Page 10 of The Bookbinder's Guide to Love

“She already called the church and will be attending the funeral.”

“For fuck’s sake, you told her she couldn’t.”

In retrospect, probably not his best idea. “Was there a reason for this call?”

“Just checking on you. You and Grandpawereclose for a while,” Oz said.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Sure you are. I had my assistant get in touch with the funeral home. We need to send a suit over for Grandpa to be buried in.”

“I’ll do that. I’m sticking around Birch Lake.”

“For how long?”

“For as long as it takes,” he said.

“What about your business?”

“It’s fine. The auction house is online and I source books from estate sales. Since when are you a mother hen?”

The wind gusted around him and he hurried his pace toward his car.

“Since you started sending letters on our letterhead,” Oz said, pausing. “Be careful.”

“Sure.” Borrowing Serafina’s word.

“That means what, exactly?”

“It’s deliberately vague, Oz—take the hint.”

There was silence on the line.

“So is that good or bad?” Oz asked.

“Depends on how you look at it. I’m not sure about Ms. Conte,” he told Oz.

“What about her?”

Wes remembered the way she’d looked when she spoke of Ford. There had been affection on her face, so there was clearly something between the pair of them. But what?

In a way, Sera was like an old book he’d found in a box tucked in an attic somewhere. Her cover was obscured, hiding who she was. But he would use patience and skill and coax the truth from her. Repairing cracks, discovering what was hidden within her pages.

“Why Grandpa gave her one box of books. She owns a bookshop, but there’s something more to it,” Wes said.

“Maybe he did it to piss you off,” Oz said.

“There’s a good chance of that,” Wes agreed. He could feel his defenses going up and needed to end this before Oz reopened old wounds. “Bye.”

He disconnected the phone, shoving it into his pocket. This wasn’t just about books.

He’d come in hot and hard for Serafina but had backed down when he’d seen her reaction. She wasn’t going to give in to him. He needed to do this differently. Shove his wounded pride out of the picture. But that had never been easy. He’d have to show her he wasn’t the dick he’d been in her store.

She was going to take a lot of persuasion.

He drove to Grandpa’s house on the outskirts of town. In its heyday, the big Victorian mansion had no doubt been splendid, but the decades had taken their toll and it looked worn and tired. Maybe he’d do something about the house while he was in town.

Wes parked in the circle drive. He still had a key to the house on his key ring, even though he’d been stubborn about coming back. He unlocked the door, and as he stepped inside he was hit with the smell of dusty old books. Which reminded him of his grandpa.

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