Czytaj książkę: «Hometown Hope»

Chapter One

Uh-oh.

Anna Delaney stopped doodling frowny faces and dollar signs in the margin of her notebook and tilted her head, listening. Sure enough, an all-too-familiar rustling was coming from her bookstore’s storage room. Smothering a groan, Anna dropped her head down on the checkout counter with a thump.

The possum was back.

How was that even possible? Two weeks ago, when she’d finally caught the skinny-tailed varmint in a live trap baited with peanut butter, she’d driven him fifteen miles out into the country before setting him free. She hadn’t seen him since, and she’d hoped he was the one problem related to this store that she’d actually managed to solve.

Apparently not. The animal must’ve liked living in Pine Valley, Georgia, a lot more than she did.

Anna heaved a sigh and started to get up. Then she pressed her lips together, sat back down and picked up her pen.

On second thought, that possum could stay right where he was.

She always kept that door locked, so there was no way he could sneak in here or into her loft apartment upstairs. Another early June thunderstorm was brewing, and if the stubborn animal wanted to spend his Friday night nice and dry amid boxes of paperbacks, Anna wasn’t going to argue with him.

Pretty soon he wouldn’t be her problem anymore. Today, after months of sleepless nights and unanswered prayers, Anna had finally come to terms with the inevitable. Pages, Pine Valley’s one and only bookstore, was going out of business.

She still couldn’t quite wrap her mind around how this had happened. Pneumonia had ended her father’s long struggle with Alzheimer’s only three months ago. Now this store—the retired principal’s legacy to his beloved community—was fading away, too. And his only daughter, a woman with two completed university degrees and three-fourths of a PhD, hadn’t been able to stop it.

It was downright depressing—not to mention humiliating. And to make matters worse, her hopes that her struggles were going unnoticed had been dashed this afternoon.

The minute Trisha Saunders had walked through the door, Anna had known something was up. Her former high school classmate owned Buds and Blooms, the flower shop next door, but she’d never bothered to visit Pages before.

Trisha had her five-year-old and several of his day care classmates in tow.

“Go find a book for Jimmy,” she’d instructed her son. “I’ve been so swamped at work I totally forgot to pick up a birthday present for him, and I don’t have time to run to a toy store now. A book will have to do. The rest of you can help look, and then we’ll go on to the party.” The children had begun pulling books off the shelves, but when Anna had headed over to help, Trish had stopped her with one perfectly manicured hand. “Don’t worry about them, Anna. They can find the book by themselves. I want to talk to you about something.”

Then she’d tugged Anna aside and made an offer on the bookstore. Or more accurately, the building that housed it.

Trisha’s tone had been almost as insulting as the amount she’d offered.

“You won’t get a better deal,” Trisha had said, casting an appraising look around as the children played a shrieking game of hide-and-seek among the shelves. “This space needs a lot of updating. I wouldn’t touch it myself if our two buildings weren’t attached. Besides, everybody knows you’re holding on by your fingernails. Now that your dad’s dead, why not just sell this store and move on with your life?”

Now that your dad’s dead. The nonchalant way Trisha had tossed off that horrible phrase cracked across Anna’s sore heart like a slap.

She doesn’t know, Anna had reminded herself. Trisha’s parents were still both living. She had no idea what it felt like to lose the only family you had in the whole world.

“Obviously running a business isn’t your strong suit, Anna,” Trisha had continued in a patronizing tone. “Isn’t there something else you’d rather be doing? I mean, weren’t you taking some high-level university classes or something before your dad got sick?”

“I was working toward a PhD in literature. Well, British literature, actually. I—”

“Whatever.” Trisha had interrupted Anna’s explanation with an impatient shrug. “Sell the store to me, and you can go back and finish that up. It’s the perfect solution all the way around. So, how soon can you have all this junk cleared out?”

Anna had felt a flash of indignation. Books weren’t junk. But she’d held her tongue. Based on her personal experience—and her sales figures—most people in Pine Valley agreed with Trisha. “I haven’t the foggiest idea.”

“Well, don’t take too long. I need to get all this settled before my other new addition comes along.” Trish had patted her round baby bump with a self-satisfied smile.

Remembering that little smirk, Anna scribbled so hard that the point of her pen tore through the notebook paper.

Back in high school Trisha had scraped by academically, spending her weekends partying while Anna had spent almost all her time with her nose stuck in some textbook. Now Trisha was balancing a booming business with a picture-perfect growing family. Meanwhile Anna “Brainy” Delaney, valedictorian and triumphant winner of the Hayes scholarship, was living alone above a bankrupt bookstore, sharing her peanut butter with a possum.

Life certainly hadn’t turned out the way she’d expected.

A sudden clap of thunder boomed, causing the walls of the hundred-year-old building to shudder. Glancing up from her scribbles, Anna caught a quick glimpse of Pine Valley’s town square through the wide store window before the downpour started. She sighed and set down her pen.

She’d better crank up the dehumidifiers. Damp seeped into the cracks of this old building, warping books and condensing on the inside of the windows.

So much for her idea of staying open late in the hopes of drumming up an extra sale or two. Nobody would be out in this weather. She might as well lock up, go upstairs and start researching all the logistics involved in closing a bookstore.

She sure hoped that would turn out to be easier than running one.

Anna flipped the sign in the door’s window to Closed and twisted the grudging bolt into place. After flicking off the lights, she picked her way through the dim store, pausing at the checkout counter just long enough to snag an empty coffee mug and, after a second’s guilty hesitation, her bookmarked novel.

She wouldn’t read long, she promised herself. Just a few minutes.

A half hour, tops.

Blam! Blam-blam-blam!

Halfway up the steps to her apartment, Anna whirled around as another flash of lightning lit up the darkened store. A man stood at the door, his face pressed against the glass, pounding on it with one clenched fist.

Anna yelped, dropping both her coffee mug and her book. The lightning flickered again, and when she caught her second glimpse of the man, her fear morphed into annoyance.

Oh, for crying out loud.

That was Hoyt Bradley. Since the man had never voluntarily opened a book in his life, Anna had no idea what he was doing banging on the door of a bookstore in the middle of a storm, but he wasn’t going to kill her.

Well, not unless he was planning to aggravate her to death.

Hoyt made an impatient what-are-you-waiting-for gesture through the glass, and Anna rolled her eyes. Then she stepped over her broken mug and stalked back down the steps toward the door.

Hoyt had always been as stubborn as a mule. She didn’t know what he’d come for, but he wouldn’t leave until he got it. She might as well deal with him now. Anna flipped the lights back on and slid the bolt free.

Hoyt lunged into the shop, rivers of rainwater sluicing off his broad used-to-be-a-football-star shoulders. “Is she here?”

“You could’ve given me a heart attack banging on the door like that! And watch what you’re doing! You’re flinging water all over my Jane Austens.” Anna grabbed one sodden shirtsleeve and tried to tug Hoyt away from the classics she’d hopefully arranged in a display near the entryway.

It was like trying to move a boulder. Hoyt didn’t budge. “Is she here, Anna?”

“Is who here? Hoyt, seriously, you’re soaked through, and you’re getting water everywhere. Do you even own an umbrella?”

Since he obviously wasn’t going to move, she’d better scoot the cardboard display stand out of the puddle he was creating.

“Anna, please.” As she turned away, Hoyt reached out and caught her upper arms, his wet hands chilling her bare skin. Her pulse skittered out of rhythm as memories flooded her brain.

She’d sat knee to knee with Hoyt Bradley every afternoon for eight months during her junior year in high school. Every single time his leg had accidentally brushed hers, her pulse had done the same ridiculous thing.

She wasn’t sixteen anymore. She should have outgrown this nonsense.

Apparently she hadn’t.

She glared up at him, her cheeks stinging hot, poised to twist out of his grip and give him a generous piece of her mind. What she saw brought her up short.

Hoyt’s handsome, square-jawed face was pale, and raw fear widened his hazel eyes. Right then all those silly oh-my-word-he-touched-me butterflies fluttering in Anna’s stomach fell horribly still. Something was wrong.

Nothing scared Hoyt Bradley.

“Where’s Jess?” Hoyt ground out the question, and Anna’s eyes widened. He was looking for his five-year-old daughter.

“I—I don’t know,” Anna stammered. “I haven’t seen her. I mean, I saw her for a little while this afternoon. She was with that group of kids Trisha was taking to Jimmy McAllister’s party.”

“When?”

“I...I don’t remember, exactly.”

“Think.”

He was still holding her arms. She wished he wasn’t, because it made thinking a whole lot harder. She swallowed and tried to focus.

“They came in a little after three, and they stayed until almost four thirty.” During which time they’d pretty much destroyed her children’s area, while Trisha tried to convince Anna to accept one-third of her building’s value. “What’s going on?”

“Did you see Jess leave with Trisha?”

Anna did her best to remember. Finally she shook her head. “I assumed she did. But of course, she’s so quiet—” She broke off, darting a quick look up into Hoyt’s face.

Everybody in Pine Valley knew that little Jess Bradley hadn’t spoken a single word since her mother’s death almost three years ago. Everybody also knew it wasn’t a topic you discussed with Hoyt.

“Anyway,” Anna continued after an awkward second, “she must have gone with the rest of them because she’s not here now. I’ve been all alone for the past couple of hours. Oh, no.” The worried lines grooved into Hoyt’s face suddenly made sense. “Is Jess missing?”

* * *

Missing. His Jess.

Fear slammed into Hoyt like a three-hundred-pound linebacker. Let me find her, Lord, he prayed silently. And keep her safe until I do. Please.

“All I know is I can’t find her. I went to pick her up at the McAllisters’, and she wasn’t there. Trisha took Jess from day care with the rest of the kids, but she can’t seem to remember where she lost track of her.” He couldn’t wrap his mind around that, but right now he had to stay focused on finding his little girl.

He’d deal with Trisha Saunders later.

“Oh, Hoyt.” Anna’s ice-green eyes warmed with sympathy, but the change didn’t make him feel better. If Anna Delaney was feeling sorry for him, things were even worse than he thought. “You must be worried out of your mind.”

Yeah. Pretty much. He ran one hand impatiently through his wet hair. “I thought she might be here with you. She likes this place.” That was an understatement. Jess was crazy in love with this store. She tugged him in here every time they passed by, and she never wanted to leave.

That was why he’d been hoping...

“She’s not here, Hoyt.” Anna’s forehead was creased with concern. “Do you think you should go talk to the sheriff?”

“I’m headed there next.” He couldn’t believe this had happened. If Marylee were still alive...

But she wasn’t. The grief he’d lived with for three long years stabbed him like a broken rib. It did that sometimes. Mostly it was just a dull ache these days, but every now and then it flared back up and sucker punched him.

Especially when he felt like he was flunking single fatherhood big time.

Like now.

But he couldn’t waste precious time feeling guilty. Not until he found Jess.

“I’ll go talk to Sheriff Towers. If you see her—” He’d started to turn toward the door, but he froze, listening. His eyes locked with Anna’s. “I thought you said you were alone.”

“I am. That’s nothing. Just a silly possum I can’t keep out of my storage room.”

“Maybe not.” Hoyt shouldered past Anna and headed in the direction of the noise.

There was only one door at the back of the store. He tried the knob, but it was locked. He shot a questioning look at Anna.

“I’ll unlock it.” Anna moved to the checkout area and started opening and shutting drawers, riffling through their contents with hurried fingers. “But I’m telling you, it’s nothing but that stupid possum. I can’t get rid of him.”

Hoyt’s fear, mixed with his newfound hope, made him vibrate with impatience. He needed to know right now if Jess was in that room. “Could you hurry this up, Anna?”

“Hang on a second. I know the key’s here somewhere because I used it just a few hours ago. I moved some breakable items in there when the kids got wild playing hide-and-seek, and— Oh!—” She stopped, her eyes wide. “I unlocked the door while they were here,” she said slowly, “for just a few minutes.”

That was all Hoyt needed to hear. He wasn’t waiting for any key.

“Jess, baby, if you’re in there, move to the back of the room. Okay?”

He reared back and kicked the door. The flimsy lock broke instantly, and the door flew so wide that it banged against the wall like a gunshot.

And there she was, his little girl, crouched on the floor. She blinked up at him like a startled baby owl.

Hoyt crossed the room in two strides and swept his daughter up into his arms. Pressing her against his chest, he closed his eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of her baby shampoo.

“Daddy’s got you, honey. Are you all right?” Hoyt murmured the question raggedly against his daughter’s wispy blond hair. She nodded against his chest, but Hoyt pulled her gently away to check her over for himself. Her eyes, the blue of a robin’s eggs, were wide, but she didn’t seem to be hurt. He nestled her back against him, feeling her little fingers twining tightly into the fabric of his shirt.

Other than being a little spooked, Jess seemed all right.

Which meant everything else was all right.

Hoyt squeezed his eyes closed. Thank You, God.

As his heartbeat slowed back down into its regular gear, he opened his eyes. His gaze caught on the window across the room.

“Anna?”

“Hoyt, truly, I had no idea she was in there.” Anna spoke from behind him, her voice shaking. He turned to look at her. She’d gone so pale that the half dozen freckles on her nose stood out like flecks of golden paint on a white wall. “She must have slipped in while I was talking to Trisha. I guess I was so distracted that I didn’t notice her before I locked the door.” Anna’s worried gaze shifted to Jess. “Sweetie, I’m so, so sorry.”

“Not your fault.” Sure, he and Anna had been like oil and water ever since their big blowup back in high school, but Hoyt knew she’d never do anything like this on purpose. “This was nothing but a crazy accident.” One that had almost given him a heart attack, but now that Jess was safely back in his arms, he was feeling a lot more forgiving. Hoyt drew in a deep breath and shifted Jess’s weight on his arm. Might as well get this next part over with. “Speaking of crazy accidents, was that window over there already broken?”

“What? Yes. Three of the panes have been cracked forever, but—” Anna broke off and bit her lip as she studied her window. “Oh.” The damaged glass had fallen completely out of the frame and splintered on the floor, leaving gaping spaces behind. “Well, no. Not like that.”

That was what he’d been afraid of. “When I kicked the door in, the impact must have jarred the cracked panes loose.” He’d broken the door, too, but he didn’t feel as bad about that. It was a cheap hollow core not original to the building. He could get dozens of those down at the building supply store.

That window was a different story. Hoyt’s contractor brain kicked in. The watery-looking glass in the intact panes meant he was looking at an antique fixture. Not a standard size, either. It was going to be ridiculously expensive to repair, if he could even get glass to match, which was doubtful. The whole window would probably have to be replaced.

As he silently summed up the damages, gusts of wind blew in through the empty holes, bringing heavy splats of rain with them.

“Excuse me.” Anna made a worried noise as she brushed past him. She grabbed the flaps of a rain-spattered cardboard box and began tugging it away from the window.

“I’ll do that.” He reluctantly set Jess on her feet. “Stay put for a minute, pumpkin, okay?” He waited until she nodded and then made short work of moving boxes out of the danger zone while Anna hovered on the sidelines.

“Thanks,” she murmured. Opening one of the dampest boxes, she checked the contents. She made unhappy clucking sounds as she unpacked the books. She gave each one a quick once-over before stacking them on a nearby table.

Hoyt watched the process with a sense of confusion. There was at least six or seven hundred dollars’ worth of structural damage in this room, but Anna was worrying over a box of wet books?

He’d never understand this woman.

Anna made it to the bottom of the box and sighed. “Most of these are okay. I might have to discount a couple for water spotting, but other than that, I don’t think you did any real damage.”

Hoyt waited, eyebrows lifted.

Nothing.

“Except for your busted window and door,” he finally pointed out.

“Oh, right.” Anna considered the broken glass. “There is that. Not that it really matters now,” she muttered under her breath.

What did she mean by that? No telling. Hoyt shook his head.

Nope, he’d never understand Anna Delaney. Not in a million years.

He grabbed a broom leaning against the wall. “Hand me that dustpan there. I can’t do much tonight because I need to get Jess on home to bed, but I can at least get this mess cleaned up a little.”

“I can manage,” Anna protested. He ignored her.

He swept up the broken glass and dumped it in the trash. Then he snagged some rags off a pile of cleaning products and wadded them into the empty panes. He was able to shut out the worst of the blowing rain, but just to be on the safe side, he shifted three more boxes of Anna’s precious books farther from the window.

Mainly because he figured that if he didn’t, Anna would do it the minute he left.

Then he picked Jess up and settled her back against his chest. “That’s the best I can do for now. I’ll be by first thing in the morning to take some measurements so I can get the materials I’ll need for the repair.”

“You’re fixing it?” Anna looked so jittery at the idea that it was almost funny.

Almost.

“I’m a building contractor, Anna. Fixing things is what I do.” That doubtful expression she was wearing was a little insulting. “Is that a problem? Because I can get somebody else to handle the repair, but I can’t promise you when it’ll happen. Summer’s a busy season, and every man worth his salt is up to his elbows in work right now. But if you’d rather have somebody else fix this—”

“No! You fix Miss Anna’s bookstore, Daddy. I don’t want Miss Trisha to make this place go away.”

A man’s life could change on a dime. Hoyt had lived long enough and hard enough to know that firsthand. And when it did, for a second or two, time just sort of...stopped.

As he looked down at Jess, Hoyt could hear the ticking of the old clock on the wall of the bookstore and the flapping of the flimsy awnings Principal Delaney had paid some jackleg out-of-town guy to install on the front of the building. But as far as Hoyt was concerned, the whole world had narrowed down to a tiny girl in a pink T-shirt.

After three long years of silence, Jess had finally spoken.

Dr. Mills had assured him this would happen one day, but he’d almost stopped hoping for it. Even the therapist had started to worry. He’d seen it in her eyes the last time he’d taken Jess to Atlanta for an appointment. Both of them knew the statistics for selective mutism, and they knew Jess’s silence had dragged on way too long.

Act normal when it happens. The counselor’s optimistic instructions replayed themselves in his head. It’s a delicate moment. Don’t make a big deal out of it.

Yeah, right. Turned out that was a lot easier to talk about than it was to do. He’d never been much of a crier, but right now his eyes were stinging like he’d been chopping onions.

“Wh—” His own voice came out so rusty that he had to clear his throat and try again. “What did you say, sweetheart?”

Jess put her small hands on each of his cheeks, tilting his head down until their foreheads bumped together. She looked deeply into his eyes. “Fix Miss Anna’s bookstore, Daddy. Pretty please promise?”

Pretty please promise. His gut twisted as he remembered the last time he’d heard that cutesy phrase. The memory was sharp. He could almost smell that weird hospital odor again and see a smaller Jess’s tear-streaked face.

The moment wasn’t something he was likely to forget. It was the last time he’d heard his daughter speak...when she’d asked him to keep the promise he never should have made in the first place.

Mommy will get better, honey. I promise.

He shook off the memory. This time was different. This time Jess was asking for something he could do.

“Sure thing, baby. Daddy’ll fix everything, don’t you worry. This bookstore’s not going anywhere. I promise.”

Anna cleared her throat, but Hoyt jerked his head sharply and cut her a pleading look.

Not now.

Anna must’ve read his face correctly. She bit her lip. “We should talk, Hoyt.” Her voice was carefully calm, but her expression wasn’t.