He said nothing, and his silence felt like judgment.
“You think I’m making a mistake,” she said.
“No,” he answered, surprising her. “I think you’re wise. You have options. You should explore them.”
“Even if it means you don’t get what you want?”
“I’m not worried. I play the long game.”
Rachel didn’t remember the last time she felt so overwhelmed by the need to make decisions, and yet for the life of her, she wasn’t ready to decide anything. “I just need time,” she added.
“Then take it.”
“But you’ve flown here to meet me. You must be in a rush—”
“I’m not.”
She gave him a searching glance.
He shrugged. “I’ve been talking to Lesley for the past eighteen months about the bookstore. I can certainly give you whatever time you need.” The antique clock on the wall chimed. Atticus glanced up at it and then grimaced. “Has it been an hour already?”
“How is that possible?”
He reached for his wallet and she stopped him. “I’ve got this. Don’t be any later than you already are.”
“I can put it on my room.”
“I’m going to stay and have dinner, so go. Don’t keep your friends waiting.”
He rose and reached for his coat. “How long will you be in town?”
She’d bought a one-way ticket because she didn’t know how long she’d want to be here. “Not exactly sure. You?”
“Taylor is hoping I’ll stay through the stroll, which happens next weekend. It’s supposed to be a big deal.”
“I’m sure we’ll bump into each other sooner or later.”
Rachel remained in the Graff pub after Atticus had gone, going through the folder he’d given her. She read everything in the file, too, including all the fine print as she nibbled on the skinny salted fries. He was right, his offer wasn’t just generous, it was dazzling. That kind of money would go a long way toward her retirement nest egg, especially if she invested the money wisely—which of course, she always did.
But for the first time in forever, she didn’t feel reassured by her investments, or her careful, thoughtful planning. What good would a lavish retirement be, if she were all alone?
*
“What is she like?” Troy asked, rinsing the last of the big pans before setting it on the counter to dry.
Atticus reached for it, just as he’d reached for the other dishes that Troy had hand-washed once the dishwasher was full. “Smart. Savvy. Rather fascinating.”
“A fascinating accountant? There’s a first,” Troy answered, turning the water off.
“What Atticus isn’t telling you is that Rachel is very pretty,” Taylor said, returning to the kitchen after putting the kids to bed. Usually Troy helped read the stories and tuck them in, but tonight Taylor tackled the bedtime routine while Troy and Atticus managed the dishes.
“I’ve met her,” Taylor added, putting away the assorted pots and pans. “We didn’t talk long, but I liked her. I hope she’ll keep the bookstore open.”
Troy smiled. “Even though Atticus wants it?”
“He doesn’t have to turn the bookstore into a steak place,” she answered, shooting Atticus a mock severe glance. “He could find a different spot. There are lots of places vacant in Livingston right now. Why not one of those buildings?”
“But I want to be in Marietta, near you,” Atticus answered, snapping his dish towel at Taylor as she passed him.
“I’d like you to be here, too. Just not in my bookstore.”
“Your bookstore?” he retorted, looking from her to Troy. “Are you making an offer as well?”
Taylor and Troy exchanged glances. “Not yet,” Taylor replied lightly, “but we’ve discussed the store, and Troy knows that I feel it’s important for Marietta to have its own bookstore.”
Atticus leaned against the counter, arms folding over his chest. “I’d think you’d want everyone to take advantage of your library.”
“I love Marietta’s library, but I can also want to support our indie bookstore. In my mind, you can never have enough books.”
“But who are the customers for the bookstore? Paradise Books is almost all vintage books.”
“Lesley specialized in collectibles—her children’s collection makes my mouth water—but she always carried new books, too. Maybe not as many as a chain bookstore would, but she’d special order titles for her customers. Whenever I wanted something, whether it was a cookbook or the most recent New York Times bestseller, she’d place an order, and I’d have it within a week.”
“But you could do that yourself online and have it sooner.”
“I could, but that wouldn’t support our local businesses, and I value our small business owners.”
Atticus didn’t like how Taylor was making him feel like a bad guy. He wasn’t a bad guy. He could be a tough negotiator, but he was always fair. It was important to him to be fair, and one of the reasons he’d switched from litigation to real estate law. “I didn’t set my sights on a thriving business. The bookstore has been closed for three years.”
Taylor plucked the dish towel from his hands and hung it on the towel rack tucked inside the sink cabinet doors. “Now we have a chance for it to be open again.”
Troy had been silently following the back and forth between his friend and wife and he cleared his throat. “And that decision rests squarely with Rachel. It will be interesting to see what she chooses to do.”
“It will,” Atticus replied. “And on that note, I should say good night. Thank you for dinner,” he said, giving Taylor a hug. “It was delicious as always, and you know how much I enjoy my time with your family.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Troy said, getting Atticus’s coat from the house’s hall closet.
It was a clear night and stars glittered overhead. Colorful lights glowed on the houses lining Bramble.
“I need to put our lights up,” Troy said, glancing up at his ornate two-story Victorian painted a soft sage green with a paler green trim. “I’m finding it hard to get in the spirit this year. It’s always hard when Thanksgiving is so late in November. This year I’m still thinking turkeys and pilgrims instead of Christmas decorations.”
“Your kids are certainly excited about getting the tree this weekend.”
“I’ll be excited when we bring the ornaments down from the attic. I’m just not there yet.” Troy hesitated. “Taylor is right, though, Atticus. Not everyone in Marietta will want to see the bookstore go. You might get some pushback.”
“I’m expecting some,” Atticus answered calmly, because it was true. In a place like Marietta change could be hard, and there were those who wanted everything to stay the same… even when it didn’t work anymore.
“What if Rachel does choose to sell… only not to you?”
“Is there someone else interested in that spot?” Atticus looked at Troy. “Are you possibly interested?”
“No, and I can’t speak for Taylor, but I don’t see how she could remain at the library and own the store, and raise four children.”
“You only have three—” Atticus broke off as he saw Troy’s crooked smile. “She’s pregnant?”
“Almost four months, but we haven’t announced it yet. She had a miscarriage last year so we’re trying to keep it quiet until we’re comfortable with everyone knowing the news.”
“Congratulations, though. I’m happy for you. You have an amazing family.”
“We own a big house so we figured we might as well fill it up.” Troy’s smile faded. “And not to be a negative Nancy, but I’d hate for you to pin all your hopes on the bookstore, not when you have other options.”
“I respect that. I also respect that Taylor really loves the bookstore. We need people like her who care about books, and promote literacy. But let’s be honest, this community survived just fine the past three years. People found a way to buy their books, probably heading out of town to Walmar
t or Target, or choosing to purchase online. It’s one thing to love the idea of something—in this case, a charming Main Street bookstore—but it’s another to make it self-sufficient. Paradise Books is not going to pay for itself. Whoever takes it on needs to be prepared to bleed red for quite some time.”