Page 46 of In This Moment

His gaze took in the floor-to-ceiling shelves flanking both walls, the chandelier, and the loft before he crossed his arms. “It’s bigger than it looks from the outside.”

She supposed it did, but the library had been emptied of furniture and books, which could affect first appearances. “We’re adding an addition to the back wall there,” she pointed, “which will help with space. Upstairs will be a bookstore, while down here will stay a library.”

He bumped his chin in approval. “Great plan. There’re only a couple places in town that sell books, and one of them caters specifically to rare titles. The other isn’t exclusively books.”

Their thinking exactly. She smiled. “We’ll sell mostly newer fiction in specific genres. We’ll also have an Indie book section.”

Head back, he kept his gaze everywhere at once. “Amazing building. Seriously amazing. I can understand why the Society was supervising and worried about changes. You just don’t find places like this anymore.”

How he spoke her language was sexy.

They walked the perimeter, and she gave him highlights of memories with her besties.

Shoving his hands in his back pockets, he grunted. “Is that why they left you three the library? All the time you spent here?”

“Partly.” She tilted her head. “When we were in eighth grade, Miss Fillmore was our favorite teacher. She was kinda shy, but she really understood us on a level better than most adults. She encouraged and bolstered us. We wanted her to be happy. Of course, being teenage girls, we first jumped to romance by way of a thank-you. Mr. Brown was awkward in an endearing way. He talked to us like our opinions mattered and tolerated us hanging around. We set them up on a date one spring, and they got married not long afterward. A match made in heaven. Or, in a library.”

She sighed, suddenly feeling whimsical. Whether the location or the memories, she didn’t care. “Through the years, he tried so hard to save this place. Once, he told us it was like putting a bandage on an amputation. He was the last living Vallantine descendant. You could tell he was torn between familial obligation and the desire to live his life. I think he just hit his breaking point one day. The next thing we know, Dorothy’s meeting with Gunner Davis for the deed, Mr. and Mrs. Brown had sold their house, and they’d left Vallantine to roam the country in an RV. I learned via Zoom while in Boston.”

Brows raised, he shook his head. “That’s insane, and one helluva story.”

“It is, and all true.” She shrugged. “Their letter said we helped them find love and that no one would love this place better than us. Now, it’s ours,” she whispered, hardly believing it herself. “We’d had such foolish, idle dreams as girls. This was one dream we never expected to come true.”

“I don’t know the Browns, but just listening to you tells me they did the right thing.”

She closed her lids to the sudden emotion, her throat tight, eyes damp. Somehow, she’d needed to hear that, and not from townsfolk invested in the library’s history or waiting for an outcome. Graham hadn’t grown up here. His opinion wasn’t swayed by sentimentality. Without realizing it, he’d said the solitary thing she’d somehow been waiting for in order to accept the gift she and her besties had been given. Though happy, a strange sort of remorse had surrounded the whole affair, but that guilt no longer sat on her chest.

Turning away from him, she pretended to examine the circular stairs to the loft and cleared her throat. After blowing out a watery breath, she smiled. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

If he’d noticed her struggle to wrangle her emotions, he didn’t point it out, and she was immensely grateful. She’d always been uncomfortable showing a tender side to the world. Even Scarlett and Dorothy hadn’t been privy to a lot of her moods, and they would never judge.

“How true are the rumors of haunting?”

Hand to her forehead, she laughed. He didn’t seem the type to believe in the paranormal, which made his question funnier. In fact, he’d outright said as much a few days prior.

“I think the rumor started with our parents’ generation. Though, to hear Gunner Davis tell the tale, it had been going on long before.” Using her arms as leverage, she set her hands on the center counter and hoisted herself onto the edge, letting her legs dangle. “Stories about Katherine Vallantine aren’t typical ghost lore. More like they’re wrapped in a flowery fanciful myth.”

“How so?” Intently watching, clearly interested, he leaned against one of the empty bookcases.

“Well, take Miss Katie, for instance. The peach tree at the center of town supposedly grants wishes. It was the first in town to be planted, and all because she loved the fruit. William and Katherine had an epic love story. Seriously, it was one for the ages. In a time when women had few rights or zero control, her husband’s motive for all he said and did revolved around her. It’s as romantic as their death was tragic. The pieces of their life they’d left behind serve as a reminder of that love.”

A sly smile. “And does Miss Katie actually grant wishes?”

They’d had this conversation a couple days ago, too, but he seemed more open-minded today.

She thought about all the instances where she’d visited the tree as a girl. “I don’t know. It hasn’t in my case.” Not yet, anyway.

A grunt, and he bumped his chin toward her. “And the library?”

“It was built by William for Katherine because she loved books. It survived the hurricane that killed them.” She shrugged because he knew that. “She doesn’t roam about scaring people or show herself at all. The legend is that she assists all who enter seeking knowledge. I’m unsure how true that part is, but I know when Sheldon and Rosemary Brown were holed up here during another hurricane, back before they were married, they’d fallen asleep on a couch. When they woke, Katherine Vallantine’s journal was on the floor in front of them. It had been on the top shelf,” she pointed to the twenty-foot shelving unit, “and hadn’t been seen since Sheldon’s grandfather ran the library. Oddly enough, Sheldon had mentioned the diary while talking about the building’s history to calm Rosemary down over the storm.”

“Huh.” He scratched his chin. “Neat story, if it’s true.”

“Have you heard about that online challenge going around? While on a date, you relay one truth, one lie, and something you wish were truth or lie?”

“Yeah.” He crossed his arms. “Instagram or something, right? A way to get to know your partner better.”

---