The article came to mind, and he knew he’d need to work on it throughout the evening. He didn’t want to turn in a late post for his first try, and he could only imagine the smirk on Danielle’s face if he did so.
His interest in Danielle could only go that far. His heart could only take so much, and losing his sister was going to pull it to pieces already.
Chapter 18
Danielle finished up her article on Thursday with a couple of minutes to spare until the deadline. She’d always been like that, working up to the last minute, usually because she’d procrastinated it until then. The familiar rush of excitement coursed through her when she sent it off to Clyde and wondered how it would look next to Liam’s article.
Their conversation the other day at the bookstore still made her laugh and almost cry at the same time. It was so sad that his parents had both died, even though from different causes, and she couldn’t imagine what that would be like. She was grateful to still have her mother around. It would’ve been hard without her there as a constant in her life, even when Danielle felt like everything she’d worked for was now in a pile of rubble.
If someone had told her the one bright spot of coming back here would be the handsome bookstore owner, she’d have laughed in their face. She tried to fight it, but she found herself looking for him when she went places, and his knowledge of books was astounding and made her painfully curious about him. As much as she’d worked to guard her heart against men in general, many of whom would abandon their women like her father, she found herself feeling more and more interested in Liam.
After pulling up the document for her latest MK Malone book, she stared at the screen for several minutes, trying to work out the plot points in her mind. The hardest part about cozy mysteries was hiding the killer so the reader wouldn’t see it coming. She often worked backward, figuring out who the criminal was and then piling on the layers of doubt and distracting the main character with several red herrings. It was a challenge within itself, and when she got it to all line up perfectly, a rush of adrenaline would pour through her.
All she needed for this story were a few more elements and another twenty thousand words, and the story would be ready for her editor. She’d never met Tina in person, but the woman understood where Danielle was going with the story for the most part and would polish some of her rushed ideas, helping her connect the dots on plot points Danielle had forgotten to finish out.
The great thing about publishing was that everything could be done through online communication. Editor, proofer, cover. Her amazing cover designer took her ideas and created a cover that made Danielle smile and got people interested in the book, which was half the battle.
For a girl who’d loved the spotlight when it came to journalism through the newspaper and the occasional television appearance, she was afraid that if people knew she’d written these books, her world would change forever. That it would be ripped away just as journalism had.
Danielle’s phone buzzed. Just finished my article. Talk about race to the finish.
She smiled as she read Liam’s text, trying to come up with a response.
I took you for someone who finished the assignment the first day you got it. This surprises me, Pearson.
She pressed send, staring at her phone as she waited for a reply. It came a few minutes later, when she’d given up and gone back to staring at her few typed words.
I’m a box of wonders. Just wait.
Chapter 19
Danielle spent a few hours Tuesday morning typing and deleting the words on her laptop, not happy with how the story was turning out. She hadn’t made much progress, even throughout the weekend, and realized she needed air and a change of scenery. She wished her mother wasn’t at the store and could go with her and help her think of scenarios. Hypothetical ones, she’d tell her.
With Becca and Colton still on their honeymoon, she thought of Liam and wondered if he’d be up for a brainstorming session. Pulling out her phone, she saw it was still early, meaning he’d be at the bookstore. Her feet walked as her mind lagged behind, trying to come up with something that would wow her readers once the book was finished.
“Danielle!” a voice called as she made it to Main Street. “Danielle! Over here!”
Turning her head several times, Danielle finally spotted Mrs. Watkins sitting on a bench across the street. Next to her was Sharon Crestview, and Danielle wished she hadn’t decided to leave her house. Sharon would be the death of her if she didn’t keep focused.
Trudging over to the women, it wasn’t until she was a few feet away that she noticed the Sunday newspaper folded between them. She’d been so focused on writing her book that she hadn’t taken the time to read it yet.
Sharon opened it and folded the front page back, revealing the editorial section. “This is quite an interesting article,” she said, her voice sugary sweet.
“I thought it was refreshing, Sharon. It’s much better than Nolan’s boring tales of the birds and their mating and migration habits.” Mrs. Watkins winked at Danielle. “I especially loved the part where you talk about expectations of us older folks. So many people think once you’re retired, you sit in a chair all day and knit if you’re a woman. Thank you for saying we can still participate in society at my age.”
Danielle wasn’t sure what to say and chuckled. “No problem.” She edged closer, realizing her curiosity over Liam’s part of the article took over. “Do you mind if I take a look at that for a moment? I didn’t get to see the opposing article.”
Sharon handed the paper over, and Danielle took it, sitting where Mrs. Watkins had sat before scooting over for her. She read, the world around her nonexistent.
Expectations. They’re the things we hope for, wait for, dream of. Sometimes they’re the things we’re scared of and wish could just disappear from our lives. As we turn sixteen, we’re expected to want to drive a car, and then everyone fears for their lives as we barrel down the road, trying to learn how to control this new freedom we have. At twenty-five, either we’re supposed to be making millions, or at the beginning of a master’s degree, on our way to greatness and halfway up the ladder we’re expected to climb in our lifetime.
If we haven’t married by the time we’re twenty-eight, with plans for kids two years later, something must be wrong with us. And just like a cough, everyone has a suggestion as to how to get rid of it, usually bringing over the cure they think will help.
At forty, we should be settled into a career that we love, or that we grin and bear through every day because we know it will all be for the best for our growing family. We need money, and it’s too late to branch out and start something new. As a male, we feel the pressure to succeed to such heights, all while keeping in every worry and emotion because those around us won’t understand that venting doesn’t mean the end of the world.
At sixty-five, we are supposed to relax and retire, hoping we’ve made enough to survive until we pass away. We wake up every day, wondering whether it will be us or our spouse who departs this life first and hoping the grandchildren come to visit.
Danielle looked up at the women next to her, their soft chatting sounding a lot like a couple of hens. If Liam had been smart, he would have mentioned that the women should go first so the man could have some peace for a bit before he passed on.
She looked down again, continuing to read the rest.
But all these are just expectations. Assumptions of what another person deems a benchmark of success. The problem, men, is that we need to be working toward what makes us happy. Now, I’m not saying you should skip out on your relationship or decide to take up thievery. Our goal in life should be something that makes us happy.
If we need a bit longer to learn how to drive, there’s nothing wrong with that, although the freedom is amazing, even if it’s your mother sending you to the grocery store five times that day. If you don’t like the job at forty that you chose at twenty-five, find a way to change it. Whether it’s taking a leap and
starting the company you’ve always wanted or just walking away from the high-paying job because it only gives you health problems and stress, find a way to make it work.
If you’re not married yet and you’re thirty, forty, fifty, or beyond, it’s not the end of the world. You’ll figure it out, and either someone will come into your life that you need at that precise moment, or you’ll find a way to make yourself happy without depending on the actions of someone else to do so.
At forty and above, you’re allowed to decide when you retire and what those activities should be. If you have a spouse, they deserve a chance to help decide what those activities are, but if you do things together, your relationship is that much stronger. Because after the kids are gone, all you have left is each other.
I guess what I’m saying is, whatever you’re doing and however experiences have changed and molded your life, roll with it. Move forward, strive to be the best person you can be, and no matter what has happened in your life, it will work out well. You’ll be the person you need to be for neighbors and for your family.
Danielle looked up again and found herself a bit teary as she thought about the simplicity of his words. He hadn’t tried to dance around the issue but had stated the problems and given permission to be happy no matter what stage of life.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Sharon said, her voice soft.
Danielle thought she saw the older woman blink back tears, and she realized how little she really knew of Sharon’s background. The woman had lost her husband a few years before, and while Danielle didn’t pretend to know how that felt, she could imagine it would be difficult all year round with all the little dates that popped up, whether it was the anniversary of his passing, of their wedding, or even just a smell or a song that brought the reminder.
With a quick nod, Danielle folded the paper again and handed it back. Standing, she brushed off her backside, trying to occupy her thoughts. “Yes, that was an incredible piece.”
Mrs. Watkins leaned forward and touched Danielle’s forearm. “Yours was beautiful too, my dear. The pieces together make for a great read.”
Danielle gave her a smile and then said, “I need to get some things done, so I’ll catch the two of you later.”
Moving away before they could object, she found herself outside the bookstore, looking in. She didn’t have an excuse as to why she was there this time, but she felt confident she didn’t really need one. She just wanted to praise him on the article.
Opening the door, she saw Liam behind the desk, and when they locked eyes, his smile made her insides flip. “Back so soon? I don’t think I have many other new books in stock for you, in the mystery section at least.”
Danielle shook her head, moving over to lean on the desk. “I’m not here for that. I just wanted to tell you I read your part of the article, and you did an amazing job with it.”
Liam moved forward, bringing with him a fresh sea smell. “I thought yours was well-written also.”
With a scoff, Danielle said, “I’m not so sure. There were a lot of parts I had a hard time writing. But I liked the overall theme you had that being yourself is enough.”
The blank look on his face made Danielle squirm.
“I don’t remember writing that.” His eyebrow rose, and he stared into her eyes, waiting for an explanation.
“I didn’t mean you wrote that exactly, but that was the overall impression I got from it.”
Liam opened his mouth wide in an O shape. “Should we talk about the topic for the next one?”
“Clyde hasn’t even gotten feedback from this one today. Let’s wait until we hear from him to think we can toot our own horns.”
“You’re right,” Liam said with a grin. “How’s your book-writing going, by the way? I keep waiting to hear from you, saying you need someone to read through it, but all I get is a silent phone.” The look on his face said he was half joking, and Danielle turned on the charm.
“I wasn’t sure you were serious about that. I’m not at that point yet, but when I am, I’ll let you know.”
Raising an eyebrow, he asked, “Really? Because whenever we talk about your writing, you get a little weird and try to avoid everything about it.”
Why was it that he was the one who could read her like a book? Sure, that sounded cliché since he was the bookstore owner, but he was so perceptive about the small things that most people overlooked.
Danielle took her pointer finger and waved it in an X across her heart. “I cross my heart and hope to die that I will let you know as soon as I have something worth looking at.”
Liam’s smile spread so wide that his eyes seemed to get lost, turning into slits. “I’ll take it.”
Danielle moved a few steps toward the door. “Well, I’d better get back to it. Again, good article, and I’ll see you around.”
“What about dinner tomorrow night?”
She paused, frozen in place. Unsure what to say, she turned, the words stuck in her mouth at the unexpected request. Having him ask her on a date was something she’d subconsciously wanted but had never imagined would happen in real life.
“Are you asking me on a date?” she asked, the wobble in her voice causing her to shift nervously.
His blue eyes bored into hers. “Only if you want it to be. Otherwise, it can be colleagues talking about similar interests.” The one corner of his mouth hitched up again, and Danielle couldn’t break her gaze away from his lips, wondering what they would feel like to kiss.
“I think I can arrange that. What time?”
“How about four thirty? Wednesdays are slow anyway, and I can close up early and come get you.”
She nodded. “What should I wear?”
He smiled again. “Whatever you want. After how busy things have been, I’m thinking we can do something relaxed where we can just talk and get to know each other better.”
She gave him a quick nod and pushed the door open, hearing the bells ring above her. Stumbling out onto the sidewalk, she made her way back home. The walk passed quickly, and Danielle didn’t notice much of anything going on around her, her thoughts moving around the date the next day.
Entering the house, she grabbed a cup from the cabinet in the kitchen and filled it with water, realizing how thirsty she was just now.
“Long day?” her mother asked from behind her, causing Danielle to jump. Water trickled down her face and onto the old t-shirt she’d been wearing since five that morning. Looking down, she groaned. Why hadn’t she thought to change what she had on before going out in public? People were probably talking about how she was letting herself go.
“Yes. I’m working on a few writing projects, and I can’t quite get the details right.”
The surprise on her mother’s face made Danielle feel guilty that she’d kept so many secrets from her. But she still wasn’t ready to reveal who MK Malone was, so she kept her mouth shut.
“What projects?” her mother asked, putting down her purse and taking off her name tag. She looked like she’d been through the wringer herself.
Danielle walked to the fridge, trying to see if there was something easy she could make for dinner to give her mom a break from cooking.
“Just thought about writing a book.” Danielle’s enthusiasm helped her smile wide, which was something she hadn’t done with regard to her writing dreams in so long that it felt forced.
“I take it you don’t have any other job offers at the moment?” Her mother leaned against the cabinet.
Danielle took a breath, readying herself for whatever argument was on the brink. “Mom, you know I love to write. Why is it you think that’s not good enough for me to do as a career?”
Her mother reached out and placed her palm on Danielle’s cheek. “Dear, I just want you to be happy. And I guess my idea of your happiness was the dream of you with a stable job. If that’s not what you want, then I get it. I just don’t want you wasting your life away when things don’t change or you put in a lot of effort for peanut
s. Like the newspaper.”
“What are you talking about? I love to write, and this weekend’s article was one of my favorite pieces thus far. I know it’s hard to imagine when I’m not interacting with people all day every day, but it’s still work.”
With a look of dismay, her mother moved past her and pulled a package of hamburger meat from the fridge.
“Mom, I’m not trying to down your job. I know how much the grocery store has helped us through the years and while I was growing up. I just wanted something different for my life.”
“I get that, Danielle, but when is enough, enough? When will you realize that this is your life and you need to live it? That you need to contribute to the world around you?”
Danielle spotted the MK Malone book from the book club sitting on the countertop. She moved toward it and pick it up. She closed the distance between her and her mother, waving the book in front of her mother’s face. “What do you think about this, Mom? Does this writer contribute to society?”
Her mother seemed to think about it. “I guess. It’s entertainment, and that can bring in money.”
Slapping it onto the counter, Danielle said, “Well, you’re looking at the author of this book, Mom.”
“What? Don’t do this right now, Dani. I’m not in the mood to battle it out with you. And there’s no need to lie about it.” She bent to pull a pan from underneath the oven and set it on the cooktop.
“No, Mom. I wrote this and the other two books. I’ve been working on book number four for the past two weeks, more since I’ve been here. I wrote the character of Holly Frontier, the woman who’s always stumbling onto a murder scene. I based her off of you, Mom.” She raised her hands quickly. “Not the way she’s always finding body parts, but the quiet strength she has, the ability to reason things out in her head before even speaking.”
Love Under Review Page 10
