Page 57 of The Library of Second Chances
“We got our first one not too long ago too. And I thought”—she swallowed hard, reminding herself of her no-hesitation vow—“what if two people started corresponding through the Little Free Library? You know, instead of meeting online or on social media or whatever, what if they somehow met through the Little Free Library?”
“Cute! I like it,” Carly gushed, her eyes shining as she smiled at Lucy, then at Logan, and back at Lucy again. “So they write notes inside the books or something like that?”
“Yeah. We do something like that here. There are index cards and pencils in the library, and people are encouraged to leave a note telling the next person why they might like the book. We all use monikers, and it’s become a bit of a game in town to try to figure out who’s leaving what. Last winter we were all convinced Bob, who owns the hardware store—total guy’s guy—was leaving all these romance novels in the library.”
“I have to admit, sometimes living in a small town wears on me,” Carly said. “But it’s stuff like this that reminds me how special it is to be part of a tight-knit community. This place is a lot like where we grew up, just with an ocean instead of pastures. Right, Logan?”
“I definitely prefer the ocean version.” His smile was tight, and a look passed between sister and brother that Lucy couldn’t quite decipher.
“Do your parents still run the farm?” Lucy asked Carly.
Another look—a darker one—passed between Carly and Logan, and Lucy worried she’d stumbled onto a sore subject.
Carly recovered first and gave Lucy a weak smile. “No, they’re retired now. Lucky for me, they live nearby and like to babysit.” She patted her daughter’s head. Alex was deep into reading her book about a young ballerina.
Lucy sensed she shouldn’t ask more about the farm, so she changed the subject just as their food arrived, asking Carly abouther husband, Nick, and how they met in high school. Lucy couldn’t help but be a little jealous that Carly had found love in her small town. Unfortunately, Lucy hadn’t dated much in high school, so there was no sweetheart to reunite with at a reunion. She’d just have to keep hoping she’d meet someone who came to town and fell in love with both her and Heron Isle. Was that really so much to ask?
Twenty-Two
Logan
“She isperfectfor you.” Carly sat on the porch swing and patted the seat next to her as Logan stepped out and closed the back door behind him. When he didn’t immediately respond, she grabbed his shoulders and shook them. “The woman is literally writing a book about you!”
The kids had been wiped out from their day in the sun and both had fallen asleep reading their new books. Carly had wanted to go outside so they could talk without waking the kids and listen to the sound of the waves.
Logan pinched the top of his nose. “What have I told you? I cannot get involved with Lucy Sullivan.” He took a drink from his water bottle. “Besides, she’d never see me like that. She thinks I’m a heartless bureaucrat here to destroy her town. Trust me, she doesnotwant me to be Gatsby’s Ghost.”
“Nope.” His sister’s tone was matter-of-fact. “I saw the way she looked at you. That is not a woman who hates you.”
“Well, I don’t think shehatesme anymore, but I’m definitely not her type.”
“And what do you think her type is?”
“The stable kind who stays in one place. Someone who loves this island as much as she does and who wants to raise a family here.”
“And you could never be that guy?” Carly raised an eyebrow, the lights from the house combining with the light of the full moon to bathe the back deck in a pale glow. “I saw the way you looked at that house today. Almost the same way you looked at her.”
Logan sighed. “You know how I feel about being stagnant. I don’t want to become the kind of person who gets set in my ways and resists change.”
Carly raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you already that guy? You’re stuck in a never-ending cycle of your own, and you’re refusing to believe change for you could be good.”
He’d never thought about it like that before. Just because he moved a lot didn’t mean he wasn’t set in his ways.
What would it be like to live somewhere like Heron Isle, restore an old house, settle down and start a family? Growing up, he’d sworn he’d never live in a small town again, but thirty-six-year-old Logan knew a lot that eighteen-year-old Logan had not. He’d thought the endless excitement of seeing new places, eating different things, and taking on new challenges would be all he’d ever need. But being here on Heron Isle had highlighted the importance of having people in his life he could count on and who really knew him. It was something he hadn’t realized was missing until he came here.
He let himself lean into the swing as he used his feet to begin rocking it back and forth. He’d always planned to advise the town to hire someone to manage the city-owned real estate and businesses on the waterfront. The last manager had retired andnever been replaced because they’d been waiting to see what sort of person they’d need to manage whatever project got through the town council. Logan was overqualified for the job, and they certainly couldn’t afford to pay him what he could make in Boston. He’d made smart investments, though, and he’d learned money was pretty useless if he didn’t have time or people to spend it on.
“You have to write her back.” Carly broke the silence. “Whether you decide to tell her it’s you or not, you can’t just leave her hanging like that. She’s too sweet. She doesn’t deserve it.”
She was right. Lucy had experienced enough pain in her life. He couldn’t be the source of more, at least not when it came to their pen-pal relationship. It was bad enough they might not ultimately agree on what happened with the waterfront.
“Yeah, I know.” He grabbed his water bottle. “I think I’m going to need something stronger.”
Logan went inside and poured a scotch for himself and a glass of wine for Carly, carried them outside, then went back in to grab a pad and pen. He sat at the small glass-top table on the deck and took a sip of his drink, the amber liquid burning its way down his throat.
“Okay, so what do I say?”
Carly got up from the swing and walked over to sit across from him. Folding a leg underneath her, she leaned her forearms on the table.
