Congratulations to Sutton’s Seconds for being voted Best Thrift Store in New Hampshire for the second year in a row! Those of us who live in Stonefield aren’t surprised because Ellen Sutton has been providing us with quality used goods for many years, but it’s wonderful to see her hard work recognized!
—Stonefield Gazette Facebook Page
One of the first things Molly did every morning, after sitting in the overstuffed reading chair and setting her coffee mug on the side table, was open her notebook. The chair was next to the window to let the sun wash over her, and this bright tableau was how she liked to start her days.
The notebook was a simple running to-do list, with a few notes and ideas scattered among the tasks. It really had no organizational structure, but that worked for her. She’d tried other systems, from basic to complex, but her brain just liked to write down things she needed to do and then draw a line through each thing as she did it. Each morning, she’d flip through the pages and copy three things onto a sticky note from the small basket next to her coffee mug, and those three things would be her focus for the day.
1. Order a replacement for the colonial blue vase that was chipped during the Harrington viewing.
2. Make an appointment for an oil change.
3.
Molly realized she’d been looking at the blank number three without turning any of the pages of her notebook for a while and sighed. Then she took another sip of her coffee, hoping it would jump-start her focus. It didn’t, and she knew why.
3. Have hot, sweaty sex with the new librarian.
She didn’t actually write the words on the sticky note. Only tasks that were directly in her control got transferred over because she could only control herself, and making sure she accomplished the three priority tasks for the day was how she managed to wrangle her ADHD brain into getting things done. If she wrote Dad needs to see the optometrist on her sticky note, it wasn’t in her power to accomplish that. But catch Dad in the office and make him call the optometrist in front of me could be checked off.
Having hot, sweaty sex with the new librarian wasn’t a task she alone could accomplish. It would require active participation from Callan Avery, and she doubted he’d be on board. Sure, she’d seen some flashes of heated interest in his eyes, but she’d also seen facial expressions similar to his from several ex-boyfriends, and she knew what they meant.
You’re just too much for me, Molly. You’re a lot.
She was a lot. She was also worth it, though she hadn’t found a man who agreed with that yet. But she would. Someday.
After flipping through the pages of her notebook one more time, she decided to leave the third spot blank. There was nothing starred to denote urgency, except for getting the oil changed in her car, so two tasks would do.
Or maybe she needed more coffee. Espresso would be nice, with a big jolt of caffeine to get her through the morning. Nobody made a macchiato like Chelsea Grey—literally, because nobody else in Stonefield made anything but plain coffee with a hot or iced option—so Molly got dressed in a cute sweater over soft leggings. Then she took the time for some mascara and lip gloss before grabbing her notebook and heading for the door.
She walked, as usual, but at a quicker pace than she normally did because she knew what time the library opened and if she was going to “accidentally” bump into Callan, she had to hurry.
As soon as she stepped through the door of the Perkin’ Up Café, Molly scanned the room, but she didn’t see him. Doing her best to hide her disappointment, she stepped up to the counter to order her macchiato since she couldn’t really change her mind and leave at this point.
“I didn’t expect to see you here today,” Chelsea said.
“I’m here all the time.”
“But rarely on a Wednesday, and almost never two days in a row.” Chelsea gave her a knowing grin. “And you don’t usually look around the room so intently, like you’re trying to find somebody.”
“I’m nosy.”
“Or waiting for somebody. That looked like an interesting conversation you had with the new librarian yesterday. Some smiling, some frowning, and I’m pretty sure I saw you blush at one point.”
Molly took her macchiato and, after rolling her eyes, carried her beverage and her notebook to her regular table. Because it was everybody’s favorite table, due to the window, it wasn’t always open, but today was clearly her lucky day. After taking her first sip, she closed her eyes and savored the highly caffeinated deliciousness while thanking the coffee gods yet again that Chelsea Grey was a part of her life now.
Chelsea Grey had moved to town and opened the Perkin’ Up Café two years ago, and since then, she’d become a good friend. Molly liked having a friend who hadn’t grown up there and didn’t already know every single thing she’d ever done in her life.
Mallory Sutton had always been—and would always be—her best friend, though. She was the middle Sutton sister, and Molly was also close with Gwen, who was the oldest, and Evie. Molly was an only child and growing up, she’d practically been a fourth Sutton sister. And David and Ellen Sutton had been like a second set of parents.
David’s had been the hardest funeral the Cyrs family had ever hosted.
Gwen and Evie had both been living elsewhere when their father passed away. When they found out months later that their father had mortgaged everything to pursue his dream of opening a brewery and taproom, they’d come home to help their mother and Lane Thompson—Evie’s ex-husband and David’s business partner, which had been pretty awkward when Evie found out—because if they didn’t open it, Ellen would lose everything.
Now Sutton’s Place Brewery & Tavern was a thriving business, and Gwen and Evie had fallen in love and stayed. All three Sutton sisters married and living in Stonefield made Molly so happy, she grinned every time she thought about them. And she thought about them a lot.
She took an Instagram photo of her drink and then took a very small sip. Taking up a table once your drink was gone struck Molly as rude, so she was always careful to take her time drinking whatever she ordered if she wanted to linger.
Finally, the bell over the door chimed and Callan Avery walked through the door.
His hair was still slightly damp from a shower and Molly sighed. She knew he probably smelled delicious and wished she could think of an excuse to go to the counter, where she could stand close enough to inhale his scent.
But that would be creepy—as she was reminded every time some guy did that to her—so she kept her butt in her chair and watched him from the short distance instead. Maybe she stared so hard he could sense it, because as soon as Chelsea stepped away to make his coffee, Callan turned to face Molly.
She smiled and gave him a little wave, and he returned the smile before turning back to the counter. Molly didn’t mind. Having his back to her gave her the freedom to appreciate the way his pants hugged his butt, which had enough curve to make her hands itch to slide over it. A white business shirt was tucked into the pants, but he’d skipped the tie. That was probably a good move in Stonefield. He didn’t want people thinking he was stuffy.
When Chelsea handed Callan his coffee, Molly assumed he’d leave since it was almost time for the library to open, but he turned and walked toward her.
“Good morning, Molly.”
“Good morning. What do you get?” she asked, nodding at the cup in his hand.
“Coffee.”
He said it so matter-of-factly, she wasn’t sure if he was trying to be funny. “Just plain coffee, huh?”
“Yeah. She makes some damn fine coffee. What’s yours?”
“Macchiato today, because I was in the mood for one. But usually I don’t decide in advance. I come and then order what I’m in the mood for in the moment.”
“In the moment, huh? That doesn’t surprise me.”
She wasn’t sure if that was meant to be an insult. She didn’t think so, but she was so used to her impulsiveness being criticized, she bristled a little. “Have you ever tried a macchiato or have you been drinking your plain old coffee the same way since your very first cup?”
“When I like something, I don’t feel a need to change it.”
“Then you miss the opportunity to maybe find something you’d like even more.”
He shrugged. “I guess that’s a risk I’m willing to take. So do you come here every morning?”
“Not every morning, no. I usually treat myself two or three days a week, but I had that craving for the macchiato this morning.” She’d actually had a craving to see him again, but she wasn’t about to confess that. “Do you want to sit down?”
When he shook his head, she wasn’t surprised since she knew what time it was. “Thanks, but I have to hurry if I don’t want to be late on my first day.”
“Another time, then,” she said, dropping as obvious a hint as she could without actually asking him out.
“Maybe. I’ll see you later.” Then, without giving any indication he’d gotten the subtle message, he turned and started walking away.
“Have a good first day at work,” she called, expecting him to pause or lift a hand to show he’d heard her.
But he stopped and turned, giving her a smile that took her breath away and made butterflies dance in her stomach. “Thank you, Molly.”
And then he was gone, leaving her sitting there feeling like a cartoon version of herself, with heart eyes and a cloud of sparkles shimmering around her. That man had quite a smile.
Callan’s first day as the head—and only—librarian at the Stonefield Library was a disaster. His plan had been to have a great first day, then walk home and spend some time stripping his new living room of old, stained wallpaper.
Instead, he was going to walk home, take some acetaminophen and try not to beat his head against said ugly wallpaper.
Carla Denning, who was retiring after spending her entire adult life as Stonefield’s librarian, wasn’t quite ready to leave. She’d suggested staying on for several extra days to introduce him to the collection, their patrons and the way things were done. Callan had wanted to roll up his sleeves and get to work, because the way things were done was so outdated it was like going back in time.
He’d only been given a brief tour during his interview, but it had been enough for him to see that the discolored and tattered cards in the old wooden card catalog needed replacing—either with new cards or a computer system. He could see with a cursory glance at a few shelves that it had been so long since the collection was weeded, it wouldn’t surprise him to find an original copy of The Catcher in the Rye shoved between a Betty Crocker cookbook from the fifties and a manual for how to use rotary phones.
But he didn’t want to insult Mrs. Denning, so he kept his mouth shut, his hands off the dust, and just listened. Unfortunately, on several occasions, he also had to listen to the departing librarian explain to patrons that, yes, relatively young and single men could be librarians. He knew over 80 percent of librarians identified as female, and he could only guess none of the other 20 percent had ever worked in this library.
Then he heard her telling a parent on the phone that, no, their daughters didn’t need a chaperone because they’d done very thorough background checks on Mr. Avery and he was very nice and very safe, even though he didn’t have a wife. That was a half hour before a man asked Mrs. Denning for a list of the library committee members so he could complain about the hiring because he didn’t want some guy hitting on his wife when she went into borrow some more of those romance books.
If he hadn’t sold everything he had of value and gone into debt to buy a house, Callan might have quit on the spot. He’d been warned that small New England towns could be tough nuts to crack, but this was ridiculous. He also wanted to point out that having a wife and children didn’t preclude him from hitting on married women or being a predator, but he didn’t think that would help his case any.
“It’ll be fine,” Mrs. Denning told him, giving him a patronizing pat on the hand. “It’ll take a little time for them to get used to you is all.”
It had been a frustrating day overall, and during his walk home, he turned the issues over and over in his head. The only solution he could come up with—Mrs. Denning’s advice to give it time and let them get used to him—seemed too passive for him. If enough people were uncomfortable with him being alone with the patrons, which was something so out there he hadn’t even considered the possibility, and complained to the library committee, they could rescind the job. The contract he’d signed had a thirty-day probationary period built in, but he’d been assured it was boilerplate and he had nothing to worry about.
Maybe they’d been wrong. And maybe he should have rented an apartment after all, and settled into the community before buying a house. Hindsight and all that.
He was frowning, caught up in the ramifications of being fired his first week, when he turned the corner to his street and almost walked into Molly Cyrs. She made a startled sound, her hand flying up to cover her chest.
“Excuse me,” he said, reaching out a hand to steady her. “I wasn’t really paying attention to where I was going.”
“Me either,” she said with a smile. “Fair warning, I’m rarely paying attention.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Despite her prediction he’d often be tense around her, the opposite happened. When she smiled at him, some of the stress from the day slipped away. “That’s not the first time you’ve said ‘fair warning’ before telling me something about yourself, you know.”
“I come with a lot of warning labels, but enough about me. How was your first day?” she asked brightly, and then her smile faded. “It doesn’t look like you had a very good day.”
Callan’s frowned deepened, his expression at odds with the realization he needed to do a better job of schooling his face so nobody would know he was already frustrated at the library. “It was interesting.”
“I heard some stuff.”
Of course she had. “There was so much stuff, I’m almost afraid to ask which stuff you heard about.”
“There were a lot of people who didn’t expect the new librarian to be a sexy single guy.”
His face betrayed him again, this time with a flush of heat across his cheeks. “I didn’t hear the word sexy used.”
“I did.” She gave him a cheeky grin. “Several times.”
“I’m more worried about the parents who think their daughters need chaperones to be in the library with me.”
Concern replaced the amusement in her eyes. “Oh, that’s not fair to you. I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s not fair, but I’m a stranger. Mrs. Denning thinks once people get to know me, it’ll be fine.”
She tilted her head, her eyes scanning his face. “But you don’t think so?”
“I think I can win people over. But there are complaints going to the library committee and I’m just afraid they’re going to let me go before I get the chance.” He shrugged one shoulder, shooting for a casualness he didn’t feel. “I guess if I was older, or I was a family man, it wouldn’t be a problem.”
“Or less sexy,” she added. After looking him up and down, she sighed and shook her head. “I don’t think you can do anything about that, though.”
He wasn’t sure how he felt about the word sexy being used to describe him around town, but he liked the fact Molly thought he was. “Should I stop washing my hair or trimming my beard? Maybe add some spaghetti sauce stains to my shirts and burp in public?”
She considered the questions as though they’d been sincere, but he could see the mischief dancing in her eyes. “No, you’d probably still be sexy, but then we’d have to be mad at ourselves and question our taste in men.”
“Well, since you claim I can’t un-sexy myself, and I can’t make myself older or married overnight, I guess I’ll just have to keep smiling, doing my job and hoping for the best.”
“You sound like a man who needs a trip to the taproom. And it’s a good night to go because they added being open on Wednesday nights to the schedule a couple of months ago, but they’re never really busy.”
“The taproom?” He assumed she meant a bar, but with her, he wanted to make sure. It could be a dance studio for all he knew.
“Sutton’s Place Brewery & Tavern, which is owned by my friends. It’s super casual, so no pressure. And I work there, so I know everybody. I mean, I don’t work there, but... I kind of do.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“I’m not employed by the taproom, but it’s fun to be there. And it’s owned by my best friend Mallory’s husband—and her sister Evie’s husband and also their mom, so I can help whenever I want.”
Callan was going to need a spreadsheet. “That sounds like a lot of people to meet.”
“Trust me,” she said, and his skin warmed when she put her hand on his arm to reassure him. “It’s going to be fun, and the more you get out, the more people will get to know you and look past that neatly trimmed beard and the lack of spaghetti sauce stains on your shirts.”
He thought about his plan to go home and strip wallpaper, but he knew he’d probably just pace the living room, fuming over the situation he’d found himself in today. And he was tired enough so going out and meeting new people sounded daunting, but at least if he was with Molly, he’d probably have a few laughs. And he definitely needed something to lift his mood.
“Okay. I guess I could use a beer after the day I had.”