Chapter 2

Chapter Two

At six o’clock Sophie still couldn’t get Hank O’Hara out of her mind. The nerve of the man, coming into her shop and telling her he wanted to buy The Reading Nook as if it hadn’t been in her family for generations.

She closed the door of the bookstore a little harder than necessary so the bell rang wildly, and then she slid the key in and locked the dead bolt. She finished zipping up her white ski jacket and pulled the red hat out of her pocket, and then she forced the hat down over her brown wayward curls. She felt in the other pocket for her gloves only to find it empty. She must have left them on her desk.

“Shoot,” she muttered.

The flame in the gas lanterns on each side of the red door of the bookstore flickered, and she took a step back as people bustled around her, everyone in a hurry, everyone going somewhere . But she stood and soaked in the moment on her little hilltop.

The Reading Nook had originally been the house her grandmother had grown up in. It was a narrow three-story white clapboard house with a widow’s walk and a round stained-glass window on the top peak that her great-grandfather had brought back from the Soviet Union when he’d served in World War II. The house didn’t fit with the Bavarian architecture like the other businesses downtown that had been built more than a hundred and twenty years before. Laurel Valley was one of the oldest Bavarian settlements in America, and it was proud of its heritage. Just ask the historical society because they had restrictions on everything.

But there’d been no restrictions back when her great-grandfather had built the house. He’d just needed a home that was sturdy and would keep his wife and six children warm in the harsh Idaho winters. She’d heard people call it an eyesore as the house was visible from almost everywhere downtown, but she always saw it as a little jewel on the hilltop.

Sure, the paint was peeling in places, the stair railing needed to be replaced, and the heater was on its last leg and probably wouldn’t make it another winter, but the memories alone kept her patching and painting and caulking to hold everything together.

But it was this view from where she stood that brought her peace. From her front stoop she looked down onto Main Street and the picturesque downtown that looked more like a postcard than reality.

The sidewalks were crowded with shoppers and tourists as people hustled off to dinner or to the theater. The Christmas tree loomed large and bright in the middle of town as skaters twirled and spun around it. The faint sound of Christmas carolers drifted up the hill so the familiar tune of “O Christmas Tree” tickled her ears. And the soft fall of snow covered everything in white.

She knew the necessity of tourist season for Laurel Valley. And for her business. A decade ago the population had decreased as locals had to move away to find work, and many thought the town would dry up altogether. But in had swooped Hank O’Hara, using the inheritance his grandparents had left him to turn things around. He was a local hero. Even she’d always held him in that regard. Until he’d walked into her shop that morning.

She breathed in the fresh scent of snow and pine, and exhaled the frustrations of the day. The topmost being Hank O’Hara.

“Good grief,” she muttered, hitching her bag over her shoulder. “Ridiculous man.”

She kicked at a loose pebble with her boot and started walking down the hill toward The Lampstand. Of course her mom would want to meet at The Lampstand to share her good news. But Sophie’d had enough of the O’Haras for the day, and there was always at least one O’Hara in the popular restaurant since they owned the place. But, then again, the O’Haras owned just about everything in Laurel Valley.

She hummed along with the Christmas carolers and expertly dodged her way through tourists staring at window displays or looking at their map of the area.

“Sophie!” Raven O’Hara said, giving her a wide grin. “Merry Christmas. I keep meaning to come down to the shop and pick up some things for Christmas, but I never seem to get out of here in time.”

Raven was just locking the doors of her clothing boutique, and Sophie’s mouth watered enviously at the bright red coat Raven wore. It was beautiful, but all the clothes in Raven’s designer boutique were beautiful.

“Merry Christmas to you too,” Sophie said, returning the grin.

Raven was the one O’Hara she knew well—though Raven had married into the family so it hardly counted. But it was hard not to know Raven. Her shop was in the heart of town, and Raven knew just about everything about everyone. The woman had never met a stranger. But Raven and Sophie had gone to school together since kindergarten, and Raven had been her closest friend. At least for a while.

Under normal circumstances, Sophie would’ve shared her embarrassment of having Shannon overhear her and Hank’s conversation in the bookstore. There had never been any love lost between Shannon and Raven. But considering Raven was Hank’s sister-in-law, she figured there was a conflict of interest on how much she could share.

Raven’s husband, Wyatt, had been the brother who Hank had been referring to when he’d dropped his bombshell earlier that day. She’d completely forgotten that Wyatt had been in her English class. Of course, Wyatt had skipped school to go fish or be on the water every chance he got, so it was no wonder she didn’t remember they’d been in the same class. And she never would have thought that Wyatt would go on to become a cop, but that’s exactly what he was.

She and Raven had been tight up until the year her dad had died, but Raven had never treated her different after the accident like some of the other kids had. It had been Sophie who’d put the separation between them—the separation between her and everyone.

“I know how you feel,” Sophie said. “I’d love to have a day to get caught up on Christmas shopping. I’m going to be cutting it close.”

“Well, feel free to stop by this weekend,” Raven said. “I’m staying open an hour later so all the Main Street shop employees can come in and get their holiday discount. Half off everything.”

“Oh, wow,” Sophie said. “That’s very generous.” Even with those slashed prices Sophie wasn’t sure she’d be able to afford anything in the boutique.

“You heading home?” Raven asked.

“I’m meeting Mom for dinner at The Lampstand,” she said. “And I’m late.”

“I’m heading to dinner myself,” she said. “I’m meeting Wyatt up at the resort. If we’re lucky we’ll get to eat a whole meal together before he gets called out again. I swear every tourist season the crime gets a little worse. Wyatt says the drugs are getting out of hand. Too many people with too much money and not enough sense.”

“We all appreciate his service,” Sophie said. “Enjoy your dinner.”

Raven moved away in a swirl of color. Raven had always swirled through life with color.

Sophie looked down at her old jeans and fur-lined, worn boots and winced. She definitely could have used a style upgrade, and she wasn’t dressed for a nice dinner, but who had time to think about fancy clothes or fancy dinners when all you did was work?

She sighed and then looked back and forth out of habit before crossing the street. There was no car traffic in this part of Laurel Valley, but she always looked just the same.

Downtown Laurel Valley had been built in the shape of an X , and right at the apex of the X was an ice-skating rink. In the middle of the ice was a huge Christmas tree with all the trimmings. And directly across from the ice rink was The Lampstand.

A hundred and fifty years ago The Lampstand had been a bank, and it still had all the original charm. It was Bavarian in style like so much of the original architecture in Laurel Valley, and there was a beacon of light at the top, almost like a lighthouse. You could always find The Lampstand, no matter where you were.

Normally she’d stop and watch the skaters and carolers and get a cup of cider on her walk home, but she passed them by as she approached the large wooden double doors. The smell of cinnamon and spices enveloped her as she stepped into the warm lobby, and she almost groaned as she came face-to-face with Simone O’Hara. It seemed you could throw a rock and almost always hit an O’Hara in Laurel Valley.

“Sophie,” Simone said, greeting her warmly.

Simone was a stately woman, with a unique mix of Native American and European features that made her quite stunning, even though she had to be in her early sixties. She was an accomplished chef, which had put The Lampstand on the map as far as fine dining, and she and the restaurant had an impeccable reputation.

“Hi, Ms. Simone,” Sophie said. “I thought you were on a trip?”

“Just got back Sunday and couldn’t wait to get back to work,” she said, taking Sophie’s jacket and hat and hanging it on the coatrack.

Sophie subconsciously pulled at the hem of her red Reading Nook shirt, feeling underdressed standing next to Simone in a body-hugging black dress.

“Isn’t it crazy,” she said. “We work to go on vacation and then when we’re there we can’t wait to get back to work.” She chuckled companionably. “I guess it’s what I needed though because I came back with dozens of new recipes to try out, and I’m thinking about renovating and updating the main dining room.”

“Oh, wow,” Sophie said. “That will be a change. I can’t remember a time when it looked any different than it does now.”

“Which is exactly what my husband and children said when I told them,” she said, winking. “The people in Laurel Valley hate change. But the whole town looks completely different than it did ten years ago.” She sighed. “That’s progress for you. The only place to go is forward, and I’m ready to leave my mark on this place before I retire.”

Considering the fact that the O’Haras had been driving the train for all the progress that had been happening in Laurel Valley, Sophie wasn’t really sure how to respond. It was true their little town wasn’t as little as it once was, but she could give the O’Haras credit that they’d at least done a good job of controlling the growth and keeping things at a standard that made it hard for outsiders to come in and take over.

“You’re planning on retiring?” Sophie asked, shocked. “I hadn’t heard.”

“Oh,” she said, waving a hand in dismissal. “I’ve been toying with the idea for years. But I’m not ready quite yet. Come on back. Your family is already seated and cozy by the fireplace. It’s my favorite table in the restaurant.”

The tables in the main dining room were full, and there was a soft murmur of voices and the clink of glasses as people enjoyed their meals. Two sides of the dining room were windows, and it made you feel like you were in an igloo of sorts as fat snowflakes fell. A third side of the room was dominated by a large stone fireplace that was tall and wide enough for a person to step inside. The fire was roaring.

“There they are,” she said, leading Sophie toward the back. “I need to come over to the bookstore before the crowds hit. I’m a last-minute shopper.” She grinned unapologetically, and Sophie couldn’t help but smile back.

“Well, the crowds have already hit,” Sophie said. “But things aren’t too bad if you come as soon as the store opens.”

“I’ll remember that,” she said. “Have a good dinner.”

“Thanks, Ms. Simone,” Sophie said.

Sophie’s mom, aunt, and sister were waiting in the corner booth, already devouring the yeasty rolls that had been placed in front of them. Her mouth twitched as she watched her mom swallow the roll quickly before scooting out of the booth to envelop Sophie in a big hug, as if they hadn’t just seen each other the day before.

Sophie had definitely been cut from the same cloth as her mother. They had the same dark corkscrew curls that somehow managed to look unmanageable and fashionable at the same time, though her mother’s curls had streaks of silver in them. They were petite in size, barely topping a couple of inches over five feet. The only difference in their appearance was their eyes. Maggie had lovely blue eyes, whereas Sophie had brown. Her father’s eyes.

They’d always been a close-knit family, and to Maggie Jacobs, her girls were her everything. But they’d become even closer after Sophie’s father had died.

Sophie knew it couldn’t have been easy for her mother raising two teenage girls, becoming their sole provider, and ignoring the gossip surrounding her husband’s death. But she’d done it with dignity and grace, and for that, Sophie would always respect and defend her mother. She was a survivor, and Sophie didn’t think there was another person on the planet who deserved to enjoy her retirement more.

“You’re getting too thin,” Maggie said, holding Sophie by the shoulders and looking at her with a critical eye. “Working too much and eating too little.”

“’Tis the season,” Sophie said, laughing. “Hey, Aunt Lori. I love the haircut. Very stylish.”

“You think so?” Lori asked, patting the sleek blond bob. She was two years younger than her sister, the same as the age difference between Sophie and Junie. If Sophie was the spitting image of her mother, then Junie was the spitting image of Aunt Lori.

When her mother had decided to retire from the bookstore and hand over the reins to Sophie, Maggie and Lori had moved in together to help save money, and the arrangement had suited them both well.

Lori had never married and had never wanted children and she liked it that way. She was perfectly happy doting on her two nieces and then hiding away in her studio to sculpt and work her clay. Her creations were sold at both of the resorts in Laurel Valley, and the last few years she’d become quite recognized as an artist. She was flighty and forgetful and selfish, except when it came to family, and she was always the life of the party.

“Must have been a rough day,” Junie said, eyeing her sister. “You haven’t even touched a roll yet.”

“I haven’t sat down yet,” Sophie said, rolling her eyes and then scooting into the center of the booth next to her sister.

“Never mattered before,” Junie said. “We’re already on our second basket. If this were the only food left on the planet I would die a happy woman.”

“And you’d weigh six hundred pounds,” Lori said, eyeing another roll and sighing softly to herself. She’d been on every no-carb diet there was, but bread was her weakness.

“Oh, live a little,” Maggie said, putting a roll on Lori’s bread plate, and then she turned her attention to Sophie. “What happened today? You’ve got that little line between your eyes you get when you’re aggravated.”

Sophie rubbed at the line in question and then bit fiercely into her roll. “Just the usual,” she said. “Plus a couple of broken candles and a heater that keeps threatening to go out.” Then she let out a deep sigh. “And Hank O’Hara came in.”

Her mother’s brows rose and she and Aunt Lori both moved in, propping their elbows on the table.

“Did he now?” Maggie asked.

“Lordy, can that man fill out a pair of Wranglers,” Lori said.

“Amen, sister,” Junie said, toasting her roll with Aunt Lori’s.

Sophie felt the color rise in her cheeks and her voice was stiff when she said, “Who knew he had such a fan club.” And then she turned to her sister. “And what are you doing looking at a man’s Wranglers? You’re married.”

“I’m not dead,” Junie said under her breath.

“What’d he want?” Maggie asked. “I’m assuming by the fire spitting in your eyes that he wasn’t asking you out on a date.”

“Over my dead body,” Sophie said, looking down at the empty basket of rolls and wondering who had eaten them all. “He just waltzed in, big as life, and then told me he wanted to meet me for breakfast so he could buy the bookstore.”

Sophie felt vindicated at the mirrored expressions around the table. Everyone’s mouth dropped open, and then the questions started coming, one on top of another.

“What—?”

“Why would he want a bookstore?—?”

“Insanity—”

“I think it’s a great idea?—”

Everyone stopped and looked at Maggie.

“I don’t think I heard you correctly,” Sophie said. “It sounded like you said it was a great idea.”

Maggie nodded her head. “That’s what I said.”

“She hasn’t been drinking,” Junie said, leaning over to sniff her mother.

“Of course not,” Maggie said, laughing.

“Why in the world would you want me to sell Grandma’s bookstore to Hank O’Hara? It’s our family legacy.”

“Oh pish,” Maggie said, waving a hand. “That’s exactly the reason you should sell it. Because it’s Grandma’s bookstore. I was stuck with it for thirty years. And now you are. Maybe instead of holding on to someone else’s legacy, you should start your own. That bookstore has become an albatross around your neck. That was never my intention for you to take on that burden.”

“But I love the bookstore,” Sophie said, shocked at her mother’s words. “I thought you loved the bookstore.”

“I tolerated the bookstore because it helped keep a roof over our heads,” she said, smiling gently. “But it was never my dream. If the bookstore is your dream then that’s what I want for you. But maybe you haven’t given yourself a chance to dream because you always thought the bookstore was what was expected of you. I’m just saying, it wouldn’t hurt to hear Hank out. If anything, maybe you can make a fortune off the sale and open something new. With a working furnace and insulation.”

“Ooh, I could get behind that,” Junie said, grinning. “Or you could just make Hank fall in love with you and you could be a pampered housewife for the rest of your life.”

Sophie felt her cheeks heat. “I would never marry someone for their money.” She immediately regretted her words because she knew her sister absolutely had married for money. It helped that they adored each other, but Junie wouldn’t have looked twice at Rory Kelley if he’d been a pauper.

“Besides, I told you,” Sophie said. “I love the bookstore. I love the books. I love the smell and the stories and the excitement of putting new releases on the shelf every Tuesday. I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.”

“Have you tried?” Junie asked.

“Why are you being so contrary tonight?” Sophie asked, narrowing her eyes.

“It’s my gift,” Junie said.

“Maybe we could stop talking about Hank O’Hara,” Sophie said. “We’re supposed to be here because of Mom’s good news. And I’m sure Hank O’Hara has nothing to do with that.”

“You are absolutely right,” Maggie said. “It has everything to do with me.”

“And me,” Lori said, and then she put down her menu. “I’m getting the pot roast. And we’ll need more rolls.”

Sophie realized the waitress had been standing there, and she wondered how much she’d overheard of their conversation. Once they finished ordering, Sophie looked back at her mother expectantly.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” she asked. “What’s the big secret?”

Maggie looked back and forth between her daughters, and then Sophie realized her mother was actually nervous. She kept rubbing the gold chain around her neck between her fingers.

“Is something wrong?” Sophie asked, concerned. “Are you sick?

“Oh, God. You’re sick, aren’t you?” Junie asked, her hand coming to her chest. “Don’t worry about a thing. We’ll take care of you. We’ll hire the best nurses and doctors.”

“Thank you, dear,” Maggie said, her lips twitching. “But I’m not sick. Aunt Lori and I have decided to move to Florida. We sold the house today.”

Sophie only heard a buzzing in her ears that sounded something like chainsaws. It was the only explanation for what she must have misheard. She closed her eyes and shook her head to try and clear it.

“What did you say?” Sophie asked.

“If you’re sick you should just come out and say it, Mom,” Junie said.

“Good grief, Junie. I am not sick. I’m moving to Florida.”

“You don’t know anyone in Florida,” Sophie said lamely.

“I’ll know your Aunt Lori. She’s moving with me.”

“But…why? Your family is here. You’ve spent almost your whole life here.”

“Exactly,” Maggie said, nodding. “It’s time for us to get out of Laurel Valley and have a little adventure. I’ve been here too long. And it hasn’t always been easy.”

Sophie grabbed her mother’s hand and squeezed. “I know, Mom.”

“I wanted to move after your father…” She stopped and took a fortifying breath. “Well, you know. After your father. But I thought it would be harder on you girls to uproot and start from scratch with a new school and new friends. So we stayed.”

“Oh, Mom,” Sophie said. “I wish you would have told us you didn’t want to be here.”

“Of course I wanted to be here,” she said sternly. “I wanted to be with my girls and to watch y’all get settled. And now you are, and it’s time for me to start a new chapter. I’m just lucky that Lori wants to come with me.”

“We’ll be like Thelma and Louise,” Lori said, chuckling, though her eyes were watery. “Full of adventure and falling in love with handsome men and then breaking their hearts.” She sighed dramatically.

“Aunt Lori,” Junie said. “Did you actually see that movie? They die at the end.”

“Oh, pish posh,” Lori said, waving her hand. “I like to think they survived and lived out the rest of their lives with a new identity. Maybe new hairstyles. Some highlights or something.”

“What about the hair salons?” Junie asked Lori. “You’ve done so well now that you have salons in both of the resorts and downtown. You’re a chain. You can’t just close up. Where am I supposed to get my hair done? Maintaining this color costs me a fortune every month. I can’t just go to another salon and expect them to replicate it.”

“I sold it to Marie Lamont,” Lori said. “She bought the whole kit and caboodle. She’s my top stylist. You know she’s been wanting to branch out on her own, but I told her it’d be better for her to stay put and take over a business that was already established. She does good hair. I trained her myself. We’ve been working on the deal a couple of months.”

“A couple of months?” Junie asked, eyes wide.

“And you already sold the house?” Sophie asked.

“We closed this morning,” Maggie said gently. “We bought a little place right on the beach. I’m not going to lie. I’m looking forward to not spending the winter having to shovel driveways and sidewalks.”

“Instead you’ll be boarding up windows for hurricanes,” Junie cried.

“Nonsense,” Lori said. “I’m sure there are plenty of attractive young men we could hire to do it for us.”

“Are you in a rebellious stage?” Junie asked. “Is this because of menopause? Maybe you need to find a man and settle down.”

Lori just grinned unrepentantly and inhaled deeply as the waitress set another basket of rolls on the table. “Who says I haven’t got one?” she asked slyly.

“Aunt Lori!” Junie said.

Sophie felt tears prick her eyes, but she blinked them back as she stared at her mother. A look of understanding passed between them.

“I want you to be happy,” Sophie finally said. “I can think of no one who deserves it more than you. Thank you for everything you’ve sacrificed for us.”

Maggie’s eyes misted and she said, “It’s not sacrifice. It’s love. That’s what mothers do.”