Page 20 of Monster Among the Roses (Fairy Tale Quartet 1)

I liked the Chronicles of Pern better.

I’m not sure why that caused me to laugh, but I threw my head back and shouted with glee. It was just…the words sounded so much like her: negative, haughty, and straight to the point. Plus, it meant she’d actually read the book.

In truth, it wouldn’t have mattered what she’d written in her note; the fact that she’d taken the time to read the book and then write anything at all was what made my day. Isobel was communicating with me again. And she’d treated the book as if I

’d lent it to her, which hadn’t been my intent, but knowing that felt better than her purposely returning what she thought was a gift from me.

Feeling brighter and lighter, I took her note, crossed out her pessimistic words and decided I had to write something extra cheerful and positive, just to piss her off. So I flipped the sheet over and began to scribble:

Thank you for the loan of Eragon. Your generosity is inspiring and makes me wish I could be more like you. The book was amazing, by the way. I am already enjoying the Inheritance Cycle more than the Chronicles of Pern, so much so that I gotta know what happens next. Most Gratefully–Shaw

All that optimism would probably sour her mood like a tart lemon, which made mine even more buoyant. I hummed to myself as I left the library and found something to do. I managed to keep busy the rest of the morning, or rather Constance and Lewis kept me busy, and even Mrs. Pan had me opening jars for her or reaching up onto high shelves to fetch appliances. The staff seemed to appreciate my presence, even though anyone by the name of Nash, not so much. But that was okay; Isobel had written to me. Life was better than it’d been the day before.

I returned to the library later in the afternoon, only to find book two of the Inheritance series waiting on me in what had become our spot. No note sat with it, but a smile spread across my face, anyway. It wasn’t an official sign of forgiveness, but she was interacting with me. My bones loosened at the joints, and I finally relaxed.

I whistled as I strolled home that evening.

It took me until Wednesday evening to finish Eldest. After I returned it to our spot Thursday morning, book three was waiting for me by the time I left work. But this one—this one!—had a note with it.

I think this was supposed to be the last book, but the author split the story in two (and then he’s supposed to write a fifth, I believe). I was happy when he made this one into two. I didn't want the series to end yet.

Blinking, I read and re-read the words over and over again, unable to believe my eyes. But…but…Isobel had been…she’d been so positive. A sudden smile lit my face. Did this mean she’d forgiven me, was ready to talk to me again?

That night, I read until almost dawn. But I couldn’t get all the way through Brisingr. When I hurried into work on Friday, Isobel still wasn’t in the library, or anywhere else, but that was okay. Our couch communication was turning out to be the highlight of my day. I think it was just as thrilling to receive something from her in our spot as it would’ve been to talk face-to-face to her. So I jotted out a quick note:

I’m on page 458. I hope Murtagh is good. I like him.

When I returned at noon, a new piece of paper was waiting for me.

Want me to tell you?

I grinned and wrote out my answer directly under hers.

Good God, NO!

When I checked the library at the end of the day, she’d answered.

LOL. Okay, then. My lips are sealed.

A laugh. Holy shit. I’d gotten her to laugh. On paper, but still. I felt like I was the king of the world. I strolled out of the library with what felt like a manly strut and was almost all the way home before I realized I hadn’t written anything back to her!

Oh, shit.

My step faltered and smile dropped. The urge to turn right back around and walk another hour back to her house to answer her mounted, but I’d be back in the morning. That would be soon enough, and besides, it’d give me all evening to think up the perfect reply.

I planned to go straight to the library on Saturday, except Mr. Nash was waiting for me in the salon when I entered through the back door. I was surprised to see him. I hadn’t seen him since that first day. But then, he probably worked at his office in town most of the time, and since it was Saturday, he was probably off work.

“Can I have a word with you?” he clipped out, not sounding very pleased.

Startled by his tone, I nodded immediately. “Of course.”

I followed him to his office, feeling like a scolded schoolboy being sent to the principal and not even sure why.

He stood at the door, holding it open as I passed him to enter his office. Then he calmly closed it before turning to me and hissing, “What the hell is going on, Hollander? I swear she’s become more of a hermit than she was before.”

I blinked at him, stunned. But how the hell had he known she’d been avoiding me?

He lifted an eyebrow. “Constance says she stays out of sight while you’re here.”

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