Page 34 of Roses for Rosie

I head back up the elevator giddy with my escape and thrilled with the thought of talking to Rosie instead. I drop my suit coat on the bed and find Rosie in my contacts list before the door has even swung shut behind me.

Two rings later I hear her voice. “Adam?” she says. “What’s wrong?”

“Hey, Rosie. Nothing’s wrong. Can’t I call my favorite girl just to say hi.”

“Of course. It’s just that people don’t usually call just to say hi at 1AM.”

“No, it’s only ten.”

“Adam, what time zone are you in?”

“Oh shit, Rosie. I forgot about the time difference. I’m so sorry. Did I wake you?”

“Yes, but it’s OK. It’s good to hear your voice. Thanks for the flowers.”

“I hoped you would like them.”

“How could I not? They were perfect. I snuck them past my father and put them on my dresser so I can smell them all night and dream of you.”

“It’s true you know, what I wrote on that card. But that’s only the beginning. I’m going to do so much more than kiss you.”

“I miss you too,” she stammers, dodging my comment.

“So what’s up in Jamesville? How are things at Nooks and Books? Is your dad treating you okay?”

“You’re the one out on tour doing interesting things with amazing people. You should be telling me stories, not the other way around.” She laughs.

“I suppose it does sound pretty exciting and glamorous when you put it that way.”

“To say the least. But if you really want to know what’s happening here, we just got a huge shipment of books yesterday. You remember the storeroom?”

I laugh. “I remember a thing or two about the storeroom,” I reply in a sultry tone. I can feel the heat of her blush through the phone and I grin. Talking to Rosie was exactly what I needed to feel better.

She clears her throat, “Well, anyway, it’s even fuller now than it was when you were here. I literally can’t walk three feet inside the door without running into a solid wall of books. It’s going to take us weeks to dig our way through all the treasures in those boxes. I can’t wait to see what we got.

“I love new releases as much as the next person, but the used books are my favorite. I like to imagine who owned them before and wonder if they enjoyed them. Sometimes you can tell for sure because the book is so worn, it’s clear that someone read it over and over or liked it enough to lend it to their friends. But other books look like they are brand new. Those are the books I put in the endcap displays, hoping they will find their next home with someone who will love them properly.”

I let her ramble on about her books, loving the sound of her voice and the passion she has for books and for what she does. She is so much more real than anyone at that party tonight. An hour flies by as we catch up on everything and nothing. I could talk to her all night but eventually I insist we hang up so she can get some sleep. I know exactly what I’m going to dream about tonight.

Chapter 17

Rosie

The next day is quiet at Nooks and Books. I am attempting to find space on the shelves to display some of the books in the storeroom. My goal is to make a circular path through the room with books stacked against the walls and in the middle of the room inside the circle. This will theoretically allow me to access every box remaining in the room.

I have my work cut out for me, but I am flying from my most recent call with Adam. I can’t believe he skipped out on a big party just to go back to his room and call me. My father is dead wrong. Adam isn’t just using me; it wasn’t just one night. He is really interested in me.

I hug myself in wonder that I finally found the man who fits with me. And he’s not afraid of my father. Not to mention he’s rich, and famous, and a hopeless romantic, and a great kisser.

I daydream my way back to the storeroom for another box of books, thinking about when I might see Adam next. He said he would be gone for three weeks, that was last Saturday. I start counting out the days mentally.

As I exit the storeroom with my next load of books, I hear the bell over the front door chime. It looks like I have a customer. I set the boxes down on the checkout counter on my way into the public space and go to greet my guest.

Only it isn’t a customer who wants to buy a book who has entered the store. It is a man I’ve never seen before, carrying a garment bag and an envelope. He must be from out of town. Sometimes people get lost on their way back to the city and end up here for directions. We are a little bit out of town and closer to the highway than anyone else is.

“Welcome to Nooks and Books. Can I help you?” I ask.

“Are you,” he consults the envelope, “Rosie Hall?”

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