Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Rosie

W ine was needed.

It was the only thing one could do after uprooting one’s life and moving to another country only to awkwardly kiss a man’s shoulder in the rain and later have him wish you luck in your journey to sit on many men.

My assumption was he was declining the role of that position if he was wishing me luck on that particular journey, but that was neither here nor there.

I’d say fingers crossed I’d never see Alexander again, but since he was apparently coming back to fix my computer, and I needed to find a book about puffin enrichment of all things, I would just have to work past my embarrassment. In fact, maybe I just needed to embrace it. So what if I wanted to sit on all the men? I mean, I didn’t. But hypothetically speaking, I should be allowed to do so in this day and age and not be judged for it.

Realizing that I was standing in the middle of the bookshop having a mental argument with myself about a woman’s right to sleep with as many people as she wanted, I snapped my head up when the door opened again.

Seriously . This town had, like, ten houses from what I’d seen in the pouring rain last night. How could so many people be stopping by already?

A tall man, with perfectly round glasses, a shock of white hair tucked under a knit cap, and kind eyes smiled shyly at me.

“I heard the shop was open again. It’s taken me some time, but I’m ready now.”

“Excuse me?” I tilted my head at him in question.

“Och, well, you know. I needed some time. But Myrna wouldn’t have wanted me to stay a widower forever, and I’ll admit, I’m quite lonely.” The man shrugged and reached inside his pocket. “I decided to make the wee journey down here. I’d like the Highland Hearts Special.”

I blinked as the man handed me a twenty-pound note.

“Sir. I’m not sure…”

“Och, and I’m meant to, what was it…” He looked up at the ceiling for a moment, lost in thought. “Right, right. You’ll need a favorite book of mi ne.”

“I will?” Curiosity filled me. What was going on in this town? And why were people coming in and handing me money without buying books?

“Aye. So I’m told. Forgive me. I’m new to all this.” The man waved his hand in a circle in the air.

“As am I.” I waited, hoping he’d expound more on what a Highland Hearts Special was.

“Right.” The man snapped his fingers. “Is anyone else here?”

“Um, no.” Why? Was he going to threaten me or something? Even though he looked to be in his mid-seventies, he still seemed sprightly enough. Maybe if I took out his knee, I’d have a fighting chance.

The man leaned closer and dropped his voice.

“ Pride and Prejudice .”

Was he speaking code?

“The book?”

“Och, of course. Though there’s been a few fine adaptations as movies, hasn’t there?”

“I mean, it depends on which one you’re discussing. But I’m partial to the one with Keira…” I trailed off and slapped my forehead. “Sir, I’m sorry. Let’s back up. I’m not even open yet. What, exactly, is this for?”

“It’s for the Highland Hearts Special.” The man blinked at me behind his glasses, and we fell into an awkward silence. How many times today was I going to sit and stare in uncomfortable silence at someone in this shop? Resolving myself to locking the door and flipping the lights off until I could figure out just what the hell this Highland Hearts Special was, I grabbed the notebook on the table with Edina’s information.

“Right. Your name?”

“Daniel.”

“Nice to meet you, Daniel. I’m Rosie. How best can I contact you?” After taking down the man’s information, I looked up at him.

“Do you think this will work?” Daniel asked, his expression hopeful.

“I don’t know,” I said, honestly, because I had no idea what the Highland Hearts Special was. But if it was bringing customers to the shop in a relatively small town that likely saw little to no foot traffic, well, I was going to damn well figure out what it was.

“That’s fair.” Daniel’s mouth turned down, sadness slipping across his features. “Worth a shot, I guess.”

“I’ll be in contact soon.” I wished I could reassure him that I would help him, whatever I could do to take that sad look off his face, but I also didn’t want to lie. It was clear there was something else going on here that I needed to discover.

“Thanks, Rosie. Welcome to Scotland, by the way. I hope you enjoy your new home.” With that, Daniel took his leave and I locked up after him, flipping the main lights of the bookshop off. Now, just the lamp with the fringe shade glowed behind the front table, and I paused to look around the shop in the semi-darkness.

This was my new home.

For some reason, that hadn’t fully registered until Daniel had said it, but even though my lists had been torn apart and I was wildly off the schedule I’d written for myself, which was basically chaos in my world, I felt good. Trailing a hand over a bookshelf, I smiled at a small figurine of a witch with a batch of red hair, grinning at me from a corner of the shelf.

The sound of a book hitting the floor made me jump.

Already I knew what book it was.

“This is not normal.” I said this out loud to the shop, craning my neck to peer at every dimly lit corner that I could see. I’d meant what I’d said about being excited if the shop was haunted, but it would be nice to have some evidence of it, so I didn’t think that this was all just hallucinations born of jet lag. “But I hear you. Loud and clear, all right? I’ll read the book.”

Picking up the Celtic heart book, I noted an envelope sticking out of the corner. Maybe that was the reason whatever ghost that lingered here was basically throwing a book at my head every chance it had. Excitement coursed through me. This was a proper adventure, not like back home at the discount store where going viral over a water bottle was the most exciting thing to happen to the store in years.

I had myself a real ghost. Jessica will not believe this. And now I’d been led to look at an envelope specifically sent to me to review. How is this my life?

Humming softly to the music in the background, I put the book on the table and went to open a bottle of wine that the Book Bitches had brought me. Pouring a glass, I snagged another one of the pastries from breakfast, a buttery from what I was told. Delicious was what I called it. Munching on flaky yumminess, I returned to the front room with my glass of wine and, snagging the book, I wandered to the disco unicorn corner. There, I dropped onto one of the comfy floor poufs, more like a bean bag chair really, and put my wine on the windowsill and took a deep breath.

“Right, commence new adventure.”

I slid out the envelope.

It was addressed to me. My heart picked up speed and I danced my fingers across the flowery script on the envelope, a silly little thing I was sure, but for a moment I felt like the ink warmed beneath my fingers. Taking a sip of wine for some liquid courage, I slid the flap of the envelope open and pulled out writing paper with an ink design of roses in the corner.

My dearest Rosie,

Do you mind if I call you “my dearest?” I suppose it’s a bit of a presumption, seeing as how we’ve never met. And yet, I feel as though I know you anyway. You and I, well, my child, we’re alike more than you’ll ever realize. Two peas in a pod, some may say. How do I know this? Well, I stalked you. Now, don’t be alarmed. It was in the nicest sense of the word, of course. Darling William gathered the information for me, and I’d just been meaning to reach out when I’d been warned that my time here wasn’t for much longer. That’s the way of it, I suppose, but I’ll tell you, what a fun life I’ve had. I hope you will too, particularly since I’ve left you more than this bookshop.

I paused and took another sip of my wine, sinking deeper into the cushion. There was more to this inheritance? The solicitor had been very thorough in his contracts and whatnot, so I was certain he wouldn’t have missed anything.

If you’re the kind of woman that I think you are, I’m hoping this news will bring you excitement, not fear.

“I mean, with a line like that…how can I not be nervous?” I mumbled, taking another sip and smoothing the paper out in my lap.

This cottage that the bookshop is in has been standing here for almost two hundred years. Prior to that, a wee stone circle was situated just at the base of the back door. The couple who built the cottage, the woman was a well-renowned midwife. One day, she saved the life of the baby of a mysterious traveler, who’d gone into labour early and was quite unwell. As a thanks, this traveler, who saw the kind heart of the midwife, bestowed upon her a very special gift. One which has been passed down to every owner of this cottage since.

I tilted my head at that, nerves kicking low in my stomach. This letter had taken a turn, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.

It was a gift of magick, you see. But a very special kind. Those holding this gift can bring two lonely hearts together to find love. The traveler, knowing how much the gentle midwife loved love, bestowed upon her the gift to help others find their happiness. This, my child, has now been passed down to you. But, because I am who I am, and you are who you are, I was able to learn a little iteration of this magick that became quite popular around Scotland for those in the know.

“Oh my God. It’s the Highland Hearts Special,” I breathed.

Not only are you now a matchmaker, but your ability will come from matching people by their favorite books. Now, it’s not an easy task. Just because two people like the same book doesn’t mean they’ll complement each other elsewhere. Sometimes it’s the polar opposite book choices that strike up the most interesting of love matches. The magick will help you, if you work with it, and you’ll be able to see just the right pairings as you learn. While the bookshop was a great joy in my life, helping people find love was my greatest gift. One I hope that you, too, can enjoy. Best of luck on this new journey, and remember, above all else, have fun. Life is meant to be an enjoyable adventure, not bland and boring. And what could be more exciting than magick? Sparkle on, sweet Rosie. You’ll do just fine.

Holy hell. I took a deep breath, and then another, before reading the letter all the way through again. My hands trembled slightly as I slowly opened the cover of the Celtic heart book. I gaped at the list of names that greeted me.

Each page held two names, and what books had brought them together. “Oh, these are all matches. And their books. Oh, okay, I see, I see. These are like, case notes.” Moira had noted her reasoning behind the pairings on each page, as well as the magick she’d used to help with the match. “And like little love spells. Spells. Oh my God. Actual spells.”

There were things like salting a room to rid it of negative energy, a love knot charm, a love letter written in rose petal ink, a full moon tea and so on.

“Surely this can’t all be real?”

A book fell on the floor by my feet, and I started. Happy I’d returned my wine to the windowsill, I glared at the empty air around me.

“Enough with the book throwing. You’re going to knock me unconscious one day.” It wasn’t lost on me that I was speaking to air… possibly a ghost. Interesting that I thought my life was bland only a week ago.

Bending forward I peered at the title of the book with a cute rom-com couple on the front. “ Believe in Love . Right, catchy title. And I get it. Okay, loud and clear. Just no more book throwing. Please.”

I had no idea if it was Moira who occupied the bookshop or if it was the magick doing this, but the last thing I needed was a concussion by way of overzealous magick tossing books at my head.

Even as I thought it, I bit back a small squeal of delight .

Magick.

Seriously. How freaking cool was that? I mean, I didn’t actually know the first thing about magick, but I’d certainly read a lot of books with magick in them, so I mean, did that make me qualified? Somewhat qualified? At the very least, I wasn’t horrified by this development.

In fact, I was pretty damn excited.

My eyes caught on the cute rom-com book on the floor again, and then back to the list of couples that Moira had helped in the book. My heart fell.

It wasn’t just about magick.

This was about people’s lives. Their hearts. Their hopes and dreams.

And I, well, I was an unreliable matchmaker. I couldn’t even pick good men for myself. How would it be possible that I could help others with their love lives when I didn’t even believe in a happy ending for myself?

And that was the crux of it, wasn’t it? I picked up my wine glass and drained it, sadness washing through me. Jessica had been telling me for years that my mother had soured my view on love, and I’d always laughed it off. But now, after another failed relationship with a boyfriend who had barely excited me, I had to admit there might be a kernel of truth to what she’d said. At the end of the day, I had a hard time believing that true love existed.

Sighing, I dropped my head back and threw an arm over my face. Your research might prove to be wrong, Aunt Moira.

I was going to be the worst matchmaker ever.