by Liz Johnson
She lowered her arms to his neck and her head to his chest once more. How long they stood like that—three minutes, five minutes, ten—she didn’t know. But she found herself memorizing everything about this moment. The sound of his heartbeat against her ear. The feel of his arms and his masculine, woodsy smell. Tucking it all away to be relived in her heart later.
Because as sure as she was that this might very well be the best night of her life with the best man she’d ever met, she was equally as sure of what she’d just said.
That in the end, Jonah would do the right thing for Concordia.
And the right thing meant going home.
Jonah walked Rowan to the library’s front door just like he had nearly every night since coming to Tinsel. But tonight’s walk was frustratingly silent.
The date had started out so incredibly perfect. He was pretty positive it would’ve stayed that way, if only reality hadn’t come crashing in.
They hadn’t talked of it again—Jonah’s eventual return to Concordia. They’d gone on to search through the newspaper archives for Rowan’s old stories. She’d read the one with talking fruit aloud and he’d laughed and gushed with exaggerated praise.
But all the while, he’d known something had shifted between them.
Rowan pulled out her key, but stalled before placing it in the lock. “Jonah, tonight was . . . I can’t even think of the right word. I just know I’ll never forget it.”
He sighed. “It kind of sounded like there was a goodbye in that last part.”
“Not a goodbye, but . . .” She looked up at the house in front of her. “Just the sad realization that I can’t pick up this library and all of Tinsel and transport us to Concordia.”
“You could transport yourself, though. You’ve always wanted to travel.” He wished he could do something to erase the resignation in her eyes. If he thought another kiss would do it, he wouldn’t hesitate for a moment.
Yet she’d probably been right to break away from his embrace earlier. It would only get harder to leave the closer they got.
But why did his return to Concordia have to be the end of this? “I’m serious, Row. You could come visit Concordia. I could show you all around the palace. And then you can come back for another visit and I’ll show you around the whole country. It’s not that big. You can drive from one border to another in a day’s time. And on your third visit—”
“I have a job, Jonah. A whole life here.” She motioned to the library. “A promise to keep.”
Maybe he should just break Mayor Hayden’s news to her now. That she wouldn’t be able to keep that promise. That no matter how wonderful her Charles Dickens-themed event was this coming weekend, it wouldn’t be enough to reverse the city council’s decision.
But he couldn’t do it to her. He couldn’t break her heart tonight. Not when his own felt like it was splintering.
So instead, he gave her the barest of hugs and the briefest of goodnights. Waited until she was inside and the door relocked. And walked away.
Chapter 9
This was no normal winter chill.
Rowan peeled her eyes open, her muscles tight against the cold of the morning. She must’ve been shivering in her sleep. She pulled her bedding snug around her as she sat up. Oh, please tell her the furnace hadn’t gone out once and for all overnight.
If ever there was a day she needed a cozy warmth to permeate the library, it was today. The day of her event, one last ditch effort to win the city council’s reconsideration.
Frankly, the busyness of the past few days—all the last-minute preparation and the near-constant presence of a flurry of committee members—had been a welcome distraction.
Rowan flopped back against her mountain of pillows, willing her thoughts not to stray to Jonah. Again. Like they had over and over since Monday night. He hadn’t come by the library nearly as often in recent days. When he did, they kept their conversations brief. Friendly, of course. But only friendly.
At the knock on her door, she jolted up. “Rowan!”
Liza? Why would she be here so early?
Unless . . . Rowan’s focus flew to the clock on her bedside table. 9:32? The library opened in less than half an hour. How in the world had she let herself sleep so late?
She jumped from her daybed, barely registering the ice cold floorboards as she flew across the room. “Come in, Liza.” She burst into the bathroom. Too late for a shower, so she’d have to settle for some dry shampoo and a braid or ponytail or something. She dug in the vanity for her brush.
“You slept in?” Liza’s steps creaked as she moved to the bathroom doorway. “You never sleep in.”
“And I really didn’t mean to start today. Is it as arctic outside as it feels in here?”
Liza’s face appeared in the mirror behind Rowan. Her sleek black hair and straight bangs gleamed, a perfect match for her long-sleeved black dress and tights, accented by a red belt. “It’s basically a frozen tundra. It’s already below zero and it’s supposed to get worse throughout the day. By the way, I don’t look too much like I’m going to a funeral, do I? All the black, I mean.”
“No, you look like you didn’t sleep in and weren’t born with a lion’s mane for hair.”
Liza burst out laughing, dropped her purse, and grabbed the brush from Rowan’s hands. “Swipe on some makeup and brush your teeth. Let me do your hair. The committee members are all here and I saw Mayor Hayden parking a minute ago, which is why I figured I’d better come find out why no one had seen hide nor hair of you yet.”
Rowan plucked her toothbrush from a cup atop the vanity. “Is . . . anyone else here?”
“Yes. He’s outside shoveling the walkway.”
Rowan’s hand froze on the faucet. “What? He shouldn’t be doing that.” She dropped her toothbrush and ran out of the bathroom, stopped at the window and pressed her nose against the frosty pane. Sure enough, there was Jonah, lifting a shovel-full of snow. He wore that silly red and green scarf she’d found for him and a stocking cap pulled low over his ears. “Lester Schneekloth was going to handle the shoveling.”
“Lester Schneekloth tried, but Jonah wouldn’t let him. He’s got that whole chivalry thing going on in spades.”
Yes. But a week from today he’d disappear from her world. The half-unspoken but rational decision they’d made earlier this week to put some distance between them didn’t do a thing to stop her from dreading the day he left.
Rowan turned away from the window. She didn’t have time for this now. She could nurse her melancholy later.
She trudged back to the bathroom. Right now, she needed to make herself presentable as quickly as possible and get downstairs. They’d already set up long tables in the Classics Room and the Nonfiction Room, all packed with books for sale. The Children’s Room would host cookie decorating and in the kitchen, there’d be apple cider, hot chocolate, tea . . . and, yes, wassail.
The Mystery Room was set up to look like Fezziwig’s from A Christmas Carol. Rowan had found photos of Tinsel and the library from Christmases through the years—and had also taken plenty in past days—and in keeping with the Dickens theme, she’d framed and grouped them on the walls as “Christmas Past” and “Christmas Present.”
If all went well, Mayor Hayden and the council members would rethink what “Christmas Future” might look like for the library.
“You know, Clark and I have been in a long-distance relationship for almost six months now. It’s not easy, but it is possible to make it work.”
Rowan squeezed toothpaste onto her toothbrush. She knew what Liza was trying to say. But there was an awfully big difference between being divided by a state line and an ocean. And Liza didn’t have a town landmark handed down to her from generations back tying her to Tinsel. She’d probably be married and living in Connecticut by this time next year.
“Look, if I thought it had any hope of going somewhere, I’d march outside and fling myself at the guy. But he’s a king, Liza. I’m a librarian.”
“Aren’t you being kind of defeatist?”
“I’m being a realist. I’m being practical.” She turned on the faucet.
Liza lifted the brush to Rowan’s hair. “Well, I’m not convinced being practical is all its cut out to be. I wish you would run outside and fling yourself at him. Tinsel could use some excitement and—” She stopped at the sound of Rowan’s groan. “What?”
Rowan tried the faucet again. Nothing. “I don’t have water.” She stepped to the bathtub and tried its faucet. No, no, no. “I think I’ve got frozen pipes. We’re opening in fifteen minutes. And if they’re frozen up here, then they probably are downstairs too. What am I going to do?”
Liza squared her shoulders. “You’re going to get out of your PJs and finish getting ready. I’m going downstairs. I’ll get Lester and Peter on the pipe situation. Then I’ll run to the store and buy a bunch of gallons of water for coffee and tea.” She picked up her purse and pulled out a pack of gum, tossed it at Rowan. “Since you can’t brush your teeth.”
“You’re a lifesaver.”
Ten minutes later, Rowan was dressed in a black skirt with a deep red sweater. Warm leggings and gray ankle boots completed her look. She raced down the steps to the first floor, the smell of cinnamon and nutmeg floating in the air, along with soft Christmas music and the buzz of voices throughout the house. Thank goodness for committee members who’d shown up early when she apparently couldn’t even wake up on time.
Everything would turn out okay, wouldn’t it? Peter and Lester would figure out what was up with the pipes. Liza, Hattie and the others would make sure the refreshments and beverages stayed stocked.
Rowan would help run the book sale itself, while keeping an eye out for town leaders to charm. Everything would be fine. Everything would be—
“So you haven’t talked to her?”
She paused at the bottom of the stairs at the sound of Mayor Hayden’s voice drifting from the Classics Room. Hopefully Liza hadn’t mentioned the frozen pipes to him.
“Uh, no. I haven’t really had the chance. And to be honest, I didn’t quite think it was my place.”
Jonah?
“But you said you’d talk to her.”
Talk to who? About what? When had Jonah and the mayor struck up a friendship?
“I said if the opportunity presented itself—”
“I wish you would’ve talked to her, Jonah. I really think Rowan would’ve taken it better coming from you.”
Unease wheeled through her, prodding her around the corner to where Jonah and the mayor stood by the picture window. Jonah held his hat and scarf in his hands, his cheeks still ruddy from the cold and melted snow puddling around his boots.
“I would’ve taken what better coming from you?”
Jonah sent a panicked look toward the mayor. “Uh, I . . .” He looked down. “Sorry for tracking in snow. I’ll get it cleaned up.”
“It’s my fault,” Mayor Hayden said. “I dragged him in here as soon as he walked in the front door.”
“To talk about me, apparently. What’s up?”
Jonah stepped around one of the book sale tables and moved toward her. “Rowan, you’ve got a big day. Let’s talk about this later.”
Why was he looking at her with such compassion or, worse, maybe even sympathy? “Jonah—”
“I asked him to talk to you about the library, Rowan,” Mayor Hadyen cut in. “I . . . I thought he might be able to get through to you.”
She would’ve asked what he meant by that if she didn’t read it now in Jonah’s apologetic gaze. He set his scarf and hat aside and his cold hands gripped her arms. “Today’s going to be wonderful, Rowan. You’ve put so much work into it. People are going to love it.”
“But it’s not going to matter, is it? The city’s decision is final and you already knew that. How long have you known?” Her heart cramped with hurt. “All this time, when you’ve been helping decorate and set up tables and put price tags on books . . . you knew it wasn’t going to do any good.”
“It is going to do good. This will be an event people don’t forget. Maybe it’ll even become a tradition. You’ll just do it in a new place next year.”
Tears welled in her eyes. For the library. For her promise to Grandma. For the hope she’d given the committee members—and clung to so tightly herself. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Drops of water pattered on the floor from his boots.
“Because you were so excited. Because . . . I wanted you to have one last happy memory of the cottage.” The kindness in his eyes was almost too much. “I’m sorry if that was wrong of me. The last thing I want is to make you angry or hurt you any more than . . .”
He looked away. Dropped his hands from her arms.
Mayor Hayden cleared his throat behind them. For a moment, she’d forgotten all about him. Why hadn’t she just listened to the mayor weeks ago? He’d tried to make it clear. Tried to tell her there was no point protesting the move.
She’d been too stubborn to listen. She couldn’t blame him for calling in reinforcements.
Nor could she be angry at Jonah.
But all she wanted to do now was ask everyone to leave. Just clear the place out. Forget about the book sale and the food and the cookie decorating. Call off the dance tonight. Curl up in the picture window with a blanket and—
More drops of water tapped on the floor. Only . . . oh dear. A sharp gasp scraped her throat as her frustrated gaze flew up the wall by the window to where a dark blotch stained the ceiling.
The dripping—it wasn’t Jonah’s boots.
The pipes in the wall—they hadn’t only frozen. At least one of them had burst.
A blast of cold gushed in the library’s open front door as another group of townspeople entered. Jonah blew into his cupped hands, then rubbed them together. It’d been like this all day—a constant stream of book sale attendees. The rasping furnace just couldn’t keep up in the entryway.
At least the rest of the library had finally warmed up. And people seemed to be enjoying themselves. He could hear the laughter from the room where kids were decorating gingerbread cookies and a group of carolers had taken up residence in the Mystery Room. Tables that had been crammed with books this morning were already half-empty this afternoon. Rowan had barely left her spot at the circulation desk serving as a sale checkout all afternoon.
If not for the tarp over the wet spot in the ceiling over in the Classics Room and the overhead thump of a plumber working on the pipes upstairs, today would count as a rousing success.
Well, and if not for the persistent shadow in Rowan’s eyes. Did anyone else notice it? Did they notice how her friendly smiles never quite reached her blue irises?
What he wouldn’t give to find a way to solve all of this for her. He had money. He’d already thought of buying the place and paying for as many repairs as it took to prepare it for another few decades of public use.
But when he’d mentioned that to Mayor Hayden earlier today, the mayor had shaken his head. “You’re welcome to buy the property, of course, and do whatever you want with it. But the house isn’t the only reason we’re doing this. We want the library to be downtown. It’ll get more traffic, plus unlike here, there’s an actual parking lot.”
He wanted to fix this for Rowan, but he felt as helpless here as he’d felt in Concordia for the last few months.
Worse, he was certain he’d hurt Rowan in not telling her about his conversation with Mayor Hayden earlier in the week.
And he would hurt her all over again when he left next week.
He should’ve never allowed himself to grow so attached to her, to start something he couldn’t finish. He should’ve had the wisdom and self-control to pull back the moment he’d felt himself beginning to fall for her.
But was it so wrong to finally feel something more than duty and obligation? Was it so horrible to be free? To be nothing more than a man—not a king, just a man, just for a few weeks. To feel attraction and desire . . . and to dr
eam, at least for a little while, that he still had a chance at love.
Rowan had said the other night that she’d never met anyone like him. Well, he’d never met anyone like her, who stirred his soul in a way he hadn’t thought possible.
Jonah tore his gaze from her now, glanced out the library’s front window. It was snowing again, had started a couple of hours ago. He should probably give the walkway another shovel. He strayed to the coat tree and reached for his coat.
Just in time to feel the vibrating in his coat’s pocket. Blast, had he left his phone here since this morning? Hamish had been calling with reports every day. Though he’d been barred from any of Geordie’s closed-door meetings, he’d managed to talk one advisor into giving him daily updates.
And though apparently Geordie had continued to talk big about taking action against Harthingland, so far he hadn’t followed through on anything.
Jonah pulled out the phone and lifted it to his ear. “Hi, Ham—”
“I’ve called you three times already. Where have you been?”
“Sorry. I accidentally left my phone in my coat pocket. What’s happen—”
“You need to get home, Your Majesty. Now.”
Rowan hadn’t seen Jonah for at least an hour. She’d tried not to let her gaze follow him around the library all day long, but she’d felt his presence anytime he was in the same room with her.
And missed it when he wasn’t.
“So what’s going to happen now with the broken pipes?”
She blinked, tried to make herself focus on Mom, who’d stopped by the book sale with several of Rowan’s stepsiblings. Rowan had finally let herself take a break from the circulation desk. Ashley was overseeing the cash box.
Rowan let herself slump in the sofa in the Mystery Room. Soon it would be time to clear out the furniture and make room for tonight’s little dance. A string quartet was already setting up in the corner now.
“Unfortunately, they’re going to have to get into the wall to fix it,” she answered. “But obviously there’s too much happening here to deal with that today. They’ll come back on Monday.”
