The Little Bookshop Of Promises. Debbie Macomber

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      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.

      “You’re not? Great.” His relief was evident.

      “Friends,” she said and held out her hand for him to shake.

      “Friends,” he said, reaching across the table.

      Until today’s lunch, Annie hadn’t quite known what to make of Lucas Porter. She had the impression that he was a good father; his daughters clearly adored him. And the way he’d botched asking her out had actually been quite endearing.

      Once Louise Powell had spread her news at a frenzied pace, half the people in town seemed intent on telling Annie what they knew about the widowed veterinarian and how much he’d loved his wife. Each recounted tales of what he’d been like three years earlier when he arrived in Promise, grief-stricken and depressed.

      Until now, Annie had been convinced this lunch was a mistake. She’d predicted to herself that they’d spend the entire time talking about his dead wife, her illness, her sterling character. And if not her, the conversation was sure to center on his two daughters.

      But Annie was wrong. After they agreed that being friends would be the extent of their relationship, they talked about books. Both were voracious readers and had read many of the same titles. After the initial awkwardness, their discussion during lunch was lively and animated, with a friendly argument or two. For instance, he thought a particular much-hyped new author was intellectually pretentious; she disagreed. Over coffee, the conversation flowed naturally to other subjects. They discussed similar experiences they’d had and exchanged observations. They talked about how moving to Promise had changed them. Normally shy, Annie was amazed at how much they had in common and how comfortable she felt with him.

      Eventually, СКАЧАТЬ