Page 44 of The Library of Borrowed Hearts

“Lonnie!” My outburst was slightly muffled by the mouthful of cake I was trying—and failing—not to spray across the kitchen. “That can’t be true.”

“Oh, it’s true,” Pepper said. “It was a hot commodity a few years back—I think it was when you were away at college. I couldn’t keep it in the bookmobile for longer than a few hours at a time.”

Pepper moved across the kitchen to the wall of bookshelves along the far wall. Since both Lonnie and Pepper had devoted themselves to the librarian career, their book hoard was an impressive one.

“Wasn’t there another one you liked with an even more outlandish title?” Pepper asked as she scanned the spines, most of which were worn with repeated use. “Blackmailed by the Prince’s Wanton Waitressor something like that? I swear it was here when—”

I was too busy shoving more of the Kentucky butter cake in my mouth to notice Pepper’s sudden halt. And then I was too busy enjoying the way it practically melted on my tongue to realize what that halt meant.

“Uh, Chloe?” she said, her voice sounding as if from afar. “Want to come here for a second?”

“If this is about the collection of erotica your aunt Raylene gave me, I don’t want to hear it,” Lonnie said. “What I choose to read in my own free time is—”

“It’s not that,” Pepper said. She pulled a book from the shelf andrejoined us. In her hand sat a black hardcover with faded yellow flowers across the front. I recognized it almost at once. Especially since it still bore the ancient stickers from when it had been a part of the library system. “Grandma, is there something you want to tell us about this copy ofThe Haunting of Hill House?”

The moment Lonnie’s eyes went soft, I knew we’d found more than just a book. It was the same light that had flooded Jasper’s when he’d talked about Catherine—the same light that no amount of time seemed able to erase.

Oh, to be the sort of woman who inspired that kind of sentiment after sixty years. To know that no matter how much the world changed, a memory could carry that much weight.

“That old thing?” Lonnie said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “It’s older than your father. I barely remember what it’s about anymore.”

“It’s about a girl who visits a haunted house and gets sucked into it forever,” I said. “And about a pair of star-crossed lovers who read it together back in 1960.”

Instead of trying to fob me off, Lonnie laughed. The sound was as rich and delicious as the cake, and so much more precious because I knew it had an expiration date.

“So you know about that, do you?” she said as she lifted the book from Pepper. She ran a hand reverentially over the cover as if smoothing away its rough edges. “Did Jasper tell you?”

Instead of answering, I tossed her a question of my own. “I wasn’t aware that you and Jasper knew each other.”

She glanced at me over the top of a pair of bright-pink readers. “There are all of twelve people in this town over the age of eighty, Chloe. Of course I know Jasper, the miserable old codger. He was as unpleasant back in his youth as he is now, if that’s any consolation. The world has never known a more determined grouch.”

This was so much in line with everything I knew to be true that Ilaughed. “I wish you’d have said something years ago. The boys have lost several dozen Frisbees and soccer balls in the past six months alone. Jasper steals them the moment they touch his precious grass.”

“That sounds about right,” Lonnie agreed.

“If you knew Jasper, then you knew Catherine, too, right?” Pepper asked. “And about their love affair?”

“Ah, now Catherine is something else,” Lonnie said, once again with that softening around her eyes. “She was the light to his dark, the sun to his moon. To be honest, I never really understood what she saw in him, but I suppose that was the whole point.”

“The point of what?” I asked.

Lonnie flipped open the cover and turned the pages until she reached a section somewhere in the middle. The moment I caught sight of the writing, I felt my heart take flight. Stifling the urge to snatch the book out of Lonnie’s hands, I let her read the passage aloud.

“‘It is my second morning in Hill House, and I am unbelievably happy. Journeys end in lovers meeting; I have spent an all but sleepless night, I have told lies and made a fool of myself, and the very air tastes like wine.’”

The cadence of Lonnie’s voice was so soothing that I could have listened to her read for hours, but I was dying to know what the margin notes said.

“And?” I prompted.

“And I’m not done yet. Hold your horses.” She cleared her throat and kept going. “‘I have been frightened half out of my foolish wits, but I have somehow earned this joy; I have been waiting for it for so long.’”

“Grandma, now you’re just being mean,” Pepper said. “We don’t care about the book—we just want to know what kind of naughty things Jasper and Catherine wrote to each other.”

This time when Lonnie peeked over the top of her glasses, it was to glance at her granddaughter instead of me. “They didn’t write anything naughty. Do you really think Catherine would’ve given me this copy ifthey had? This isromance, child. Pure, unadulterated, real-life romance.”

“Then let us read it already.” Pepper grabbed the book and, sensing that her grandmother was likely to fight back, tossed it to me. “Make a run for it, Chloe! Save yourself! I’ll distract her until you get to the good parts.”

Even though I knew she was joking, I scooted a little out of the way before I picked up where Lonnie had left off.