Page 35

Denton, Texas Three weeks later

"Callie, I'm ready for the text block. Callie?"

Callista jerked her gaze from the small window in the bindery workroom and twisted toward her father. "Sorry, Papa. What did you say?"

He nodded at the collected pages she held in her hand, the signatures and endpapers she'd finished sewing together not ten minutes before.

"The text block? I'm ready to wed it to the cover."

Wed. The word hit her with an unexpected jolt, causing her heart to throb as images of Everett rose in her mind.

Memories flooded her senses. The feel of his arms about her as they danced in the parlor.

His deep, mesmerizing voice reading to her as she worked.

The way his beautiful blue gaze would light at the sight of her.

His gentle care of her after that horrible day at the hunting cottage.

The heartbreaking moment when they'd said goodbye.

She could still feel the press of his lips on her forehead and hear his whispered words of love at the coaching inn.

She'd been too numb from the shock of inadvertently causing a man's death to appreciate the gesture as much as he deserved, but those words had been stamped onto her soul like a book title on leather, changing her identity from Callista Rosenfeld, book binder and daughter of Mordecai, to Callista Rosenfeld, the woman Everett Griffin loved.

Yet his love had not echoed in words alone but in his actions as well.

He'd bought all the seats on the stagecoach so that she could enjoy a private ride to the Millsap train station with only Mrs. Potter and Mr. Timens as companions.

The pair had accompanied her on the train as well, riding all the way home to Denton at her side.

Mrs. Potter had wrapped her in a maternal cocoon, ensuring she had everything she needed—food, comfort, the blessed distraction of conversation.

Mr. Timens had taken care of all her equipment-laden trunks with typical Timens efficiency.

Never once had she worried about transporting the heavy items from place to place.

Timens had strong men with luggage carts waiting for them at each travel juncture.

For the first time in years, she allowed someone else to carry the load of bindery responsibility while she tended to herself. Time to heal, Mrs. Potter claimed.

She didn't feel healed, however. The numbness had eventually worn off, and Papa's unconditional love and acceptance had surrounded her while she'd worked through the grief, guilt, and anger wrought by Ambrose Batton's demise.

Yet a hole remained in her heart, one that could only be filled by Everett.

The man she loved but could never have. Not at the expense of her papa and his family.

Everett had whispered other words in her ear at the coaching inn that day.

He'd told her not to ship his finished books to him.

He'd pick them up in person. A pledge she'd clung to for three long weeks.

A pledge yet to be fulfilled, despite the fact that Papa had received the full payment for Everett's library commission.

Maybe Everett had decided seeing her again would be too awkward.

Maybe his feelings had faded. Maybe he'd realized that being together truly was impossible and decided to let her keep the books as a remembrance of their time together.

A sweet parting gift to commemorate a love that could never be.

Papa's touch startled her out of her melancholy musings as he gently took the text block from her hands.

"Sorry, Papa. I'm not much help today, am I?" At this rate, the paste he'd applied to the board would dry before he had a chance to affix the pages to the cover.

He peered at her over his round spectacles, love and understanding radiating from his gaze.

"You're helpful to me every day, Callie.

Even when your mind is elsewhere." He winked at her.

"But I think today you might prove more helpful manning the front desk.

" Waving the hand that had been recently freed from its plaster bandage and declared fit for resuming work, he shooed her toward the door that led to the front of the shop.

Callista hesitated, her failure to be a worthy assistant prodding her to make amends. "We get so few customers this late in the day, Papa. Surely, I'd be more useful back here. I can just listen for the bell."

He raised a brow at her. "But will you hear it? Seems to me your hearing's not as keen today as usual."

Well, she couldn't argue with that now, could she?

He chuckled indulgently as he nudged her from the workroom.

"If no one comes in, you can enjoy some quiet reading time.

Something lighthearted, though, hmm? Perhaps Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K.

Jerome. I read it while convalescing and found it quite delightful.

There's even a dog. Montgomery, I believe.

His antics are sure to put a smile on your face. "

She'd prefer a dog named Spartacus, but her papa was right. Enough with the doldrums. Moping helped no one, including herself. The Lord had provided sunshine, books, and a loving family. Reasons to rejoice abounded.

Callista strolled to the front of the shop, determined to set disappointments aside and focus on her blessings. She found her father's copy of Three Men in a Boat and quickly became engrossed in the comedic travelogue.

Absorbed as she was, it took a moment for her to register the sound of the bell as the shop door pushed inward. Using a blank sales receipt to mark her place, she quickly closed the book and pasted a friendly smile on her face.

"Welcome to Rosenfeld's Bindery, how can I . . ."

Her greeting dissolved like sugar in tea as she beheld the customer walking toward the counter.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Tawny hair flowing past those muscular shoulders in unfashionable waves.

A piratical patch covered his right eye while the blue of his left shone with such vividness, she could not look away.

"Everett?" His name fell from her lips in a hushed whisper. She crept toward the end of the counter, the magnetic pull of her longings drawing her feet toward him before her mind could fully comprehend the ramifications of his appearance.

He'd come! Just as he'd promised. He didn't even wear a hat, as if shame no longer held any sway over him. Her heart sang at the thought.

The longer he stood staring at her without speaking, however, the more reality intruded. Nothing had changed about their situation. He was still far above her station, and she still wouldn't abandon her dear papa.

An older couple entered the shop, and their appearance yanked Callista out of the fantasy of Everett and into the reality of her profession.

She smiled at the stunning, silver-haired woman garbed in a well-tailored, sophisticated dress who stood slightly in front of a man wearing a dapper, dark gray suit. The man pulled a top hat from his head as he pivoted to close the shop door.

"I'll be right with you, ma'am." Callista returned her attention to Everett.

"Mr. Griffin." The forced formality abraded like an itchy blanket.

"How nice to see you again." Nice barely scratched the surface, but it would have to do until she could find a way to speak to him alone.

"I have the books you ordered ready in the back room. I'll collect them for you right away."

She turned to leave, but he hurried forward and clasped her hand. "Callista, wait. Please. I'm not here for the books. I'm here for you."

A flock of startled hens would have fluttered less than her stomach at that moment.

Oh, how she wished she could throw herself into his arms, rest her face against his chest, and breathe in his woodsy scent.

But she couldn't afford to cause a scandal in front of witnesses, especially those of the wealthy, influential variety.

Cheeks flaming, she leaned close. "Shh. You can't say things like that in front of other customers, Everett. What will they think?"

He grinned at her. "They won't mind."

"Well, I mind. I can't have you ruining my reputation and the reputation of Rosenfeld's Bindery."

He tugged on her arm, reeling her in. She should resist, she really should, but she wanted to be in his arms so badly, she couldn't find the strength to break free. Once he had her close enough, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her flush against his chest.

"I guess you'll have to marry me then. To save your reputation." He smiled like the rogue he once was, and she swatted his arm.

"Shame on you, Everett Griffin. You know very well I'd never marry a man for so paltry a reason." Her pulse raced at the very idea of Everett and marriage being mentioned in the same sentence, however. "I'll only marry a man I love and who loves me in return."

His gaze grew serious as his grip on her tightened. "Then marry me, Callista, because you own my heart, and I am lost without you."

Her eyes misted. "Oh, Everett." How badly she wanted to say yes. "I love you with all that I am. But what about your family? We can't just pretend their opinions don't matter. They'll never approve of me."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that." He loosened his hold slightly as he turned to address the couple behind him. "Mother. Father. May I introduce Callista Rosenfeld? She is the woman I wrote to you about."

His parents! Good heavens. Could she make a worse first impression? They must think her completely lacking in decorum. She pushed away from Everett, smoothed the apron draped over her third-best dress, and lifted a hand to her hair.

"Mr. and Mrs. Griffin. I—"