Paper Hearts (14 page)

A few minutes later he walked back in. From a distance, a person might think he was a nice man. Not the dream killer she knew him to be.

She watched as he measured the corner where the little wedge
of a stage would go. Just enough space for one, maybe two performers. Nothing fancy.

She’d lose a table or two, but it would be worth it.

Especially if it made Loves Park love her more.

It occurred to her that he didn’t have to do this for her. It was actually kind of him. Maybe kindness would get the better of him and he’d let her keep her business right where it was. Nothing had to change
 
—her life could just go on as usual. Or maybe he’d reconsider Ursula’s offer. Sell the old lady the building and open a practice somewhere else.

She spent the better part of the morning steering clear of the Volunteers
 
—and hiding from Ursula’s reptilian nephew.

She finally finished tidying the shelves in the fiction section and had turned toward religion when, through the stacks, she saw a pair of beady eyes staring at her. She gasped.
Caught.

“You scared me.”

Duncan stared at her for an uncomfortable beat and finally slithered his way around the shelves. “My aunt says you’re the last single girl in town.” His voice had a distinctly nasal quality about it.

“Well, that’s hardly true.” Abigail tossed a scoff over her shoulder and went back to shelving books. It felt true most days, though, didn’t it?

Duncan took a step closer, just close enough to invade her personal space. “How about dinner? Tonight at Lovie’s.” His breath smelled like onions and it wasn’t even noon.

“Oh, I’ll have to check my schedule.”

He handed her a business card. “I’ll be there at seven. I’ll take the liberty of ordering for us. Do you like fish?”

Abigail only stared.

“Very good. Seven it is.” He walked away, leaving her slack-jawed.

I hate fish.

Suddenly the FarmersOnly website looked pretty good.

She glanced at the table of older women at the back. Ursula gave her a smirk, but Abigail only groaned.

Lunchtime came and went. Abigail pretended to wipe down the tables near the windows as she stole a glance outside, wondering if Jacob had plans to return from the mercantile anytime soon. Or if he expected her to bring his lunch over there.

She’d promised, hadn’t she?

Of course, she had no idea what he liked.

She had Aaron box up a sandwich and their homemade potato chips, then exited out the back. She chose to ignore the nerves dancing in her belly.

The man had the power to destroy her business, and that was what made her nervous. It had nothing to do with his perfectly straight white teeth or his well-built frame, though those things were just . . . lovely.

Abigail knocked, but there was no answer. She pushed on the door, which opened, and let herself in. Before she announced her presence, though, the sound of Jacob’s voice stopped her.

“I’m sorry you see it that way, Cecily, but Gwen made her choice, and now I’m making mine.” A pause. “Name-calling isn’t going to change anything.” Another pause. “Look. I’m settled here. If you want to see Junie, something can be arranged, but for now I think we need a little space.”

He cleared his throat. Abigail felt trapped in the doorway. If she left now, he’d know she’d overheard him having what was obviously a very private conversation.

“It makes her sad to see you, Cecily. Reminds her of her mom. Just give her time.” He sighed. “I won’t keep her from you forever. Just until we’re back on our feet.”

Now Abigail knew she shouldn’t be listening. She took a step back and, as was customary with her, ran into a broom, which toppled over. When she reached out to catch it, she dropped the
boxed lunch with a thud and missed the broom, which clanked onto the wooden floor. The soda in her pocket fell to the ground and rolled across the floor, stopping right where Jacob stood.

He spun around, anger on his face.

She met his eyes, horrified.

“I’ll have to call you back.” He hung up and stared at her.

Abigail swept the hair away from her face. “Lunch?”

G
REAT.
J
UST WHAT HE NEEDED,
to be the center of town gossip. How much of his conversation with his former mother-in-law had Abigail overheard?

Jacob wanted to throw the phone into the wall, as if smashing it would keep his past from haunting him.

He shouldn’t have answered the phone in the first place. But Cecily had called from work
 
—a number he didn’t recognize. She had loads of advice about how he should be grieving. What did she know? Maybe if she’d been a better mother . . .

No. It wasn’t Cecily’s fault, what had happened to Gwen.

It was his.

That was the truth he had to live with. And that was the reason why people like Abigail Pressman needed to stay as far away from him as possible. He’d been a fool to even entertain his fleeting
attraction to her. Remaining her adversary was the best thing he could do for her.

“You didn’t have to bring me lunch.” He tossed the phone onto the old mercantile countertop and returned to the stage he’d finished only moments before Cecily’s call. Odds were, Abigail didn’t have more than a year left in her space, and he’d just wasted valuable work time building a stage.

Kate owed him.

Abigail finished collecting the contents of what appeared to be a boxed lunch. A sandwich. Chips. Both individually wrapped, thankfully, or he’d have quite a mess to clean up.

A gentleman would help her.

The thought jabbed him, but before he could act on it, she stood. She still seemed off-balance.

And cute. She was cute.

Knock it off. That’s the last thing you need right now.

She approached him, lunch box held out. “I said I would. I’m a man of my word.” Under different circumstances, her half smile might’ve calmed him down.

“Besides, it’s the least I can do.” She set the box on the counter and retrieved the can of soda from the floor. “It’ll probably explode if you’re not careful.” She slid it down the counter in his direction. “I think it got a pretty good shake-up when it fell.”

“Thanks.” His stomach growled. He was famished.

“You can try tapping on the top. They say that’s supposed to keep it from exploding.” She must be a nervous talker. A nervous talker who’d run out of things to say.

The awkward silence between them begged to be filled, but he didn’t oblige. He wanted to punch something
 
—or someone. Cecily Gregson knew how to get under his skin. Mostly because she wasn’t wrong.

“How long are you going to stay mad at the world, Jacob?” she’d said. “Do you think that’s good for you
 
—or for Junie?”

He had a right to his anger. For as long as it took.

Abigail cut into his thoughts. “I hope you like turkey. I had Aaron put bacon on it.” She looked away. “Bacon makes everything better.” The words came out soft, a space filler.

“Thanks.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t knock louder.”

He met her eyes. She looked genuinely sorry. Or maybe she pitied him. And men just
loved
to be pitied.

“The stage looks good.” She walked toward his handiwork and gave it a quiet inspection. “Thanks for doing that.”

“I’ll install it tonight after you close, if that’s okay,” Jacob said, his tone short.

“Sure.”

Just go already.

As if she sensed his silent plea, she started for the door. “Thanks again.”

“Don’t mention it.”
Don’t mention any of it. Please?

As she turned toward the door, it opened and Kelly appeared. She looked at Abigail, then at Jacob with an expression that made him feel like he’d done something wrong. “What’s going on here?” she demanded.

Jacob watched Abigail shrink in Kelly’s presence, illuminating the differences between the two women in vivid color.

He took a few steps toward Abigail. “Nothing to worry about, Kelly. Just getting to know our neighbor.”

Kelly’s eyes narrowed. “Our
tenant
.”

He shot her a look.

Kelly turned to Abigail. She towered over her, and not just in stature. “We should discuss your lease.”

Abigail stilled, her body tense as if she was afraid to face the subject.

“You had a pretty good thing going with Harriet,” Kelly continued.

“Kelly,” Jacob warned.

She ignored him.

Abigail lifted her chin. “Yes, Harriet was very generous with me. She was an old friend of my father’s.”

“I’m afraid we’re not in the same position she was.” Kelly stared at Abigail with her head tilted to one side, a look of condescension on her face.

What a lie. After the lawsuit, he was set for life. Two lives. Kelly knew money wasn’t an issue for them. This was about power. Abigail’s full store that weekend had ticked her off, and this was Kelly’s way of putting herself back on top.

“We’re going to have to raise your rent for this final year.”

Abigail’s face fell.

“My lawyer is drawing up the papers. I’ll bring them by later this week.”

“We’ll discuss it later, Kelly,” Jacob said, wishing Abigail had escaped before she arrived.

Finally Kelly looked at Jacob, but she didn’t say anything.

Abigail met his gaze, her eyes pleading. He hated that his plans for a second chance would force her to find a second chance of her own.

She gave a wordless nod and slipped out the back door, leaving Jacob alone with his anger, guilt nipping at his heels.

Way to stick up for her, buddy.

Kelly shot him a look. “There is nothing to discuss later.”

“This is not how we’re going to deal with our neighbors.”

Her eyes went wide and she feigned innocence. “
All
our neighbors or just book girl?”

Jacob set the box lunch on the counter, ignoring her question.

“If we raise her rent and she decides to go find another space, no one can say we kicked her out. She’s gone and our reputation is intact. It’s the best option, and I’m pretty sure you know it.”

“We could’ve tried talking to her,” Jacob said, irritated that he’d allowed her to bully Abigail like that.

She took a step closer to him. “You’re so tense, Jacob. Are you going to admit you have a thing for this girl?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I have a thing for treating people with respect.”

Kelly laughed. “She’s playing you, you know. Getting you to feel bad for her so you won’t raise her rent or kick her out. It’s a classic female move.” As she turned, her eyes fell on the stage. “What is that?”

He raked his hands through his hair and took a step away from her. “It’s a stage.”

“For what?”

“For The Book Nook.” He relished it a bit too much.

Slowly she turned. “You’re kidding, right? She’s on a mission to turn her little store into a national treasure and you’re helping her?”

“I’m helping my sister.”

Kelly’s hands went to her hips. “I know business is new to you, but we agreed that I wouldn’t be a silent partner in all this. That you’d listen if I had something to say.”

Boy, was that a mistake.

“You know how much Gwen meant to me, Jacob. I would never do anything to steer you wrong.” She closed the distance between them. “You and Junie are my main priority. You’re like family to me.” Her hands found their way to his arms; her eyes locked onto his.

Too many uncomfortable seconds passed before Jacob pulled out of her grasp. “I don’t see how building a stage is going to hurt anything.” But the truth was he didn’t want to entertain the idea that Kelly might be right. What if Abigail really was playing him?

Could her kindness be an act? A way to get her hooks into him? How would he ever know if it was?

Maybe it was better to let another woman handle her, even if he didn’t agree with Kelly’s tactics. He didn’t need thoughts of a pretty girl filling his head, making him think
 
—even for a moment
 
—that he had any right to be happy ever again.

No, he’d had his chance, and he blew it.

And he’d live with that for the rest of his life.

Abigail could not believe that woman. Or that man, come to think of it. How could he just stand there and let her say those things? Raise her rent without so much as a conversation?

Because he wasn’t the nice guy she’d thought he could be, that’s why. Any supposedly kind gestures were just numbing her pain before he ruined her life.

She stripped off her jacket and threw it on her office chair, stormed into the store, and immediately started cleaning everything in sight, terrible thoughts filling her head.

She couldn’t lose this place.

“Uh-oh.” Mallory kept her distance.

“That Kelly woman is awful.” Abigail’s voice cracked as she said the words.

“What happened?”

She shook her head, trying to calculate what it would take to pay more rent and still keep the store open. She dropped the cleaning rag, sat down at the counter, and started jotting down numbers, but it only frustrated her. She didn’t know exactly what kind of rent they’d be charging her, so how could she make any plans? If they made her pay what she should be paying, she might have to close down at the end of the month.

“Do you have any legal recourse? Does he have to honor your lease?”

Abigail let her head drop into her hands. “I don’t think so. I think he can do whatever he wants.”

“But your father and Harriet had an arrangement.”

Harriet. Of course. She’d been out of the country, but maybe she was back now. Or maybe she still had access to her cell phone.

Abigail pulled out her phone, found Harriet’s number, and pushed Send.

Abigail paced while the call tried to connect. Finally, after several unanswered rings, Harriet’s voice came on the other end.

“This is Harriet. I’m out of the country for a few months having the time of my life. Leave me a message if you want to, but I probably won’t get it. Doesn’t mean I don’t love you
 
—just means it was time to get a life.”

Abigail ended the call, silencing Harriet’s loud, recorded laughter.

Mallory’s face fell. “Maybe it’s time we took matters into our own hands.”

Abigail couldn’t take another fight-or-die speech. At that moment, she might choose death.

“You want me to break pipes in the basement? Rack up some serious bills for your landlord?”

Abigail laughed. “I think Ursula beat you to that.”

Mallory clapped a hand over Abigail’s. “I think we need to show the doctor whose town this is.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Abigail, if Loves Park knew there was even a threat of you having to move out, don’t you think they’d revolt? We could easily make sure his practice is over before it even starts.” Mallory swiped a crumb onto the floor. “What kind of rumor could we start about him?”

“No, I couldn’t do that.” She didn’t want to destroy his life
 
—she just wanted him to agree not to destroy hers.

“I hate to tell you this, but those two aren’t giving a second
thought to whether or not it’s mean to raise your rent or kick you out. You need to refocus. What do you really want?”

She could see the vintage furniture
 
—furniture she’d painted and distressed. She could see the hand-stamped jewelry for sale and the gallery of local artwork. She wanted The Book Nook to grow. To prove that she could make something of herself. Even without a man. She wanted to create something of value.
She
wanted to be valued.