The Little Bookshop Of Promises. Debbie Macomber

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      Best of all, there was a small apartment above the store. It had a large picture window that looked out over Main Street and the city park. Jane had arranged to have the place painted for her, and they’d decided on sage-green walls. This was to be Annie’s home.

      Jane had asked Annie to stop by the clinic the moment she arrived. The two of them had planned every aspect of this move, and Jane wanted to be the first to welcome her.

      Annie climbed out of the car and methodically eased the ache from her arms and legs; the hours of driving meant stiff cramped muscles and pain deep in her bones. She glanced around, absorbing the feel of the town. She studied Main Street with its row of old-fashioned streetlights, decorated with baskets of May flowers. Vehicles, most of them battered pickup trucks, angled in from the street and filled the parking spaces. People strolled leisurely about, stopping to chat with each other from time to time.

      The sun shone brightly for early May. Annie could hear birdsong everywhere. She noticed a bed of roses, already in bloom, around the base of a statue that stood in the center of the park. Jane had told her that her friend Savannah Smith had planted those roses.

      It was a nice town, Annie decided. Everything she’d anticipated and more.

      “Howdy, ma’am,” a man said, touching the rim of his cowboy hat as he walked past. “Can I help you find something?”

      “No, I’m fine, thanks.” The town was friendly, too, but then, Jane had prepared her for that. She’d just sampled what Jane had written about so often—something she called “real Texas hospitality.”

      Yes, Jane was right: Promise would indeed make her a good home. With that in mind, Annie headed toward the clinic. Her pace was slow; although her limp often wasn’t noticed—unless she was tired or had been on her feet for hours—the long drive had had its effect. The intermittent pain and the scars were as much a part of her now as her features or her personality.

      As luck would have it, Jane was talking to her receptionist when Annie stepped inside the clinic.

      “Annie!” Jane hurried toward her, smiling hugely and engulfing her in an enthusiastic hug. “You look wonderful!”

      “So do you,” Annie returned in all honesty. Jane was six-and-a-half months pregnant, although she barely looked it, especially wearing the loose white jacket. Annie knew how excited Jane was about this baby. Because of her contract to work at the clinic, she and her husband, Cal, had delayed starting their family. The town had recently hired another doctor, and Jane planned to work part-time after the birth.

      “Jenny,” Jane said as she turned toward the receptionist, “this is Annie Applegate, one of my best friends. We grew up together.”

      “I’m so pleased you’re here,” Jenny said, her smile encouraging. “Dr. Jane’s been talking about it for weeks.”

      “I’ve got fifteen minutes or so between appointments,” Jane said, tugging at Annie’s hand. “Come and meet Dovie, and if there’s time I’ll take you over to meet Ellie and—”

      “Already?” Annie protested, but not too strenuously. She’d been hearing about the women of Promise for months...no, years. She couldn’t wait to meet them—even if she didn’t know how she’d keep them all straight.

      “Dovie baked scones this morning, and I promised Ellie I’d give her a call the minute you got here. Savannah’s dying to meet you, too. She’s the one who grows roses.”

      Annie nodded. She remembered who Savannah was. Dovie, an older woman, owned an antique shop, and Ellie, she recalled, was married to Cal Patterson’s brother, Glen. Moments earlier, Annie had been exhausted, but five minutes with Jane and she was raring to go. “I want to see my store as soon as I can. The apartment, too, of course.”

      “Max Jordan has the key for you—that’s his western-wear store. By the way, his son was recently elected sheriff.” She paused as though she’d just thought of something. “He’s single, if you’re interested.”

      “I’m not,” Annie assured her, but had to laugh. It was almost as if they were back in high school. Jane, with her boundless energy for life, was always trying to organize everyone else.

      “Oh, Annie, you’re gonna love it here!”

      Annie was counting on that.

      “And I’m going to love having you here.”

      “Another Californian,” Annie teased, although she was well aware that Jane considered herself a Texan now.

      “Cal says I might not have been born in Texas, but I got here as soon as I could. He’ll be saying the same thing about you before long.”

      Arm in arm, they crossed the street to Dovie’s shop. “Dovie,” Jane called as she opened the door. “Annie’s here!”

      A lovely white-haired woman stood in a corner of the store, working on a display. She stopped instantly and made her way across the room, her eyes brimming with warmth. “Annie, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. In fact, Jane’s told me so much about you, I feel as if we’re already friends.” She smiled. “This town certainly needs a bookstore...and now you’re here to start one. That’s terrific.”

      “I’m excited about it,” Annie admitted, letting her gaze wander about the room. She’d never seen antiques displayed in such an artistic and creative way. Accessories and smaller items had been arranged on and around the furniture. Fringed silk scarves and long jet necklaces spilled out of open drawers. There didn’t seem to be anything Dovie didn’t sell, from exquisite stationery and reproductions of classic jewelry to dining-room sets and gorgeous mismatched pieces of china.

      “Come sit for a spell and have a cup of tea,” Dovie invited. “The scones are still warm. I want you to taste my homemade strawberry jam.”

      No sooner had Annie sat down at a table in the small tearoom than Dovie delivered a plate with scones, plus a small pot of butter and another of jam.

      “It looks like you intend to fatten me up,” Annie said with a laugh.

      “You could use a few pounds,” Jane whispered. “I’d love to give you some of mine.”

      “Nonsense,” Annie whispered back.

      Dovie poured tea all around. “Now, Annie, tell me about yourself. There may be details Jane left out.”

      Annie laughed again. “Well, as you probably already know, Jane and I are the same age.”

      “In the prime of our youth,” Jane inserted, putting an extra spoonful of jam on the warm scone.

      “I’m...divorced.” Annie faltered over the word. Even after a year the reality of her dead marriage produced a sense of failure and pain. When she’d spoken her vows, she’d meant every one of them. It seemed that Billy, however, hadn’t. The “for worse” and “in sickness” parts, in particular, hadn’t meant much to him. Annie had done everything possible to save her marriage, but as determined as she was, Billy was more so. He wanted out. In the end, she’d had no choice but to give in. That he’d remarried within a month following their divorce had come as a bitter blow and the ultimate humiliation. It’d been obvious that he’d already been involved СКАЧАТЬ