the thing that he’d planned so long ago.

  Casey, one of the other librarians, invariably placed herself between Abby and him, so he’d decided to return his books when he knew only Abby would be on duty and he’d have her to himself. She exuded a sense of warmth that made him want her soft nature—she was like a roaring fire in the fireplace. From the moment he first laid eyes on her, he knew. There was something different about Abby Gray that made him feel as if he’d known her their entire lives. She had a petite, athletic frame, and he wondered what she did to stay in shape. She obviously hid her adventurous side underneath an array of cardigans, which only made him want to uncover that side of her more.

  He walked down the street and shook his head. As he stared over his shoulder, he watched her emerge from the library and heard her jangle the keys.

  Be ready to discuss Austen. Seriously? Did he really just tell a librarian to be ready to discuss Jane Austen? As if he were some kind of literary hero? He could barely string two words together and sound coherent. At least when he was near Abby. He didn’t know what touched him so about her, but when he was beside her, he smiled from within.

  Hopefully, Abby didn’t think he was a blooming idiot. He hadn’t meant to be so pushy, but some part of him wanted to get her out of the house more often and learn what went on behind those gorgeous, mysterious eyes. He’d first seen her in church, but she was always flanked by her mother and seemed so off-limits there. Running into her at the library seemed like fate.

  She hiked her book bag over her shoulder, and he watched her hips sway gently as she walked in the other direction. She turned and smiled at him with a wave.

  He loved the way she laughed, the way she hung back when the other ladies tried to speak to him. All he’d wanted to do was get to her and pull her out of her quiet reverie, but then someone would ask about his outdoor hobbies and he’d see her visibly flinch at the idea of helicopter skiing in Canada or snowboarding atop Sugarcreek Mountain.

  “Someone looks smitten.” Ellie Draper stood outside her fudge shop, Sweet Surrender.

  Wyatt sniffed the sugary scent of her warm concoctions. “You’re just trying to sell me some dark chocolate.”

  “Maybe.” She winked. “Abby likes the peanut butter fudge.”

  “Does she now?”

  Ellie shrugged her rounded shoulders. “You know where to find me.” With a jingling of bells she disappeared into her sweet shop.

  Abby was out of sight now. Most likely she found his love of extreme sports folly. Nothing more than a death wish. He wanted her to know the truth, that computer consulting was only a means to an end. He wanted to create programs that showed athletes how to move their bodies for optimal performance. He didn’t want to be known just as the code monkey of Smitten.

  Today he had hope. On Monday morning Abby would meet him for coffee and he would get to ask about her, away from the prying eyes of library patrons and nosy librarians. Now he was the one who was half agony, half hope.

  Always maintain a modest yet appealing appearance as is becoming of a woman of God. Your appearance is a calling card.

  PEARL CHAMBERS, The Gentlewoman’s Guide to Love and Courtship

  CHAPTER TWO

  Abby hurried down the brick sidewalk of Main Street, past the fire station and town storefronts, until she came to the bookstore at the corner of Lookaway Lane and Main Street. It was a beautiful evening with the sun low in the sky and the streets bustling with tourists. There were horse-drawn carriages in the street carrying diners to the romantic restaurants, and the twinkling lights that lined the downtown trees sparkled.

  Abby thought it must be easier for single women to find contentment when they weren’t forced to watch fawning couples gazing into one another’s eyes on a daily basis. Smitten’s being the romance capital did have its downside. Nothing reminded a person of her loneliness like people being paired off as if they were getting on Noah’s ark.

  As she felt the dwindling sunlight on her face and saw the purple majesty of the mountains in the distance, she hesitated to go inside the bookstore. Smitten, Vermont, embodied every one of God’s beautiful creations: deep, glass-like lakes, magnificent mountains, and spring colors. Yet she spent most of her hours inside. Wyatt’s mention of Captain Wentworth had given her a nudge toward a more adventurous life. Stepping outside more often might be a simple commitment that she could keep. She definitely needed to get out more.

  She pushed through the bookstore’s door, and the jangle of bells immediately put her at ease. The group had read Gone with the Wind, and to celebrate they were eating barbecue like at Twelve Oaks. Someone picked up fried chicken from Jake’s restaurant, and everyone had brought a side dish. Except for her.

  She slapped her forehead lightly. “I forgot the potato salad I made this morning,” she said.

  Lia came to hug her. “Don’t worry about it, sweetie. We’ve got plenty of food. You’d think we were feeding an entire Conf
ederate regiment, from the looks of it. How’s your mother?”

  “Oh, she’s fine. Cathy, our neighbor, is having dinner with her tonight, so I won’t have to be home early.”

  “It sounds like they may have a lot of potato salad.”

  Abby laughed. The round table in front of the bookshelves, which normally housed the best sellers, was filled with delicacies from an earlier, more genteel time.

  “Have some sweet tea,” Lia offered with her best imitation of a Southern accent. “It’s food for what ails the soul, I do declare.”

  It wasn’t the first time Abby had forgotten. She worried her friends might get tired of filling in the gaps for her, but as Molly approached, she figured they had bigger fish to fry. Curtis’s death had left Molly to run Smitten Expeditions alone, and as a true girlie girl, it was almost as if Cinderella had been left to guard the castle in her blue gown and tiara.

  Molly wasn’t big on reading. She preferred movies to books and tortured herself weekly with all the latest romantic comedies. Every week Abby would check out the latest movies from the library for Molly to watch, and sneak in a romantic classic.

  She handed over the bag of DVDs from the library.

  “Anything good?” Molly asked as she clutched the bag.

  “Not this week. All the movies that came in were more in the horror genre, so I brought you a classic: Pillow Talk with Rock Hudson and Doris Day.”

  Molly frowned.

  “You’ll like it. Besides, there’s going to come a day when you’ve seen everything out there and you’ll have to go backward whether you like it or not. They’re not making as many romantic comedies as they used to.”

  It didn’t seem to bother Molly that they lived in the romance capital—she still sought the escapism of chick flicks.

  “Safe Haven is out next week. You should like that one. Exceptionally sappy and heart-tugging.”

  “Bravo!” Molly shouted. “I’ve been waiting for that one. Maybe I should have a party. What do you think?”

  The other women came around them and laughed. Heather crossed her arms. “Abby, do you have to encourage her by bringing her those movies? This is a book club. How are we going to get her to finish the books if you keep offering her addiction of choice?”

  “It’s harmless,” Abby said. “If I’d had her marriage, I’d want to be reminded of romance too.” She looked directly at Molly. “I just fail to see how you need the reminder when it’s everywhere in this town.”

  Molly smiled. “Don’t get me wrong. I know you guys love me, but it feels like a hundred years since I felt romantic love. I guess the movies remind me what that feels like.”

  Abby sighed. She couldn’t argue with that. The room got quiet, and Abby realized she’d put her foot in her mouth again by bringing up Molly’s husband. “I’m sorry, Molly. I suppose that’s why they don’t let me out often.”

  Molly smiled and patted her shoulder. “I knew what you meant. And I like it when people remember Curtis. It’s better than when they try to avoid saying his name.” Molly walked toward the entrance of the bookstore and began welcoming the rest of the club.

  Abby stood alone amidst the circle of chairs set up in front of the bookshelves. Suddenly she felt anxious to get started on the book discussion—a time where she wouldn’t say the wrong thing and remind people why she felt more comfortable at work than out in public.

  Heather, who looked like a model and seemed to have it all together, pulled her aside into a small corner of the store. Before she could say anything, Abby spoke up. “I’m sorry about what I said to Molly about the movies. You don’t think I hurt her, do you?”

  Heather shook her head. “Forget that. Molly knows you’d never do anything to hurt her.” She handed Abby another book bag. “But I do have a way I think you can help her.”

  Abby took the book bag and peeked inside. “What’s this?”

  “It’s the Gentlewoman’s Guide. I’m sure our mystery is nothing more than Smitten lore, but I thought with your research skills, we might at least make sure. Do you mind?”

  Abby took the book, an antique leather-bound volume, which appeared crumbly and fragile in its age. “Not at all. I’ll see what I can find. Do I know everything I need to?”

  “There’s not much to tell. I found it at the book fund-raiser for Molly’s family. It was written by Curtis’s ancestor, Pearl Chambers. You know the Smitten folklore about the gold in the foothills below Sugarcreek Mountain?”

  Abby scanned the book. “What kind of town historian would I be without knowing that story?”

  “Finding this book got me to thinking. By all accounts, Pearl was no dummy.”

  “No. She was very respected in town.”

  “It’s said that her husband, Otis, forbade her to mine the gold she found. Do you think that’s so?”

  “I don’t know if it’s true. I do know if there was a cave on that land, it would have been uncovered by now. When the ski resort was built there was so much excavation.”

  “But what if the gold was already gone?”

  Abby shrugged. “It seems like a long shot.”

  “You said yourself that Pearl was a respected citizen in town.”

  “She was, but she had a falling out with her daughter, from what I understand.”

  Abby opened the book, relishing the feel of the old volume. The romance of a simpler time captured her imagination. Maybe there would be wisdom for a woman like her who had chosen a life of caregiving over romance. “‘Never hang your pantaloons publicly,’” she read. “That’s some practical advice. I don’t see anything here about the gold legend.”

  “No, I know. That’s the point,” Heather said.

  “How am I supposed to look something up that’s not there?”

  Lia and Molly had arrived and were walking toward them.

  “What’s that?” Molly asked.

  Heather shoved the book back into its bag. “Nothing. I just needed a professional opinion on a book I purchased.”

  Abby didn’t understand why the book was a secret, or what it had to do with the legend of Smitten’s gold, but she could tell by the way Heather was acting that there was a lot more to the story than she could share at the moment.

  “We’ll talk about it later,” Heather whispered.

  “Let’s eat, shall we?” Lia held her arm out to the table, and Abby’s stomach rumbled as the scent of dinner wafted toward her.

  “We have plans for you tonight.”

  “Me? Yes, we’ve finally finished Gone with the Wind.”

  Lia shook her head. “We all know Molly didn’t read it. It’s too long for her.”

  “I did so!” Molly said before she backed down. “Well, some of it, anyway. But even the movie’s too long for me. I have to skip all those boring war parts.”

  The women all laughed and filled their plates with chicken, mashed potatoes, and corn on the cob, and filled their Ball-jar glasses with sweet tea.

  “I think maybe you like this book because it brings out your inner Scarlett.”

  “I don’t think I have an inner Scarlett,” Abby said honestly, scooping up a helping of mashed potatoes.

  “You might be right.” Molly looked at Abby’s feet. “You’re wearing orthopedic shoes.”

  “They’re not special shoes,” Abby protested. “They’re just comfortable. I’m on my feet all day.”

  “It doesn’t matter if they actually are orthopedic; they look orthopedic,” Lia explained. “Look at your gorgeous calves. We know you’re on your feet all day.”

  “The girls and I were talking about you this week,” Heather said. “We think maybe it’s time we abandoned the librarian look for something more up-to-date.”

  The women sat down in the chairs, their laps all covered by plates full of the night’s dinner.

  “When’s the last time you went on a date, Abby?” Heather asked.

  “Does it matter?” Abby said.

  “It’s not like you to pick a romance nov
el,” Molly said.

  “It’s Gone with the Wind. It’s not really a romance.” Somehow she felt whatever her friends were up to, they weren’t going to be talking much about the book tonight. “Didn’t you like it?” she ventured.

  The girls all looked at one another as if they shared some dark secret, and she felt completely alone. The rest of the women were happily eating their potluck and seemed oblivious to what her friends were up to.

  “Will someone tell me what’s going on?”

  “Last week when you couldn’t make it to book club and we were discussing the characters, we thought how much like Melanie you are. Melanie was always doing for everyone else. She saw the best in everyone else and never seemed to take the time to worry about herself.”

  Abby shrugged. “Melanie’s the nice one. Is there a problem with that?”

  “Of course not,” Lia said. “It’s just we worry about you taking care of your mother and how little you’re getting out.”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re too young to become your mother,” Heather said.

  “So after club tonight, we’re heading to Sparkle. They’re keeping it open just for us. We’re going to get you a few new things.”

  “Why? I don’t go anywhere. I don’t need anything new.” Abby felt like a trapped animal. Did her friends know Wyatt had asked her to coffee? Was he in on their little conspiracy?

  “You haven’t been the same since your mom stopped driving,” Lia continued. “We’re worried that if you stay like this, our book study is going to become the highlight of your week.”

  It was the highlight of her week. “What’s wrong with that?”

  Her friends looked at one another again.

  “There’s a lot wrong with that. I mean, we love you and all, but we’re not exactly party central,” Molly said.

  “I don’t mind that. I’m an introvert.”

  The way her friends were looking at her, Abby had a feeling that book club as she knew it was over. When those three had an agenda, nothing was going to stop them, and if they’d decided she was Melanie and needed a bit more Scarlett, she wasn’t going anywhere without a touch of red.