Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Mabel’s speechless, staring slack-jawed at the screen. “Corbin. This is incredible.”
Happiness spreads in my chest, and it’s a damn good feeling. “This review is a reminder that we’re going to make this work. When you put enough into it, and you are putting so much into it, it pays off,” I say, since I fucking love encouraging this woman.
“You are too,” she adds.
“It’s mostly you. And I want it to stay that way.” I also don’t want to be a distraction for her. I don’t want to be the wrong amount in a recipe. I need to keep my eyes on the prize—for me, and for her.
My cautionary thoughts are interrupted, though, by Mabel grabbing my biceps. “We can read another love letter.”
That’s right. We made a plan to read another one when we got a great review.
We leave so fast.
As we race over to the bakery, we pass A Good Yarn. Mabel flaps an arm toward the shop. “I dropped off some special yarn yesterday for Dottie. To win her over. I’m hoping it helps,” she says. “Along with cookies for the owner.”
“Look at you,” I say, impressed, but not surprised. She’s been impressing me from the start.
“And I visited the guys in the town square yesterday. Brought them Danishes and coffee. They placed an order for tomorrow morning. It might even turn into a standing order—and since it’s before the bakery opens, I can deliver to them myself,” she says.
I tilt my head, giving her a perplexed look. “Mabel, we can hire someone to do that. You don’t like mornings.”
“Carson’s at school in the morning. He’s only available in the afternoons. And it’s easy,” she says. “It keeps me in shape—the walk.”
My gaze roams down her body, but I can’t get distracted. I stop her with a hand on her arm. “Let me do this.”
She sighs. “But it’ll cost extra to hire someone else, and we don’t have a ton of money coming in yet.”
I don’t want to throw my wallet around, but…I also don’t want her adding more to her to-do list. “Let me do it for you then, okay?”
“Corbin.”
“Mabel,” I say more sternly.
“I really don’t mind.”
“You do so much already. I’m hardly around. Let me take one thing off your plate.”
“Fine,” she says, a little grumbly but maybe relieved too.
“You’re cute when you pretend to be mad.”
“Shut up,” she says.
“I can think of plenty of things to do with my mouth.” I wiggle a brow, and she rolls her eyes. But as much as I want to linger in this flirty space, there’s something more important at play. “And listen, I think it’s seriously incredible what you’re doing to connect with Cozy Valley. The way you’re making such an effort to be a part of the community. I admire it. And you.”
“Oh, stop. Now you’ll make me blush,” she says, as we arrive at Afternoon Delight.
“You’ll match our bakery then.” And as she opens the door, I lean in close, and whisper in her ear, “It’s my favorite color.”
The hitch in her breath makes a good day even better.
The bakery is closed. The blinds are down. The porcelain cups are out. The next letter is unfolded in front of me. It’s a ritual that Mabel seems to enjoy, and I want to give her everything she wants.
The full love letter ritual.
I hold the delicate sheet of paper from years ago, then read the words written in a blocky pen.
Dear Harriet,
As we played cards late into the night, the hush of the firehouse falling over us, I appreciated you sharing with me why you had wanted to be a firefighter. It means a lot to me, the way you opened up. I’m grateful to know that you feel the same as I do about the service—called to help.
This job, this world, this life means everything. It’s what I’ve wanted to do since I was a young boy.
For you to have wanted it since you were a little girl too, feels extra special. I appreciate it’s not easy for you as the only woman around here. I want you to know that your stories are safe with me. I will treat them with care. I feel lucky to work with you, to cook with you, to play cards with you. (Even though you beat me at rummy!)
If you ever need someone to talk to, to lean on, to just share your day with, I want to be that person for you. I might not always open up right away when we talk, but that’s why I turn to these letters. For some reason, it’s easier for me to share my thoughts after dark as I sit down to write.
I hope you’ll keep these. I hope they mean something to you. When I leave at the end of the shift, I find myself hoping the time passes quickly so I can see you again.