They followed him into a narrow hallway lined with bookshelves. Emery wasn't surprised. She would have expected nothing less from Abe. What did surprise her was the grandeur of the house's interior. High ceilings with ornate moldings, antique furniture that looked genuinely valuable, and artwork that had the patina of true age.
“You should see a doctor,” Eveline was saying as they entered a cozy sitting room dominated by more bookshelves and a large fireplace. “You're pale… comme une linge.”
“White as a sheet, you mean. And I’ve already phoned him,” Abe said, lowering himself carefully into an armchair. “He's coming round this afternoon. Just a bit of a spell, that's all.”
Emery watched as Eveline fussed over him, straightening cushions and checking if he'd eaten. There was such tenderness in her actions, such care. It made Emery's chest ache.
“I'll make some tea,” she offered, slipping out to find the kitchen.
When she returned with a tray, she found Abe regaling Eveline with a story about his youth, some of his color returned. He looked up as Emery entered.
“Ah, there you are. I was just telling Eveline about the time I nearly burned down my school's library trying to read by candlelight after hours.”
“A true book lover's crime,” Emery said, setting down the tray.
“While we wait for the doctor, why don't I show you my library? The real one, not these scattered shelves.” And despite Eveline's protests that he should rest, Abe insisted. “Nothing cheers me more than showing off my books.”
He led them upstairs, moving slowly but with determination. At the end of a hall, he opened double doors to reveal a room that made Emery gasp.
Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves covered every wall, with sliding ladders to reach the highest shelves. A magnificent desk sat beneath a stained-glass window, and comfortable leather chairs were arranged around a smaller fireplace. The room smelled of leather bindings, old paper, and the faint citrus of book preservation wax.
“Abe,” Emery breathed, “this is incredible.”
He beamed with pride. “Sixty years of collecting. Every book has a story beyond what's written in its pages.”
He moved to a glass-fronted cabinet and carefully removed a small, leather-bound volume. “This was the first gift I ever gave Agnes,” he said, his voice soft with memory. “A first edition of Elizabeth Barrett Browning's sonnets. Cost me three months' wages back then.”
Emery glanced at Eveline, whose eyes were fixed on Abe with such tenderness that her heart squeezed.
“She was studying literature when we met,” Abe said, carefully opening the book. “I was just a clerk with big dreams. Everyone said she was too good for me.” He chuckled. “They were right, of course, but she didn't seem to mind.”
Emery stepped closer, seeing a handwritten inscription on the flyleaf: “To my Agnes, whose love has taught me the meaning of these sonnets. Yours always, Abraham.”
“How did you know?” she asked quietly. “That she was the one?”
Abe looked up. “I didn't, not right away. Love isn't always a thunderbolt, you know. Sometimes it's quieter, like a feeling of coming home when you're with someone. Of being your true self and being valued for it.” He smiled at both of them. “When I realized I wanted to share every book I read with her, discussevery idea, hear her thoughts on everything… that's when I knew.”
The doorbell rang, interrupting the moment.
“That'll be the doctor,” Eveline said, blinking rapidly as if perhaps she might have been about to cry. “I'll get it.”
Left alone with Abe, Emery found herself being examined carefully.
“She cares about you, you know,” Abe said quietly.
Emery's heart skipped. “We work together. She's my boss.”
“Mmm,” Abe hummed, unconvinced. “And I'm Jack the Ripper.”
Before Emery could respond, Eveline returned with the doctor, a brisk man with a kind smile. They retreated to let him examine Abe, waiting in the kitchen where Emery made fresh tea.
“He'll be okay, won't he?” she asked.
Eveline nodded. “I think so. He's stronger than he looks.” She wrapped her hands around her mug. “Thank you for coming with me today.”
“Of course. I care about him too, you know.”
Their eyes met across the kitchen table, and Emery felt that now-familiar electricity between them. For a moment, she thought Eveline might say something more, but then the doctor appeared in the doorway.
