AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Hello. Hi,” I stammered. “I’m… just passing through and saw your store and thought perhaps you could help me with something.”
Isabelle walked closer, her jet-black hair stick straight and hanging slightly below her shoulders. “I’ll be happy to try.”
I eased the small black book from my bag, my fingers gripping it tightly as I held it up for her to see. “This was written by Genevieve DuWant, and while I’m certain that was a pseudonym, I’m hoping you can help me identify her real name.” I knew it was a long shot, but I couldn’t waste time beating around the bush.
Isabelle’s eyes locked on the book, her brows pinching tight. “Where did you get that?”
“Um… my local library back in Rhode Island. Why?”
“May I?” she asked reverently. She held out her hands, trembling and wanting.
My pulse spiked, hammering in my ears as I offered it to her.
The book’s diminutive size barely filled both her palms. Balancing it in one hand, she ran a finger over the title, tracing the author’s name in slow, even strokes.
“Can you tell me why it’s so special?” I asked.
“Because it’s the only copy of the last book my mother ever wrote.”
