“Most definitely,” he said.
“Okay, I have a thing in the evening, and I can’t come over until after that, but I can swing by around eight thirty.”
He grinned. “That would be great.”
Savy pursed her lips. He looked like a kid relieved not to be picked last for the team. This made no sense. What was going on with him? She thought about pressing him but remembered that she was trying to maintain some boundaries.
“I really appreciate your help with ideas for the bookstore,” she said. “And I know after last night, there might be some confusion that we are moving in a certain direction, but I just want to be clear that we’re not.”
He propped his chin on his hand and watched her.
“Ryder is your best friend and Maisy is mine,” she said. “Things could get awfully complicated if we . . .”
“Got into a relationship?” he asked.
“Yeah, that.” She pulled at the neck of her sweater, trying to let in some cool air.
“Then we won’t,” he said with a shrug. He looked very blasé about the whole thing.
Savy looked at him in confusion. Last night this man had been so smokin’ hot, he’d practically imprinted on her and now he was meh. What was his damage? Was he really just over it now that they’d slept together? She knew she should be relieved, because men could be so darn clingy after a night of good sex, but still it seemed out of character for him.
And she wanted no surprises from him, like he was all cool now that he was sated but then turned on her later, wanting more sex or a relationship. That was never going to fly because she was leaving Fairdale for New York as soon as she got the high sign and she did not want any drama when she left. She hated drama.
“What are you thinking?” he asked. “I’m looking at your face and it’s like watching a kaleidoscope, you have so many thoughts swirling in there.”
Savy thought this was an opportune time to spell it out for him.
“Do you know why I need the bookstore to be a huge success?” she asked.
“Because you don’t want to see Maisy lose everything?”
“Partly that,” she said. She picked up a macaron. She broke off a small piece and dipped it in the froth of her flat white. She popped the macaron in her mouth and temporarily lost her train of thought as the sweet goodness filled her mouth.
“And the other part?” he prodded. He shifted in his seat and glanced away from her.
“I want to go home,” she said. “I want to go back to New York. I want my career back. I miss the energy I feel when I walk those streets. Being in New York is like being plugged into an outlet. There is no other feeling like it in the world. Have you ever been to New York?”
“No,” he said. “You make it sound electrifying.”
She laughed. “I suppose in some ways it is. It’s where I belong. And the reason I’m working so hard to get Maisy’s bookstore launched is because if I can put her on the map, maybe I can make my way back home.”
Quino tipped his head to the side. “What happened to make you leave?”
Savy shook her head. She didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t want to show her vulnerability. Heck, she hadn’t even told Maisy what had happened, letting her think it had been a corporate downsize that had pushed her out.
“Come on,” he cajoled. “After last night, there are no secrets between us. You clearly didn’t leave of your own volition. What happened?”
“I haven’t talked about it with anyone here,” she said.
He gave her a look of understanding and put his free hand over his heart. “I promise to keep it in the vault.”
“I was fired,” she said. Even now, the words made her choke. She had to take a calming breath and a long sip of her coffee. She continued, “My boss, Linda Briggs, started a campaign against me. I know I sound paranoid, but I swear I’m not. She somehow managed to co-opt all of my work, making it look like it was originally hers. Then she went to management, accused me of stealing her work, and had me sacked.”
“That evil witch!” Quino said. He was frowning, making deep WTF lines between his eyebrows, and Savannah felt as if he understood exactly how upsetting it had been. Weirdly, his outrage on her behalf made her feel much better. She warmed to the subject.
“It gets worse,” she said. “She managed to have my hard drive wiped out so any proof that I had that I’d been the one coordinating the publicity for a new author we were promoting was gone. Meanwhile, my original work mysteriously appeared on her computer time-stamped as hers.”
“That’s evil,” he said.
“Diabolical,” she agreed. “I have one ally at the office, Archer, and he keeps me apprised of what’s going on. I’m just waiting for her to slip up, so I can prove what she did to me.”
“How’s that looking?” he asked.
“Well, she may have hacked into my work hard drive but she didn’t have what was on my personal laptop, so a lot of what she took was only half-finished. According to Archer, she is flailing,” Savy said. She tried to keep the satisfaction out of her voice. She failed.
“And you think if you hit it out of the park with Maisy’s shop, you’ll get your cred back with your old employers,” he said. “Is that the plan?”
“Mostly,” she said. “But it’s more than that. Publishing is a very small community and she destroyed my reputation. When I was fired I couldn’t get another job anywhere. I want my reputation back and then I want a job with a publisher that values me.”
“I can understand that,” he said. “So that’s why you’re so fired up to go back to New York.”
“Not just that,” she said. “New York is my home. I love it there. I like that crosswalk lights are mere suggestions, that the best concerts in town are on subway platforms, where good manners are considered folding your pizza slice before biting into it, and . . . egg creams.”
“Wait. What? You fold your pizza slice before you eat it?” he asked. He shook his head. “Bunch of savages.”
Savannah saw the teasing gleam in his eye and she laughed. “Don’t be judgy. I miss it. It’s lovely here, don’t get me wrong, but I want to go home.”
“All right,” he said. “Then let’s figure out how you do that.”
Chapter Twelve
SAVANNAH hurried into the secret room that was not so secret. A hideaway room, the entrance of which was built into a bench seat on the second floor of the bookstore. Savannah popped the lid and climbed over the side, stepping onto the narrow staircase that led to the hidden room below. Maisy and Ryder had discovered it when they were remodeling the place and it had become a meeting place for the Royal Order of George, a secret society the women had formed over the summer.
When Perry and Savannah had found King George, the bookstore cat, abandoned on the front porch of the shop when he was just a teeny tiny kitten, they decided to rescue him. It had been no small feat since their veterinarian friend Hannah advised that they not get attached, as he was only a few days old and not likely to thrive. Perry had been determined, however, and saving King George was the mission that launched the Royal Order of George, which was essentially a good deed club which met every Sunday night in the secret room.
“You’re late, Savy,” Maisy called from below. “We were about to start without you.”
“But I brought pumpkin spice donuts,” Savy said.
“She’s forgiven,” Jeri Lancaster declared. She turned to Savy and took the box. “You’re forgiven.”
“Donuts make everything better, don’t they?” Savy asked.
“Especially when I brought hot cocoa,” Jeri said.
She was a lovely woman, tall and lithe with dark skin and hair and a smile as wide as the sky. She had been Maisy’s babysitter when they were kids but the two had remained close, and now that Jeri was an accountant, Maisy had tapped her to help keep th
e books. Savy wondered if she should just ask outright how the bookstore was doing.
“Savy, have you seen what Little G can do?” Perry called.
The moment was lost and Savy turned to see Perry holding a ball of yarn. Perry tossed the yarn across the room and King George pounced after it. At a little over five months old, he hadn’t quite grown into his feet or his ears yet. He managed to retrieve the yarn ball with his mouth and he trotted back to Perry, dropping it at her feet.
Savy’s jaw dropped. “Is he playing fetch?”
Perry nodded and grinned. “Isn’t that the best?”
Savy looked at Maisy. “Did you know this about him?”
Maisy shook her head. “He’s clearly special.”
“Yes, he is,” Jeri agreed. She kneeled next to Perry and scratched George under the chin just the way he liked it. “Who’s my pretty kitty? Is it Georgie? Yes, it is.”
Maisy smiled at Savy. “So, how was your meeting last night?”
“Good,” Savy said. “Very productive.”
“Really?” Maisy asked. “Because I heard that you were having coffee with Quino, and I’m not sure how that translates into promoting the bookstore, so do enlighten me.”
“Who told you I was having coffee with Quino?” she asked. “Oh, wait, let me guess. Mary told Ellen who told Stan who told Ryder who told you, or some variation on that telephone game, am I right?”
Maisy laughed. “Pretty close. It was Travis Wainwright, chief of police, actually. He saw you through the window and wondered if there was something happening there. There isn’t, is there?”
“Stop fishing,” Savy said. “Quino and I are just friends.”
She didn’t choke on the words, for which she was ever grateful. One slipup and Maisy would pounce like George on that ball of yarn. Maybe for one night they had been a rumpled-sheet, sweaty version of friends. But that was a onetime deal and now that she knew things—intimate things such as how he looked when he was on the brink of—well, it didn’t change what they were, what they had always been. Just friends.
“If you say so,” Maisy said.
“I do.”
“All right, ladies, we need to get this meeting started,” Jeri said. “I have to get back to my boys before Davis decides that a wrestling match is a great way to wind the boys down before bed.”
“Okay, I call the Royal Order of George to order,” Maisy said. “Any personal items to share?”
“Drink the cocoa before it gets cold,” Jeri said.
“I’ll pour,” Perry offered. She approached their spread set up on a small table and poured the cocoa Jeri had brought into mugs, putting a big marshmallow or two into each before passing them out.
Savy clutched her mug, appreciating the warmth in her hands. She sipped the velvety concoction—it was rich and chocolaty with just a hint of cinnamon—and toasted Jeri with her mug.
“Delicious.”
“Thank you.”
“All right,” Maisy said. “Who wants to share first?”
Jeri raised her hand. “I’ll go.”
Savy listened with half an ear. This was the part of the meeting where they shared whatever anonymous good deeds they had managed during the week. Sometimes it was simple stuff like buying coffee for the person behind them in line, and other times it was a bigger deed like sending a ticket for a loved one to come and visit an aging parent.
Jeri was talking about how she had started a reverse advent calendar with her boys. Instead of opening a window for every day of December on a paper calendar with chocolates tucked inside, she had given each of her boys a box and every day they put one nonperishable item for the food bank in the box. The week before Christmas they would donate their boxes full of food to a shelter.
Maisy’s eyes went wide. “We could do donations here. Only we can make it books. We can collect the very best in romance books about women who are learning to stand on their own two feet, like The Duchess War by Courtney Milan or Not Quite a Husband by Sherry Thomas.” She looked at Savy. “What do you think?”
“That is definitely something we can promote on social media,” she said. She glanced at Jeri. How could she ask her about the financial situation of the shop without it coming out weird? Maybe she could work it in sideways here. “Unless giving away books would hurt the shop’s bottom line?”
Jeri looked at her and shook her head. “We could have people buy them and donate them. Spread that good karma around. Or we could match their donation by donating another book. Also, it’s a tax write-off, so it’s a loss now but a possible gain later.”
“I love this idea,” Perry said. “I wonder if I could start something like this at my school.”
“Brilliant,” Maisy said. “Maybe the front office would be willing to help with a canned food drive, too.”
“I’ll ask,” Perry said.
“Who’s next?” Maisy asked.
Perry jumped in and talked about what she and her boyfriend, Cooper, had done that week. Although he didn’t attend the meetings, Cooper Wainwright, yep, the police chief’s son, was never far from Perry’s side. If she was doing a good deed, he was usually with her.
Maisy went next. She and Ryder were bringing King George to the senior center to visit the cat-loving old folks. King George had taken to the role like a champ and Maisy insisted that he was getting better about his leash, but Savy had yet to see any evidence of that.
Then it was Savy’s turn. She had no idea what to say. She’d been so consumed with Quino and their night together, she hadn’t really thought about her quota of good deeds this week. She supposed she could say that she had relieved the sexual frustration of a poor man, but she suspected this would be called into question since she’d relieved her own pent-up hormones as well. Plus, it really wasn’t rated PG and Perry was only fourteen.
“I didn’t manage anything this week,” she said. “But I did find a note in the wish box, thanking me for the grant-writing help I gave a few months ago, so can I cash in that chip?”
“What grant writing?” Maisy asked.
“In August, I found a note in the wish box from someone wishing for a grant to help pay for them to go work with elephants in Africa. So I did some searching and found a list of grants available, then I wrote up what I would submit if I were applying and left instructions for them to tailor it to their own needs. I left it beside the wish box and in a few days—poof!—it was gone. Well, this week a note appeared thanking me, so I’m thinking maybe it helped.”
“The wish box,” Maisy said. “Well, that was clever. I thought we were just keeping that as a place for people to store wishes, not to raid for our own good deeds.”
“It had an elephant drawn on it,” Savy said. “I got sucked in and I’m glad I did.”
She glanced at her phone to check the time.
“Have someplace you need to be?” Jeri asked.
“No, not me,” Savy said. “Just tired.”
“Uh-huh,” Maisy said. “And why would that be?”
“Insomnia,” Savy said. “I hardly slept at all last night.” At least half of that statement was true.
“I hear that,” Jeri said. “It’s been go, go, go ever since Thanksgiving. In fact, I have to get on home because I have to work on the boys’ costumes for the Christmas pageant. I have one wise man, a Joseph, and a lamb to create out of old bedsheets and the insides of a pillow.”
“And I have finals to study for,” Perry said with a sigh.
Maisy glanced around the room. “All right, then, I move to adjourn the Royal Order of George until next Sunday. Agreed?”
“Aye,” Jeri, Savy, and Perry all answered.
They all helped clean up, bringing the leftovers to the kitchen to save for work the next day. Pumpkin spice donuts would definitely make Monday morning more palatable. Jeri hugged everyone and scooted out th
e front door. Perry was right behind her with King George in his harness, refusing to walk on his leash, leaving her no choice but to carry him. Shocker.
Maisy was about to follow them and Savy supposed she should let her go since it was almost eight thirty. If she loitered, she’d be late getting to Quino’s, which was a fifteen-minute drive to the outskirts of town. But if she engaged Maisy in conversation, she might learn what sort of financial straits the bookstore was in. Decision made. Quino would have to wait.
“Maisy, can I ask you something?” she said as Maisy shrugged into her coat.
“Sure.” Maisy pulled a knit beanie over her curls. “What’s up?”
“Are you enjoying owning the bookstore?” Savy asked. “Is it everything you hoped it would be?”
Maisy’s eyes went wide behind her glasses. “Oh, hell, yeah. I mean, I figured I’d enjoy it, but I had no idea I would love it so much. Connecting readers with books, meeting authors, running my own business. I love, love, love it. I wish I was better at the business side of things, but I’m hoping that will come with time.”
“Are you worried about the business?” Savy asked. There, she said it. Now would be a great time for Maisy to share if there was a problem.
“Oh, shoot, does it show?” Maisy asked. “I try so hard to pretend I know what I’m doing, but I have to tell you, I don’t have a clue. I am seriously doing the fake it till you make it thing. Do you think anyone else knows? Do you think they suspect? I’ll just die if someone calls me out.”
Unprepared for this gush of honesty, Savy blinked. What to do? Tell her friend that she knew she was in financial trouble or blindly reassure her? She glanced at Maisy and saw tears in her friend’s eyes. Oh, no. She did not want to be the one to pull Maisy under the water when she was already drowning.
“No!” Savy said. “You are doing a phenomenal job. I mean, look at this place. Not right now because it’s empty but day to day, we are rocking some serious foot traffic.”
“You think so?” Maisy bit her thumbnail in a nervous habit Savy recognized. She took her friend’s hand and pulled it away from her mouth.
The Christmas Keeper Page 15
