“If I own a business someday, it’ll be because I’ve earned it.”
There had to be some trick here. She just couldn’t think clearly enough to figure out what it was.
“I have no desire to own a business in Grandville, Shelby.” He regarded her for a beat. “And maybe Gram isn’t the only one who wants us to bury the hatchet.”
Shelby stiffened. “I’m not interested in some kind of reconciliation.”
“I’m only asking for a chance to make things right—as best I can. Maybe if I help you out, maybe if we spend a little time together, we can work through this.”
That was exactly what she was afraid of. Gray used to have such a hold on her. She’d fallen fast and hard in a way she hadn’t before or since. It had taken over a year to get past the heartbreak. That resentment she carried now was a block wall between them—and it sounded as if he wanted to tear it down.
And yet... if he continued to hold 49 percent of the shop, that would tie them together indefinitely. She didn’t really have much choice.
She regarded him through a veil of bravery. “You’ll sign papers to that effect? Two weeks at the bookshop and you’ll sign over your share?”
“Whatever you draw up.”
There was nothing but sincerity in those pale blue eyes, in the resolute set of his jaw. But her trust in his word had evaporated ages ago.
She lifted her chin. “Fine. Be at the store at eight o’clock tomorrow. I’ll have the paperwork, and once you sign it you can get started.”
Chapter 4
Eleven years ago
How had Shelby been lucky enough to score a bookstore job at the age of seventeen? She arranged the seasonal table with beach reads and complemented the theme with various sideline products: a beach towel, a few totes, and some colorful cozies.
Her gaze drifted over Gram’s store from the tall wooden shelves, complete with gliding ladders, to the freestanding shelves laden with books.
The brick building, built in 1923, sat near the center of town, set back from the other storefronts. It boasted a small yard and a front porch that welcomed guests to sit and read awhile.
Beyond the front door, a wonderful old staircase led to their second-story shop. At the top it opened up into a lofted space with honey-brown wood floors. Shelby loved every time-scarred plank and familiar squeak. The main room held fiction titles, complete with tables for bestsellers, seasonal books, and a few sideline items. The antique checkout stand sat off to the side next to the front staircase. Behind the stand was the first-editions wall, which contained the store’s only used books.
The Nonfiction section took up the smaller middle room, and the back room held the Children’s and Young Adult sections, complete witha cozy story-time corner. Gram’s office was tucked away downstairs between the back staircase and the rear exit.
Shelby had only been twelve when Gram rented the building and opened the bookstore. Having lost her husband a couple years before, she wanted to use their savings to pursue her lifelong dream. She’d lost the love of her life and needed another purpose. She called it her second story. So when this upstairs space became available, she snatched it up. She wanted the bookshop to be a community hub, and that was exactly what it became.
But the store didn’t just cater to residents. Grandville was a college town, so the bookstore enjoyed its share of student business. And the weekenders who came up from Charlotte to enjoy the fifty-square-mile lake often came in search of a beach book or a cozy mystery. Shelby and Gram loved to welcome one and all into their little bookshop.
“Oh, that looks so nice.” On her way to the register, Gram stopped, appearing all summery in a sleeveless teal top and a pair of white capris that matched her cropped hair. “You sure have a knack for arranging merch.”
“It’s so fun. Oh, do we still have those seashell earrings Meg Finlay made? Those would be perfect.”
“Over by the register. I’ll grab them for you.”
“Thanks.”
A customer who’d been perusing the Fiction section moved to the next room, browsing covers as she went.
Shelby moved Debbie Macomber’s new beach title to the side and slid the ocean-breeze candles to the front. She stood back. There.
“Here you go.” Gram handed over the earrings as a lawn mower roared to life outside.
Shelby glanced out the picture window and down to the lawn but didn’t see anyone. “Did you pay someone to mow?” Shelby normally tried to beat Gram to the chore. There was only a tiny lawn out front and a square of grass in the back.
“Dorothy asked if I had some work to keep Gray busy this summer. He’ll be mowing and landscaping the front yard for us.”
At the thought of Grayson Briggs, a strange hum vibrated beneath Shelby’s skin. “Oh. Well, you’ve been wanting to put some flower beds out front.”
