Page 28 of The Lost Book of First Loves

Instead, five years later he had bought that particular cabin and renovated it; had turned a woodworking hobby into an artistic endeavor he loved, and had carved a good life for himself in Bridger Peak.

He really didn’t need a tall, slender, fragile woman like Juniper Connelly bursting into his life with her lost eyes and her broken heart.

Chapter 12

Alison

When she pushed open the door to Bridger Books, Ali truly felt as if she were coming home.

She loved this store, with its warren of shelves and deep, comfortable chairs and the seductive smell of ink and paper embedded in the air.

Her grandmother had opened the bookstore sometime after she moved to Bridger Peak to help out after Ali’s mother died from a virulent strain of pneumonia that turned septic.

Loretta hadn’t even given her grieving son or granddaughter a chance to chime in on her decision. She had simply moved in at The Painted Sky and provided love and support, a steady buoy that kept them both from sinking into despair.

When they finally began to find their way after Sarah’s death, Loretta had looked around for something else to do. She had worked as a manager in a bookstore in Wisconsin and had decided it was an outrage that a town the size of Bridger Peak didn’t have a bookstore of its own, especially when it was the chosen hometown of one of the country’s most celebrated authors.

Sometimes she thought perhaps her grandmother had only opened the bookstore as a project forAli, a distraction from the constant, unrelenting grief.

She had been a young teenager, but a passionate book lover. She and her grandmother had shared that, trading book recommendations.

Alison had helped Loretta renovate the space in the building her parents owned, where her mother had practiced lawupstairs and the ground floor had been leased to a series of restaurants that never quite took off.

They had washed years of grease off the walls, had gutted the interior down to the original brick and converted the outdated kitchen area into a small café with a half dozen tables, where book lovers could read or do homework or simply people-watch.

Throughout high school, Ali had helped stock shelves, run the children’s story hour and place orders when customers wanted a book they didn’t have on hand.

As much as she loved The Painted Sky, with its green meadows, rolling horse pastures and view of the soaring mountains, she had come to realizethiswas her happy place.

For much of her life, she had dreamed of following in her mother’s footsteps and becoming an attorney. She had pictured herself using the same office where her mother had practiced, on the second floor above the bookshop, popping down to grab a sandwich and a coffee and pick up the latest bestseller during her lunch hour.

Now that she was so close to realizing that dream, only one test away from being able to practice in Wyoming, she wasn’t sure what she wanted.

After the gut punch of her father’s death over the holidays, Ali had begun to question her life plan.

She had worked so hard to become an attorney. Hours and hours of academia. She had wanted to help the poor, the struggling, vulnerable children in need of a powerful advocate to protect their interests.

Had that all been her own dream or had it been her father’s?

He had been so proud of her, telling her often how very much she looked like her mother and how thrilled Sarah would have been that their daughter was following in her footsteps.

How could Ali let everyone down now, when she was so close to her goal?

She pushed away the angst for another day. She wasn’t going to let anyone down. She was going to pass the bar exam and follow her dream of working here in Bridger Peak, upstairs where she could come down here to the bookstore whenever she wanted to savor the intoxicating smell of adventure in portable form.

Her grandmother was deep in an animated conversation at the counter with one of her long-time customers, JoAnn White. Knowing the two of them, they would be at it for some time, trying to solve all the world’s problems from their quiet corner of Wyoming.

No matter. Ali didn’t want to interrupt them. After waving to them both, Ali grabbed a book off the shelf, based solely on its appealing cover, and found a spot in one of the cozy reading nooks, with its deep armchair and perfect light.

The nook gave her a perfect view out the front bay window, where she could see all the activity on Main Street. It was raining again and a few shoppers hurried past with colorful umbrellas while puddles reflected the lights of passing cars, and the mountains were enshrouded with low clouds.

She loved this town, too.

When she graduated high school, she couldn’t wait to leave, to explore the world outside this Wyoming valley.

While she was grateful for the study-abroad courses she had loved in France and the trips she had taken back east to visit her maternal grandparents, Bridger Peak always called her back.

She was engrossed in her book when Loretta finally hurried over to her.

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