Page 38 of One Hundred Merry Memories

But as she pulled on her boots, securing the laces with a final tug, she held onto the spark of hope kindling in her heart. It wasn’t a date, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be something just as special.

The short journey to the bookstore was filled with lighthearted chatter, creating a warm atmosphere. As they stepped inside the establishment called B’s Books, a bell jingled overhead, announcing their arrival.

Like the breath of a thousand stories, the smell of aged paper and ink wrapped around Amanda, placing her in a comforting embrace of nostalgia. The bookstore was a treasure trove of forgotten tales and unexplored worlds, the spines of countless books lining the wooden shelves that reached to the ceiling.

As she delved deeper into the store, her eyes were drawn to a splash of pink nestled within a polished wooden frame hanging on a nearby wall. The light streaming through the nearby window caught the glass covering, casting a soft glow on the handwritten letter displayed beneath. She recognized the stationary, a familiar pale pink. Amanda found herself reading the words penned by a hand that spilled love and sorrow in equal measures.

Dear Recipient,

I know it’s unusual for a donor’s family to reach out to the beneficiary, but I wanted you to know a little about your gift giver.

They kept the registry private, and if this letter found you, it means I hired the right person for the job. A good PI is like a good bra. It’s working behind the scenes, but it’s holding up its end of the bargain. To track you down could be considered intrusive, but on some level, you became family the moment the gift was received.

I thought I’d let you know a little about Brandy. She was warm sunshine on a cold winter’s day, a flicker of light in a dark moment, and as sweet as Abby’s honey.

She was adopted, but somehow, I knew she was born to be mine. Brandy lived fully, loved deeply, and laughed heartily. While she was taken far too soon, knowing she lives in others makes the loss bearable.

My hope is that her sweetness flows through you. Smile more than you frown, laugh more than you cry, and give more than you take. Most importantly, have a long and fruitful life.

With love,

Bea

When she finished reading, a slow sigh slipped past her lips. The earnestness in the words pulled at her heartstrings, leaving her with an intimate sense of connection to the author.

“Whose letter is this?” she asked, her voice reverent in the quiet bookstore.

The voice that responded belonged to a man who sat behind the counter with a warm smile and kind eyes. “Mine,” he said. He introduced himself as Jake Powers, the bookstore’s owner. A young woman he introduced as his wife, Natalie, sat beside him. They were the living embodiment of Bea’s wish in the letter. The story of Bea and her daughter Brandy unfolded through Jake’s words, leaving Amanda and Jackson engrossed and touched by a mother’s love and the gift of life that extended beyond the physical realm.

“Your book is in the back, Jackson,” Natalie said.

Jackson excused himself to pick up the book he’d ordered. As he disappeared into the maze of bookshelves, Amanda continued her conversation with Jake, asking him about his journey to Aspen Cove.

Under the soft glow of the bookstore’s warm lighting. Jake, the bookstore’s proprietor, shared how he’d never known Bea or Brandy personally but had been a recipient of one of Brandy’s kidneys, and had been moved by the pink letter he’d received. Out of reverence, he had opened this bookstore in their honor, a quiet tribute to their giving spirits.

Amanda listened—her heartstrings plucked by the gentle narrative. A sense of kinship bloomed within her, heat spreading through her veins. She, too, was a recipient of Bea’s far-reaching kindness. The cabin she now called home was proof of that.

A slow sigh slipped past Amanda’s lips as she turned to Jake. “I knew Brandy, you know,” she started, her voice a soft murmur in the hush of the bookstore. “We were pen pals when we were younger.” She recounted how Brandy would always tuck hand-colored bookmarks into her letters, tiny tokens of kindness that spoke volumes of her sweet nature. She could almost see Brandy’s bright smile and feel her laughter echoing through the room. The image made her heart ache with sweet sorrow, but the pain was a small price to pay for keeping Brandy’s memory alive.

Amid the murmur of conversation and the rustle of turning pages, Jackson returned with a familiar book in his hands. The sight of Jane Austen’sEmmamade Amanda blink in surprise. “I didn’t expect you to be a Jane Austen fan, Jackson.”

His blush was charming, as warming as the crackling fire back at the cabin. “I’m not. But I knew she was your favorite, so I thought we could read it together.” The sincerity in his voice tugged at her heart, turning the corners of her mouth into a wide smile.

As they left the bookstore, they carried more than just a book. They bore the spirit of kindness and love that was Brandy and Bea’s legacy, a reminder of life’s fleeting moments and the enduring power of human connection.

The hour-long drive to Copper Creek offered a spectacle of nature’s grandeur, mountains reaching for the skies, cloaked in verdant green and dusted with snow.

The wind hummed, the tree’s leaves whispering secrets to the sky. Now and then, Jackson would point out a landmark, his voice a soothing soundtrack to the breathtaking panorama outside the window.

Once they arrived in Copper Creek, the day unfolded in a flurry of activity. They bustled around the market, collecting supplies for the Thanksgiving feast. Amanda savored the familiar scents wafting from the fresh produce, the sweetness of ripe fruit and the earthiness of vegetables painting a fragrant canvas for the feast she was planning.

A sense of excitement bubbled within her as she picked up the ingredients for Bea’s special ham. She could almost taste the succulent flavor, the memories of Bea infusing every morsel with a love that transcended time and loss.

After their shopping was done, Jackson turned to her with a boyish grin that made her heart do a little flip. “How about dinner at Trevi’s Steakhouse?”

The suggestion surprised her, and she hesitated, catching her lower lip between her teeth. “Are you asking me on a date, Jackson?”

His response was immediate and sent a flutter through her chest. “Yes, I am.”

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