Paper Hearts (13 page)

He knew where she was going with this. After the lawsuit he didn’t need the money
 
—why did he need to work at all? Guilt plagued him every time he thought about that lawsuit. Suing his own hospital hadn’t been his idea, but he’d been so filled with
anger
 
—and so desperate to blame anyone other than himself
 
—that he went along with it.

He’d stashed most of the money in a fund for Junie. He didn’t want it. No amount of money was worth that cost.

No. Not working wasn’t an option.

Kate had to understand why he was anxious to get his new practice up and running. On second thought, maybe having Kate here wasn’t a great idea. Did he really need someone analyzing him every morning before he’d even finished his first cup of coffee?

“Jacob?”

He responded with a silent glance.

“I found the paper hearts.”

He sighed. “Going through my stuff?”

“They fell out of the desk when I was looking for my car keys.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

She gave him a crooked smile. “I think you should let Junie write some too.”

He tossed a glance over his shoulder and spotted Junie, still sitting in her spot in front of the cartoon. He shook his head. “I shouldn’t even have written those. It was just habit.”

A habit he seemed unable to break.

She was quiet. “Will you put them up?”

Jacob swallowed, wishing their conversation hadn’t taken this turn. Finally he shook his head. “Do me a favor and throw them away.”

Kate didn’t respond.

“Or I guess I can throw them away.”

“No. I’ll do it,” she said, leveling her gaze. “But promise me you’ll tell me if
you’re
ever not okay.”

He gave one quick nod, finished his coffee, and went back inside, not wanting his sister to know he’d passed that point a long time ago.

G
IGI HADN’T BEEN SO PERSONALLY INVOLVED
in a case in a number of years. Not since the Volunteers worked to match her own daughter, Laine, who’d since married and moved away. Every time Gigi found herself alone, her thoughts turned to Abigail Pressman and Teensy’s desperation to get the girl married off.

Maybe Teensy simply wanted to believe Abigail’s love life wasn’t a by-product of her own failed marriage.

Or maybe she didn’t want her daughter to end up alone, which was likely the way Teensy felt most of the time. Gigi should’ve been a better friend to Abigail’s mother. They’d practically grown up together, but Teensy had gotten so negative over the years.

Still, that wasn’t a reason not to reach out to a grieving friend. No matter how difficult she was.

Gigi struggled to parallel park her Buick across the street from
The Book Nook. Finally, after several readjustments, she turned the engine off, locked the doors, and got out of the car.

“It’s like watching a teenager take her driving test.” Ursula stood beside the car on the sidewalk, an incredulous expression on her face.

“I don’t appreciate your tone, Ursula. I do just fine.” Gigi joined her on the sidewalk and began walking toward the end of the block.

“We can cross here,” Ursula said, unmoving.

“The crosswalk is this way,” Gigi called over her shoulder.

Ursula groaned. “At some point you should be old enough to make the rules up yourself.” After a few long strides, she caught up to Gigi.

“When that day comes,” Gigi said, “you let me know. I have a few rules I’d like to rewrite myself. Like no white shoes after Labor Day.”

Ursula’s expression soured. “That’s a rule?”

Gigi waved her off. “We should hurry. The others will be waiting for us, and we need to check on Abigail.”

She pushed the button for the crosswalk and waited for the light.

“I’ve already got a plan in play.” Ursula stepped into the street and started crossing, holding her hand up to the barely stopped traffic.

Gigi’s pulse quickened. “What does that mean?”

Ursula didn’t look at her as she continued across the street. “You’re not the only one who can play this game, Gigi.”

“It’s not a game. It’s a girl’s life.”

They reached the other side of the street, and Gigi put a hand on Ursula’s arm. “Stop.”

She did, but she wasn’t happy about it.

“What do you mean you have a plan?”

“The Duncan plan.”

Gigi gasped. “No. You are not setting Abigail up with your nephew.”

“I resent that. He is a good man. He’s just a little
 
—”

“Creepy.” Gigi finished the sentence for her. This wasn’t the first time Duncan had come into the picture.

Ursula began walking again. “You have no faith in me, old friend. Trust me.”

Gigi didn’t like her tone. “Do you know Abigail at all?”

“Yes, which is why I know Duncan will be perfect.”

“No. He is not a good match for her, Ursula.”

The older woman let out a cackle. “Of course he’s not. That’s the point.” She winked at Gigi, then joined the other Volunteers, who were waiting at the front door of The Book Nook.

Clearly when Ursula Pembrooke took matters into her own hands, she didn’t see any need to include the rest of them in her plans. The thought of it left a ball of anxiety wedged somewhere below Gigi’s rib cage. Of all of the Volunteers, Ursula was the one she trusted the least
 
—and as much as Gigi hated to admit it, Ursula appeared to be the only one with a plan of action for Abigail Pressman.

Abigail stood inside The Book Nook watching in horror as the Valentine Volunteers plodded toward her, all moving in one unified clump. They had a look on their collective faces. The kind that told Abigail she’d be better off hiding under the counter.

“Abigail. Just the girl we’ve been looking for.” Gigi smiled, clutching her patent-leather purse. “We wanted to see how everything was going.”

Abigail forced a smile. “I’m still working my way through those letters, Gigi.”

“Oh yes, dear. I didn’t mean that,” Gigi said. “I just meant in
general. Life. The store. You know.” She looked around as if she had more to say but decided to stop talking.

“Things are fine.” Abigail began making their usual orders while Gigi stood directly in front of where she worked.

Tess moved chairs around the large table at the back of the store while Evelyn perused the art section of the bookstore. For a brief moment, Abigail allowed her gaze to linger on the slender woman who radiated artistry even in the way she dressed. Abigail was sure she remembered that the young senator’s wife used to paint
 
—might’ve had a show at the local gallery once.

Did she give all that up when she married a politician?

Evelyn glanced up from the book in her hands, and a warm smile crossed her face. Probably felt sorry for Abigail.

“I have something to say.” Ursula shoved Gigi aside, hair a mess, a wild, multicolored scarf thrown around her neck in a seemingly haphazard fashion. Abigail couldn’t be sure, but the scarf appeared to be unfinished. She could only imagine Ursula had started crocheting it and then lost interest. Somehow that didn’t stop her from wearing the thing.

Abigail was beginning to think the woman didn’t own a mirror.

When Abigail didn’t respond, Ursula continued. “Duncan’s here.”

“What do you mean?” She wondered if her face looked as horrified as her words had sounded.

“I brought him here. To meet you.” She raised her bushy eyebrows.

“No. I’m working!” Abigail’s face flushed. She could feel it.

“Ursula, it’s time to stop this now,” Gigi said through clenched teeth. “Abigail, if Duncan isn’t your type, what kind of man would you say is?”

“She doesn’t have any idea if Duncan is her type or not. Go talk to him, Abigail.” Ursula pointed
 
—not subtly
 
—to a man standing next to a stack of books on the other side of the store.

Abigail spun around and faced the old woman. “I am working,” she repeated.

“You’re the owner. You can do whatever you want. Speaking of which, there might be some leaky pipes in your back room.”

Abigail frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Might want to call your landlord.” The old woman winked.

The bell over the door jangled, drawing all of their attention. Dr. Jacob Willoughby. Of course. He must’ve felt like he just entered the twilight zone.

“Speak of the ever-lovin’ devil.” Ursula stomped over to the man. Abigail couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

“Leaky pipes in the back, Jake,” she barked.

He glanced at Abigail.

Ursula was relentless. “Landlord takes care of leaky pipes.”

“I’ll take it from here, ladies,” Abigail said, wondering how many stars had to misalign for so many things to go wrong at the same time. “Why don’t you all go sit down and I’ll have Mallory bring your drinks?”

Ursula gave Jacob a once-over before finally joining the others at the big table.

“Is she always like that?” Jacob took a seat at the counter.

“Pretty much.” She filled a mug with Loves Park blend and handed it to him. He looked at her, surprised. “Did you not want coffee?” she asked.

“No, it’s great. Thanks.” He took a drink. “Do you really need me to look at the pipes?”

Abigail frowned. “I didn’t before, but I might now. It’s possible Ursula took a wrench to them.”

Jacob laughed. “I’ll check it out, just to be sure.”

She heard herself thank him, but her mind had begun spinning in an attempt to find something
 
—anything
 
—else to talk to him about. Why did he make her so nervous?

Jacob took another drink. “Junie really loves that book you sold us Saturday.”

She had to smile. She’d manipulated that one for sure. “Is your house overflowing with bracelets yet?”

He pulled his sleeve up, revealing three bracelets on his wrist.

She laughed. Huh. Was this actually the beginning of a polite conversation?

It might’ve been, but as soon as she realized it, everything changed. Their polite conversation turned awkward.
She
turned awkward.

“I think I owe you a stage.” There was a question in his voice.

She wiped down the counter. Twice. “Don’t be silly. I didn’t take your sister seriously when she said that.” Though in the back of her mind, she’d hoped Kate was serious. Who else could she get to build her a stage on such short notice?

“It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“But you have, you know, a daughter at home. Not to mention your own space to renovate. I can figure out something.”

“Before Friday?” He took another drink. “Because if I ruin Kate’s big Loves Park debut, she’ll never let me live it down.”

Abigail laughed.

Ursula appeared at the counter out of nowhere. “Duncan. Front table. Reading the newspaper.” She walked away, but not before giving Jacob her signature stink eye.

Abigail groaned. “Be thankful you’re married.”

Jacob took another drink. “I’m actually not.”

She frowned, begging the awkwardness to stay far, far away. “I thought you said . . .”

“I’m not married . . . anymore.” He looked away, thereby ending the conversation on that topic.

Abigail recognized heartache when she saw it. And she should know
 
—she’d seen it on her own face for years. “I’m sorry. My parents divorced when I was a kid.”

Jacob nodded but avoided her eyes. “This is really good coffee.”

“Thanks.”
Don’t kick me out and I’ll give you all the free coffee you can drink.

“I’ve got supplies in the car. I can take measurements and build the foundation over in the mercantile. Then I’ll bring it over here. It shouldn’t take too long.”

His kindness embarrassed her. “Okay, but lunch is on me.” Hardly payment, but it would have to do.

He extended a hand in her direction. She shook it
 
—the way she was supposed to
 
—and tried not to think about his firm grip and the way his green eyes sort of danced when he smiled.

He’s the enemy. He’s trampling on your dreams. He’s going to kick you out, and then what will you have? A fat lot of nothin’, that’s what.

He gave her a sideways smile, and only then did she realize she’d been holding his hand well past the acceptable length of time for a handshake. “Sorry.” A nervous laugh escaped. How many times would she have to apologize to the man?

“I’ll be back.”

Abigail’s heart pounded.
Not soon enough.
She shook herself. What was going on with her?

She felt Mallory move in next to her. “Good work, boss.”

Abigail stuffed the bar rag in her apron and walked away.

The shelves needed tidying. Or at least she could pretend they did. Anything to keep up the pretense of work and avoid her own thoughts . . . as well as avoiding Duncan, who, she realized, was still creeping around here somewhere.

She collected books her customers had failed to return to the shelves and began the process of putting them away, forcing herself to stop watching the door for Jacob’s return.