Page 81 of Love Redesigned

“Well, what can I help you with?” Beth returns to her post behind the counter.

“I’m looking to check out some old newspaper clippings.”

Beth opens up a drawer and pulls out a set of keys. “Anything in particular you’re searching for?”

“Anything on the blue Founder’s house.”

“Oh.”

“You’ve heard about it?”

“You’d be hard-pressed to find someone who hasn’t.” She holds out the key ring for me. “Clippings should be organized in chronological order based on year, and the projector is located in the room beside the bathroom if you need it.”

“Thank you!” I snatch the keys.

“Library closes in an hour,” she adds.

“You got it!” I head toward the filing cabinets at the back.

Julian remains quiet as I sift through the first drawer ofWisteria Weeklynewspapers dating back to when the town was founded in the late 1890s. I scan the headlines, searching for any information that might be helpful.

My eyes blur after the first fifty clippings. At this painstakingly slow rate, I’m only going to make it through four years ofWisteria Weekliesbefore the library closes.

The incessant tapping of Julian’s fingers against the screen of his phone doesn’t help matters, and I find myself scowling at him.

“I know it’s a hard ask, but will you at leasttryto make yourself useful?”

“You didn’t ask.”

Who is he to talk?I’m pretty sure if Julian were on fire, he would do everything possible to put himself out before asking anyone for help because he isthatstubborn.

Doesn’t mean you have to be.“Will youpleasehelp me?”

“I love it when you sayplease.” His deep baritone voice does things to my lower half that should be deemed illegal.

I shut the drawer hard enough to make the cabinet shake. “Asshole.”

“Sweetheart.” He throws the old nickname in my face. Once upon a time, back when I won a beauty pageant after he bet I couldn’t place in the top three,sweetheartwas Julian’s favorite nickname for me.

He hasn’t called me that since college, right after he kissed me senseless.

A kiss he regretted instantly.

Screw him.

I tug open the first drawer within grabbing distance and point at the file in front. “Scan the pages for anything related to the house, Gerald Baker, or someone named Francesca.”

“I think I found something.” Julian’s eyes flick over the clipping in his hand.

“What?” After thirty minutes of scanning newspapers, I can’t contain the excitement in my voice.

“Follow me.” Julian leads us toward a nearby table.

He pulls my chair out and waits. I slide in, and the tips of his fingers brush across my shoulder blades as he pushes me closer to the table. Thankfully, my harsh inhale isn’t heard over the scraping of the chair legs against the floor.

Julian’s arm brushes up against mine as he points to the headline. My body leans into his touch before I snap out of whatever spell he has me under.

“Gerald died before the house was fully completed.”

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