“To discuss Austen.” Molly giggled. “We all know that Wyatt Tanner isn’t going to come off of one of his cliffs to discuss literature unless he’s noticed our favorite librarian’s beautiful eyes.”
As her friends surrounded her, each with a different dress in her hands, Julia offered her a shoe. Abby turned it over. “Eighty-five dollars!” She swallowed the lump in her throat.
“Abby, we know your supposedly non-orthopedic shoes don’t come cheap.”
“But there’s something to them. They’re sturdy! This is a flap of leather, and they want eighty-five dollars for it.” She looked down at her black, bulky shoes and in comparison the strappy, elegant red of the sling-back. They may have both been in the same shoe family, but they were entirely different species.
“This is perfect!” Heather held up a slinky violet dress. “It’s a Persian blue chiffon. You could pair it with a jacket and wear it to the library, then add a scarf and go out for the evening.”
“But I
don’t
go out for the evening, and Smitten isn’t exactly the fashion capital of the world. No one cares what I wear to shelve books.”
“We do.” Heather fluttered the flimsy dress in the air. “This would make your eyes look incredible with some navy eyeliner, and it would highlight the gold in your hair.”
“What about this one?” Lia brought out a dress in red that seemed remarkably similar to the choice Heather made.
“Aren’t these dresses kind of short?” Abby asked.
“They’re cut to the knee. You’ll be perfectly covered and able to bend at the library without offering any kind of show,” Julia said.
“You’re turning into your mother, do you get that?” Heather asked.
“Is that such a bad thing?”
“Your mother is nearly seventy years old. You’re twenty-seven.”
It was true. Her mother had adopted her late in life, and it always felt more like she had grandparents than actual parents. It wasn’t just that they were older—her parents had retired souls. Her mother was a quiet knitter. Her father had loved the kitchen and spent hours perfecting the best soups and stews. If her parents were a restaurant, they would have been a diner with American comfort foods and breakfast served any time of the day. Somehow being in the boutique felt like a betrayal of who they had raised her to be.
“I’m sorry. None of these things are me. I’d feel like I was trying to be you, Heather. Or even you, Julia.”
Lia spoke up. “Buying a new dress doesn’t make you someone different, Abby. Don’t deny us the chance to do something kind for you. We feel like you’ve just given up on looking forward in life.”
“I haven’t,” she said honestly.
“So is there romance in your future? Or just work?” Molly asked gently.
Abby couldn’t answer. She simply didn’t see marriage in her future. As she watched all the lovey-dovey couples in Smitten, she just didn’t know if she had that essence in her. Surely God didn’t expect everyone to marry. “If by looking to the future you mean walking down the aisle in a white dress, no, I don’t see that happening.”
Lia spoke up again. “Molly, Abby doesn’t have to get
married to have a future. We just want her to know that she’s allowed to have a little fun in life.”
“Sure,” Molly said. “Of course.”
Abby grinned. Molly saw everything through romantic, pink-filtered glasses and couldn’t help but hope that marriage was in all of their futures. “Fine, I’ll try them on, but truthfully, I don’t know where I’d wear one of these.”
“What about to Hawaii?” Heather asked.
Ever since the four of them had become friends, they’d dreamed of taking a girls’ trip to Hawaii together. That was an adventure Abby wanted to have. Trying on the dress suddenly seemed reasonable.
She snapped the periwinkle dress from Heather’s hand and strode to the dressing room. For a moment she stared at her reflection in disappointment. She touched the tops of her cheeks and saw how sallow the skin under her eyes appeared. Her golden hair was starting to turn brown all over from her lack of sunshine. Taking off her light cotton cardigan, she noticed that her once-muscular arms were softer and paler than she remembered. She finally saw what her friends were telling her.
She slipped the dress on and twisted in front of the mirror. The dress was so light, it felt as if she had nothing on at all. The dress was gathered at the waist and had a convenient snap at the bodice. It was very modest, but as she turned to look at the back, she gasped. There was a giant triangle swath cut out of the back, through which she could see her bra strap. That hole would make her self-conscious even if she wore a sweater over it.
“What’s the matter?” Julia asked.
Abby stepped out of the small room and turned her back toward her friends. She heard them gasp as well. “I feel kind of naked.”
“We’re just not used to seeing you in a dress like that,” Heather said. “We’re shocked, is all.”
“You’d like more coverage, I take it,” Julia said. “Okay, completely understand—even though you can totally pull it off.”
“I’d like to go home,” Abby said. Even though she felt lovely in the dress, it embarrassed her to think people thought of her as an orphan who needed to be cared for. It was just deep in her psyche that someone else needed something more than she did.
“You look fantastic!” Lia said. “But we’ll find you something more modest if you wish.”
“I wish.”
Abby tried on many more dresses, and finally everyone agreed on a cranberry-colored silk with a cinched waist, softly pleated skirt, and a scoop neckline. It made her feel like a princess, and secretly, inside the dressing room, she twisted and watched the dress billow and flow. But in all honesty, she couldn’t imagine wearing it outside of the house.
“That’s the one,” Lia said.
Julia wrapped up the dress, along with silver ballet flats and the red sling-back heels, a gift from Julia herself, in pink tissue paper and a silver-handled bag. “Wear it well.”
Abby hugged each one of her friends for telling her a truth that she may have needed to hear. Anne Elliot had a new frock. And all was right with the world.
Never consent to courtship with a man of dubious reputation in the hopes of his reformation.
P
EARL
C
HAMBERS
,
The Gentlewoman’s Guide to Love and Courtship
CHAPTER FOUR
M
onday morning came too quickly for Abby, as the thought of seeing Wyatt weighed heavily on her heart. She toyed with wearing her new dress that morning, but didn’t want to explain to her mother the reason for the sudden change in her appearance or why she was leaving early for work that day.
Her hands trembled as she made her way toward the coffee shop and the dangerous and mysterious Wyatt Tanner. She didn’t even drink coffee. She halted on the brick walkway of Main Street, tempted to turn around and go back home, but as she looked to her right, she realized that she was standing directly in front of the picture window of Mountain Perks.
Wyatt rose from his chair inside and pushed open the door. His smile made everything all right, and she immediately calmed. They were just two friends having coffee. The
only danger Wyatt represented was if she allowed her imagination to make the event more than it was.
“Are you coming inside?” Wyatt asked. He wore a black V-neck T-shirt stretched to capacity over his well-developed pecs and a casual gray blazer thrown over the top. He managed casual chic without even trying.
“Uh, yeah. I’m coming in. I was just . . .” She was just wishing she’d worn the cute sling-back shoes her friends had bought her, or at the very least, the silver ballet flats. She hadn’t wanted Wyatt to think she’d dressed up for him. Now she wished she had dressed up a bit, so that they didn’t appear so grievously mismatched.
“I was worried you might not make it,” he said.
She smiled. Whatever his reason, she believed now that Wyatt did indeed want her there. “I just needed to give my mother breakfast before I left.”
“Come inside,” he said, a distinctive spark in his eye. “I’ve got us the best table in the house. What can I get you to drink?”
“I’ll get it.” She began to walk toward the counter when Wyatt appeared beside her and pulled out his wallet. She smiled inwardly. His presence made her nervous, but in the best kind of way. Could a man like Wyatt really have an interest in her? Was she really meeting him for coffee?
“When you invite
me
to coffee, you can pay,” he said and grinned.
Abby hiked her purse over her shoulder, trying to play it as casually as possible. As though his dreamy good looks had no effect on her whatsoever.
“I’ll have a chai tea,” she told Natalie, the owner.
“Want a gluten-free muffin with that?” Natalie asked.
Abby shook her head and checked her watch.
“Are you in a hurry?” Wyatt asked.
“Uh, no.” She glanced at her watch again. “Nervous habit.”
He grinned again. “So, you’re probably wondering why I was so anxious to discuss that book choice of yours.”
“It crossed my mind.” She ran her finger along the edge of the counter.
“I’m forgetting my manners. How is your mother?”
“She’s fine.” That answered her question. He wasn’t really interested in her at all. She felt the heat of humiliation rise into her cheeks.
“She has vertigo, right? That’s why she doesn’t drive?”
“Or walk without assistance, yes. How did you know that?”
“Casey told me.”
Casey
. Casey was the biggest gossip in the library and looked for any excuse to pass on vital data that couldn’t be found on any of the library’s shelves. “Why would she tell you that?”
“I asked her about you.”
Natalie handed her the chai tea, and Wyatt led them back to his table in the corner by the window.
“Why wouldn’t you just ask me?”
“You don’t usually pay me any attention. You know, I’ve developed software that I think might help your mother. Anyone with vertigo.”
“My mother isn’t great on computers.”
“She wouldn’t need to be. I’ve developed programs to help sports enthusiasts get better at their sport, and working on balance was a natural part of it.”
“Is that what this meeting is about? Your software?”
He sat at the table and leaned in toward her. “No.”
His eyes held so much more than he said. Abby looked down at her cup and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Do you ever wear your hair down?”
She shook her head. “It gets in my way. I’ve thought of cutting it off—”
“No! I mean, don’t do that, it’s so beautiful.”
A smile gave her away—how hungry she was for his affirmation, even though she knew Wyatt was probably capable of saying what any woman wanted to hear. His gaze darted about the room, and silence spread between them like spilled coffee.
“Hasn’t this weather been fantastic? I love Vermont summers,” she offered.
“There’s nothing better.” He placed his coffee cup on the table and tapped his foot on the ground.
“Is something the matter?” She knew he needed to tell her something. She felt his nervous energy within her, and she wanted to offer him some relief, to tell him she felt the same way.
He drummed his fingers again. “I thought this would be easier.”
She braced herself on the chair as all sorts of scenarios ran through her head. Did he know something about the library being computerized? Was he privy to some kind of information about her job? Her breathing became shallow as she waited for some news that might challenge her safe world.
“Your father . . . ,” he started.
“My father passed away.”
“Last year, I know.” He raked his hand across his buzzed haircut. “I’ve waited too long to do this, but, Abby, I barely knew you. I told him that. I wanted to, but every time I got close to you, you’d move away. Or you’d let Casey come deal with me at the library.”
“You knew my father?”
“I was in his men’s group at church.”
She glanced at her watch again and wondered what that could mean. Wyatt was everything her father warned her against. Was that because he knew Wyatt so well? Knew his secrets? “I never heard my father mention your name.”
“They’re meeting right now. Mondays at seven,” he said. “Are you always so suspicious?”
“Am I?” she asked innocently, but she knew she was suspicious. Men like Wyatt lived their lives without any thought to the future. Life was one big game. A woman needed a serious man to settle down with—not a little boy with a grown exterior. How often had that been the topic at the dinner table?
“This isn’t going well,” he said as he rubbed his eyebrow. “I feel as though you’re accusing me of something, and I’m not sure why.”
“I’m not much of a conversationalist, I guess.” She wanted to run before he realized his mistake in asking her anywhere. “Really. It was lovely. Thanks for the tea.” She started to rise.
“Please don’t leave, Abby. That’s not what I meant.”
She settled back into her seat and decided to lead with the truth. She wasn’t like Scarlett. She didn’t have the mindset to play games, and with a man like Wyatt she’d be out of her league anyway. “Wyatt, you make me nervous.” She took a
sip from her tea and avoided his gaze. She could feel his eyes upon her, and she tapped her foot anxiously.
“I make
you
nervous? You’re so beautiful, Abby, and smart too. Why would someone like me make you nervous?”
She looked up at him, wondering how he could possibly ask such a question. Wyatt was all charm and good looks, and his smooth words were most likely well practiced. “You just do.”
“Because I said you were beautiful? Or because I said you were suspicious?”
She met his intense chestnut eyes directly. “I need to know what this is about, Wyatt. I feel like there’s some ulterior motive that I don’t understand and that you’re laughing at me behind my back.” She wanted to hear him protest, to hear him say he felt the undeniable energy between them, but she prepared for the worst.
His cheek flinched as if she’d struck him, and for the first time she saw that he might not be as rough as his exterior. Maybe her words did have the power to cut him to the quick, and she should be more responsible with them. “Abby, I’d never laugh at you.”