roses, fading now, scrambled over a broad arch. He could only see partway up the brick walk, which led between tangles of asters and other flowers he didn’t know to the porch steps. He did recognize the hollyhocks leaning drunkenly against the clapboard wall of the house. His grandmother had grown ones just like them.
Gravel crunched as he turned the Lexus into the driveway and joined one other car in the slot. Business didn’t appear to be booming, or, come to think of it, most shoppers probably came on foot.
Ignoring the dread that sat like a heavy meal in his belly, he turned off the engine. "Hey, Rosebud, we’re here."
She rubbed her eyes and swiveled her head. "Where’s the beach? Is there sand?"
"I bet we can find some. In a few minutes. This is where my friend lives. She owns a bookstore."
"Oh." Rose momentarily gazed at the garden. "There’s Tigger."
She was right. A garden statue of Pooh Bear’s buddy Tigger looked ready to bound over a cluster of pansies.
"Hey, maybe Pooh’s there, too."
She began to struggle. "I want to get out! I want to see!"
"Hold your bouquet, kiddo!"
He went around the car, aware of the house behind him and the small-paned windows. Was she looking out, even now? He was unsettled to realize that the she he imagined with such disquiet wasn’t Shelly.
Well, that was natural, Adam told himself as he unbuckled his daughter. Lynn Chanak was the one who shared his emotional turmoil. The one who understood, the one who might turn out to be an enemy. He and she—Adam made a sound in his throat that brought a single curious glance from Rose before she scrambled under his arm and out of the car. His mouth twisted. He and Lynn Chanak were going to have one strange relationship.
Rose was quivering with eagerness, taking everything in, but she waited for him as she knew to do in a parking lot. When he slammed the car door, she snatched his hand. "Come on, Daddy."
A touch on Tigger’s rough, concrete head, and Rose tugged her father under a second white-painted arch thick with huge blue saucer-shaped flowers—clematis?—and into the small front garden.
In its heart was a tiny brick-paved courtyard with a birdbath, a garden seat and Pooh Bear peeking shyly from a tangle of another bluish-purple-flowered perennial Adam didn’t recognize. Rose squatted in front of Pooh.
Maintaining this garden must take time, but it was very fine marketing, Adam decided. Any passerby would be seduced into stepping beneath the rose arch. Once that far, why not go in? The mood was set, the imagination captured. Lynn Chanak was a smart woman. It was a shame the store wasn’t on the main drag.
"Let’s go in," he said, suddenly impatient to have the first meeting over. Shelly would just be another little girl; he wouldn’t feel anything but a sense of obligation and perhaps regret. Maybe he and Ms. Chanak would agree to leave things as they were. Stay in touch. He’d help out if she needed it. With her ex out of the picture, she wouldn’t be able to put Shelly through college on the income from a bookstore, for example.
Someday Jennifer’s parents would have to meet Shelly, he remembered with a frown. But he could explain, refuse to tell them where she was.
"I like books," Rosebud told him slyly as they started up the steps. "I’m tired of all the ones I have."
Adam’s mood lightened, even as that lump stayed, grew, in his stomach. "Then pick out a couple of new ones before we go to the beach. They’ll give us something to remember the day by."
"Is...Shelly nice?" She stumbled over the name, although she’d asked the same question half-a-dozen times. "Will she like me?"
"What’s not to like?" He scooped her up and settled her on his hip, liking the idea of walking in the door with her plainly claimed. Mine. "And I’ve never met Shelly."
A bell rang when he opened the door to a room filled with warmth and clutter and bright colors: a bookstore the way they were meant to be. Dark wood
Gravel crunched as he turned the Lexus into the driveway and joined one other car in the slot. Business didn’t appear to be booming, or, come to think of it, most shoppers probably came on foot.
Ignoring the dread that sat like a heavy meal in his belly, he turned off the engine. "Hey, Rosebud, we’re here."
She rubbed her eyes and swiveled her head. "Where’s the beach? Is there sand?"
"I bet we can find some. In a few minutes. This is where my friend lives. She owns a bookstore."
"Oh." Rose momentarily gazed at the garden. "There’s Tigger."
She was right. A garden statue of Pooh Bear’s buddy Tigger looked ready to bound over a cluster of pansies.
"Hey, maybe Pooh’s there, too."
She began to struggle. "I want to get out! I want to see!"
"Hold your bouquet, kiddo!"
He went around the car, aware of the house behind him and the small-paned windows. Was she looking out, even now? He was unsettled to realize that the she he imagined with such disquiet wasn’t Shelly.
Well, that was natural, Adam told himself as he unbuckled his daughter. Lynn Chanak was the one who shared his emotional turmoil. The one who understood, the one who might turn out to be an enemy. He and she—Adam made a sound in his throat that brought a single curious glance from Rose before she scrambled under his arm and out of the car. His mouth twisted. He and Lynn Chanak were going to have one strange relationship.
Rose was quivering with eagerness, taking everything in, but she waited for him as she knew to do in a parking lot. When he slammed the car door, she snatched his hand. "Come on, Daddy."
A touch on Tigger’s rough, concrete head, and Rose tugged her father under a second white-painted arch thick with huge blue saucer-shaped flowers—clematis?—and into the small front garden.
In its heart was a tiny brick-paved courtyard with a birdbath, a garden seat and Pooh Bear peeking shyly from a tangle of another bluish-purple-flowered perennial Adam didn’t recognize. Rose squatted in front of Pooh.
Maintaining this garden must take time, but it was very fine marketing, Adam decided. Any passerby would be seduced into stepping beneath the rose arch. Once that far, why not go in? The mood was set, the imagination captured. Lynn Chanak was a smart woman. It was a shame the store wasn’t on the main drag.
"Let’s go in," he said, suddenly impatient to have the first meeting over. Shelly would just be another little girl; he wouldn’t feel anything but a sense of obligation and perhaps regret. Maybe he and Ms. Chanak would agree to leave things as they were. Stay in touch. He’d help out if she needed it. With her ex out of the picture, she wouldn’t be able to put Shelly through college on the income from a bookstore, for example.
Someday Jennifer’s parents would have to meet Shelly, he remembered with a frown. But he could explain, refuse to tell them where she was.
"I like books," Rosebud told him slyly as they started up the steps. "I’m tired of all the ones I have."
Adam’s mood lightened, even as that lump stayed, grew, in his stomach. "Then pick out a couple of new ones before we go to the beach. They’ll give us something to remember the day by."
"Is...Shelly nice?" She stumbled over the name, although she’d asked the same question half-a-dozen times. "Will she like me?"
"What’s not to like?" He scooped her up and settled her on his hip, liking the idea of walking in the door with her plainly claimed. Mine. "And I’ve never met Shelly."
A bell rang when he opened the door to a room filled with warmth and clutter and bright colors: a bookstore the way they were meant to be. Dark wood
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