Page 3 of Once Upon a Summer Night

Eight years, and she still wasn’t ready to face him.

The old brick buildings downtown looked mostly the same, though a few of the shops had changed names. Mrs. Thompson’s bakery had received a facelift and was now someplace called the Coffey Still, and the bank had changed names again, though that used to happen every couple of years. And were those updated streetlamps?

Soon the two-story brick building came into view that housed Haines Hardware on one side and her family’s bookstore on the other—a place Hannah had spent many, many hours at as a child. She eased into an angled parking space before it and drank in the view; it was one of the few places she’d missed while away.

The front door to Brooks Books was still the same Wedgwood blue their father had painted it all those years ago, but someone had since painted the display casing trim on either side of it to match. Longing gave her heart a squeeze at the sight of her mother’s beloved rocking chair in one of the cases, a beautiful patchwork quilt draped over its back and a stack of Golden Books on its seat. In the display window on the door’s other side was a small wooden table with neatly arranged collections for their adult audience: romances, mysteries, Westerns, and more.

“Hey, this place has your name on it!”

“Gonna be your name soon, too, buddy,” she said, struggling to keep her voice even. “Come on, let’s go see if my Aunt Faye is working.”

“Is she nice?”

“My Aunt Faye?” The question made her smile. “She’s the nicest. And she’s going to love you, I promise. They all will.”

Noah, she was certain, would be instantly adored by her entire family. Even her father, once he got past the shock. Hannah, on the other hand, had no idea what any of their responses would be to her unexpected return. Heck, she hadn’t even had time to process howshewould feel about it.

Just as she pushed her Jeep door open, the front door to Brooks Books swung wide. A tall, lean man stepped out, his sandy-blond hair brushing the collar of his gray logo’d T-shirt. Hannah froze in her seat.

He was a fireman, just like her father.

“Thanks again, Faye!” the man called with a wave, sliding aviator sunglasses into place. He looked Hannah’s way, tipped his head in acknowledgment with a smile, and continued north toward the firehouse. A few steps farther, he looked back, caught her watching, and faced forward once more on a grin.

She stared after him for another half block, trying to shake the feeling of recognition. It couldn’t be who she thought it was. He’d never have let his hair get that long.

Hannah pushed those thoughts aside and stepped from her Jeep, thankful nonetheless for her own dark sunglasses. With her dark hair no longer trailing to the small of her back but rather to the nape of her neck, and more muscle on her frame than when she’d last lived here, she doubted anyone would recognize her with shades on. Besides, it was her eyes that always gave her away.

Irises green on the outside and blue at their centers—just like her mother’s.

She helped Noah from the back and, taking his hand, led him to the front door of Brooks Books. There, she paused to take a fortifying breath.

“It’s okay, Hannah. She’s the nicest, remember?”

She looked to sweet Noah and mustered a brave smile for her little boy. “That she is. Come on, I’d love for you to meet her.”

They stepped inside, the subtle smell of old books greeting her senses. Hannah scanned the bookstore, and though the new arrivals table held different books, its layout was virtually identical to how she remembered it. Fond memories called to her from every inch of the room. Playing hide-and-seek behind those island shelves. Reading for hours on that braided carpet in the kids’ section. Sneaking ice cream cones in after closing time with Chase, who was forever stalling going home after his shift next door at Haines.

“Welcome to Brooks Books,” called a familiar voice from deeper inside the store. “I’ll be right with you.”

Joy bubbled up inside Hannah. She hurried forward to find Aunt Faye with her back to them, on a small step stool and reaching for something on a high shelf behind the checkout counter. Her aunt’s dark-auburn hair had a significant amount of gray now woven through it—a reminder that the clock hadn’t stopped in Bourbon Falls while she’d been away.

“I was actually wondering if you had a book on the history of this store?” Hannah asked.

“You know, I was just telling my niece on the phone a while back that I should write that book.” She finished what she was doing, returned to ground level, and turned to find Hannah grinning at her. Faye’s hand flew to her chest. “Oh, my heavens.Hannah!”

She raced around the counter to pull Hannah into a tight hug. There, encircled in the arms that had helped her through her own loss at Noah’s age, Hannah felt safe. Optimistic. Hopeful. Like maybe returning to Bourbon Falls hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

She prayed that feeling would continue.

*

Chase Redding handedthe newly purchased T. G. Wolff mystery over to his buddy at the firehouse and walked back to the front window, unable to shake the feeling that he knew the woman in the Jeep from somewhere. He hadn’t gotten the best look at her, with the sun blinding him as he stepped out of Brooks Books, but the drop to her jaw made him think maybe she recognized him, too. Which made zero sense—that purple Jeep was as unfamiliar to him as its driver.

A former cadet, maybe? Or someone he’d taken ballooning, before Delaney Brooks had approached him about going into business together at Oak Barrel Farms Landscaping? Old man Tipfer had worked him to the bone those few years he’d done the hot air balloon schtick, taking hundreds of people up, up, and away.

And there had been some lookers among them, too. Oh, yes. Lookers he hadn’t wanted to chase back then because Hannah Brooks still owned his heart. But as the years passed and she hadn’t returned to Bourbon Falls, her hold on him had waned. Unfortunately, no one had yet to make him feel like she ever did.

Maybe this woman would be different.

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