She faced him, unable to believe he was just going to drop that bombshell and then leave. “You’re going?”
“Unless you want me to stay?”
The way he said it left no doubt in her mind that if he stayed it would be for one reason only. As attracted to him as she was, she’d just met him. She shook her head.
“I didn’t think so, but you can’t blame a guy for trying.” He hefted the heavy red box in his left hand. “I’ll keep asking.”
His work boots rang against the hardwood floor as he walked calmly down the hallway. Amanda heard the door open and close.
She stood in the center of the kitchen and stared at the plain white walls. “What have I gotten myself into?”
Chapter Four
Amanda decided that work was the best way to get her mind off Jonah. Setting up her office chair in what would be her new workspace, she pulled Elizabeth Sutter’s boxes of books alongside it. With her laptop perched on a couple of stacked boxes, she started to work.
She muttered to herself as she opened book covers, checked bindings and dust covers, and gauged overall condition before logging the book title, author, year of publication, publisher and any other pertinent information into Elizabeth’s file.
Most of the books weren’t worth much. She would list them in her online shop, but she’d also put them on display when she opened her little bookshop here in her front room. She tried not to think how long that might be delayed.
There was no point in hurrying to paint until the electrical work was done. Although she was going to take her paint chips when she went over to her friends’ house for supper. Both Cyndi and Shamus had a good eye for color and she wanted their opinions.
Cyndi had turned her family home into a first-rate B & B that was both classy and homey at the same time. And Shamus worked in the construction industry. He was sure to have ideas about what would work in a home like hers. She wanted to try to keep the colors as authentic to the original age of the house as possible.
Amanda pulled open another box of books and began to sort through them. When she was finished logging the books into her computer, she lightly penciled in a number code just inside the front cover. That was how she kept track of her inventory. Customers had a specific number and each one of their books was logged accordingly. When she finished with each book, it was put in one of two piles—inexpensive hardcover or absolute gem.
She was still excited about the copy of A Clockwork Orange and she’d added four more books to that pile. One was a science fiction classic from the seventies, which she knew would sell for a pretty penny. The other three were hard-to-find original hardbacks from popular authors. Not overly priceless, but certainly able to fetch around a hundred dollars each.
Whenever she was uncertain, she made a note to do a check of her online sources and compare prices. Amanda made it a point never to be at the top end of the pricing range unless she had something super rare. It was better to be just below the top price.
More chance of selling the book that way.
She was at the final box when she found it. Amanda immediately knew that it wasn’t a regular book, but a journal. And it was old. The leather binding and the gold-embossed lettering on the front told her that. Her fingers hovered just above the name. She didn’t touch it though, not wanting the oils on her fingers to damage the old lettering.
“Cecilia Sutter.” Sitting back in the chair, Amanda carefully opened the cover on the journal. The writing was ornate, yet neat. It harkened back to an age where a person’s penmanship mattered.
“Eighteen-Eighty-five.” The journal was more than a hundred years old. Amanda’s stomach twitched with excitement. She loved old journals. Most of them were filled with the kind of mundane things that people didn’t bother with today.
She’d read journals that were filled with weather and crop reports, town news, family triumphs and tragedies. She’d even read journals that were filled with such household tidbits as how to best butcher a hog and preserve every bit of the meat for future use, to how to mix the best wood cleaner. Journals were a treasure trove of information.
Turning the page, she read the first entry. “I got married today. The sun was bright and the roses in Mama’s garden were in full bloom. Henry looked so handsome in his new suit it was all I could do to listen to the minister as he performed the ceremony.
Henry Sutter is the most handsome man in the world.” Amanda lowered the book, commiserating with the long-deceased Cecilia. “If Henry looked anything like Jonah, I understand completely.”
She’d definitely have to return this to Elizabeth. It was a family treasure, probably a wedding gift because Cecilia’s married name was on the cover. Still, a part of her hoped that Elizabeth wanted to sell this family journal. Amanda would buy it for her private collection.
Journals had been her passion ever since the first day she’d stepped into Seymour’s shop. Over the years, she’d collected about three dozen of them, ranging in age from the seventeen hundreds right up until the nineteen-forties.
A psychologist would have a field day with her collection. She had no family ties of her own, no history, so she collected other people’s history. That might be the case, but Amanda figured she was protecting the past from being discarded.
She logged the diary into her computer program and made a note to ask Elizabeth about it. She started to place it in the pile with the other collectable books, but stopped.
There was no denying that she wanted to read a bit more about Cecilia and her new husband.
What would it hurt?
After all, Elizabeth had put it in the box with the rest of the books. For all Amanda knew, Elizabeth wanted to be rid of it.
Laying the diary aside, she closed out her program and shut down her computer.
Standing, she groaned and stretched her arms over her head. She’d obviously been sitting there a while. She tended to lose track of time when she was working.
A quick glance at her watch had her groaning. “Quarter to four.” She’d planned to stop by Delicious Delights, the local bakery, and pick up something to take to Cyndi and Shamus’s place for dessert.
Grabbing the diary, she left the room in its state of organized chaos and hurried up the stairs. If she was fast, she could grab a shower, change, go to the bakery and still get to her friends’ place by four-thirty.
Amanda carefully placed the journal in her bedside table. Ignoring the open suitcases and piles of boxes that mocked her, she headed to the bathroom. At least she’d unpacked the towels.
“That was delicious.” Amanda pushed back her plate and gave a deep sigh of pleasure. Seated in the large, warm kitchen with her two friends, Amanda felt a sense of satisfaction. She’d made the right decision about moving to Jamesville. It was good to be close to friends.
The table was situated in a nook area surrounded by glass on three sides, giving a spectacular view of the garden. The late September sun was beginning to fade, but Amanda could see that some of the flowers were still blooming.
Though this was a B & B and there was a huge dining area with a half-dozen tables or so, Amanda preferred the coziness of the kitchen. It made her feel more a friend and less like a guest.
“Thank you.” Cyndi rose from the table, her blue eyes twinkling with delight. “You still have room for any of that cheesecake you brought with you?”
Amanda groaned, but nodded. “I think so.” She really wanted a piece of that chocolate dessert. “I’m so going to have to go back to Delicious Delights.”
Cyndi laughed. “I know what you mean. I love that place, which is why I limit myself to a visit once a week. Their éclairs are to die for.”