Page 34 of The Library of Borrowed Hearts

“That settles it,” Zach said as soon as I was done.

“Settles what?”

We could see the kids finishing up with their games and heading back with demands to be further entertained, so Zach spoke quickly.

“We have to get inside his house somehow and take a look around. Between the two of us, I’m sure we can uncover something good.”

13

1960

“Who is that young man in the blue shirt, and why does he keep staring at us?”

“What? Who? Where?” Catherine stopped in the middle of the grocery store with her basket hanging over one arm, her heart suddenly feeling like a bird taking off in the middle of a windstorm. She tried to act calm, but she was pretty sure her mother could tell that she was a wreck. “What I mean is, which young man are you talking about?”

“I think he’s trying to get your attention. He waved.”

Catherine bit down on her bottom lip as she glanced across the aisle to find Jasper Holmes on the other side—not staring or waving, as her mother suggested, but looking as though he’d like to do a little of both. He also looked like a man who’d spent the whole day chopping down trees in the forest.

“He’s a patron from the library,” Catherine said. “I’ve helped him choose a couple of books.”

“Thatman?” Her mom tsked and returned her attention to the shelf of tinned fruit. “He doesn’t look as though he’s read a book a day in his life. You must be mistaken.”

“Mom, don’t be a snob.”

Her mom plucked a can of pears and set it in Catherine’s basket. “It’s not a good idea to encourage his type, love. Let Mrs. Peters direct his course of reading. She’ll know just how to depress his pretentions.”

Catherine tried to step in front of her mom, but she was too late. Jasper either heard the words or was able to read enough of her mom’s lips and expression to get the gist. With a grimace, he turned away.

“Now look what you did,” Catherine hissed. “You hurt his feelings.”

“Don’t be silly. Men like that don’t have feelings. They have urges.”

Catherine bit back a sigh as her mom continued grabbing groceries and loading the basket down. Every instinct told her to run after Jasper as he made his purchase and headed out the door, but she knew that would only make things worse. Jasper Holmes, for all his size, was more like a skittish deer than the bull in a china shop he appeared to be.

The library book currently jumping along in her pocket was all the proof she needed of that. It was her turn to leave a message in the margins, but she wasn’t sure how far she was willing to push him.

That shewantedto push him was clear. That he was willing to be pushed was becoming equally evident. But Catherine had never been good at knowing when to stop. She was more like a bull in a china shop than the skittish deer she appeared to be.

In fact, the messages fromThe Haunting of Hill Housewere so well known to her at this point that she had them memorized.

I could live there all alone, she thought, slowing the car to look down the winding garden path to the small blue front door with, perfectly, a white cat on the step. No one would ever find me there, either, behind all those roses, and just to make sure I would plant oleanders by the road.

This is me in about ten years. All I want is a house, acat, some oleander, and to be left alone. (Without the murder-y ghost bits that come later, obviously.)

Nice try. You’ll be happily married with six or seven kids by then.

Why, J. Is that a proposal??

No.

That was fast. You sound awfully sure about it.

Because I am.

If marriage is out of the question, does that mean we’re running away like Romeo and Juliet instead? I can tell you right now, I’m no Hemingway heroine. I’m not dying at the end of the book for the sake of a good redemption arc.

We’re not doing anything. It would be a crime for you to throw yourself away like that. You can do a lot better than me.