If I were a country farmer, and you were a sophisticated bookstore owner, would you marry me anyway, would you be my lady?
Yours, always
and forever,
E
At first, I laughed, then tears stung my eyes. Edward.
Millie was on the top rung of a ladder taping red and pink paper hearts to the window when she saw the flowers on the front counter. I wondered if she’d noticed the earth shift on its axis as I read the card.
“Who sent those?” she asked, climbing down.
“A…customer,” I said. “For Valentine’s Day…I guess.” My heart raced as I tucked the card into my pocket. I wanted to keep the moment to myself, at least for now.
Millie watched me curiously, but then turned to the door when a young woman walked in. She was about the age Val would be right now, I guessed.
“Good morning,” she said cheerfully. “I’m here about the first-floor flat for rent.”
“Yes,” I said, coming to my senses. I placed a sign in the window just yesterday after we’d had the oven replaced and refinished the hardwood floors.
“Oh my gosh,” she gushed. “Is this the most adorable bookstore of all time, or what?”
She was in her early thirties, I guessed, if that, with a rather eclectic sense of style that matched her personality. I liked her instantly.
“I’m Eloise,” I said. “And this is Millie.”
The young woman smiled. “Is your formal name Millifred or Millicent? Millesandra?”
“Just Millie.”
“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Eloise and Just Millie. I’m Just Liza. And unfortunately, my parents were not the literary types, so there was no inspiration taken from Eliza Doolittle. Dad was a car mechanic, and Mum didn’t finish school. I honestly don’t know if either of them has ever completed an entire book in their lives.” She shrugged. “But I have. A zillion of them. I love books.” She spun around to survey the shop. “And maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll be the girl who gets to live above all these stories. Hey, I wonder if that means you’d have really sweet dreams living here?”
Millie laughed. “I’m not quite sure about that, but I can take you up to see the flat.”
The expression on Millie’s face was a carbon copy of mine—somewhere between amusement and curiosity. I decided, right then and there, that even if Liza’s name wasn’t inspired by classic literature, she was still one of the most interesting characters I’d ever met.
“I’ll take it!” she said thirty seconds after stepping foot in the flat.
“She’s a lively one,” Millie said after she was gone.
“And just what we need around here,” I said, agreeing. “Some youthful energy.”
Millie looked up at the heart-studded window and frowned.
“I see your vendetta against Valentine’s Day is still alive and well.”
“It’s as strong as ever,” she replied, ever the romantic cynic.
“Well, bahumbug all you like, but people expect a whimsical flair from their neighborhood bookstore.” I glanced back at the flowers on the counter. “Besides, who knows what Cupid has up his sleeve.” Percy waddled over with a red bow affixed to his collar and pressed himself against the side of my leg. “Millie, try as you might, you don’t fool me for a second. Underneath all those hardened layers, you’re a softie. And one of these days, some man is going to walk through that door and pierce that jaded heart of yours, you’ll see.”
“We don’t sell that kind of romance novel here,” she said, cracking the tiniest smile as she climbed down the ladder to have a look at the window decorations. “Is it whimsical enough for you?”
“It’s perfect,” I said, grinning.
“Good,” Millie added. “Because I’m nominating you for the St. Patrick’s Day décor.”
“Deal.” I paused, wincing a little, as a surge of pain radiated from my lower back. I reached my arm around and clutched the side of my hip.
“You okay, El?”
“Yeah,” I replied, a bit breathless. “But it’s odd. I’ve been getting these strange back pains lately—probably just digestive issues.” I found a bottle of Advil behind the counter and took two.
“When’s the last time you had a physical exam?” Millie asked.
“I’m embarrassed to admit, but I really have no idea. Maybe sometime after Valentina was born?”
“Eloise, you can’t be serious!”
I shrugged. “You know I never get sick.”
“Still,” Millie said. “You should go see Dr. Hester. Just to make sure everything’s all right.”
I knew the local doctor well enough, but not as a patient—only a customer, who brought his twin daughters in on weekends to pick out new books.
“When I went in last month,” Millie added, “he ran some labs and it turned out that my vitamin D levels were quite low. I’m taking a supplement now. I bet you’re deficient, too. None of us get enough sunshine in this bloody city.”
“Okay, I’ll make an appointment,” I said, glancing out the window. It might have been an impossibly gray day, but after reading Edward’s card, all I felt was the warmth of the sun.
A FedEx truck pulled up in front of the store a few minutes later, and the driver carried in a stack of packages, including one very large box. He set them on the counter as I signed for them. “You must be new,” I said to the man. “I don’t think we’ve met.”
“Yes,” he said, smiling. “I’m Fernando. It’s my first day on the job.”
“I’m Eloise, and this is Millie.”
“Pleased to meet you both,” he said, glancing at our window display, then turning to Millie, who had decided to tape one more pink heart on the right side of the window. “It looks nice,” he added as she began climbing down the ladder. But when she missed the third step, her foot slipped, and Fernando offered his hand to steady her.
“Thank you,” she said, blushing. “I’m…glad you were there. I might have twisted my ankle.”
“That would have been a shame,” he said, holding her hand for a long moment. Millie towered above his diminutive frame, and yet somehow, they looked…adorable standing next to each other. I smiled to myself. A pair of funny Valentines.
After he left, I sorted through the deliveries, turning to the large box when the address caught my eye. “Millie,” I said. “Look, it’s from…Frank’s sister in…Seattle.” I recognized the name immediately—Ellen Reeves—even though I’d only met her a handful of times before Frank and I divorced. What on earth could she have sent me?
Millie stood beside me as I ran the sharp edge of a pair of scissors along the box’s taped seam and pulled the edges open. Inside was an enormous assortment of mail—hundreds and hundreds of letters. I reached for one, then another, and another. My knees felt weak. All were from me, addressed to Valentina, and every single one was unopened.
“Millie,” I cried, my hands trembling. “He…kept the letters all those years. He never let Valentina read them. Not one of them.”