Cat gave her a weak smile. “I’m sorry, I needed a breather.”
“Where’s Eliza?”
Cat sighed. “I believe she is with her duke.”
“What?” Jill said. “That guy’s name was Duke? What a bizarre name.”
“No. It’s Deveric.”
“Oh, I thought you said Duke. Deveric is even weirder.” Jill stuck her hands on her hips, tilting her head as she watched Cat. “I didn’t know she knew anybody like that. He was something else, wasn’t he? Not as good-looking as that Grayson guy, though.”
Cat just nodded.
“Are you coming back out? You’d better grab a glass of champagne before it’s all gone.”
“I guess. You go ahead. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Sure, no prob.”
As Jill exited, Cat closed the door to the storeroom and leaned against it. Tears spilled down her cheeks. She couldn’t believe it had worked. Her best friend was gone. Truly gone.
Her heart lurched at this new reality. Things would never be the same. And as happy as she was for her friend, grief, big and black, gnawed at her edges.
Cheering from the main room intruded, reminding her she had a store full of guests just a few feet away. Tomorrow she could bury herself and hide away, but tonight she still had hosting duties to perform.
She pasted a smile on her face as she wiped away her tears, readying herself to return to the party. With a final glance around, she said a quick prayer for her friend. “Godspeed, dearest Eliza. May you get the happily-ever-after you’ve always wanted.”
Chapter 26
A few days later, Cat sat in the coffee shop alone, staring morosely into her cup of coffee. She took a sip, watching traffic creep by outside, edging through the snow that had fallen the night before. She pushed the hair out of her eyes, determined not to let the tears that threatened fall.
Whenever the door jangled, she looked up, hoping Ben would walk through. She’d emailed him one more time last night, deciding looking desperate was better than never having any answers.
Eliza had reassured her on the morning of the ball that Ben would return, and that it would all work out. “I know how interested he was in you, Cat. Seriously interested. There must be a good explanation for his silence.”
“Yeah, like the fact that I got him to cheat on his girlfriend? Or maybe that he never wanted to kiss me to begin with, despite your claims to the contrary?”
“Ever the pessimist, darling. Ever the pessimist.”
Cat had grumbled at that. “I wish I’d never found that manuscript, Eliza. I wish my mom had never sent it to me.”
“Truly?”
“What good has it done? I was perfectly happy without a man. Any man. And now? Now I’ve had a one-night stand. That’s so not who I am, Lizzie. Now I’ve found the perfect Prince Charming, but I’ve acted more like the wicked stepmother than Cinderella in stringing him along. And now, maybe because of all of that, because of all of those other men, I’ve lost my chance with Ben Cooper, who seems like a genuinely good guy, one who might have been Mr. Right.”
“Scratch the might-have-been, missy.” Eliza had tapped her on the head with the fan she’d been fiddling with. “Besides, do you think if you hadn’t found the manuscript, and learned what it meant, that’d you’d have been anywhere close to being open to something with Ben?”
Cat frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, come on. You saw him that morning in the coffee shop, the morning you said you found the book, and immediately rejected him out of hand. I remember.”
“He was with a woman.”
“That wasn’t the reason, and you know it.” Eliza walked over and sat down by her friend, who was slumped despondently on the sofa. “I think you owe everything to that manuscript.”
Cat’s snarl had given her opinion of that statement.
“No, really,” Eliza had insisted. “You said it sent some sort of spark through you—that it woke you up. Remember how surprised I was that you agreed to go out with Derrick? I think we can thank the book for that. And if you hadn’t gone out with him, and Grayson, and William, you wouldn’t know what you weren’t looking for. The book led you here, to this point.”
“What point is that? Misery Lane?”
“No. To knowing that, for you, what is real is more important than any fantasy. And to being open enough to risk getting hurt in the pursuit of that.” She hugged Cat. “You’re not hiding anymore, Cat. And neither am I.”
Cat had given a bitter laugh. It had rather felt as if she were hiding, sitting on that old sofa in their apartment.
She looked around the coffee shop again. Eliza had been right. She wasn’t satisfied anymore with the same old day-in, day-out, lonely grind of the bookstore. She wanted more. Thank you, Eliza. And thank you, Dad.
Cat closed her eyes and listened to the steady hum of activity around her. She worried about Eliza, hoping that all had gone as—well, as written—but wondering if it were possible that something had gone awry. The worst part was that she’d never know. She didn’t even know if she should file a missing persons report, because what would she say? Woman disappeared with strange man, who may or may not have been from another century?
And truth be told, she was lonely. Desperately lonely. It was clear now how much she had used Eliza to fill the gaping holes in her life. Maybe that’s why Eliza had stuck so close to her for so long, because her friend knew she was only living half a life and needed someone there to push her, to get her to move beyond books, beyond the store and start living again.
She pulled out her cell phone and dialed her mom’s number. Maybe she should give up the store’s ghost and move to Ohio. There wasn’t much holding her here, especially now that Eliza was gone and Ben Cooper had disappeared off the face of the Earth.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Mom, it’s Cat.”
“Oh, hi, Catherine. It’s so nice to hear from you. Everything okay?”
“Yes, Mom, fine,” she lied. “I just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing. How’s the leg?”
“Much better. And though it hurts like the Dickens, I’m starting to be able to bear a little weight on my arm, like the physical therapist wants me to.”
“I’m so glad, Mom.”
“Are you coming to visit soon? We missed you so much at Christmas, but I was glad to hear the store was busy. I’ve assumed you’re making your yearly January sojourn here, but I haven’t heard you mention it.”
“I don’t know,” Cat said. “Eliza is, um, visiting a friend in England and may be gone for a while, so I have no one to watch the store for me. Emily’s back in school, and I wouldn’t expect her to work full days, anyway.”
“Oh.” There was a brief pause. “You could ask that nice William fellow to help out, like he did last time.”
Cat pinched her eyes shut.
“Seems to me he’d be happy if you did. I think he is fond of you, Catherine.”
“Uh, yeah, I guess he is, Mom. But I’m not interested.” Cat winced. She knew what was coming next.
Her mother sighed. “I just want to see you happy, Catherine. That’s all.”
“I know, Mom, I know. I’m working on it. I promise.”
Cat ran her fingers through her hair as she thought of the kiss she’d shared with Ben. If only she could write it so that he’d at least come and talk to her.
Except that was exactly what she didn’t want. Oh, she wanted to talk to him, but it had to be of his own free will. She didn’t mind setting up other people’s love stories, but she had to know for herself that she was wanted for who she was, not because she’d created someone to want her. At least in Deveric and Eliza’s story, she’d managed to sketch it out so that they both had a choice.
She turned her attention back to the phone. Her mom was still talking.
“ ... and Marie says he’s a nice fellow. Divorced, so who knows the story there, but he has a darling little girl who’s about four. And h
e attends the same church as Marie and I do. Let me know if you’d like to meet him.”
“In Ohio?”
“Well, yes.” He mother gave an irritated snort. “You could always open a bookstore here in Columbus, you know. At least you’d be around family.”
“Thanks, Mom. If and when I ever decide to ditch the Treasure Trove, you’ll be the first to know.”
Grace sighed in resignation. “But it’s not yet, is it?”
“Nope. Not yet. Bye, Mom, I gotta go. It’s almost time to open the store.”
“Bye, honey. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Cat sat for a while longer, rubbing her thumb along the edge of the phone, mulling over her choices. She hoped William would call her back. It wasn’t fair to have him think she was an option when she knew he wasn’t the one she truly wanted.
Anxiety curled up her spine and down through her fingers over the potential repercussions of giving up someone who offered her the safety and security she’d always craved. But she wanted more now. She didn’t want the fantasy. She wanted something less certain, more challenging. She wanted something real.
She wanted Ben Cooper.
Later that afternoon, as she busied herself working on paperwork for tax season, the door jingled. She looked up to see the UPS deliveryman wheeling in a large box on his dolly.
“Do you want it over here?” he asked, pointing to his usual delivery spot in the front room.
“Actually, I’d like you to put it in the back storage room if you don’t mind.”
Cat didn’t know why she wanted it away from view, but something about the package had put her on edge. As the deliveryman moved the box past her, she noticed it had a customs form attached to it. She hadn’t ordered anything from overseas. Her skin started to tingle.
“There you go,” said the UPS guy, as he pulled the dolly back out the door.
“Thanks,” Cat called after him, before racing to the back room.
The box was very large, and, as she discovered when she tried to move it, very heavy. No wonder he’d needed a dolly. She was impressed he’d gotten it up the stairs. She examined the customs label. It had been shipped from London. The return address was stamped care of Barclays Bank.
With shaking fingers, she took out her box cutter from her back pocket and carefully sliced through the packaging tape. Opening the large flaps, she discovered a beautiful wooden chest sitting inside, nestled among thousands of packing peanuts. Cherry wood, she surmised, as she emptied some of the peanuts into a nearby trashcan. And of high quality. The chest looked old, yet well preserved. Painted on the top was a delicate oval chain of ivy and purple flowers. Cat sat back on her heels and stared at the chest. The pattern was the same as the pattern of flowers that had been embroidered down the front of Eliza’s gown and on the shawl she’d been wearing the night she’d disappeared.
Breathing slow, deep breaths, Cat fought to remain calm. This chest was from Eliza. It had to be. But how? Only days had passed since she’d last seen her friend—or hundreds of years, depending on how one reckoned it. Either way, the chances of her getting a chest to Cat from England seemed remote. Yet here it was. Reaching in with both trepidation and anticipation, she tried to open the lid. It wouldn’t budge. Great, Lizzie, send me something I can’t get into.
Sliding her hands carefully around the sides of the chest, she found nothing. Perplexed, she sat back again. The chest was too heavy for her to remove from the box, but she wasn’t sure what else to do. Determinedly, she cut away as much of the cardboard as she could and dispensed with the remaining packing peanuts.
The chest sat on four solidly carved feet, which raised it about four inches off the ground. On its front in the center was embedded a heart-shaped lock. Cat ran her finger over it, thinking it looked familiar. Where was she supposed to find the key? She reached her arm under the right side, feeling the underside of the chest. Her fingers grazed the edge of an envelope. With excitement, she pulled the envelope free. It was addressed to Catherine Schreiber in a flowing hand, a hand that belonged to Eliza.
Cat ripped the envelope open and pulled out the letter. Unfolding it, she read, Use the key from your necklace.
Necklace? Cat reflexively groped her neck. I don’t wear necklaces. She sat down in consternation, wondering what Eliza could have been thinking of. A minute later, she jumped up and raced up the stairs.
Charging through the living room, she skidded into her bedroom and ran over to her dresser. Opening the top drawer, she pulled out the jewelry box her mother had given her when she was twelve. There, nestled inside, was the You Are the Key to My Heart necklace Eliza had bought her to commemorate their trip to Vegas the summer after they’d met. Eliza had spied it in the casino gift shop and announced it was so kitschy that Cat had to have it. She hadn’t cared that it was 22K gold, and thus expensive.
“What else are these slot winnings good for?” Eliza had said with a shrug. She’d bought one for herself, as well: the same gold chain with a key and a giant heart-shaped locket on it. They’d put photos of themselves inside the lockets, joking they were like Chandler and Joey on Friends with their ‘Best Buds’ bracelets. Cat, not much of a jewelry person to begin with, had eventually tucked hers away for safekeeping in her childhood jewelry box, where it had sat, forgotten. Until now.
Had Eliza been wearing the necklace the night of the ball? She hadn’t seen anything on Eliza’s neck, other than the pearls. Then she remembered Eliza had converted her savings into jewelry and sewn it into the hem of her gown—“I’ll need some sort of backup money in England,” she’d said by way of explanation. Cat knew now why the lock on the trunk was familiar—it was made from Eliza’s locket.
Running back down the stairs, she entered the main room at full speed. An older lady standing off to the left side called out, “Oh, there you are, dear. I was wondering if anyone was here today.”
Cat pulled up short, breathing heavily. In her excitement over the chest, she’d forgotten that the Trove was open for business. Her eyes darted to the back room, but she walked over to the woman, trying to calm herself.
“Hi there. Sorry about that. Welcome to the Treasure Trove. How may I help you?”
“I want this biography of Benjamin Franklin for my husband,” the woman answered, holding up a thick volume. “He’s always admired Mr. Franklin, and this is a perfect anniversary gift for us. I’m so glad you have it in stock.”
“Wonderful.” Cat headed to the register to ring up the sale. Benjamin Franklin. Benjamin Franklin Cooper. Was there anything that didn’t remind her of him these days? “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“No, that’s it. Thank you, dear. You have a fine store here. I will be happy to come back again. It’s so much more personable than that huge one over on Barracks Road.”
“Thank you,” Cat replied with a genuine smile. “I do love it here.”
“I can see why. It’s beautiful and homey. You can tell you’ve invested your heart into it.”
At the mention of heart, Cat’s thoughts once again went to the necklace she had tucked in her pocket. After the customer made her way out the front door, Cat scrambled back to the trunk, dropped to her knees, and fitted the key into the lock. It opened easily.
I can’t believe it.
A stack of letters tied with a ribbon lay in the left side of the trunk. The top one—and presumably all of them—was addressed to her. In the middle were several collections of books. They, too, looked quite old by the style of their bindings but were in immaculate condition. Cat held her breath as her fingers ran along the spines. They were grouped in volumes of three, each bearing the same title, each group bound by string. She read the titles: Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, Mansfield Park, Emma, Northanger Abbey, Persuasion.
“Oh my God, oh my God,” Cat repeated to herself, over and over. Eliza had sent her original editions of all of Jane Austen’s works. Cat knew that the books had been publishe
d at the time not as a single work, but in three separate volumes since lending libraries had preferred that.
Carefully pulling Pride and Prejudice out of the pile, she noted the uneven edges of the pages. Uncut, they called that in the book world. These volumes were uncut, and in the original covers, or boards. The rarest of first editions. Removing the string, she opened the front cover of the first volume. There, in clean, careful hand, below the printed line indicating the books had been written By A Lady, was signed, Jane Austen. Cat gasped out loud.
Autographed copies? Eliza had acquired autographed copies of first editions of Jane Austen’s works? Cat lifted out each title and inspected the inside covers. Each of the books bore Miss Austen’s signature handwritten in ink, except for Northanger Abbey and Persuasion, which made sense, since they hadn’t been published until after Austen’s death. Reaching again into the chest, Catherine discovered a second set of first edition Austen titles. These were not autographed, and were bound in handsome leather rather than the thinner, more cardboard-like covers of the first set, but were in the same pristine condition as the first.
Tears filled Catherine’s eyes. She pulled out the first letter and opened the sealed envelope.
Dearest Cat, it began. It was definitely Eliza’s handwriting but looked a bit wobblier than in the previous note. It was dated 1854. Cat read on:
There is so much to tell you, and indeed the letters I’ve included detail my life each year since I left you. Suffice it to say after a few initial bumps (and one serious consideration at using the ‘escape clause’ you built for me), my Deveric and I settled into one long, glorious love affair. I owe it all to you, dear Cat, whom I’ve missed more than words can say. But I’ve taken great pleasure in knowing your life was still yet to come, and in knowing that perhaps I could ease it for you, as you did for me. Here are two collections of Miss Austen’s works, one to sell and perhaps one for you to keep if you wish. My daughter, Rose, is gathering the works of Mr. Dickens for me now. I hope you will also find them here, although I believe my time is drawing short on this earth and I will not know if the collection is complete or not.
The Magic of Love Series Page 24
