“First, you come with me." I stood up.
“Where?”
“You’ll see.”
Lucy rolled her eyes but got up.
“Can we come too?” Lydia asked. I realized both her and Jane were paying rapt attention to us.
“Later,” I told them firmly, taking Lucy’s hand.
I led her through the corridor, past the dining room, past the framed pictures Helen had hung. At the end of the hall stood at the former parlor door. The handle still gleamed from where I had polished it earlier.
I stopped. She stood beside me, curious but wary. “What is this?”
“Something I’ve been working on. It’s for the inn but it’s mostly for you.”
She blinked. “You’re not serious.”
“I’m always serious.”
“Dex—”
“Lucy,” I said quietly. “Let me show you.”
I turned the key in the lock. The mechanism clicked softly, familiar. The metal was cool against my palm. I could smell varnish and paper even through the crack. I pushed the door just far enough for a sliver of golden light to spill into the hall.
Chapter Twenty-Five: The Library
Lucy
Dex turned the knob, and the door opened with a soft click. Light from a single lamp spread across the floor and caught the polished edges of new shelves. The scent of wood finish and paper filled the air.
I stepped forward and stopped. The room glowed in quiet, even light. Books lined every wall, their spines neat and varied, colors muted by the warm tone of the lamp. A window seat stretched under the front window, its cushions thick and new. Two armchairs sat by the small fireplace, angled toward each other with a table between them. A stack of books rested beside a mug already waiting for tea.
For a long moment I couldn’t speak. My chest ached, but not from sadness. It was the kind of ache that comes when something is so right you can’t take it in at once. I turned toward Dex.
“You built this?” I asked.
He nodded. “When there was time. A few hours here and there. Your dad was a great help”
“Why did you do it?”
He studied the floor for a second, then looked at me again. “Every place needs a room where you can breathe. I thought the inn should have one.”
I traced my fingers over the edge of a shelf. The surface was smooth under the pads of my fingers. “It’s beautiful. How did you know how much I wanted a library?”
“I know that you like to read. You always had a book with you for your breaks at the office. Plus, your father mentioned that you used to hide with a book whenever you had a chance growing up,” Dex revealed.
I smiled. “He told you that?”
“Proudly.”
I walked to the window seat. The cushions were soft under my hand. “I can’t believe you did this.”
Dex held out the parcel wrapped in brown paper. “I hope you like it.”
I gently took the wrapped book from him. The paper crackled under my fingers as I unwrapped it. A cloth-bound book rested inside, gold lettering pressed across the cover: Pride and Prejudice.
