The Secrets of Paper and Ink

by Lindsay Harrel

  I hurried to match his steps. “I suppose I’m not seeing the problem. I know your parents had intended for her to look for a husband next year, but it’s a good match, is it not?” The Millers were one of the wealthiest families in all of England, and Charles was considered to be devastatingly handsome. It would not be the basis of marriage for me, but I stood apart from the rest of society.

  Edward stopped and turned to me. “Charles Miller is a scoundrel. Everyone knows it, but because of his money, no one in polite society cares. I won’t go into the particulars, Emily, but trust me when I say that no sister of mine will be shackled to a man like that.”

  His chest heaved at the passion his words produced, and it only made me love him more. “How did your parents feel about the match?”

  His expression darkened. “Father was all set to agree to it until I persuaded him otherwise. He is so desperate . . .” He trailed off.

  “Desperate for what?”

  “Let’s return to the house, shall we?”

  “What are you keeping from me, Edward?”

  With a sigh, he plucked a flower from a nearby bush and twirled it, staring at the bloom. “My father has made some poor investments and soon we will be bankrupt if something does not change. It’s why I agreed to find a bride this year when I had hoped to put it off a while longer.”

  I could not move. “Why did you not tell me before now?”

  He lifted sad eyes to me. “You have such high ideals, Em. In a world that is defined by marriage, you refuse to marry because you want your independence. And you have no idea how much I admire you for it.”

  If only he knew the truth. I had only ever pretended to reject marriage because I could not bear the thought of Edward rejecting me.

  He moved toward me and reached for my hands. Placing the flower inside, Edward closed my fingers around it. “I do not wish to disappoint you by marrying for money. But it’s required of me. The responsibility is not one I take lightly. I have at least tried my best to find a bride whom I believe I could one day love.”

  I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. My heart stampeded in my chest as Edward and I looked at each other for a long moment.

  At last, he let go of my hands and looked away. “What do you think of Rosamond?”

  “She’s lovely.” What else could I say? He likely heard the lie in my words. I rushed on. “Does her family not care that yours is in trouble financially?”

  “Her father is well aware of our circumstances, and is willing to rescue my father. Apparently their business pursuits are aligned, and my father’s good reputation would be of great value to him. Together, they would make formidable partners.”

  “I see. Well, it sounds as if it’s all arranged.” I could not keep the tightness from my tone as we walked toward the house.

  As we passed by them, the angel’s trumpets taunted me in the breeze, whispering a song only I could hear.

  24

  GINNY

  Ginny grasped the vintage ring between her fingers, holding it up to the light from her bedroom lamp. Its large center diamond was nestled within a square bezel setting, flanked by delicate latticework and smaller mine-cut diamonds.

  Her eyes threatened tears for the hundredth time that morning since she’d made her decision.

  Before she could change her mind, Ginny shoved the ring into the pocket of her jeans, threw on a sweatshirt, stuffed her feet into a pair of ratty sneakers, and made her way down the stairs into her kitchen. She considered stopping to eat a little breakfast, but no—she might lose her nerve if she waited too long.

  Her hand slid into her pocket again, and she brushed her thumb along the edge of the platinum band. Her paternal grandmother had willed it to Ginny, since her father didn’t have any sisters and Ginny’s sister Sarah preferred more modern jewelry. But Ginny had always loved the ring, and when her grandparents had died within a few months of each other, it had come to her.

  It was not the size of the diamond or high value of the ring that mattered to her. Instead, it was a great symbol of her grandparents’ everlasting love. Unlike Ginny’s parents, Grandmother and Grandfather had found a way to let love and family trump money or status as the most important things in life.

  When Garrett had proposed to Ginny, all of their money had been tied up in the bookstore, so he didn’t have a ring. But she didn’t mind because Ginny had always loved the idea of wearing her grandma’s ring. So she had.

  The thought of selling it turned her stomach cold, but what other choice did she have? None, if she wanted to keep the bookstore afloat.

  Ginny walked through her front door and straight toward Mrs. Lincoln’s antique store. The cloudy sky darkened the day. As she entered, the bell above the door jangled a merry greeting. Ginny got the urge to grab it from its perch and toss it violently across the room.

  “Hullo.” Mrs. Lincoln’s gravelly, disembodied voice rose from somewhere in the back of the store. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

  “Take your time.” Ginny peered through a maze of antique objects—from old doorframes to furniture, knickknacks to clothing. Somewhere, the scent of lavender rose to meet her. Its purpose was to relax the customer, but being here only set Ginny even more on edge.

  If she could convince Mrs. Lincoln to buy it, her ring was going to join the ranks of once-loved items now entombed in this chaos.

  She could do this. She must do this.

  Mrs. Lincoln bustled around the corner. She reminded Ginny of Mrs. Claus, complete with rosy round cheeks, an ample derriere, and a shock of white hair. Her smile brightened a bit when she saw Ginny. “My dear, what brings you by today?”

  “I . . .” She hesitated.

  “What’s going on, love? You look like a bee without a flower to land on.”

  Ginny reached into her pocket and pulled out the ring. She kept her fist closed around it for a few extra moments, savoring the feel of it in her palm. She’d had dreams for this ring—dreams of forevers and I do’s, just like her grandparents.

  But those dreams had come crashing down around her five days ago when she’d met Garrett’s new flame and had found out they planned to marry as soon as Ginny’s divorce from him was final.

  After that, she’d wandered the streets of London, aimless in body and mind. She’d finally ended up at the hotel before William and Sophia, snuck into her bed, and wrestled with sleep all night. The next morning, they’d all driven home, Ginny not saying a word about seeing Garrett except “He’s found someone new.”

  William’s face had blanched and Sophia had reached back to squeeze her knee. When they’d returned home, Sophia held her hand while she spilled the whole awful story.

  All Ginny had left was the bookstore. She wouldn’t lose it, not while she had breath in her body. But somehow she had to pay for the increased rent and other expenses that kept rolling in. She just needed enough to get her over the hump until her website was up, and she’d employed all her ideas for bringing in new customers.

  Ginny opened her fist, revealing the ring in her palm. “I’ve come to see if you would like to purchase this from me.”

  “Isn’t that your wedding ring?”

  “It is.” Ginny held back tears. How she could possibly have more after nearly a week of off-and-on crying was a mystery. “Are you interested?”

  “It’s quite lovely. I’ve always admired it.” Peering closer, Mrs. Lincoln extended her hand. “May I?”

  “Of course.” Ginny dropped the ring into the woman’s palm, feeling part of her heart break with the motion. A tear escaped down her cheek, but she swiped it away before Mrs. Lincoln could see.

  “What do you know about it?”

  “It’s from the Edwardian period, and the center diamond is 2.2 carats. My family—the Bentleys of Boston, Massachusetts, in the States—has owned it since it was made in the early twentieth century.” A stab of guilt shook Ginny. Was this a mistake?

  “Impressive.” The shop owner ambled toward the microscope s
he kept at the jewelry counter for product inspections. She placed the ring underneath and studied it for a very long few moments. The time ticked by slowly. Ginny’s toes curled in her sneakers.

  When Mrs. Lincoln finally glanced up, she looked over her small-rimmed glasses at Ginny. “How will Garrett feel about you selling this?” Her voice held no judgment or scolding, merely questions.

  “He shouldn’t care one way or the other.” And clearly didn’t.

  The memory of the ring on Samantha’s finger—a full carat at least—jabbed against Ginny’s brain. How had Garrett afforded the purchase? Was he blowing through money he didn’t have? Or was he using the part of the cash he’d cleared out from the bookstore account before skipping town? It should have run out by now, but maybe Samantha was supporting them.

  “I’m sorry, dear. I was hoping the best for the two of you.”

  “Thank you.”

  A few moments of awkward silence ticked by. “How much are you looking to get for it?”

  “I need—I mean, I’d like . . .” Ginny cleared her throat, then named her price.

  Mrs. Lincoln picked up the ring again and held it out toward Ginny. “It’s worth double that. A piece this fine should continue to be handed down through the generations.”

  Ginny shook her head, refused to take the ring back. “I’d like nothing more, but . . . I’m in a bit of a pinch. Financially.” Her cheeks burned with the admission.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, love.” Mrs. Lincoln moved around the register. “Perhaps you could try selling it somewhere you might make more. There are many options online, or so I’m told by my nephew. I simply can’t afford to pay what it’s really worth, and I don’t want to rob you.”

  The woman’s sweet words pricked Ginny’s conscience. Grandmother would be so sad if she knew what Ginny was doing. But hopefully she would have understood. “I can’t wait for any other options. I need the money now.”

  With lips pursed in thought, Mrs. Lincoln finally nodded. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” She pulled a ring box from behind the register and placed the ring inside. “Do you prefer cash or check?”

  “Either is fine.” Ginny fidgeted with her sleeves. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Lincoln.”

  The elderly woman wrote her a check and before she could beg for the ring back, Ginny forced herself to leave the shop. She turned in the direction of the bank—and ran smack into Steven.

  “Whoa.” He held out his hands to steady her. “You all right?” His smile filled her heart.

  “Fine, thanks.” Ginny attempted to return the smile, but it fell short. “I’ve gotta go.” Any moment now, she was going to lose it. “I’ll watch where I’m going next time.” She took off toward the bank, the soles of her feet burning with the effort.

  “Hey, wait up.” She heard him jogging behind her. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

  She waved the check in the air. “The bank.”

  “I didn’t know anyone still wrote checks these days.”

  “Mrs. Lincoln does.” Too late, she realized her mistake.

  “Did you sell her something?”

  She avoided his gaze. “Yes.” Aaaaand, there came the tears. Ginny kept moving up the steep street, where the bank sat at the top of the hill.

  “Ginny, are you crying?”

  However nice his concern, she couldn’t stop.

  But Steven was persistent. He gently tugged on her arm, turned her toward him. “You are crying. What’s wrong? What did you sell? And why? I mean, you don’t have to tell me, but I’m here if you need to talk. Remember? Good listener.”

  The months of feeling completely alone, of crying into her pillow at night, of missing Garrett with a ferocity that astounded her after his betrayal, of hating him for leaving her to manage all of this by herself, of loving him still—it all came spilling out. “I’m crying because my husband found a new woman and is divorcing me, and the only thing I have left is a stupid bookstore I didn’t want in the first place. But it’s the only place that’s ever felt like home, and I can’t let it go. I can’t.”

  Her raised voice was attracting attention, but for once she didn’t care. “So I had to. I sold my wedding ring, which was also my grandma’s ring and has been in my family for over a hundred years. The one I’d hoped to wear forever. Now it’s over. It’s really over.”

  She ran her fingers underneath her eyes, pushing away the wetness that clung there. Now she’d done it—let loose all of her failures to this man who would probably side with her soon-to-be ex, who was surprisingly still standing there in front of her, hands in his pockets, his mouth downturned.

  But in an instant, his hands were wrapped around her, pulling her to his solid chest as she released a fresh torrent of tears.

  How embarrassing. Ginny sniffed, but her nose was clogged from all the crying. She coughed. “I’m sorry.” Her voice came out hoarse and muffled against the soft cotton of his shirt. “You didn’t want to know all of that.”

  “Ginny.”

  She looked up into the clearest and sweetest eyes she’d ever seen. The thought was disconcerting. She pulled away from his embrace. “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry. About your grandma’s ring. And about Garrett.”

  Words suddenly failed her. She shrugged.

  “And I’ll double my efforts to get your website up as soon as possible, all right?”

  “I feel so bad, you doing it for free. It’s taking you away from other money-making projects.”

  “I’m happy to help. I’m sure others would be too, if you asked. You’re not just Garrett’s wife around here, you know. People love and respect you.”

  She kicked at a rock. “Thank you.” In her fist, she still clutched the check from Mrs. Lincoln. “I had better get this to the bank.”

  Steven studied her for a minute, then nodded. “I’ve got an errand to run too. Chin up, Gin. It’s gonna be okay.”

  As she watched him walk away, the ends of the check fluttering between her fingers in the breeze, the tiniest bit of hope broke through the clouds, shining sunlight on the cracks in the street in front of her.

  She had friends who cared.

  And she had a small influx of money.

  For now, that was enough.

  25

  SOPHIA

  The sound of the surf had never been so sweet.

  Or so frightening.

  Sophia stood on the secluded beach, warm sand between her toes, the wind teasing her bangs. It blew just enough to create beautiful white waves on the water, but not so much to turn her first day of surfing disastrous.

  She might do that all on her own.

  No. She could do this. After all, she had William here to teach her.

  There was no denying how handsome he looked in his black-and-gray wetsuit, and Sophia was transported back to their first meeting. Was that only a month ago? How had they become close so quickly?

  It happened quickly with David too.

  Sophia slammed the thought from her mind. Of course she was growing close to him. For the last two weeks since their London trip, she’d done nothing but work in the bookstore and hang out with William and Ginny. They hadn’t heard a peep from Abigail, so they’d spent their time playing cards, watching movies, talking books, and taking walks around town in the evening. She’d even “introduced” him to Mom and Joy on separate Skype calls. Afterward, both had given their thumbs-up of approval.

  It was the most at peace she’d been in a long time.

  She folded her arms across her body. “So, are you sure you want to do this?”

  He looked down at her, something alight in his eyes. “I couldn’t be any happier to do this. For one, it’s a good distraction from what’s going on with my brother.”

  Poor William. He’d called Garrett and yelled at him as soon as they’d returned from London, but still felt like he needed to do more for his sister-in-law. Over the last few weeks, Sophia had tried her best to comfort Ginny, who had every right to b
e falling apart. But something she was coming to learn—and admire—about her friend was her sunny disposition despite rotten circumstances.

  Sophia looked down, tugged at one of her two short ponytails. She smiled. “Well, I’m happy to provide said distraction.”

  “And look, it’s the perfect day for surfing too.” The sun shone bright but not hot, and the beach was peppered with a handful of surfers. However, the water wasn’t crowded like some of the more popular beaches. William had brought her to one of his favorites, which wasn’t overrun by tourists or vendors.

  It was indeed perfect.

  “What are we waiting for?” Sophia turned to pick up the foam board Ginny had loaned her.

  “Hold on there.” William chuckled. “Before we dive right in, so to speak, we need to practice on shore.”

  He set his board on the beach and indicated she should do the same. She did. Then he got on his knees behind his board, and Sophia followed suit.

  “When you lie down on the board, you need to hold both sides. You don’t want to be too far forward, or you’ll nose-dive, and being too far back will make it really difficult to paddle through waves and get up on the board.” He indicated the right positioning on his own board. “This wooden line down the center is called the stringer. You want your body to be centered along that line so you don’t tip to one side or the other.”

  She practiced the positioning. It felt so foreign. The thought of doing this out in the waves, where things were uncertain . . .

  Her hands flexed into fists and she tried to shake the sudden clamminess from them.

  William reviewed a few other surfing tips and facts. His explanations were efficient and not overly detailed, but Sophia struggled to keep them all straight in her mind. “I think I’ve got it.” She tried to infuse confidence into her tone.

  Why was she so nervous? Having success at this shouldn’t mean so much.

  But in truth, she didn’t have to have a degree in counseling to understand why. David had told her she couldn’t do this, that it was stupid of her to want to. And somehow along the way, she’d started to believe it, allowing the lie to become more powerful than her desire to connect with her father in this way.