Paper Hearts (10 page)

A
FTER SHE LEFT HER MOM’S HOUSE,
Abigail finally sanded and primed the armoire in her workshop, which didn’t do as much to relieve her stress as she’d hoped. Weariness washed over her, though her mind was wide-awake.

Over and over, she replayed her conversation with her sister, wishing she could turn back the clock and be properly happy that Betsy had found someone worth loving. It wasn’t Abigail’s place to judge her sister’s choices. It’s not like she’d had any success in this area.

But she had to admit, Betsy’s lack of discernment wasn’t the main thing troubling her. Abigail allowed her sister’s words to claw at her like a kitten with a ball of yarn. Both Betsy and their mother seemed intent on believing Abigail wasn’t really happy. And that she’d never be happy until she found a man, got married, and had a bunch of kids.

A faint image of a happy family flittered through her thoughts. It happened sometimes that she’d see herself in her own mind’s eye, laughing with a child on her lap and a faceless husband’s arms wrapped around them both.

Fantasy.

Angry, she shoved the image aside. No. Betsy was wrong. Abigail could manage on her own. She had been doing it for years.

And yet, lately, the store had caused her nothing but worry. She
had
to figure out a way to convince that doctor and his dragon lady girlfriend that kicking her out was a terrible mistake.

Unsure of her next step, she did what she always did when her brain had reached its capacity for complicated thoughts. She pulled out her journal to make a list of her concerns, but as she flipped through the pages, she discovered all the other lists she’d made in moments like these. She even found a floor plan of what she’d hoped her expanded store would look like, complete with furniture and signage all sketched to scale.

It was good to see all those frivolous art classes had paid off. At least she had a very clear picture of what the business could have been.

Brainstorming about her business
 
—and experimenting with various furniture restoration techniques she’d use for her future inventory
 
—consumed much of her free time, and she’d come up with countless ways to promote The Book Nook once the whole building was hers. It would be like a grand reopening.

Live music. Concerts by local musicians.

Free coffee and snacks.

Kids’ story time with crafts based on the books.

Exhibitions by Loves Park artists.

She’d had these ideas for months, but until now she’d only imagined implementing them once she owned the whole building.
But maybe they could play a defensive role as well. After all, if she could prove to her irritating new landlord that she had a valuable business, one the town supported, he wouldn’t kick her out
 
—would he?

If he did, then he’d be shooting himself in the foot.

Abigail already had the hometown advantage
 
—maybe she just needed to tap into that a little more. She needed to stay focused and determine how to get more people in the door. And then, how to get them to really fall in love with The Book Nook.

Abigail rolled her eyes at the thought. Like she could get anyone to fall in love.

Discouragement wound its way through her. She could always tackle plan C: find a new building.

Her heart dropped. The Book Nook had been in her family for so many years. All those mornings she’d helped Daddy put books away
 
—the store was
their
place. When her father left, she swore she’d never return to the little shop, no matter how much she yearned for the quiet solitude it provided.

It took a long time, but eventually, after her dad was gone, she learned to appreciate it for what it was
 
—the one place where she still felt like she belonged.

The day he left, she assumed he’d also sold the business. She didn’t know until eight years ago, when his will was read, that he’d been saving it for her. He’d hired an old friend to manage the place for him, but The Book Nook still belonged to him. And he’d left it to her in his will.

He didn’t own the building, but he’d negotiated the terms with Harriet.

And Abigail had come to love it.

How could she not adore the thick crown molding and the built-in bookshelves? The wide-planked wood floors and the way it now smelled of coffee and books? She’d grown to appreciate the buzz of energy every day when locals conducted business meetings,
artists searched for inspiration, and friends met and chatted right here in her shop.

Daddy would be so proud of her. He’d been a lousy husband to Teensy, but he’d always been Abigail’s biggest fan.

An image of her father flashed through her mind. If she concentrated long enough, she could see every line on his face when he smiled at her.

He never had explained why he left. Or why leaving Teensy meant walking out altogether.

Had he missed their Saturday mornings as much as she did?

She supposed so. Otherwise he would’ve sold the shop and called it good. Instead he gave the business to her. And she couldn’t bear the thought of losing it.

Abigail stopped and reread her list. The shop was already cute
 
—all she needed to do was play it up. She’d resisted that for so many years. But if she had to tap into what Loves Park loved, so be it. Even if what Loves Park loved was what Abigail loathed.

She read over her list again. She obviously knew how this town worked. She knew what they would get behind
 
—what they would fight for.

And though people did, in fact, need the occasional trip to the doctor, the fact remained that most people came to Loves Park for the charm and sentimentality.

Abigail smiled to herself, finally feeling like she had some sense of direction.

She’d remind Loves Park why they adored The Book Nook. She’d make it irresistible, and Dr. Jacob Willoughby would be so enthralled with it himself, he’d decide forcing her out was the biggest mistake he could make.

Never mind that she still needed to see if he’d even honor her rental agreement with Harriet. She should be paying more, and she knew it, but Harriet had a soft spot for single young women trying to make it. Not soft enough to wait to sell until Abigail could
pay for the building, mind you, but still soft. Besides, her father had gotten the rental agreement in writing
 
—and he’d watched out for his daughter. As if he somehow knew that one day, everything could change.

Abigail had a sneaking suspicion the doctor and his “partner” had no soft spot and no inkling of how to honor someone else’s agreement.

Even Daddy couldn’t have foreseen that.

Her homework from the Valentine Volunteers stared at her from the other side of the room. She pulled the box with the cast-off letters onto the bed and removed the lid
 
—not that she wanted to read about unrequited love, but maybe drowning herself in someone else’s sorrows was the way to forget her own.

She riffled through the stack of envelopes until she found a pink one with frilly handwriting on the front. It was addressed to “Cupid.”

Abigail rolled her eyes. She knew the kinds of letters she was in for.
The guy I love doesn’t love me back. Is there anything I can do?
Somehow she’d turned into the Dear Abby of Loves Park. The very thought of it warranted another eye roll.

Who was she to give romantic advice? If anything, she should be the one writing in.

She sighed and opened the letter. Sure enough, she found exactly what she expected.

Dear Cupid,

Finally, after years of being alone, I’ve fallen head over heels in love. There’s just one problem. The man is my sister’s husband.

Abigail flicked the letter to the other side of the bed. It drifted to the floor.

Next.

Dear Whoever-You-Are,

My name is Justus Mulligan and I’m in federal prison. I’m looking for someone to spend quality time with.

Flick. Next.

Dear Loves Park Cupid,

I’ve lived in this Sweetheart City my whole life. I know this isn’t the real purpose of these letters, but sadly I have no wedding invitations to send you because I have no fiancé. No boyfriend. No prospects. It’s kind of depressing watching everyone else grow up and find the perfect person when I’ve never even come close.

Abigail could’ve written this one herself.

I’m pretty fun-loving. I mean, people like me, but mostly guys think of me as their friend. I’m a great shoulder to cry on. This Valentine’s Day, for once, I just want to have someone special in my life. Friends are great and everything, but I’m almost thirty. Well, I’m three years away from thirty. That’s too old to be alone.

Abigail turned thirty this year. What did that make her?

Hopeless.

I guess I just wanted to put it out there. A prayer, maybe, that finally this year might be my year. The year someone looks at me as more than just a friend.

Abigail went back and reread the letter. The prayer.

She’d been plenty angry with God over the years when relation
ships didn’t work out. When she first realized the whole town’s idea of romance was a fairy tale. When her parents split up. When Jeremy left. When she put herself out there and suffered for it. But had she ever even prayed that she’d find someone to share her life with?

Had she prayed when she started dating Jeremy in the first place?

Had she ever trusted God with this worry?

She’d been so caught up in her self-pity that she’d failed to ask God to intervene
 
—yet she’d blamed him when he didn’t.

Somehow she always assumed it was up to her to figure out this part of her life, but maybe she’d given herself too much credit.

Maybe, for once, she should stop trying to handle everything on her own and actually let God have some control in her life.

Did she even know how to do that? Really?

She shoved the letters back in the box and closed the lid.

Enough love for one night. Enough love for a lifetime. She was perfectly happy with her life the way it was. Well, she had been happy
 
—before the doctor came to town. She’d focus on making sure everything went back to normal. That was the goal.

Save her store. Get her life back. And try to figure out what love meant for her anyway.

A
FTER A RESTLESS
 
—
WORTHLESS
 
—
night of sleep, Jacob awoke Saturday morning hoping Kelly had kept her word and left before Junie got up, but when he stepped into the kitchen and saw her purse still sitting on the counter, he knew that was just wishful thinking.

A pot of fresh coffee welcomed him. He poured a cup, wondering when his houseguest would be done in the bathroom and on the road back to Denver.

He was thankful he and Kelly didn’t talk shop on the weekends. Sure, he had a building to renovate and boxes to unpack, but he’d promised Junie his weekends were hers. How could he politely get his business partner out the door?

Junie’s bedroom door opened, and his little girl stumbled out into the hallway, hair messed up, sleepiness still on her face. Seconds later, Kelly joined them in the kitchen, looking like she was ready to go walk a runway somewhere.

A moment after that, the doorbell rang.

What was this? The perfect storm? Jacob stood paralyzed, not sure which to attend to first.

“I’ll get that,” Kelly said, smiling as she headed for the door. “You look cute in the morning.” She rubbed his back as she walked past.

“Daddy?”

“Junie, hey.” Jacob scrambled to set his coffee down and intercepted Kelly. “I’ve got the door.”

“You sure? It’s no problem.” She turned and flashed him a smile. “I’m a little more presentable than you are.”

“Yes, but you don’t live here.”

She shrugged. “Whatever you say. I’ll get Junie some cereal.”

“No, Kelly, you should go.”

Her eyes widened and Jacob groaned. He didn’t need this right now.

Ding-dong.

He pulled the door open, wishing he could go back to bed and start this whole day over again.

“Morning, sunshine!”

“Kate. What are you doing here?” His sister hadn’t called. He didn’t even know she had his new address.

“Aunt Kate!” Junie practically tackled her on the front porch.

Jacob hastily followed Junie outside in spite of the chilly morning, the screen door slamming behind him. He registered the huge purple bag over Kate’s shoulder and the guitar at her feet. When did she learn to play guitar?

“Where’ve you been, Junie Moon, Junie Moon?” Kate squeezed the little girl tight.

Jacob looked away at the memory of Gwen’s nickname for their daughter. From the day their daughter was born, his wife had called her Junie Moon.

“Because she has such a round, chubby face, like the man in
the moon,” Gwen had told him, cheeks red after delivering their baby. She’d even written Junie a sweet little children’s book called
Where’d You Go, Junie Moon?
She’d had dreams of publishing that one day.

Jacob always thought they’d have a barrelful of children by now, but some things just didn’t work out.

“Hey, Jacob,” Kate said. “You look
 
—” she gave him a once-over
 
—“well, pretty awful.”

“I just got up.”

She pressed a button on her phone to check the time. “It’s almost seven thirty. You’re slacking in your old age.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling him, but he insists on working at a snail’s pace.” Kelly’s voice met them from the kitchen. Jacob didn’t turn around. He should’ve pulled both doors closed.

Kate’s jaw dropped, and she stared at him.

“It’s not what it looks like.”

She pushed past him, Junie still clinging to her hand, and he had no choice but to follow them inside.

“I’m Kate Willoughby. Jacob’s sister.”

Kelly smiled, clearly enjoying the way it looked that she was standing in his kitchen at seven thirty in the morning on a Saturday. “I’m Kelly.”

“She’s my business manager,” Jacob added, his palms sweating. “We were working late, and she crashed on the couch.”

Kate shook Kelly’s hand, then shot Jacob a disapproving look. “You sound guilty,” she said under her breath. She turned all her attention to Junie then, leaving him feeling
 
—like she said
 
—guilty.

“Did you come to see me, Aunt Kate?” Junie asked. “I have a new doll.”

“I did, Moon-Face, but I’m starving. I was hoping you were going to take me to town for pancakes.” Kate adjusted the yellow beanie floating on top of her messy, long blonde hair.

Jacob wondered if she’d just woken up that morning and
decided to make the drive up the mountain from Denver. Oh, to be that spontaneous.

Except that her spontaneity often got her in trouble. Kate didn’t always make the best decisions. Sometimes Jacob wondered if his little sister had a death wish or something. The bottom line was, if it was dangerous, Kate did it. Cave jumping. Hang gliding. Rock climbing.

After Gwen died, she promised she was done playing games that could put her life in jeopardy. If it weren’t for that promise, he’d still be worried sick about her.

Junie squealed. “Can we, Daddy?”

Jacob hardly remembered what they’d been talking about.

“I love pancakes,” Kelly said.

Kate shot her a look, and Jacob intervened before his sister could say anything. “Kelly, you should probably head out. You know I promised Junie no work on the weekends.”

Kelly laughed. “That’s a good one, Doc. You’re opening a new practice.”

“Right, but the work will still be there on Monday.” He took a few steps toward the front door, opened it, and waited for her to finally get the hint.

“Fine.” She picked up her bag and her purse. “Good to meet you, Kate.”

No response.

Kelly shrugged and started for the door, stopping in front of him. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

He chose not to interpret the message her eyes communicated.

“Talk Monday,” he said, stepping back.

Unfazed, she lingered for too long before finally walking outside. He shut the door and turned to find Kate glaring at him.

“What was
that
?”

“I told you. Not what you think.” He turned to Junie. “Now get dressed and we’ll go out for pancakes.”

Junie cheered. “Will you fix my hair, Aunt Kate?”

Kate held Jacob’s gaze for another long, disapproving moment before following Junie into her room. “I’m thinking pigtails, Moon.”

“I love pigtails! Daddy always does them lopsided.”

Jacob rubbed his temples, willing away the dull ache that had already set in. He quickly showered, shaved, and dressed, silently praying Kate would drop the Kelly topic and focus on Junie
 
—not him
 
—during breakfast.

He emerged from his room, thankful Kate was fixing Junie’s hair, though it did magnify his ineptitude at caring for the basic needs of his little girl. “You really need to get some groceries, Jacob,” Kate said as she finished wrapping a hair band around the end of Junie’s left braid. “Want me to hang around for a few days?”

“You don’t have to take pity on me, Katie.”

“I’m your sister. That’s what we do, Jakey.” She flashed a smile. “Besides, I kind of . . .” She looked away.

“What?”

Kate shook her head. “Never mind.” She squeezed Junie. “Let’s go, girl!”

“Kate.”

“Seriously, it’s nothing. Let’s get going before my stomach eats itself.”

There was no sense pushing her. Kate never did anything until she wanted to do it. She’d always been that way.

“You know you look like a vagabond.”

“And you know no one says
vagabond
anymore.” Kate popped a piece of gum in her mouth. “But I guess that’s what happens when you become an old man.”

He frowned, catching a glimpse of himself in the window as he locked the front door. He did, in fact, look older than his thirty-four years. Kate must’ve thought she hurt his feelings because she
clapped a hand on his shoulder and said, “You’ll get your mojo back.”

On the walk to the truck, as Junie chattered away to Kate, he inhaled and forced himself to count to five. To slow down and look around. From a distance, he bet his new house looked like something in a painting. Shake shingles on all sides. Smoke spilling out of the chimney on cold nights. The back porch faced the lake, giving him the most magnificent view of Longs Peak.

A dream come true, living like this, surrounded by nature, no neighbors for miles. It might as well have been another country. Yesterday he spotted an elk grazing in his backyard.

He never saw anything like that in the city.

It was nice that there wasn’t much in the way of medical competition here in Loves Park, of course, but that wasn’t why they’d moved here. Some days he questioned whether or not he should open up a practice at all. After what he and Junie had been through, he might be happier if he became a white-water rafting guide.

Of course, he’d visited Loves Park once before. That was before Junie, before a lot of things.

He could practically hear Gwen’s laughter echoing through the mountain air on mornings like this one. She had the most infectious laugh. He called it her reckless-abandon laugh because of the way she threw her head back and let loose. It was the best version of her, the best version of them. How he missed that.

Guilt tugged at his heart as he climbed into the driver’s seat.
For better or worse.
They’d had their share of the latter in more recent years, hadn’t they? He could’ve handled things so much differently. He glanced into the backseat at Junie, who had coaxed Kate into a loud rendition of “You Are My Sunshine.” For her sake, he should’ve handled things differently.

“Whatcha thinking about, Mr. Stick-in-the-Mud?” Kate tucked both of her feet beneath her on the seat.

“Thinking about what a loudmouth you are,” Jacob teased, pulling out of the driveway.

She stilled, attention focused on something out the window. “I am kind of obnoxious, aren’t I?”

He frowned. “That’s never bothered you before.”

She laughed, but something about her seemed . . . off.

He hated to admit he didn’t know what Kate had been doing the last year. Not really. Somewhere along the way, she’d stopped filling him in about her latest adventures. Or maybe he’d stopped asking.

At least she was in one piece
 
—that was a decent start after countless trips to the emergency room over the years.

The horses. The skydiving. The rappelling. She’d had more than her fair share of injuries, but she’d promised she was done with dangerous hobbies. Whatever was bothering her, it had to be something else. Maybe guy trouble?

Shoot. Maybe he didn’t want to know.

Jacob looked in the rearview mirror and found Junie flipping through one of the books that seemed to have a permanent home back there. “Why are you really here, Kate?”

“I don’t think you should be the one asking me questions, given what I walked in on this morning,” Kate said. Always changing the subject.

“You didn’t walk in on anything,” he assured her, knowing full well what it looked like.

“Are you two . . . ?” Kate also glanced at Junie, then back to him with a wide-eyed expression that filled in the blanks.

Jacob sighed. “Of course not.”

“Do you want to be?” Still the wide-eyed look.

“Kate.”

She held up her hands in surrender. “All I’m saying is, you better be careful around her. She’s obviously after you. And she doesn’t have business on her mind.”

“Pancakes!” Junie hollered from the backseat, pointing to her new favorite restaurant.

“‘Pamcakes’!” Kate corrected, reading the sign. “‘Sonny Pamcakes,’ no less.”

“They’re yummy, Aunt Kate. I’m getting mine with chocolate chips. Can I, Dad?” Junie unbuckled as Jacob found a place to park on the street outside the restaurant.

He glanced at Kate, who appeared to have completely recovered from whatever it was that was bothering her
 
—recovered enough to put all her focus back on him. He wouldn’t let her off the hook that easily, but maybe he’d save the interrogation for later, when Junie wasn’t around.

After breakfast, Kate wanted the grand tour of Old Town, and of course she asked to see his office.

“It’s just an empty building right now.”