“He’s away for business, in Canada right now.”
“Has he picked a best man yet?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
“Yeah, it’s Matt. Sorry, Hazel, I know you’re not a fan, but he’s John’s best friend.”
“Oh, stop it. It’s your day. You can pick whoever you want, and I’ll be fine. Do I think he’s obnoxious, rude, and always bragging about his ‘big wiener,’ which is as fake as his stories about all the women chasing him? Sure. But I’ll be cool—and just tipsy enough to stay helpful.”
“That’s my girl. I can always count on you. Like a good old Toyota Corolla.”
“Thank you, I’ve always aspired to be a Corolla.”
“As a reward, I’ll make sure the bartender has your drinks ready in advance.” Mady winked, pulled two granola bars from her wedding dress pockets, and tossed me one, earning a disapproving glare from Olga.
* * *
By the time I left the bridal shop, full of granola bars and champagne, it had warmed up enough for just my dress and jacket. Ahh, I’ve always loved the sun.
When I was younger, my mom and I used to go hiking early in the mornings to watch the sunrise from the mountaintop. We would sit there, watching the light spread, then head back home. The sun always warmed us on the way down, leaving my back tanned while my face stayed pale. Those hikes often made me late for school, and my mom wrote so many notes that the principal eventually called to verify if they were real. But all I remember now is how the sun made me feel—and how it reminded me of her.
“Hey!” Thomas called from behind the counter. “Finally woke up from your beauty sleep?”
“Mady fed me granola, waffles, and champagne, then annoyed seamstress Olga by hiding snacks in her dress. So yeah, it was a good morning.”
“People say food makes women less cranky, but what do I know?” Thomas smirked. I went to the back, put on my apron, and dabbed Neosporin on my bruised knee. The afternoon was unusually quiet, with only a handful of customers trickling in. Returning to the counter, I started making a coffee for my champagne-fuzzy head.
“Oh, Hazel, by the way, I talked to Linda. You’ve got yourself two weeks off.”
I froze, staring at the coffee machine.
“What?” I turned to him, trying to make sense of it.
“Yup. Had a quick chat with her. She said, ‘No,’ I said, ‘C’mon.’ She said, ‘No way.’ So, I whipped her up a killer breakfast and some great coffee—perks of access, you know?” He grinned. “And by the end, she was like, ‘Oh, Thomas, you’re the reason I still work here,’ blah blah. Then she said, ‘Okay, fine.’”
He popped a brownie in his mouth while I stared at him, speechless. He had to be joking. Linda wouldneversay that. I couldn’t decide if the breakfast or the ‘Okay, fine’ part was more unbelievable.
“Did yousleepwith Linda to get me a vacation?” Oh. My. God.
“Oh, honey, we’ve been sleeping together for ages. It was a privilege to use it for a good cause.”
Wait—wasIthe good cause?
“But I’m not going, Thomas. This is insane.”
“Oh, you’re going. You just don’t know it yet. Speaking of which, Luke and his crew were here this morning.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, cringing at the memory of my run-in with the pavement. “Did you tell him I’m going?”
“No. But hedidleave something for you.”
Thomas handed me a small package wrapped in blue tissue paper with a note that saidFor Hazel. He grinned, clearly amused. I took a deep breath and ripped up the paper.
It was a book. Not just any book. It was Jane Austen’s “Persuasion”. I had my own copy at home, but this one looked unusual—very old. I lightly brushed my thumb over the worn cover and opened it. Right on the first page, it saidPersuasion by Miss Austen,followed by the year 1832. I stared in disbelief.It can’t be.
If I remember correctly, the first edition ofPersuasion, along withMansfield Park, was released in 1818, but this seemed to be the first standalone edition based on the date. A folded page caught my eye. I turned to it and found two sentences highlighted with a blue marker.
BLUE MARKER.
Did he even know how rare and valuable this book was?!
