Three months later, Dahlia straightened the New York Times bestseller that had toppled from the lowest tier of To Be Read’s front bay window display and glanced through the window. The weather was considerably nicer than when she had arrived in April. After she’d been unable to find someone to manage the bookstore for her, she’d been left with no other option but to quit her job and move to Candle Beach. Moving out of her apartment had actually been a relief, and after donating her bedraggled furniture to Goodwill, everything that remained fit either into her car or in her mother’s basement. Although she missed her friends in Seattle, over the last few months she’d grown close to her childhood friends, Gretchen and Maggie. For the most part, she was enjoying her time in town, however long it may be.

She pushed the curtain aside to see if the summer storm had cleared. The hot July sun had burned through the fog and clouds of the morning’s rainstorm, and now shone on a glistening Main Street, brightening both the town and her spirits. But her joy faded when she saw the woman approaching the bookstore.

It was too late to hide, too late to pretend to be busy in the back storeroom. The elderly woman’s lips formed a thin, determined line across her face as she beelined for the store’s entrance.

Dahlia gazed longingly at the back door before steeling herself for the woman’s arrival by molding her own lips into a forced smile designed to hide gritted teeth. The woman entered the store, making a show of wiping her spotless low-heeled pumps on the entry mat. The acrid scent of recent rain followed her.

“Why Agnes, how nice to see you.” Dahlia’s cheeks screamed with the effort of the pleasant greeting. It had never hurt so much to smile.

Agnes didn’t bother with such niceties. She squinted her eyes and peered over her pointed nose at the mud-streaked windows. “I see you haven’t managed to run Ruth’s bookstore into the ground yet, although you haven’t been spending much time maintaining the place.”

Dahlia sucked in her breath and slowly counted to ten while exhaling. Of course Agnes picked up on one of the few parts of the store that wasn’t squeaky clean. A coastal rain storm had come through around dawn and spattered the windows with dirt from the flowerbeds in front of the store. With a new shipment of James Patterson’s suspense novels delivered soon after opening, Dahlia hadn’t had time yet to wash the grime off of the windows.

Agnes circled the bookstore’s perimeter, her eagle eyes taking in every book on the shelves that dared to edge half an inch out of line from the others. She made a point to tap one soldier back into formation and shook her head at the rest. It was a wonder they didn’t spontaneously realign themselves with the sheer force of her disapproval.

Dahlia leaned against the door frame and waited for the siege to end. Ever since she’d made the decision to stay in Candle Beach until the summer was over and she could hire help, Agnes had been a thorn in her side. Every week, she came into the store and inspected it. Never once had she said anything positive.

“How is business? I don’t see any customers in here.” Agnes narrowed her eyes at Dahlia. “I hear from the other Ladies that they never see customers when they pass by.”

“It’s great.” Not that it was any business of Agnes or her spying Ladies Club. The truth was, with the opening of the Book Warehouse in Haven Shores in June, what little repeat business she had from the full-time residents was trickling away. At this rate, there was no way the bookstore would make a profit in nine months. She had hoped the summer tourist dollars would help, but here it was, mid-July, and the fabled cash influx hadn’t materialized.

A woman wearing flip-flops, cutoff jeans and a purple tank top with ‘Baby’ emblazoned across the front entered the store. A hint of aromatic coconut sunscreen hung in her wake. While the beachgoer perused the fiction section, Agnes disappeared into the back to do who knew what. Dahlia sidled up to the woman to ask if she needed help, but she said she was just browsing while her husband picked up their picnic lunch from the Bluebonnet Café. When the doorbell jingled, announcing the woman’s exit, Agnes returned.

“Did she buy anything?”

“No, she was just looking.” Dahlia crossed her fingers. “But she said she’d be back later with her husband.” She hated to lie, but sometimes little fibs were necessary.

“If she came in here, she was interested in purchasing something. Every customer is a sales opportunity and you don’t have many of those. Have you done anything to promote the store to tourists? Are you participating in the summer market?” Agnes asked.

“No, it didn’t seem like an appropriate place to sell books.” Dahlia had seen a flyer last month for the summer market, but she hadn’t done anything more with it than place it in the recycling bin. The market operated in Candle Beach’s town square every weekend from Memorial Day to Labor Day. The vendors offered mainly arts and crafts, like jewelry, handmade items and photography, but there were a few produce and other booths as well.

“Hrumph,” Agnes said. “Ruth always had a booth at the summer market.”

“Yes, well, I’m not Ruth.” Agnes’s constant disapproval ground away at the last veneer of Dahlia’s patience and she stifled a scream.

“That’s obvious.” Agnes sniffed high in the air, flounced the hem of her knee-length black raincoat with a quick movement and turned toward the door. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to make it. You should have sold when you had the opportunity. Ruth would be appalled at the state of this place.”

“It looks exactly like it did when I took the daily management over from you and your friends.”

Agnes glared at Dahlia, who shrank back involuntarily. “I told Ruth she should have left her store to your mother. At least she had the decency to come and visit Ruth during her illness. And she has the ability to stick with a responsibility, something you sorely lack.”

A book cover facing out in the self-improvement section caught Dahlia’s eye and she impulsively picked it up. She thrust her selection at Agnes. “How to Win Friends and Influence People. Perhaps you’d be interested in this book?” False sweetness dripped from her voice. “I could sell it to you at a discount, since I can see this book would be helpful to you.”

“Dear, you can’t afford to be offering books at a discount.” Agnes marched over to where Dahlia had selected the book and plucked another one off the shelf—Saving Your Relationship: How to Compromise. “Perhaps you could have used this book a few years ago,” she said in a matching saccharine tone. “Maybe you’d still be married.”

Her comment slammed into Dahlia with the force of a freight train. She turned for a minute, not wanting Agnes to see the tears that threatened to fall. She regained her composure and turned back around. Agnes waited expectantly, as if ready for active confrontation.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dahlia said. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I wasn’t the problem in my marriage, Jeff was. I was the only person making compromises.” Anger rushed through her veins, flushing her face with heat. “I won’t let you or anyone else tell me what to do. I never asked for this from Aunt Ruth. I’m doing the best I can under the circumstances.”

“Are you?” Agnes surveyed the room again. “It’s not just your marriage that you couldn’t keep together. You’ve been like this since you were a child. Always wanting to put only half the effort into something and then running out to play. Do you know how many times Ruth had to redo a task you’d been assigned when you worked at the store in the summers? Instead of stocking the shelves properly, you’d throw the books on the shelf and leave to go party with your friends.”

Dahlia recoiled. Although true, Agnes’s words stung and she didn’t appreciate the trip down memory lane. “Ruth never mentioned it to me. I didn’t know it bothered her so much.”

Agnes had a talent for making her feel both furious and ashamed at the same time. Ruth had always given her permission to leave to hang out with her friends, but now she wondered if she’d taken advantage of her aunt’s kindness.

“Ruth was so proud of this store. Until she fell ill, she kept the place in tip-top shape. You can’t even be bothered to replace the cookies. How hard is that?” Agnes nodded at the silver cookie platter sitting on a lace doily next to the insulated carafe of tea on the side table. Only crumbs remained on the plate after two couples had herded their small children through the store. “And is that an ant I see on the cookie tray?”

Dahlia rushed over to the offending item. The only thing she saw besides crumbs was a tiny piece of gray lint that had caught on the edge of the platter. She brushed it off surreptitiously with her thumb while picking up the tray.

“No ants here.” She dumped the crumbs in the garbage, reached under the counter, and brought out some replacement cookies. She set some on the tray, then added more in case another group of kids came through.

“I know I saw an ant.” Agnes frowned at her as though she’d dumped an entire ant hill into the garbage. Dahlia shrugged and set the heaping tray of cookies down on the side table. As much as she wanted to throw Agnes out of the store, she refused to escalate the situation any further.

Agnes harrumphed again and scanned the store.

“I suppose it doesn’t really matter. You won’t make a profit unless you put some effort into operating the store and I’m confident that won’t happen. In nine months, ownership of the bookstore will transfer to me and I’ll make the improvements to bring this store back to what it was when Ruth was in charge.”

Dahlia couldn’t help herself. She’d never heard this stipulation of the will. Maybe she should have finished reading through all the paperwork the paralegal had given her.

“Excuse me, what do you mean the bookstore will be yours in nine months?”

“It’s quite simple, dear.” Agnes tapped her umbrella against the carpeted floor. “If you fail to turn a profit at the end of the year, which you will, I get the bookstore.”

It hadn’t occurred to her what would happen if the bookstore wasn’t profitable after a year under her management. Now, the older woman’s motivations were clear. If the bookstore failed, Agnes stood to inherit. If she lost the bookstore, would she lose the house too? She wasn’t going to ask Agnes. She made a mental note to call Aunt Ruth’s lawyer when she had a chance.

“Well, don’t worry about taking on that responsibility. To Be Read will earn a profit by the end of the year,” she said. “I have plans for improving the store and increasing foot traffic.” She didn’t know how, but somehow she would create a plan to turn things around.

Agnes smiled. “We’ll see about that.”

Dahlia walked over to the door and opened it, hoping Agnes would take the hint. Thankfully, she did.

“I’ll be back next Wednesday,” she announced as she exited the bookstore. She opened her black umbrella and strode off down the street, the umbrella casting a shadow behind her in the full sunlight. With her black raincoat, severe hairstyle and an umbrella instead of a broom, she only lacked a pointed hat to complete her witchiness. Dahlia looked in the opposite direction, toward the waterfront, and saw a rainbow arc over Main Street. If only there was a pot of gold at the end of that rainbow. She was going to need it.

She turned to survey her surroundings again. Would her great-aunt really be appalled at the state of the store? She’d tried to keep things up, but it appeared shabbier than ever. The curtains had been washed, but some of the velvet had rubbed off in the process. Everything was dingy with age. Was it worth spending Ruth’s savings to attempt to save the bookstore?

She didn’t know whether to laugh at Agnes’s antics or run into the back room and cry. Agnes’s assessment regarding the bookstore’s profitability had been correct. Dahlia had been reluctant to use her limited financial resources to make improvements to the store if she was going to sell it in the near future. Now, investing in To Be Read had become a necessity.

She went to the office and sat down in Aunt Ruth’s swivel desk chair. The immensity of the task at hand hit her and the tears she’d held back during Agnes’s visit erupted. Then her eyes caught on a picture of Aunt Ruth and she stopped crying. She owed it to her to try.

She spun around a few times in the chair to shake the away the sense of doom Agnes had brought into the store, and then dragged her feet on the floor to slow down. Through teary eyes, she picked up a pen and paper. It was time to get down to business.

But she didn’t get far on her plans to save the bookstore. A few minutes after Agnes left, the bell over the front door chimed. She stood from the desk and set down her pen. Wiping the remaining tears away with the sleeve of the black long-sleeved blouse she wore to combat the air conditioner’s arctic chill, she straightened her posture and smoothed the blouse over her skinny jeans. Her watch read four-thirty. In an hour and a half she could close the store for the day. Ninety more minutes without breaking into tears. She could do that easily.

Or so she thought.

* * *

Dahlia paused in the doorframe between the back room and the public area of the bookstore. The newly arrived customer had his back to her, facing a display of Lee Child thrillers. She recognized his dark wavy hair and the scent of his spicy aftershave.

Of all the days, why did Garrett decide to come in today?

She pasted a smile on her face, brushed her hair back with both hands and called out a cheery hello. He swiveled to face her, a genuine smile on his face. In the three months since their first encounters, they’d made polite chitchat when they saw each other around town and during Garrett’s weekly visit to the bookstore for a fresh supply of reading material. With all the books he bought from her, she wasn’t sure when he found the time to write his own novels. That is, if the town’s whisperings about his writing career were accurate. Unfortunately, their relationship hadn’t progressed beyond a professional one, even though she kept hinting she’d be open to more.

“Hi, I was beginning to wonder where you were,” he said.

“I was taking care of a few things in the back. What can I do for you?”

“I’m browsing. Looks like you got in some new titles.”

She nodded. As happened any time she was in a room alone with Garrett, she felt a magnetic pull to him, but he didn’t seem to notice it.

“Can I help you find anything today? Maybe the new Susannah Garrity novel?” She picked up a copy of the romance author’s newest book, turning the title to face him. The book’s cover featured a hunky Viking and a stunning brunette locked in a passionate embrace. Garrett took a look at it and stepped backward. His face flushed until it matched the red short-sleeved polo he was wearing over a pair of faded blue jeans.

Dahlia grinned at his reaction and replaced the book on the shelf. She’d never seen him so unsettled and she quite enjoyed it. “Or perhaps you’ve read that one already?” she teased.

“I think I’ll stick with this book.” He waved the thriller he held in one hand. Then he regarded her with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Of course, why do you ask?” Was Agnes’s effect on her that obvious? She thought she’d managed to hide how shaken she’d been after her visit.

“You look like a raccoon.” He gestured to her eyes.

She put her hands up to her face and ran her fingers over the telltale grittiness of smeared mascara and melted foundation. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

She ran back to the minuscule bathroom tucked away in a corner of the storeroom. A glance in the mirror confirmed Garrett’s blunt assessment. Rivulets of mascara from her earlier crying jag streaked her cheeks. After she wiped the makeup off with toilet paper and lotion, she gripped the edges of the old-fashioned white pedestal sink and glared at her reflection.

“Get a grip, Winters. You don’t need him to see you cry.” Even with the pep talk, the woman in the gilt-edged mirror stared back at her with eyes filled with sadness and doubt. She inhaled deeply through her nostrils and spun away from the sink. She continued the deep breathing exercise as she walked through the back room, pausing before she rejoined Garrett.

From the doorway, she watched him pull out a book, read the back cover and then place it back on the shelf, all the while humming a cheery tune she recognized as ‘Do Wah Diddy Diddy’. Her lips turned up into a glimmer of a smile at the off-key rendition of the song her paternal grandfather sang to her as a child.

When she returned to the sales floor, Garrett was holding a few more books in his hands than before she’d left. If taking a quick trip to the back room increased all sales threefold, she should consider using that sales technique more often.

“Sorry about that,” she said. “I was dusting the back room earlier and splashed water over my face to get rid of the dust. Water and mascara don’t mix well. Thanks for letting me know.” She stumbled a bit on the white lie, but hoped he’d accept it.

“No problem,” he said easily, but the concern hadn’t faded from his expression. “I know we got off to a rocky start when you came to Candle Beach, but it’s a small town. I hope we can eventually be friends.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond. Did she want to be friends with him? Something akin to electricity jolted through her, but met resistance when it hit her dulled emotions. She was too exhausted to figure out what that meant.

“And as a potential friend, I’d like to ask again. Are you okay?”

She tried to smile. “I’m fine.” The reassurance sounded flat, even to her.

He put his books down on the counter and stood closer to her. “You don’t look okay.”

She couldn’t hold back any longer. Her eyes filled with tears and her body lost strength. She bit the tip of her tongue to fight off the tears, but the defense mechanism failed and they slipped out, streaming down her freshly scrubbed face. She sagged against the front counter.

Garrett pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. She melted against his chest with her hands on his shoulders. He pressed her tightly against him, her tears forming a wet spot on his shirt.

“It’s okay,” he murmured over her sobs, while patting her back. For a moment, she half believed him. His embrace comforted her and made her feel less alone. I could get used to this, she thought as she closed her eyes momentarily. Unfortunately, that realization didn’t help with the situation with Agnes. As much as she tried to stop them, the tears continued to fall.

Garrett leaned back and stared into her eyes, then pressed his lips against hers. Before she knew what she was doing, she returned his kiss. His lips were soft but firm and she felt herself drowning in the sensation.

Her eyes popped open and she broke their embrace. What was she doing? She wasn’t the woman on the cover of Susannah Garrity’s most recent romance novel. She released her grip on Garrett’s shoulders and stepped back.

“What was that kiss for?” Her voice sounded breathless and she felt a little dizzy.

“I’m not sure.” His expression mirrored the surprise she felt. “You looked so sad and I wanted to make you stop crying.”

“Well, I guess it worked.” She walked behind the counter to retrieve facial tissue to mop up her face. “I’d offer you one to dry off your shirt, but I don’t think it’s going to help much,” she said, attempting to joke.

“Don’t even worry about it, my shirt will be fine.” He stood with his arms by his sides. “Seriously though, what’s going on? Is there anything I can do?”

“Not unless you want to own your very own bookstore.” She’d gained control of the tears and busied herself with organizing items on the sales counter. She was grateful to have the high counter between Garrett and herself. For two people who hadn’t yet reached the friendship stage, they’d now had two decidedly intimate encounters. Without a barrier between them, she doubted her ability to resist the temptation to launch herself into his arms again.

He picked one of his book selections off the counter and rubbed his thumb against the fore edge, ruffling the pages. He looked up at her, a thoughtful expression on his face. “If you wanted to sell To Be Read, I’d be interested in buying it from you.”

She looked at him, mouth agape. “Are you kidding?”

“No. I intend to make my permanent home in Candle Beach and owning the bookstore would fit in well with my plans. You may have noticed I like to read.” He gave her a winning smile.

“Just like that? You really want to buy the bookstore?” She knew he enjoyed reading, but he’d never given any past indication that he wanted to buy To Be Read.

“Well, I’d given some thought to it when Ruth passed away, but then she wanted you to run the bookstore, so I gave up on that idea,” he said. “But you don’t want to be here or to operate the bookstore, so maybe this can be a win–win situation for both of us.”

“What do you mean by that?” She thought she’d done a decent job managing the bookstore in the last three months. She’d followed Aunt Ruth’s ordering instructions to a ‘T’, kept up on the ads in the Candle Beach Weekly and maintained Ruth’s tradition of complimentary tea and cookies for customers, even if Agnes acted like things weren’t up to par.

“Well, you don’t seem to have a passion for the business,” Garrett observed. “You made it quite clear when we first met that you didn’t want to own it, much less be living in Candle Beach to operate it yourself.” He swept his hand through the air, motioning from wall to wall of the bookstore. “Before the chemo treatments wore Ruth out, she always had this place spotless and her enthusiasm for the business infused the store. Now, it looks like you haven’t put any money or extra effort into the place for months. You haven’t made any attempt to make it your own.”

His words stung. She’d given up her apartment lease and job in Seattle, squeezed most of her belongings into a room in her mother’s basement and moved to Candle Beach to fulfill her aunt’s wishes.

The overhead fan kicked on and she had to raise her voice to be heard. “I’m doing the best I can.”

“I’m not trying to upset you,” he said, one hand up in the air. A desire to placate her dripped from his tone.

“Well, you have. I gave up everything for this place. You have no idea who I am or what I want.”

“You’re right.” He put his hand on her arm. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

She smiled weakly at him. Between Agnes’s visit and his, her nerves were frazzled.

“I honestly didn’t mean to offend you,” he said. “It seemed like you were forced into this situation and I thought there was something I could do to help. You know, if you want some help with the place, I could help you. Although I’ve only lived in Candle Beach for less than a year, I know a lot about how the town works.” He laid the book he was holding on the counter. “How about I come back to get these later and we can talk then, okay?”

She nodded.

The door clicked closed behind him and she laid her head down on her arms next to his stack of books. The breeze from the vents blew past them, bringing with it the incomparable new book smell. She breathed deeply, spinning back through time to a childhood spent amid the wonders of To Be Read’s bookshelves.

Aunt Ruth had cherished the bookstore. She’d spent hours every day making sure every detail was perfect and inviting, from the impeccably aligned books in the window display to the stuffed animals in the children’s section. Dahlia remembered Aunt Ruth standing on a tall ladder, wiping the shelves with a fluffy dust mop and humming under her breath as she worked.

If Dahlia had thought Agnes’s visit was tough, it didn’t even compare to Garrett’s. While she didn’t want to admit it, his opinion mattered to her. His offer to buy the bookstore notwithstanding, he’d always seemed levelheaded and reasonable. She looked around To Be Read. She’d gone into managing the store knowing it was a means to an end. Owning the bookstore was Ruth’s dream, not hers. Was it worth staying? Or was she better off cutting her losses and focusing on what truly mattered to her?

She busied herself opening boxes in the back storeroom and pricing clearance items. The monotony of alphabetizing books on the overflow shelves calmed her, and an hour passed before she realized it was almost closing time. Unfortunately, no customers had entered the store since Garrett left. But the time in the back had given her some distance from Agnes and Garrett’s visits and some clarity of thought.

If Garrett wanted to buy the store, maybe she should let him.