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He wanted to open a restaurant, not pursue a relationship. If he wanted female company, he knew where to find it, and the women he dated understood that he wasn’t interested in a wife, or commitments, at least not yet. He’d grown up in a loving family and had always assumed he’d marry and settle down, but that had been before, when he’d been a brash litigator and he thought the world was his oyster. After switching careers, he’d been forced to confront his weaknesses, and he’d realized that yes, one day he might make a good husband and father, but he wasn’t there yet. In the meantime, he surrounded himself with fashionable socialites who were easy and fun, women who appreciated expensive dinners and were delighted by A-list parties. His girlfriends weren’t demanding, usually happy just to dress up and go out and be seen. He tried to imagine Rachel in the VIP section of one of the swanky clubs, but it was impossible to picture her gyrating on the dance floor, or sprawled across his lap at their table, texting and taking selfies while downing bottles of champagne.
“Why accounting?” he asked abruptly.
Her slim shoulders lifted and fell. “I was always really good at math. President of the math club in high school, honors math and science courses. I’ve just always liked numbers. They make sense to me.”
“There are a lot of things you could do with math besides accounting. Economist, financial planner, investment analyst, statistician—”
“Professor,” she interrupted. “I know. My dad was an econ professor, but the difference is, he enjoyed working with people. I like to work alone. And I like accounting. I like the precision, I like the research, I like tax law. It’s just a good fit for my personality.”
“As an accountant you work with people.”
“Very little, compared to some of the other careers you mentioned, and I like not being dependent on other people to do my job. People, in my experience aren’t predictable and orderly.”
He smiled faintly. “This is true.”
“And numbers have never let me down,” she added.
“But people have,” he said quietly.
She looked at him, expression sober. “Lately they have, yes.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“No.”
Interesting, he thought, but didn’t push. Instead he asked more questions. “Did you study accounting in college?”
“I did, and was offered an internship with Novak & Bartley on graduation, with the understanding that I’d take the Uniform CPA exam at the end of a year, and if I passed the exam, I’d be offered a full-time position. I’ve been with Novak & Bartley ever since.”
“So what do you do for fun?”
“Define fun,” she retorted.
“Dressing up, cutting lose, going out, drinking, dancing.” He paused. “Do you do any of that? Do you ever go dancing?”
Her forehead furrowed. “Dance? Like… night clubs, or line dancing?”
“Yes. Do you have a favorite club in LA? Or a venue where you go listen to music?”
She gave him an incredulous look. “And who would I do this with? My fellow accountants?”
“Surely you have a group of girlfriends—”
“Oh right, my posse.” And then she rolled her eyes. “I’m not Taylor Swift.”
“You have to have friends.”
“Have I complained that I’m lonely? Because I’m not. I’m busy. I work hard.”
“I don’t doubt it. But what do you do in your free time?”
“I thought we covered this already. I don’t have a lot of free time. I work.”
“Even on weekends?”
“If I’m not in the office on Saturday, I’m pouring over files on my dining room table.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean why? To get ahead, you have to put in the hours, which is what I’ve been doing.”
“So, you are being rewarded for your hard work.”
There was a slight pause before she answered. “Yes,” she said quietly.
It was only a brief hesitation but it was enough to get his attention. He’d been a very good trial lawyer at one point in time—back before the case that changed everything—and he might have given up the court room, but he could still read people well.
She wasn’t being entirely truthful with him, but why should she? They weren’t friends. She owed him nothing. He wasn’t even sure why he cared, or why he’d been so compelled to get her out of the stuffy store for a change of scenery. Inserting himself into her life would just complicate negotiations. From now on, he had to be more careful. More distance, less familiarity.
He pulled off the highway a short time later in Emigrant where they’d have lunch at the barbecue restaurant Troy had taken him to on one of Atticus’s first visits to Crawford County. Over ribs and brisket he told her about the Sheenans, mentioning that Taylor said she’d met Rachel a couple nights before.
At first Rachel was puzzled, but when he added that Taylor was the head librarian Rachel’s expression cleared. “Yes, I do remember her. I talked to her at Grey’s Saloon. She seemed very excited that the bookstore might be open again.”
“Zane Nash said the same thing, didn’t he?” Atticus said, trying to keep all emotion from his voice, not wanting to influence her one way or the other.
“He did,” she agreed. “But I’m not actually opening the bookstore. I’m just looking at the records and doing some research.”
Atticus wiped his sticky fingers off on the paper napkin and pushed his plate back. “Maybe you should open it while you’re here. If you’re going to be in town a couple weeks, run it like a real business and see what kind of response you get. It might help clarify things.”
She studied him for a moment. “You think Taylor and Zane are exceptions to the rule.”
He shrugged. “I think people are sentimental about the bookstore, yes, but the people who are sentimental aren’t the ones who will be dipping into their savings account to pay for upkeep and expenses. We both know that store is not going to pay for itself. I predict it’ll be a nonprofit for years to come.”
Rachel didn’t smile. In fact, she looked downright annoyed. “I don’t know if it’d struggle for years. It might be a rough first year, but there are ways to shore up the income. Carry more new books, add a selection of cards and gifts, lease part of the space to another business.”
“Like who?”
“An artist, maybe.”
“So you’d tear out bookshelves and create room for art?”
She glared at him. “You were so encouraging and supportive earlier, and now you’re just being mean.”
“I’m not being mean. I’m being honest, and practical. Paradise Books, in my opinion, is going to be a massive financial drain, but that’s just my opinion, so don’t listen to me. It’s your bookstore, as well as your opportunity to prove me wrong. I’d love for you to prove me wrong.”
“Oh, would you?” she retorted grimly, a flash of temper in her blue-green eyes.
He welcomed the flare of temper, reassured by the blaze of heat in her expression. She wasn’t quite as cool and controlled as she liked to pretend. “Open the doors. Make it a trial run. You might discover you love owning a bookstore. But you also might discover that it’s not for you.”
“That’s a great idea,” she said. “I’m here for a couple weeks. Why not open the store tomorrow?”
“Can’t wait to see what you’ll do with the place.”
Rachel crumpled her napkin and tossed it onto her plate before standing up. “Since it looks like I have work to do, I’d like to head back.”
He rose as well. “You’re not angry, are you?”
“Why would I be angry?” she asked, shoving her arms into coat sleeves. “I’m opening my bookstore just in time for the holidays. I couldn’t be more excited
.”
Chapter Four
Rachel seethed on the drive back to town, and was still seething when she went to bed that night, her last night at Bramble House. Fortunately, by the time she woke up, her anger had melted away, replaced by quiet determination.
She’d show Atticus he was wrong. She’d show him that Paradise Books wasn’t doomed, nor was it a sentimental relic of the past, but rather it was a business that was still vital to the community.
After checking out of the bed and breakfast, she drove to the nearest grocery store and bought some basic supplies, and then headed to Paradise Books to settle in. This morning she looked at the store with new eyes. She wasn’t going to let herself be negative. For the next ten days she’d focus on opportunity and possibility, and with Christmas right around the corner, why couldn’t she get some strong holiday sales? She just needed to fix up the windows and create some attractive displays and before long everybody would be coming in and buying things, and making spirits bright.
Her gaze went to the big windows where, until yesterday, a Valentine’s Day display had filled the windows for three years. Clearly it was time for a new display, a Christmas display, something inviting so folks would want to come in. She’d need to locate the Christmas books. Surely Lesley had Christmas books. Rachel would just need to find them.
What else?
Some festive decorations. Something easy, though, and inexpensive, because her practical side hadn’t gone dormant, and was whispering to her even now that a used bookstore wasn’t practical, not in a technology-driven age, but at the same time, she didn’t have to give that little voice free reign. She’d spent her life being rational, and lately she’d been feeling…
Frustrated.
Bored.
Dissatisfied.
And now, for the first time in years, she felt excitement. Eagerness. Okay, there was a fair amount of anxiety mixed in with the other emotions, but that was to be expected. Rachel was a perfectionist and while she didn’t know the first thing about running a store, she could learn.
After searching the shelves, she only found a half dozen Christmas titles, but three in each window was better than nothing.
