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And yet.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Lucy
Lucy’s phone rang, and her heart rate spiked, the way it had every time her phone had rung since she’d left the bookstore. But when she checked her screen, it wasn’t Grayson.
It was Charles.
“Hi, Charles,” she said, picking up. She’d already spoken with him that morning to let him know she wasn’t coming in that day.
“Come by the store tomorrow,” Charles said. “I’ll see you at noon.”
He hung up. Her heart squeezed. She really missed him, and just hearing his voice made her miss him more. She had never spent this many days without seeing him.
She missed Grayson, too, but it was the end of May now. He must be leaving soon, if he hadn’t already. That would make things better. Once he was gone, she could recover.
It was for the best.
The next day, Lucy went downtown. As she pulled onto Main Street, her heart sang, all the edges around her emotions softening as she took in the familiar sights. The town was full of greenery and colorful flowers, and the sky was a gorgeous blue, the perfect back-drop for her favorite little stores, with the very best people. Simone at the Pilates Club, Mateo at the restaurant, and of course, Charles at Crawley Books.
Lucy walked into the store, eyes hungry for the sight of the book-shelves, the rows and rows of books. The lounge chairs by the fireplace, the mantel covered with her pottery and the vases of dried flowers. The little tables with the mismatched chairs, the string lights, the bouquets of flowers.
The display cases were bare, and the coffee machine held a sign saying DRINKS ONLY, which made her want to whip up a dozen desserts to fill the rows. The flower-store corner was also empty except for dried bunches she’d left behind.
But the sight she longed for most was her grumpy assistant: his blond hair flopping to one side, his thin-rimmed glasses on his long nose, his ice-blue eyes sharp and assessing. She had worn her favorite sundress, hair up high in a ponytail, looking nice in case he was here. She searched the room, seeing two other new workers, but not him.
Instead, she found someone else.
“Charles!” she cried, rushing to hug him. He wrapped both arms around her. She released a long breath, holding him tight.
“I missed you, Lucy-Lu,” he said.
She pulled back. “I missed you, too.”
Any moment now, she expected Grayson to join them, and she braced herself, hoping and fearing the prospect, even as she knew there was a possibility he was already gone. As if sensing her thoughts, Charles put a hand on her shoulder.
“He isn’t here.”
Her heart sank. She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat.
Well, she was happy to see Charles at least, and the store. She had missed them both. But being here again only reminded her of Grayson; every inch of this place was stitched with memories of him, of their time together. Their fights and bickering, their talks and laughter, their kisses and caresses.
She pictured all those moments and memories, and her eyes welled with tears. She blinked them away, focusing.
“What’s up?” she asked Charles. “What did you want to talk about?”
“Come,” he said, leading her to his office. They entered, and she was astounded to find it perfectly clean. Grayson really was gone, with no trace of him left. The sweater he always kept hanging on the coat-rack, the special pens he liked in the pencil holder, the box of his favorite tea blend—they were all gone.
“Just need to show you something so you’re not shocked when it comes out later,” Charles said, reaching into the top drawer of the desk and pulling out a folder.
“What is it?” she asked, concerned. She took the folder, flipping it open.
It was his will. The top read luCy’s Copy, and her eyes immediately went to the highlighted section where it stated that he bequeathed Crawley Books to her.
She stopped breathing.
“Charles, no,” she said, shaking her head. “You can’t. It’s too much.”
