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She assumed there was another, above her, that she couldn’t see.
Bookshelves lined all the walls of the first floor where she stood, along with rows of bookshelves that filled up almost the entire floor. Several old but comfortable-looking chairs were scattered around.
It was brightly lit from the afternoon sun that shone in from the west.
Bryce struck the light switch behind her, right by the door, and it illuminated everything even more.
All the bookshelves were filled to overflowing with books. Colorful bindings, although in several sections, they looked very old.
“Wow. I’ve never seen anything like this before.”
She’d grown up in South Carolina, moving to Indiana the year she graduated, so it wasn’t like she’d never been out of North Dakota. But she had a feeling that this was not just uncommon for North Dakota, it was uncommon for the country.
“I guess it is something.”
“For sure. Wow. All these books. I heard six thousand volumes, but...I don’t think that’s even close to being true.”
“I don’t think so either, but I guess since you’re cataloguing them, you can let me know.”
Suddenly, the task seemed greater than she could ever imagine. How in the world was she going to do this?
“Were these all here when you moved in?” she asked, which wasn’t exactly the question she wanted to ask, but she was trying to sort through her head, to figure out what in the world she was going to do. Maybe she just wanted a little background on this, some kind of idea where she could begin.
“My great-grandfather on my dad’s side built this house, and he included the library for my great-grandmother.”
“She loved to read?” Peyton asked the question, but it seemed obvious.
“Yeah. She loved to read, and he loved her. You’ve heard of the Rockefellers. They were the millionaires back then, but the Shakers weren’t too far away. And my great-grandfather would spare no expense for his wife.” Bryce’s voice was softer and more inviting than it had been in any of their other interactions. Like he admired and respected his great-grandparents.
“Wow. What a love.”
“Yeah. It’s that old-fashioned kind of love. The kind you really don’t see around anymore.”
That line sounded almost bitter, but for once, they had something they could agree upon. People in modern society didn’t do things without a selfish motive. That included getting married.
Her bitterness almost matched his.
Maybe he was hurting.
“You’ve been burned.”
“Hmm.” It wasn’t really an assent.
“I suppose I have the same as you.”
“Nothing is ever the same as someone else.”
“Yeah. I guess I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t know anything about you.”
“Nor do you need to.”
It felt like that subject was closed, and she didn’t push. She didn’t need to know anything about him. He was right. It just...felt like they finally might have a little bit of common ground.
“So all of these books are from your great-grandmother?” She could hardly believe they were.
“No. My grandmother loved to read just as much as her mother did. And my mom... I think that’s why my dad fell in love with her. They both loved reading. I remember them spending a lot of time here.”
“This is where I would be if I lived here,” Peyton said, and there was still awe in her voice as she looked around, noticing the intricate carvings on the pillars and the mural on the ceiling that she’d missed first glance. The gentle arch of the windows, the richness of the railing, and the dullness of the hardwood floor.
