The Little Bookshop Of Promises

Nessa hadn’t known what to do with herself afterward. Her children each had their own opinions about what was best for their mother. Judging by the phone calls Dovie had received from Nessa’s daughter, Sylvia, they obviously thought Nessa was incapable of making rational decisions. But she wasn’t. After a few months, much to Sylvia’s distress, Nessa decided to leave New Orleans and move back to Promise, and Dovie was delighted she had.

Despite her daughter’s displeasure, Nessa packed up sixty-three years of life, which included a trunk full of mementoes from the family’s travels. She bought the house that had once belonged to Ellie Patterson and moved in. All without the aid of her children, who continued to bicker among themselves. Dovie found it wryly amusing.

“You’re going to love London,” Nessa promised, stirring her tea.

“And Paris.”

“Ah, Paris,” Nessa said dreamily. “The City of Light. There’s nothing like it, Dovie. Nothing.”

Dovie knew she’d enjoy Europe once she got there, although at the moment her feet hurt and her head was full of all the tasks she had yet to complete. “It’s just that I’ve got so much to do.”

“I’ll help. Why do you think I’m here?” Nessa stood, prepared to carry her half-empty teacup to the kitchen. “Now, where would you like me to start?”

Dovie motioned her back to her chair. “You might be ready to get up, but I’m not through sitting yet.” Especially after an entire morning spent baking ten dozen scones to freeze so Nessa could serve them while Dovie was in Europe.

Without complaint, Nessa sat down again. “At least let me dip the peanut-butter cookies for you.”

“All right,” Dovie agreed. A few years earlier, she’d taken her peanut-butter cookies and half dipped them in a pot of melted chocolate. The result had made her cookies the most popular in town. She’d spent the day before baking a triple batch, hoping Nessa would have enough to last for the two weeks she’d be away.

“You haven’t got a thing to worry about,” Nessa assured her. “I promise I’ll watch over the store as if it were my own.”

“I know.” Dovie was grateful, too. Nessa’s return to Promise had been perfectly timed. Normally she would’ve asked Mary Patterson to step in for her. Not now. If Mary had wanted to help, she would have volunteered. And...she hadn’t.

“I’m afraid that when we’re on our trip, I’ll be so tired all I’ll want to do is sleep.” Especially if this week was anything to go by.

“You’re going to be much too excited to sleep,” Nessa said. “Traveling’s a wonderful adventure, and the memories will last you a lifetime.”

“I’m sure I’ll feel better once we’ve actually left. All the work leading up to this vacation is what’s driving me nuts. Frank and I—” She stopped abruptly, realizing how thoughtless she must sound. Nessa had been a widow for only a year. “Nessa, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Nessa repeated. “For what?”

“You traveled all over the world with Leon, and here I am dragging up those memories.”

Nessa dismissed that idea with an absent wave of her hand. “Don’t be silly. The memories I have are happy ones. I loved my husband and never regretted a day of our lives together. But I’ve adjusted to life without Leon. It took me six months to regain my balance and decide where home would be. I don’t know why Sylvia thinks she needs to watch over me twenty-four hours a day. I’m not a child.”

“What’s Sylvia up to now?”

“Nothing new. She seems to think I’m the type of woman who needs a man in her life.”

Dovie had rarely met a woman as capable as her sister-in-law.

“Lately she’s been suggesting I remarry. She said she wouldn’t worry about me so much if I wasn’t living alone. Have you ever heard anything more ridiculous in your life?”

“She’s joking, right?”

“I wish. She’s already lining up men for me to meet when I visit this summer. I told her I wasn’t interested, but that’s never stopped Sylvia before and I don’t expect it will now.”

“Are you going to put up with it?”

Nessa laughed. “No, but I’ll have to go through the motions. She’s got her brothers involved in the great manhunt now.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Don’t worry, Dovie, I know how to handle my daughter.”

“Perhaps I should talk to her,” Dovie suggested.

“I don’t think so, seeing that you’re to blame.”

“Me?” Dovie gave a small shriek. “Me? What did I do?”

“Nothing much but find happiness after losing your husband. Sylvia says you’re a perfect example of a woman who’s gotten on with her life.”

“I was a widow for eleven years before I married Frank,” Dovie protested.

“I know.” Nessa fell silent for a moment. “Actually, I have only myself to blame for this. After Leon died, I was a mess. His death came as such a shock. He kissed me goodbye that morning, and by noon he was dead. Like I said, for six months I wasn’t myself—I hardly slept or ate or anything else. Then one day I woke up and realized Leon was dead, but I had the rest of my life to live. After all the moves and adjustments we’d made over the years, I figured I could do it one more time. Do I miss Leon? Damn straight I do. But he’s gone and I’m alive.”

“Oh, Nessa, you’re so wise.”

“Not really.” She laughed and shook her head. “Now, what is it you need me to do this morning?”

“Were you serious about dipping the cookies?” It would be a great help, and one less headache for Dovie. They froze so nicely, too.

“Of course I was serious.”

“Oh, good.”

The door opened and Frank walked in, looking as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “How are my two favorite women this fine morning?” he asked, strolling leisurely across the room. He wrapped his arms around Dovie’s waist and nuzzled her neck.

“Frank,” Dovie chastised him, embarrassed at the open display of affection. In the years since their marriage, he’d become more demonstrative.

He chuckled and gave her a small squeeze before he released her. Dovie cast an apologetic glance at Nessa, but their eyes didn’t meet. Before Nessa could hide her response, Dovie viewed the pain on her sister-in-law’s face as clearly as if it’d been written in ink.

* * *

Annie was surprised by how much she was looking forward to her luncheon date with Lucas Porter. Because of their busy schedules, it seemed impossible to find an evening they were both available. Between the children’s needs, including parent-teacher interviews, and extended office hours at the animal clinic, Lucas had no evenings free. And Annie still spent every night checking inventory, studying publishers’ catalogs and reading Publishers Weekly. Her free time coincided with his only once—on Wednesday afternoon of the following week. So they agreed to meet for lunch.

By one o’clock, when she joined him at the Chili Pepper, she was nervous and uneasy. She could see that he was, too. After they’d been seated and ordered their lunch, the conversation came in fits and starts.

“I don’t know what it’s been like for you since your divorce,” Lucas said, shifting his silverware from one side of his plate to the other, “but since Julia died, I’ve sometimes felt starved for lack of adult conversation. At least, conversation that isn’t strictly work-related.”

“It does get lonely,” Annie admitted.

“For me, too,” he muttered. “That’s why...” He hesitated and glanced in her direction, as if to gauge how much to say. “It’d be good to have a friend,” he said in a rush. “Someone who understands how damned lonely it can get. I’m not looking for anything more.”

She nodded, unsure of what else to do. He didn’t need to paint her a picture. He wanted a friend. Okay, fine. An occasional lunch date. No problem. Someone to talk to, another adult who understood. She wanted that, too, so she really had no reason to feel disappointed.

“I’m not interested in remarrying anytime soon, if that’s what concerns you,” she told him.