“I love books,” Isabel told him. “Before I retired, I was a librarian. The bookstore has always been special to me.”
Her eyes met his. For a moment, Frank forgot why he always kept people at arm’s length. “Margaret will be happy the store’s going to be sold to someone who loves books.”
“I hope so,” Isabel said. “It can’t be easy leaving the business you started over forty-five years ago.”
“Grandpa and I are readingAn Elephant in the Garden,” Tommy said excitedly when Isabel asked him if he enjoyed reading. Have you read it?”
Isabel nodded. “It was a long time ago, though. Would you have taken the elephant home with you?”
Tommy’s reply was instant. “I couldn’t have left her in the zoo. She would have died.”
Frank watched his grandson’s face while Tommy and Isabel discussed the book. It had been a long time since he’d talked to someone who might understand what it was like to lose yourself in a story.
The bell above the café door jingled as they entered. Kathleen hurried over, wiping her hands on her apron. “Look at all those books. Are they Isabel’s, or will you and your grandpa be busy, too, Tommy?”
“They’re Isabel’s,” Tommy told her. “They’re from the bookstore.”
Kathleen’s smile grew wider as she looked at Isabel. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away. And you’ve even found two handsome escorts.”
“We’ve come for hot chocolate,” Tommy told her.
“I thought you might have.” Kathleen looked around the busy café. “Follow me. The people who were sitting at the table by the window have just left.”
Frank caught the curious look Kathleen shot his way as she cleared the table. This was the first time he’d been here with anyone apart from Tommy.
“The usual for my favorite bookworm?” Kathleen asked Tommy, who nodded enthusiastically.
After Isabel and Frank had placed their order, Isabel leaned back in her chair. She looked comfortable despite the bustle around them.
“This reminds me of a café in Portland,” she said. “There’s an amazing library near my home. They have a coffee shop upstairs where you can read for hours.”
Frank thought about his favorite libraries. He’d spent many Saturdays watching his daughter, Sarah, browse the shelves while Tommy sat in his lap, wanting him to read one more story.
His hand tightened around his mug as the memories threatened to overwhelm him. “Tommy, why don’t you tell Isabel about our last trip to the library in Polson?”
But Tommy was focused on something outside the window. “Grandpa, isn’t that?—”
Frank followed his grandson’s gaze and felt his blood run cold. A man in a gray suit was walking past the café, his face uncomfortably familiar. Frank shifted instinctively, angling himself away from the window.
Isabel’s expression flickered with concern, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she turned to Tommy. “You know, Mrs. Henderson said she doesn’t have time to reorganize her collection of children’s books. Maybe you could ask her if you could do it?”
Tommy told her he wasn’t sure Mrs. Henderson would want his help. But after Isabel offered to go with him to ask, he didn’t stop asking questions about the books.
By the time Kathleen returned with their mugs of hot chocolate, their conversation had evolved into more personal information. Information that could get Frank and Tommy into trouble.
“When Grandpa and I moved here, I missed Mr. and Mrs. Garcia. They were our neighbors. They had a big treehouse in their backyard that made a really good hiding place.”
“Tommy,” Frank warned quietly, an old habit he couldn’t break.
Tommy broke the tension without realizing it. “Mom used to read to me at the library,” he said, dunking his cookie into his hot chocolate. “She did all the voices, even the growly ones. Dad would pretend to be embarrassed, but he always did some of the voices when Mom made him.”
Frank’s throat tightened at the casual mention of Sarah and Tony. Tommy rarely spoke about his parents, but something about Isabel seemed to make it easier.
Isabel leaned forward, her eyes soft. “What was your favorite story?”
“The Knight and the Dragon.” Tommy’s face lit up. “When we were in the library, Mom would roar so loud the librarian had to shush us. Dad said she was worse than the real dragon. After they died, Grandpa took me to the library, but it wasn’t the same.”
Isabel didn’t offer empty sympathy or the awkward platitudes Frank had grown used to. Instead, she let Tommy lead the conversation.
