Like a Charm (12 page)

I
watched the low clouds roll by for several minutes. Slipping off my Prada ankle boots, I pulled a patchwork quilt off the back of the couch and wrapped myself in it. It was strange to sit in a living room that smelled of Mrs. Canard—a mixture of spicy tea and baby powder—and to know that this place was mine, at least for now.

Breathe.
I had to remind myself to take long, calming breaths. So much had happened the last few days since the librarian's death. The job offers. The weird letter in Atlanta. The will. It was too much to process, and I decided to give myself a little while to figure things out.

I needed a plan. I would eventually sit down with the pros and cons of each situation and make a decision. But I didn't have to do it right now. That thought helped me relax. My shoulders dropped and I leaned back against the sofa pillows.

As I drifted, I thought I heard someone say, “Everything will be all right.”

“I hope so,” I whispered.

 

A
half hour later I sat up with a start. I'd drifted off, and it took me a second to realize it was my cell phone ringing that had brought me back to consciousness. I'd left my purse on the table in the downstairs break room. No use running after it; by the time I reached it, whoever it was would have hung up.

I'd only rested for a few minutes, but I felt better than I had in days. I pulled on my boots and folded the quilt. After looking around the room one last time, I made my way back downstairs.

My Prada tote sat on the table where I'd left it and I dug through the bag to find my cell. The red light blinked and I had two missed calls and voice mails. I hit redial, and it didn't even ring before I heard, “Kira, are you okay?”

Caleb was on the other end and it sounded like he was running.

“I'm fine, why?” I picked up my bag and began making my way to the front door of the library.

“I called twice and you didn't answer. I was worried,” he huffed.

“Sorry, I didn't hear the phone. Are you jogging?”

There was a knock and I walked quickly to the door. “When you didn't answer I ran over from The Bakery to check on you.”

I laughed. “So you would be the man behind the door?”

He coughed. “Yes. A very cold man.”

I found him on the steps, still in his suit, wearing a long black wool coat that looked as though it had been tailor-made for him. The man had excellent taste when it came to clothes. His chiseled cheeks were pink, and his eyes a little watery from the wind outside but filled with concern for me.

I laughed as I pulled him in. “Where did you say you were?”

He shrugged. “The Bakery, but it's in the teens out there and with the wind…I was grabbing a cup of coffee and it dawned on me that you probably haven't eaten much today. After seeing how pale you were, I worried you might have fainted. By the way, are you supposed to be here? I know you have the key, but since Mrs. Canard…Well, I wouldn't want you to get in any trouble.” His eyes scanned my face.

It was sweet of him to be so worried about me. “Everything is fine and I promise to explain later.” The cup of coffee sounded like heaven. I hadn't eaten anything since early morning. “Would you mind braving the cold again? We can take my car.”

“Sure. Where do you want to go?” He buttoned his coat around him.

“To The Bakery. You mentioned coffee and I could certainly use some.” I dug for the keys and flipped off the lights.

“She'll be back. I know she will,” I heard a woman say. I sighed as I turned the lock in the door. That was one part of this weird situation I didn't want to deal with—yet.

I pushed the button to remotely start the car. One of the things I loved about the Lexus was by the time I had backed away from the library, the warm air already flowed from the vents.

Caleb adjusted the seat on the passenger side so his knees were no longer in his chest. The drive to The Bakery took all of a minute. It was only a block off the main square. Like the rest of the town, the outside of the store was dressed in a gothic design. Displayed in the large arched window sat a wedding cake with amazing details. Flowers trailed from the top down to the bottom layer.

Mr. Owen, the shop owner, usually closed at three each day, but for the past few months he'd been staying open until seven on Friday and Saturday nights. He offered a variety of flavored coffees and teas and an incredible array of baked goods.

The pastries at The Bakery were melt-in-your-mouth delicious and calorie-laden. My mouth watered at the very thought of one of his cream puffs.

Caleb stood at my car door ready to open it before I even realized I'd parked. I'd been in the middle of my pastry reverie.

Reaching out his hand, he helped me out, and I think I fell hard for him in that moment. Part of it was the heat from his hand on mine. A surge of energy ran through me at the point of contact.

It was also such a gentlemanly act, but it meant more because I could tell it was a part of his nature. He'd been raised this way. I love Southern men. Then it dawned on me: I didn't even really know if he was from the South. He'd said earlier that he'd lived all over the world, but I didn't know much about him at all.

He put his hand on my back and guided me into the store.

Mr. Owen had moved to Sweet from South Africa more than twenty years ago. I'd always been fascinated by his heavy accent and his deep chocolate skin. He was also tall, and when I was ten I'd imagined he came from someplace where giants grew. He had to be at least six foot seven, but his soft voice made him more like a large teddy bear.

Today he was behind the counter, tossing powdered sugar on some kind of cookie bars. The three small tables, all the bakery could accommodate, were full.

Mr. O looked up when he saw me and wiped his hands on the front of his pristine white apron. “The little Kira has grown into a beautiful woman.” He reached over the glass shelf showcasing his wares and took my hand in both of his. “It is good you are home.”

I smiled. “Hi, Mr. Owen. It smells wonderful in here.”

After giving my hand a squeeze, he moved to the sink to wash his. “I have something special for you.” He moved through the archway and into the kitchen.

“You two must be old friends.” Caleb stood beside me.

“Oh, yes. He looked out for me when I was a kid. My mom would never let me have sugar. Between Mr. Owen and the gang at Lulu's, I developed a strong love for the stuff. In fact, I'm in love with his—Oh, wow!”

Mr. Owen had walked out with some of his cream puffs. They were so big only four would fit in a bakery box.

“I love these. I can't believe you remembered.”

The baker's smile increased. “Would you like some coffee?”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course.” Turning to Caleb I confessed. “It was Mr. Owen who served me my first cup, and I've been hooked ever since. He was the one who helped me stay awake for all of those AP tests in high school.”

The baker waved a hand. “I take no responsibility. You begged and begged. I only gave it to you to shush you. I worried it might stunt your growth.” He poured the golden brown liquid into two large to-go cups.

For the record, I'm a healthy five foot eight, but I knew that was relatively small to him.

“She wouldn't listen. Smart, this one,” he said as he put the plastic lids on the cups. “From the time she was eleven she could argue almost anyone and win. Of course, she barely took her nose out of the books to see the world around her. But if she wanted something, she would do whatever it took to get it.” His eyes moved from the cups to me. “I hear the reading paid off. You are a big attorney in Atlanta.”

Was.
I nodded. There was no way I could tell him the truth. Not yet. Lifting the lid off my coffee, I poured in three packets of sugar. I noticed he had some sandwiches in the case. “Can I have two of those tomato and mozzarella sandwiches?” I pointed.

Mr. Owen reached in and pulled them out. “And for you, sir?”

Caleb shrugged. “I'll take the turkey pesto.”

Putting the sandwiches in a large white bag, he handed them to Caleb, who took out his money clip.

“Hey, I'm going to pay.” I reached for my wallet. “I invited you.”

“Yes, you did, but I'll get it this time. Thanks just the same.” Caleb gave me the tone. It's a thing Southern guys do. They never let you pay for anything, which is incredibly sweet and annoying at the same time. Maybe he really was from the South or had lived here long enough to learn the ways of the true gentleman.

I started to argue, but I looked at Mr. Owen's face. He was expecting a good row.

I laughed. “Fine.
This time.
”

Since the tables were full and it was freezing outside, I headed for the car, not really sure what to do next. I turned on the heat again, along with the seat warmers, and Caleb climbed into the passenger side.

“Um, it's kind of crowded in there. I can take you to your car if you want.” I wasn't sure what to say.

“Oh,” he looked disappointed. “I thought maybe we could hang out. Unless you have plans.”

Officially we weren't supposed to have a “date” until tomorrow and I hadn't really readied myself. Still, I didn't want to be alone.

“I'm good with that. Any ideas on where we could go?”

He looked out the window. “I'd invite you to my place, but it doesn't seem appropriate. Besides, I'm renting one of the cabins on Lake Calabas and it's pretty stark. I don't have much furniture.” That made sense. He was a carpenter here to do a job for a friend, and he was probably trying to save cash.

My parents' compound was full of people, as was Lulu's, and I didn't feel like grabbing the attention of the town gossips. Besides, as much as Ms. Johnnie and Ms. Helen loved Mr. Owen, they didn't appreciate anyone bringing in food from the outside.

Then it dawned on me. “I have an idea.” I put the car in reverse.

Caleb looked surprised.

“There's something I want to show you,” I added.

This time he almost choked on his coffee. “Kira Smythe, are you asking me to your place?”

I rolled my eyes, but smiled. “Not exactly.”

“I'm intrigued,” he whispered.

Me too.

A
s we made our way up the stairs from the break room at the library, I shivered, more out of nervousness than anything. I'd just invited a man up to
my place
—at least my
temporary
place—and I worried what he might think.

When we made it to the top of the stairs, I flipped on the switch and the room was flooded with light.

“Wow. This is cool,” Caleb said behind me. “I bet the view during the day is amazing.”

I nodded. “I just discovered it today. All the years I spent here, and I never knew this loft existed.” The last part came out as a whisper. I still couldn't believe I'd found this lovely little haven.

Caleb put the packages on the table. “So how did you end up with a key to the library?”

I stared at him for a few seconds, judging what I should say, and decided to tell him the truth. “It was willed to me.” I paused. “The key, the library, the books, and all of this.”
Oh, and the dead people.
I wasn't going to share that bit of information until I'd explored it further.

He sat down and pulled one of the sandwiches out of the bag. “But doesn't the library belong to the town?”

I handed him a white china plate I'd found in the cabinet near the sink. “That's what I thought. Turns out Mrs. Canard owned everything, including the building. It's a privately owned collection she shared with the town.”

He sat back in his chair. “I've never heard of such a thing.” He shook his head. “I mean there are many privately owned libraries, but few are shared with the public like this one. That's incredible. I mean, every book I ever asked for she was able to provide. If she didn't have it that day, she'd have it the next. I thought she was tied in to the state network.”

I handed him a paper towel and took one for myself to use as a napkin. I'd seen linen napkins in another drawer, but I didn't want to dirty them. I still felt like an intruder. “Me too. Trust me, no one was more surprised than me when Mr. Pierce showed me the will. I loved her. She was like family to me, but I never thought…”

He glanced up and gave me a look. “What? There's more, right?”

He was too intuitive for his own good.

I bit my lip. “If I don't take over the library, the whole thing is going to be sold at auction. Can you imagine? Leaving the town without a library?”

“Huh.”

“I know, right? It's crazy. I mean, I have—well, had—a successful job in Atlanta. She knew that. I just can't understand why she would do this.”

“Did she leave you some kind of note?”

I didn't want to lie, but I also didn't want to disclose the contents. “Yes. She told me it was my decision and that she knew it was a difficult one.” I looked down at my food, not wanting to meet his eyes. I couldn't tell him about the being
special
part of the document.

“Damn, that's quite a load to put on someone, especially since you don't even live here anymore. So when will you put it up for auction?”

I took a bite of sandwich so I didn't have to answer right away. I shrugged my shoulders.

We ate in silence for a few minutes, both of us lost in thought.

“Could you hire someone to run it for you? Keep ownership of the place, but just have someone to help out?”

I shook my head. “She says I have to run the library. There are provisions for volunteers, but not an employee.” I waved a hand. “I honestly don't have a plan yet. I have some time to make a decision, and I'm going to take that time. I never like to rush into anything.”

Something crossed Caleb's face and I couldn't tell if it was disappointment or amusement. Taking a sip of coffee, I tried to make myself relax.

“Have you always been a carpenter?”

He looked up. “I've always worked with my hands. It's my way of getting rid of stress.”

“Oh. And you said you were working on a friend's house?”

“Yeah. Bronwyn. Her brother, Brett, is my best friend. She bought a house here earlier in the month and I've been helping her get it fixed up. The place wasn't in such bad shape. Needs a bit of work here and there, but the conservatory where she's planting her herbs and stuff is a mess. We've had to replace the majority of the glass and find some way to get ventilation in there to protect the plants against the heat this summer. Bronwyn's had some great ideas. I think she'd been planning this garden room for a long time. She's lived all over the place but this is the first time she's really settled somewhere.”

I wondered if there might be more to their relationship. Though he acted like she was a kid sister, I could see a certain fondness in his eyes when he spoke about her. Caleb didn't seem like the kind of guy who would ask a girl out while he was dating another, but I couldn't be sure. I could count the dates I'd had in the last five years on one hand. First there had been school, and then work. There had never been time.

“It's nice of you to help her out.”

“I'm…between jobs right now, so it's good to have something to keep me busy.” He frowned for a moment, and then I saw him force a smile, as if he were trying to push bad memories away. “Who knows, I may look for more work around here. I kind of like the town, and the company.”

I smiled back at him, wishing I could wipe away the sadness that touched the corners of his eyes. My imagination went crazy and I thought perhaps he'd just come out of a bad relationship. Or maybe someone close to him had died.

Picking up my plate, I moved to the sink. “Have you ever had one of Mr. Owen's cream puffs?” After washing the dish, I put it in the rack and reached for his.

“I had a blueberry muffin that shamed all the others I'd ever had before.” He took the cream puff. “I'm almost afraid to eat it. What if all the other cream puffs after this pale in comparison? I could be setting myself up for a lifetime of disappointment.”

I giggled. I couldn't help it. Getting hold of myself, I told him, “It doesn't matter to me. If you don't eat it, then more for me.”

He pretended shock and took a healthy bite. Closing his eyes, he gave a soft moan, “Mmmmm.”

“You are now officially ruined for life.” I took a bite of mine and did the same thing he did. “Thankfully you forget after a few years just how magnificent the things really are. I think he uses some kind of magic.”

“Well, it's that kind of town. Protected by a coven of witches—you never know who or what you are talking to. But I like it. The people are friendly and the food is the best I've ever eaten. And I've been around.” He took another bite.

“Do you have a home base somewhere?”

“Yeah. I work out of Dallas. I have a condo I've renovated downtown. That's the place I call home, but I travel a lot with the job.”

I thought most carpenters worked with contractors and stayed pretty close to home. There was something odd in the way he said “job.”

“Caleb, what do you really do for a living?”

“For a living?” He finished off the cream puff. “I'm a writer. At least that's what's been paying the bills for the last few years.”

“Seriously?”

He chuckled.

I don't know why, but I always think of writers as being bookish types—skinny, pale men and women with big, dark glasses. Caleb wasn't anything like that. He was strong and muscular, and so damn sexy it was ridiculous.

I cleared my throat. “I thought you were a carpenter. What do you write?”

“Features for magazines.” He looked at his watch. “I do a lot of renovations for friends. I like to keep busy in between assignments.” He stood up. “Do you know if the television works? I wanted to catch the world news if that's all right with you.”

“Oh, sure. I mean, I don't know if it works, but go ahead.” I cleaned up the rest of the dishes and put all the trash in one bag to carry out when I left.

He fiddled with the satellite box for the television and then settled in on the couch to watch Charlie Gibson run down the list of things that were wrong with the world.

Nervous, I wasn't sure where to sit and I landed on the opposite end of the couch. I tried to focus but my mind wandered over the day. It seemed surreal to be sitting in this room with a handsome man, watching the news.

I hadn't met that many writers before and I wanted to ask Caleb more about his job. I wondered why he didn't talk about it. If I hadn't asked, I didn't think he would have ever told me what he did. My cell phone rang and I jumped up to get it.

“Hello?”

“Kira, where are you?” It was my mom. I moved back toward the bedroom so I wouldn't disturb Caleb. I didn't feel like explaining about the library. “I'm having dinner with a friend.”

“Oh.” She paused. “Well, you ran out after the service rather quickly and I wanted to make sure you were okay. Any idea when you might be home?”

“No. Don't worry, I'm fine. I'll see you guys later.” I sounded snappy, but I didn't mean to. I'd been out on my own for years and it was weird for my mom to check up on me.

“I didn't mean to make you angry, dear.” Mom's tone was patronizing and I knew I'd hurt her feelings.

I sighed. “Mom, it's been a long day. I'm sorry if I sound curt, but I'm fine, really. I'll talk to you later.”

I hung up. I know it was rude, but I didn't feel like playing twenty questions with her.

Peeking around the curvy glass wall, I took in the bedroom. There was a full-sized, cherry wood sleigh bed and a dresser that matched. A beautiful ring quilt spread across the bed. The baby powder and cinnamon tea smell was strong here.

There was so much I didn't know about Mrs. Canard. She obviously had wonderful taste when it came to antiques. And she had a sense of humor. There were whimsical touches throughout the loft, a painting of fairies here or a modern sculpture of the goddess Hera there. Odd little pieces that all seemed to fit together in this eclectic space.

“Are you okay?” Caleb was right behind me.

I jerked back into the wall of his hard chest.

He steadied me with his hands. “I bet I've asked you that thirty times today.”

“Twenty-seven.” I laughed. “I keep finding things here”—I pointed to the painting of the fairies over the bed—“that surprise me.”

Turning me in his arms to face him, he held me there for a moment. I thought he might kiss me, and then he pulled me tight and held me. A hug so wonderful and giving, and exactly what I needed in that moment. Everywhere his body touched mine, I warmed instantly, and I wrapped my arms around him. We stood there for a full minute, not moving. Then he kissed the top of my head.

“I don't know what it is about you, but I've wanted to do that since the first day I met you,” he said against my hair.

“You should have done it sooner.” I backed out of his arms and my hand flew to my mouth.

He laughed.

My cheeks burned. “I have no idea where that came from.”

He grabbed my hand as I passed by. Then he pulled me to him again, and this time his mouth captured mine. I couldn't think, only feel. His lips were soft and his tongue pushed through my teeth, gently exploring. My arms curved around his neck and I held on, my body thrumming.

Now he was the one to back away, but he held my hands. “I'm sorry. I've wanted to do that again since Thanksgiving.” He laughed. “Maybe I should go. You've been through a lot today and I seem to be having a difficult time keeping my hands off of you.”

He let go, and I wanted to say, “Stop! Come back and make love to me, you walking Adonis.” But my common sense kicked in as the hormones fled.

Instead I picked up the bag of trash and said, “I'll follow you out.” As I locked up the library for the second time that day I heard someone say, “Is she crazy?”

Yes. I am.

Caleb led me to my car. He started to walk away and paused. “I'll pick you up at seven tomorrow night.”

I stared at him blankly.

“For our date?”

I nodded, like of course I knew what he was talking about.

“Will you be here or out at your parents'?”

I thought about trying to explain Caleb to my mom and dad.

“Um, meet me here. Bye.” I waved and he did the same.

I heard giggling in my backseat. I didn't bother to turn around. Once I was on the main highway, I glanced in the rearview mirror.

“I don't know who you are, but I'm not ready to deal with you. So can it.”

Someone snickered.

“I'm not joking. Leave me alone,” I growled. Silence followed.

I don't know when my life took a turn toward crazy, but I wanted it back on track.