During the next several hours, Josie seemed to discover a new treasure around every corner. Whether it was the blue and white cups and saucers hidden in the very back of a dingy kitchen cupboard, whose hallmark identified them as Royal Crown Derby and which Malcolm said were very collectible, or a dining chair with the family crest hand embroidered on the seat cushion in what had once surely been a lovely dining room, or very dusty old tomes on even dustier shelves in what she hoped they would transform back into a beautiful library.
Although there was a lot of work to be done, she could see how gorgeous the space would be when it was cleared out and thoroughly cleaned and then filled with books to read and cozy nooks to read them in. The cottages seemed solid. But more than that, the soul of the structures was still there. She knew from the feeling she got in these three interconnected cottages just outside the walled garden that there had been happiness here. Of course, there had been sorrows too—that was life—but on the whole, she would guess the laughter had outweighed the tears. She couldn’t wait to help bring the cottages back to life.
“This is going to be my favorite reading retreat so far. I just know it.”
Malcolm looked up from his phone, where he’d been making a list of supplies, surprise on his face. “Are you sure about that?”
She nodded. “I’m positive. I know there’s work to be done, but it really is cosmetic. And I think Mari’s idea to transform these cottages for a reading retreat is very doable. Among the three, the bedrooms will be able to sleep a dozen people, depending on the configuration. Just think, a dozen people every week finding joy again. Finding love. Becoming whole again. Or just taking a much-needed break for the first time in a long time.”
He didn’t reply for a long moment. Finally, he said, “How do you do it? How do you always see everything in such a positive light?”
“I … I guess I didn’t know that I did.”
“You do. You’re always smiling. Even when some grumpy jackass picks you up at the airport, you don’t let it rattle you. I show up in the middle of the night smelling like booze, and you’re okay with it. Mari brings you into a project where it turns out you are going to be dealing with cobwebs and broken bits of old furniture before you can bring in books and readers. And still, you never stop smiling. You never stop seeing how great everything is going to be.”
It was quite possibly the nicest thing anybody had ever said to her. Even when she thought she’d been in love, her ex had never said anything even close to that nice or complimentary. And more than that, she felt as though Malcolm was showing her a fresh window into herself.
“Well, thank you. And you just… You made me feel really good, not just because of all the lovely compliments, but because hearing you say that makes me realize I’m really resilient.”
His eyebrows rose at the word resilient. She might’ve said too much. She didn’t want to go into the whole sob story about what had happened to her. She’d told Mari, and that had felt right, but talking to Malcolm about her recent heartbreak felt different somehow. Like it would create an even deeper intimacy between them, an intimacy that frankly scared her. Not just because of what had happened in high school—they’d already washed that water under the bridge. But more because, as she’d said to Mari, she didn’t think she could trust a man anymore. If she couldn’t trust a man, how could she ever be truly intimate with him?
In any case, she said, “Well, we’re certainly going to have a busy week or two, aren’t we?”
“We are. It’s a good thing I’ve booked a holiday, but I’m thinking a week away from the office isn’t going to be sufficient. I’m going to need at least two if we’re going to be reading-retreat ready.”
“Are you sure you want to do menial labor?” Josie hadn’t forgotten that he worked practically 24/7, and could likely hire people to do things like cleaning out old cottages.
“I am looking forward to getting my hands dirty for a change, and I’m fortunate to have contacts in every industry and trade you can imagine. What I and my siblings don’t know how to do, we’ll hire out.”
“But what about your work?”
“The office will be fine without me. If they’re not, it means I haven’t done my job well enough training my staff.” He paused. “Funny, that’s the first time that’s occurred to me. I hire excellent people and train them well. I should trust them more. In fact, I should have been taking a lot more holidays over the years.” He looked sad as he said, “Instead, I’ve always insisted on being involved in every decision, every deal. I need to learn to let go.”
She found herself wondering if what had happened with his father when he was a teenager had impacted more than just the way he’d behaved in high school. Had it colored the rest of his life as well? Had it driven his choices? And could the effect of his father’s tragedy have somehow turned Malcolm into a workaholic?
Or had he been born a workaholic in the same way she’d been born a bookworm? She found she had more and more questions about Malcolm and his life with every minute they spent together.
His phone had been pinging with incoming messages all day, but though he checked them periodically, he hadn’t shown much interest. Then he got a message that made him smile and turn to Josie.
“What do you say we have afternoon tea with my grandmother?”
She was stunned by the sudden question. “Mathilda Westcott? Really? I’m starved, and I would love to meet her, but I hate to impose.”
“Oh, it’s no imposition, trust me. More like a command. We’ve been summoned, but I just thought I’d phrase it as a question to be polite. I imagine Gran’s feeling very pleased with herself for bringing so much business to Mari’s store, and I’m sure she sold a large number of her own titles. No doubt, Mari’s got her interested enough in you that she wants to meet you.”
“Wow, summoned by Mathilda Westcott. I could pinch myself.” She actually did, making him laugh.
“We need a little time for all of this to digest anyway, and we worked through lunch, so why don’t we lock up? We can come back in the morning, ready to get down to work. The first thing I’ll do is haul out the broken furniture and rubbish, then we’ll be able to start cleaning and painting.”
She agreed, and they set to closing up the cottages. She already felt a connection to these rooms and could see them in her mind’s eye, revitalized and welcoming. She couldn’t wait to come back in the morning.
As they walked out, she gestured at the stone walls beside the cottages. “This is the walled garden?”
“A sadly neglected one. I’ve seen paintings of it from decades ago when it was flourishing. They grew everything from flowers to vegetables to healing herbs. It truly was a sight to behold. I know my sister Alice would give anything to be able to bring it back to life.”
“Is she a big gardener?”
“The biggest. She’s actually a professional horticulturalist and currently works at Kew Gardens. She got her degree there, and when you meet her, you’ll discover she’s always covered in mud, or worse.”
Josie smiled, hearing the affection in his tone. “I’ve always loved spending time in gardens,” she said. “I’m afraid I don’t have much of a green thumb, though, so I’m not going to be of any use at all here. Although it would be really nice to neaten up the cottage gardens for the reading retreats. Do you think your sister might be able to lend a hand, or at least give us some ideas on what direction to take with them?”
“Just by asking that question, I promise you’re going to be Alice’s new favorite person. Like I said, it’s long been her dream to be able to work on the manor house grounds. But there haven’t been available funds for it and from the council, and she’s been busy building up her own qualifications at Kew these past years. I’ll talk to her about it tonight, in case Mari hasn’t got to her yet.”
“How many siblings do you have?” Again, the more she knew about Malcolm, the more she wanted to know. When he spoke about his sister Alice, it was obvious how much he loved her.
“Well, Alice is the baby of the family. We all look after her, even though she swears she doesn’t need it. And truthfully, she doesn’t. She’s very focused on what she does. I’m sure she does get up to some trouble, but just makes sure that none of us are aware of it, lest we try to stop her fun. You’ve already met Owen—he’s the oldest. As you probably know, he runs my grandmother’s publishing business, which is more than a full-time job, but she doesn’t trust anyone but family to do it, so he has gladly taken it all on.”
“I think it’s great that her books are all in the family like this. And now with Mari having the bookstore and creating the dedicated space for her books and fan mementos, it’s like the circle just keeps expanding.”
“Expanding to include you, as I’m sure you’ll find out very shortly when you meet Gran. I’m next in line, and then my brother, Tom. He runs several venues on the West End. Although he’s always had his eye on the theater on the island, and I think at some point if he can make it work, he’d like to bring that back to life as well. He has a five-year-old daughter named Aria. We all are wrapped around her little finger. As well we should be.”
There was no mention of a mother. “Is he raising her alone?”
“He is. Her mother is Lyla Imogen, but their relationship didn’t work out, so he is happy to have primary custody of Aria. We’re all happy that he does.”
Josie’s eyebrows rose. “The Lyla Imogen? The pop star?”
“Yes. That one,” he said shortly.
Obviously, there was a great deal more to the story, but she didn’t push for it. She didn’t want to pry into the Sullivans’ family business. She was just curious about Malcolm Sullivan.
“And then my sister Fiona is between Tom and Alice. Her husband’s name is Lewis. He’s a tool.”
Josie looked at Malcolm in surprise. “That’s not mincing words.”
Malcolm’s expression darkened. “He really is a piece of work. Fiona’s intelligent and beautiful and could do so much with her life, but she’s sticking with him, for God knows what reasons.”
“I’m sorry to hear that you think things are so bad in their marriage.”
“Who knows for sure? It’s mostly just whispers and speculation, so I shouldn’t say any more. Hopefully, you’ll get to meet her soon. I think you’ll really like her. And now that I’m thinking about it, she’s the best person to look at some of those furnishings and see how salvageable they are. She’s decorated two massive homes for herself and Lewis and, from the sounds of it, has done pro bono decorating for their entire circle of friends as well.”
Josie felt there was a lot about his sister that he wanted to say but was keeping to himself, no doubt out of loyalty to Fiona. Josie liked that the family cared about one another, but also that Malcolm didn’t want to gossip about his sister and her marriage. However, given the little he’d said, Josie was very curious to meet Fiona. She was impressed that the Sullivan siblings’ parents had birthed and raised such a diverse and interesting handful of kids.
“Your parents sound like they must’ve been busy raising all of you.”
He laughed, another warm sound that seemed to come straight from the heart. “Busy is right. We all had the tendency to be hell-raisers. And not just the boys. Fiona and Alice managed to get into quite a few scrapes.”
He sounded proud of his sisters for being hell-raisers just as much as he and his brothers. She liked the sound of his family more and more.
“I’ve already told you about my father, Simon. He’s a great bloke. One of the best. And my mother, Penny—everyone loves her. Which isn’t to say that she doesn’t rule us all with quite a heavy hand. She does. And rightly so. It’s the only way to keep us in line.”
She heard the affection, as well as the respect, in his tone.
He went on, “My mother is also a curator at the Victoria and Albert Museum.”
“Wow,” she said. The famous V&A was definitely on her list of places to visit when she had time. “What an impressive family.”
Then he turned to her. “What about you? Any siblings?”
“No. It was just me and my mom growing up. My father was killed in a car accident when I was a baby, so I never knew him. But my mom was amazing. She still is. She left Coeur d’Alene for sunnier climes in Arizona a few years back. But she’s still always there for me whenever I need her.”
“I’d very much like to meet her too,” he said. “I’d like to tell her that she raised a remarkable woman.”
Josie felt herself blushing. Thankfully, just then they arrived in front of a beautiful little cottage not far from the bookstore and Malcolm’s houseboat. “This is Gran’s house,” he said.
“It’s beautiful. Is this where she writes her books?”
“It is, but I’ll let her tell you her story herself.”
The front door opened before they were halfway up the brick walkway, and an older woman with white hair and a warm smile stood there. Josie knew it was Mathilda Westcott because she looked exactly like her photograph on the jackets of her novels.
“Welcome,” Mathilda said. “You must be Josie. Mari told me how delightful you are.”
She felt herself blushing again. “That’s very kind of her. And it’s such a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Westcott. I’m such a fan.”
“Mathilda, please.” She leaned forward to kiss Josie on both cheeks. “Come in. I hope you’re hungry.”
“I am.”
Malcolm watched, fascinated to see these two bookish women interact. He’d seen his grandmother with her fans, when she was always a little standoffish, but with Josie, she was warm and open. Clearly, she already liked the American bibliotherapist.
“Excellent. None of the women Malcolm has been with over the years ever seemed to eat, did they, darling?”
He could see what his grandmother was doing—more matchmaking, just as she had with Owen and Mari. And the way she had just said that, it sounded like she thought Josie was dating him rather than simply working for Mari.
“The cottages are going to be great for the retreats that Mari has planned,” he said to his grandmother in lieu of responding to her comment. She’d only ever met a couple of his girlfriends, although she had hated them just as much as Alice had. “They are going to need quite a lot of work, though, before they can be put to use. I’m going to take a couple of weeks off work to help get them in shape alongside Josie, so she can put on at least one retreat before she has to go home.”
His grandmother looked between the two of them. “You’re going to be working together to prepare the cottages?”
He knew better than to take the innocent lilt of her voice at face value. His grandmother was anything but innocent. He’d heard stories about her youth. She had been as much of a hell-raiser as he or any of his siblings.
“We are,” Josie said with a smile. “It’s wonderful to create a retreat from scratch, and the cottages are going to be beautiful. It will be good to get my hands dirty.”
His grandmother looked intrigued as she led them to the dining room overlooking the river, where afternoon tea was already set up. She invited them to sit, and poured them tea. “You don’t mind helping with the dirty work?”
“Not at all,” Josie replied. “I worked quite a bit on the Victorian my mother and I lived in while I was growing up. It was always fun working on projects together. Except, possibly, for the plumbing.” She shot Malcolm a look. “Plumbing has never been my favorite.”
He explained to his grandmother, “I’ve been kicked out of my flat in the city due to burst pipes. I literally just got a text from the building’s management saying that it doesn’t look like we’ll be able to get back into our homes for quite some time.”
Josie looked concerned. “If you need me to find another place to stay—”
“Like I said last night, I’m not kicking you off the houseboat. I can find someplace to stay—like Gran’s back cottage, right, Gran? I know that technically Owen still lives there, but we all know he spends all his time with Mari above the bookshop.”
Again, his grandmother had that calculating look in her eyes. “Actually, I’m having some work done on the cottage for the next couple of weeks, and I’m afraid the back unit is not going to be habitable.”
Before he could ask her about the surely fictional work she’d just concocted out of thin air, she continued, “So the two of you have already spent the night together on the houseboat?”
“In separate bedrooms,” Josie piped in, just as she had clarified with Mari.
“Oh, of course,” Mathilda said, as though her brain hadn’t automatically gone somewhere else. Which it clearly had. “Well, then, it sounds perfectly reasonable to me that you stay on the houseboat with Josie for the duration,” she said as she served them delicious-looking finger sandwiches.
The truth was, he didn’t want to go anywhere else either. Not only because the houseboat was the one place that felt like home to him, but also because he wanted to spend more time with Josie. Who wouldn’t? He found himself wondering if she was single. Somehow he thought she had to be, because she hadn’t mentioned a boyfriend or fiancé or, God forbid, husband. But if she was single, that didn’t really make sense either. Who wouldn’t snap her up? She was beautiful, brilliant, fun. She was the full package. He realized he was staring at her and turned to catch his grandmother noticing that he had been staring at her. She shot him a look, one that he suspected Josie would have been embarrassed to see had she not been eating her smoked salmon sandwich with her eyes closed and her expression one of total rapture.
“This is so delicious. Thank you so much, Mathilda.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
“And I hope it won’t make you uncomfortable when I tell you how much I love your books. A couple of years ago, they helped me through… well, something really hard. And the truth is that reading and rereading your books was instrumental in my getting over it. So from the bottom of my heart, thank you for what you do.”
His grandmother reached out and put a hand over Josie’s. “That’s the loveliest thing you could possibly have said to me. When I’m struggling to come up with the next chapter, the next paragraph, even the next sentence, it’s knowing that my books have made a difference in someone’s life that gets me over that hump. I’m glad I could help, Josie, however I did.”
Josie was beaming as Mathilda added, “But I also think you’re selling yourself short, because something tells me that you’re an incredibly resilient woman and that you would have navigated your rough patch even without my books.”
“Thank you,” Josie said softly.
“Now, let’s finish up these sandwiches so that we can move on to the scones and then dessert.”
“Is this where you write?” Josie asked after they’d each eaten several small tea sandwiches—cucumber and cream cheese, and ham and English mustard. Gran was really putting on the dog. “If you don’t mind my asking.”
Malcolm laughed. “Gran loves to talk about her writing process. She’s bored me enough with it over the years,” he teased.
“You’ve always been the mouthy one in the family, haven’t you?” his grandmother teased back. “Yes. I sit in front of the window with the sun streaming in and glinting off the water. I love watching all the activity outside, from the wildlife to the boaters and the kayakers and the paddleboarders and the people walking by.”
“It’s lovely that you can just look at the world around you and be inspired.”
“As a bonus, writing mysteries has given me license to kill off anybody who’s ever annoyed me over the years,” his grandmother said with a smile.
Josie laughed. “I always wondered that about mystery writers—if every villain is actually someone from their real life.”
“Not always,” Mathilda said, “but more often than you think.”
“That’s why I’m always careful not to get on your bad side, Gran,” Malcolm told her.
“Not that careful,” she said with a wink. “But I wouldn’t love you nearly as much if you weren’t such a pain in the rear.” She turned back to Josie. “But enough about me. I want to hear more about you. Where are you from in the States? And what prompted you to decide to create reading retreats?”
“I was born and raised in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. Strange as it may seem, that was where Malcolm did his year abroad,” she reminded his grandmother.
“That’s right. So you two knew each other?”
Josie was first to reply, shaking her head. “No. We met once at the end of the year, but it was just a brief few minutes. We never really met properly until now.”
His grandmother looked at him, one eyebrow raised. Josie’s response had been too quick, and naturally Gran had noticed. “I see. So have you been to England before?” Gran asked.
“No, and I’m loving everything about it. This trip is like a dream come true.”
He could tell that his grandmother liked Josie’s energy, how she was positive and enthusiastic and utterly sincere.
“And what was it you did before starting reading retreats, or is that what you’ve always done?”
“I was a freelance editor. I still work for a couple of my favorite clients, which I squeeze in because I can’t bear to let them down. But I’ve almost completely transitioned over to setting up reading retreats now.”
“Well, I for one think it’s brilliant. In fact, once I heard about reading retreats, I wondered why they hadn’t existed before. I can tell you there have been many, many times in my life when I could have used one. I would have loved some time to get away from the difficulties of real life to sink into books and remember how to be happy. I’ve always said that, apart from travel, reading books is the best way to learn about the world and, perhaps, about ourselves.”
His grandmother had never said much to him, or any of them, about her past. The mystery writer was herself a mystery. A part of him suspected it had to do with his grandfather, who’d passed away a number of years ago, but it was nothing she had ever confirmed.
But as his grandmother and Josie looked at each other, he felt that they shared a connection that went deeper than simply loving books. There seemed to be heartache that bound them together.
He didn’t usually think along these lines. He wasn’t sure what was prompting it now, but being with Josie seemed to be shifting something inside him somehow, making him more aware of other people and their emotions.
As they moved on to the scones that Gran still baked herself, served with clotted cream and strawberry jam, the two women seemed to grow even closer. They talked about the classic mystery writers—Agatha Christie, whom everyone knew, but Josie also read Ngaio Marsh, Dorothy L. Sayers, and Margery Allingham. Malcolm had vaguely heard those names, but Josie and Gran had read all of their books and could discuss how Lord Peter Wimsey solved a crime compared to Inspector Alleyn. He should have been bored to tears and excusing himself to check email, but surprisingly, he enjoyed the debate. He left the two women talking to fetch the macaroons and ginger cake that Gran had made for dessert.
When they’d emptied the teapot, Josie excused herself to use the bathroom, and after directing her where to find it, Mathilda wasted no time in turning to Malcolm. “She’s delightful. You’d be a fool to let her go.”
“Gran, I agree she is delightful. But she’s not with me. So there’s no keeping her or letting her go.”
His grandmother rolled her eyes. “I’m not a fool. There’s obviously a connection between you two. She could be with you, if you would only use that pretty face of yours and the charm you too often keep hidden to woo her.”
He’d never spoken with anyone in his family about his aversion to finding love for himself. He thought it was great for his parents and his siblings. He hoped they all found love. He wanted them all to be happy and fulfilled. But for him, love had never seemed to be in the cards. As more than one lover had told him, he was married to his work.
“She’s not the kind of woman I would want to mess about.”
His grandmother nodded. “I agree. She deserves more than that. She deserves more than any of those other women that you flit around town with.” She narrowed her glance. “Don’t think I don’t see pictures of you in the papers with those whip-thin models who look beautiful on your arm but don’t challenge you, don’t fill your heart with joy. You can do better, Malcolm. You deserve someone wonderful. Like Josie.”
He wasn’t sure that his grandma was right. He wasn’t sure that he deserved a woman like Josie. What if he let her down again? “I hate to see you get your hopes up, Gran.”
“I can’t help but wish happiness for each of my grandchildren. I knew the first time I met Mari that she and Owen were perfect together. I have that exact feeling about you and Josie.”
Her words settled in deeper than he wanted her to know. He should have been disagreeing instinctively with what she was saying. Everything within him should have been rejecting it. And yet, somehow he found himself wondering. Wondering if his grandmother was right. If maybe, just maybe, Josie was the one for him.
Finally, something inside of him did rebel. Not about whether Josie would be the perfect girlfriend. But at the thought of ever letting someone in far enough to fall in love, far enough to risk losing her.
Gran leaned in and lowered her voice. “You wouldn’t want Tom to swoop in and woo her before you do. You know your brother can be extremely charming when he sets his mind to it.”
“Tom?” He shook his head. “Tom would be a terrible partner for Josie. He’s still too messed up from his marriage, and he has Aria to think of.”
A burning feeling ignited in his chest at the thought of Tom and Josie together. While his grandmother simply sipped tea and regarded him over the rim of her teacup, he recognized the burning feeling as jealousy. Like hell Tom was going to be with Josie.
He was still trying to find words to explain to his grandmother why Tom and Josie would be a terrible match when Josie returned.
“Thank you so much for afternoon tea, Mathilda. It was delicious, and I’m so glad that I got to spend time with you.”
Mathilda rose, and so did he.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Josie, and to be able to talk about some of my favorite books with another bibliophile. I hope we see a lot more of each other.”
Josie pinkened with pleasure, and after refusing their offers to help her tidy up, Mathilda sent them on their way.
As they walked back to his boat, he said, “Just as I expected, she loved you.”
“Really? I’m still so starstruck. I was trying not to be an embarrassing fangirl the whole time, but I’m not sure I succeeded.”
“Even if you had acted like a slobbering fan, which you didn’t, she still would have loved you. You talk books like a sensible woman. She appreciates that.” Changing the subject, he said, “How do you feel about going over our notes and working out a game plan on the cottages? Or are you too tired? Because right around now is when the jet lag should be kicking in big time.”
“I think that tea has woken me up,” she said with a smile. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep for a few hours at least. Plus, I don’t want to let Mari down. The sooner we get the place cleaned up, the sooner I can run my reading retreat.”
“I agree. I’ve already got some people in mind who owe me a few favors. Hopefully, they’ll be able to do the work at a cut rate for her.”
“It’s really nice of you to help her,” Josie said.
“Don’t paint me as any hero. This is the first truly nice thing I’ve done in a while, and I haven’t even done anything yet besides value some china.”
“Are you sure you’re not selling yourself short? Because your grandmother clearly adores you, and while we’re at it, the two of you should think about taking your act on the road.”
He didn’t think he was selling himself short. He had a fairly clear view of who he’d become, in particular during these past years when he’d had time only for work and very little else, including his family. But it was nice of Josie to try to see the positives in him, just as she did in everything. Especially when he couldn’t get his grandmother’s words out of his head.
She’s delightful. You’d be a fool to let her go.
He couldn’t help wondering—was his grandmother right?