Jane Bites Back_ A Novel - Michael Thomas Ford [27]
Lucy sighed. “I’d love to see that,” she said. “I’d enjoy seeing anything in New York.”
“Maybe we’ll take a trip this spring,” Jane said, surprising herself. “Just you and me.”
“Really?” Lucy said, looking almost shocked. “I’d like that.”
Jane took out the receipts for the previous day and started looking through them. She trusted Lucy completely, but she needed something to distract her. Now that she was once more surrounded by books, all she could think about was her own novel. She imagined piles of it sitting on one of the display tables. She pictured customers picking it up and recognizing her name. She thought about ringing up copies and putting them in bags. She was so preoccupied by her daydreams that she only barely noticed the sound of the bell as someone entered the shop. A few minutes later someone approached the counter and set a book down. Jane glanced at it and saw that it was a copy of Emma. Instantly the joy she’d felt while thinking about her new book disappeared as she was reminded of how long she’d been forced to keep her secret.
“It’s my favorite of all your books,” said a man’s voice.
“It’s a very good one,” Jane said as she rang up the purchase.
Only as the scanner read the bar code and beeped its acceptance did she realize what the customer had said.
Her eyes jerked up. The man standing before her was striking, with pale skin and a face that could only be described as beautiful. His dark eyes were matched by the darkness of his hair, which was cut slightly long, so a lock of it curled over one eye. Jane’s heart seemed to have stopped, and she found it difficult to breathe.
“You,” she whispered.
The man smiled, and his eyes sparkled. “Me,” he said.
Jane fumbled with the book in her hands and it fell to the floor. She bent to pick it up, hoping that when she stood up the man would be gone. But he wasn’t. If anything, his smile had grown more intense.
“I see you’ve met.” Walter’s voice drew Jane back to the moment. He was standing beside the man.
“You know him?” Jane asked, looking at Walter.
“Brian is my client,” Walter answered.
“Brian?” Jane repeated.
“Brian George,” the man said.
“You know how I’ve been restoring the old Roberts place?” Walter said.
Jane nodded. Walter had done a wonderful job of bringing the neglected Victorian back to its former glory. He’d told Jane that he’d bought it for practically nothing and was going to sell it as soon as he was done with the work.
“Brian is the one who hired me to do the work,” Walter said.
“I asked Mr. Fletcher to keep my purchase of the house a bit of a secret,” said Brian.
Jane very much wanted to ask why Brian George wished to keep his move to Brakeston a secret, but fortunately for her, Walter began speaking again.
“Brian is a writer,” he said.
Jane looked at the man. “Is he?” she said.
“Well, I try,” said Brian.
“Oh, yes,” Jane said. “Now I remember. You wrote that book about the … um … those …”
Walter, watching her search for the answer, became clearly uncomfortable. Jane knew he was embarrassed for his client, although Brian himself seemed not the least bit ruffled.
Jane sighed. “I’m sorry. With eighteen billion books around here, I can’t possibly remember them all,” she said, ignoring the grin she could see forming on Brian’s face.
“Brian is the author of Winter Comes Slowly,” Walter said quickly.
“Winter Comes Slowly?” said Lucy, poking her head up from behind the shelves in the gardening section. “I love that book.” She stepped into the aisle and walked to the counter.
“And who might this lovely young lady be?” Brian asked.
“This is Lucy,” said Jane. “The manager of the shop.”
Lucy turned her head toward Jane. “Manager?” she said. “When did—”
“Surprise!” Jane said, hoping to distract her. “I was going to tell you this afternoon.”
“Wow,” said Lucy. Then she looked back to Brian. “Wow,” she said again, smiling, and Jane knew her tactic had failed. “I really loved your book. Your poetry is so beautiful. Spare and haunting.”
Brian touched