“Nothing so exciting,” Rosie assured them. “Your dad should show you.”
As he led the children inside the narrow passage to the hidden room, he couldn’t help thinking about Rosie’s generosity and grace. Her ability to show such enthusiasm for a home she once loved, now in another’s possession, spoke volumes about her character.
Andrew found himself increasingly drawn to her. Her strength, her kindness and the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about the house.
But even as he felt the pull of attraction, Andrew knew he had to keep his feelings in check. He was here to give his children stability, to rebuild their lives after loss. Starting anything with Rosie, no matter how tempting, would only complicate his life in ways he couldn’t begin to contemplate.
Chapter Eleven
Emma
“Can I get another book, Mommy? I already read the one I got last time.”
Though Olive knew the alphabet and could pick out her name, she couldn’t read yet. For her,readingmeant paging through a book again and again until she had the whole thing virtually memorized. Emma found it adorable and did all she could to foster the same love of reading in her child that had sustained her most of her life.
“You absolutely can get another book. Why don’t you pick one from Great-grandma Sylvia’s special shelf?”
She still could not quite believe her grandmother had been giving away children’s books in the middle of a bookstore whose full purpose was tosellbooks. On the other hand, she couldn’t argue with her grandmother’s philosophy, similar to Dolly Parton’s, that all children deserved to have books of their own to read and cherish.
“Okay. I’ll find one. Maybe I’ll play with the dollhouse while I’m there.”
“You do that. I’m going to be here moving books.”
Her mom was coming to pick up Olive after she finished a meeting. Her daughter was tired. Emma could tell. One part of her wanted to take Olive home and put her to bed, have a lovely evening reading stories and holding her sweet-smelling child as she drifted to sleep. The other part had so much to do that she did not know how she was going to accomplish all of it.
Keeping an eye on the play area, where her daughter seemed happily occupied for now, Emma continued bringing the books from the sidewalk sale back inside the store for the night.
They ought to have rolling shelves, she thought. If this were her store, she would definitely invest in them so they could simply roll them in and out each night. At least they had sold a couple of boxes’ worth of books. That was something, even if the prices were steeply discounted.
She had pulled the final box inside when she saw two familiar figures approaching, a man and a sleek silvery dog.
Bryce wore jeans, a snug T-shirt and an exhausted expression. She held open the door.
“Bryce! I never expected to see you today. Mom told me you had to run to Lincoln City. Some emergency with your mother, she said. Is everything okay?”
His sigh was long and heartfelt and made her wish she felt comfortable enough in their growing friendship to hug him.
“Not really. It’s been a rough day. She fell and broke her hip. She’s in the hospital and probably will be there for a few more days.”
“What are you doing here, then? You should be with her.”
“The hospital has my contact info. I can’t do anything more for my mom tonight. She’s settled for the night and the nurses basically pushed me out the door. I told you I would be here again tonight to help you paint and to grab the bookshelves. I didn’t want to leave you hanging.”
Emma was not used to men who kept their promises and did exactly what they said they would. She was not quite sure how to respond.
“After what Mom told me, I totally didn’t expect you.”
“I’ve had a long, hard day of sitting around in the hospital and I could use something physical to do.”
Her unruly mind instantly flashed with several physical things they could do that would be far more fun than hauling out some old bookshelves, but she quickly shoved the inappropriate thoughts away.
“I brought my trailer and furniture movers to take the shelves home with me. I can start working on them over the weekend. I thought I could load them up after I’m done helping you paint, if they’re ready to go.”
“They’re ready. But let me handle the painting. The bookshelves would be more than enough.”
“I want to help,” he said again.
How could she argue with that? “If you’re sure,” she said, as Olive wandered over from the children’s area.