Page 8 of A Late-Blooming Rose
After that would come a bigger task—boxing up the rest of the books. As much as her heart criedsacrilege, Rose would have to sell the majority of Marty’s library, for she doubted she’d have space in her new lodgings to store the volumes. Even with selecting her favorites, she’d barely have space to move around her room, for books and furniture would overwhelm the narrow pathways.
She inhaled a shaky breath. Today the familiar smell of musty books didn’t bring her comfort.
“Aunt Rose?” the voice of her great-niece echoed down the hallway. “Where are you?”
“In the library.” She stood, placing her hands on the small of her back and stretching before hastening to greet Cora.
The girl bounded through the doorway with far from ladylike energy and gave her an exuberant hug. Cora looked like a prettier version of Rose in her youth—far more animation, no glasses, and no shyness. Too bad her stepmother dressed Cora in plain, unbecoming browns and grays, worn so often they appeared shabby.
Cora flung out her arms. “It’s so dreary here without Grandpapa. How can you stand it?”
“I know, darling, but because I must. These books won’t sort and pack themselves.”
“I hate that Papa is selling this house.” Cora stepped around her, and her gaze wandered over the partially empty shelves and stacks on the floor. She touched the oval gold locket she always wore. “You’ll be at this for days.”
“Now that you’re here, can you make yourself useful and help me locate these two?” Rose extended the list. “Or is there another reason you’ve dropped by, oh niece of mine?”
“Another reason.” Cora held up a letter. “I saw the mail arrived, so I picked this up rather than allowing the envelope to stay on the floor and be stepped on. It’s for you. Why don’t you read the letter while I look for these books? Then we’ll talk.” She reached out, deftly swapped the envelope for the list, and moved toward the shelves.
Rose turned over the letter to read the address, and her heartbeat sped up.Andre’s handwriting.With a grimace at the envelope, she sank onto the stool.Why can’t I get away from reminders of the man?
She didn’t bother to be neat, instead tearing open the envelope and pulling out the single page. Two small rectangles fell into her lap, and she picked one up to see it was a train ticket.
What in the world?She frowned and read the letter.
Dear Rose,
Although I was expecting the news, reading of Marty’s death brought me great sorrow. He was a good man, your brother, a steadfast friend, a loving family man. I know you will miss his presence. From this distance, I, at least, have the luxury of pretending he’s alive in his beloved library. I know you’re not allowed that illusion but must deal with the painful realities.
She sniffed back sudden tears, not liking how his understanding words affected her.
I’m not sure if you know that before his death, your brother expressed concern about what would befall you when he passed. You’ve selflessly given up your employment and your livelihood to nurse Marty until the end, thus putting your own financial future in jeopardy.
A stab of anger dried her incipient tears.How dare Marty share my personal business with Andre Bellaire!But just as quickly came guilt.He was dying and meant the best for me.
Still, she couldn’t quite banish her ire at the two men trying to manage her life.I can take care of myself!With a sniff of annoyance, she continued reading.
I know in the past, I’ve given you reason to distrust my intentions, a regret I’ve carried all these years. I cannot make up for the pain I caused you, but I can certainly ease your future.
Both to relieve Marty’s mind and to make sure you and Cora were taken care of, I promised him I’d invite you both to Sweetwater Springs. I’d like to offer you the position as the librarian of our new town library. We need an expert to take on the task of obtaining and cataloguing the books, as well as overseeing the needs of the patrons.
You and Cora are welcome to live with me and my family. My home is large, and there’s plenty of space. You’ll have your own rooms and privacy, and my family will make you both welcome.
Or, if you’d prefer, there are reputable lodgings in town where you can board.
“Absolutely not!” Rose dropped the letter into her lap.
Cora looked up from a book she was paging through. “Absolutely not, what?”
“I have no intention of moving to Sweetwater Springs, living withthatman, being beholden,dependentonhim. To—”
Cora crinkled her forehead. “What man?” She lifted both hands, palms out, fingers wide. “Wait, Sweetwater Springs. Mr. Bellaire lives there.”
“Yes, and he has…has—” Rose had to pull in a deep breath to speak “—theaffrontyto invite me to live with him.”
“I don’t think affronty is a word,” Cora said in a matter-of-fact tone, belied by the twinkle in her eyes.
“Well it feels like it should be,” Rose muttered, feeling younger than her niece.Who’s the librarian here?“Ef-fron-te-ry.” She sounded out each syllable to pronounce the word correctly.
