Page 62 of Key West Homecoming

CHAPTER 11

Emma arrived at The Reading Room ten minutes early.

The bookstore sat halfway down a shaded block of Elizabeth Street in what looked as though it had once been someone’s home. New hardcovers covered a table near the front door, and a woman with reading glasses was behind the coffee counter with a paperback open beside the register. Emma ordered coffee she wasn’t sure she would drink and carried it through the doorway at the back.

The next room was lined with used books from floor to ceiling. The smell of old paper reminded her of the library Gloria used to take her to when she was a child, although here it was mixed with coffee and the faint dampness that seemed to settle into old buildings in Key West.

A second doorway opened onto a small walled garden.

Edmund was already there.

He sat at the corner table beneath an olive tree with a book open in front of him and a cup of black coffee near his hand. He wore a pale linen jacket despite the warm morning, and Emma could see the effects of his recent illness in the thinness of his face and shoulders. Still, he sat straight, his white hair neatly combed, and when he saw her, he closed the book and stood.

It took him a little effort.

Emma resisted the instinct to tell him he didn’t have to.

“Ms. Kendrick?”

“Yes.”

“Edmund Fairbanks. Thank you for coming.”

“I’m glad you wrote to me.”

“So am I. Please, sit.”

Emma took the chair across from him, and Edmund waited until she was settled before sitting again.

Up close, he looked older than she’d expected. His face was thin, but his gray eyes were clear and kind. A gold wedding band, worn nearly smooth with age, remained on his left hand.

Emma wondered whether it had belonged to the wife he’d lost before meeting Gloria.

Before she could decide what to say, Edmund studied her face.

“Your grandmother once told me you look exactly like your father. She said she never stopped being surprised by it.”

Emma lowered her coffee to the table.

Of all the things she had imagined Edmund might say, she hadn’t expected him to begin with her father.

“I only remember a few things from when I was little. I don’t really remember him.”

“She knew that. It troubled her sometimes, although she understood you were too young when he died. She hoped being at the cottage might bring some of him back to you. She used to say the house held him well.”

Emma looked down at her hands.

Only a few days earlier, she’d sat on the patio at Winslow’s thinking about her father and realizing that the cottage was one of the few places left where she could still imagine him. Now this man she’d never met was telling her Gloria had thought the same thing.

“She really said that?”

“Many times.”

Emma felt her eyes begin to water and blinked quickly.

“Thank you.”

“I’ve been waiting a long time to tell you things like that, so I’m going to try not to tell you all of them in the first ten minutes.”