Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Jake shivered. “That book gives me hives.”
Hannah glowered at him. “It’s a romantic masterpiece.”
“It’s about gold diggers,” he countered.
She shook her head like he was stupid.
“However fancy the case is, it’s still a book.”
“I doubt it’s the case,” Sam assured Jake, and Hannah looked at her father. “It’s the edition, am I right?”
She beamed at him. “You are.”
“And?” I prodded her.
“It’s a third edition,” she informed us proudly. “Printed in 1817, in two volumes, bound in mid-twentieth century, calfskin without half-titles, and a vacat page in Volume 1, as is often the case.”
“Of course,” I acknowledged, because why would I argue with her.
“The pages are foxed throughout––”
“Foxed?” Jake asked her.
“It means it’s got some brown spots in it, might be discolored, and I bet you it smells like mold,” Sam explained.
“Why would anyone want an old book that smells bad?”
“It’s collectible,” Hannah told him. “And as you know, Pride and Prejudice was first published in 1813 in three volumes. The third edition is the first two-volume edition, and the final edition to be published by the book's original publisher.”
“So it’s fancy,” Jake surmised.
She nodded. “Yes, it’s fancy.”
“I have a question,” I began, crossing my arms as I looked at my daughter. “Did you buy the book, or did George?”
That quickly, her face scrunched up. “I bought it, and he’s gonna pay me back.”
Sam grunted.
“Hannah,” I replied softly.
“Okay, so I have a stipend from when I do work for Uncle Aaron, and I––”
Sam lifted his hand. “I don’t want to know what a third edition of Pride and Prejudice costs, and I’ll bet George doesn’t either. Whatever you ask him for is gonna be ridiculously low. I know that, you know that, so let’s just leave it. As long as I’m not paying for it, or paying Aaron Sutter back for it, I’m good.”
She sighed deeply, clearly pleased.
After throwing the bottle cap away, I walked Sam a few feet away, near the front window. “Your daughter is never going to learn the value of money,” I cautioned him under my breath.
“Then you shouldn’t have ever introduced her and Aaron,” he countered, sipping his beer. “As it is, we both know she’s gonna work for him someday, and I’ll bet you money she’ll be Batman.”
I looked up into his face. “I’m sorry, what?”
He gestured at his daughter, who was leaning across the table, smiling at her boyfriend as she gazed into his eyes. For his part, Jake appeared lobotomized. Hannah wrecked him, and it was sweet to see. “She’s going to have access to God knows how much money, and since she’s already trained to defend herself, and he’s ventured into tech, doesn’t it follow that he’ll be Lucius Fox to her Bruce Wayne?”
“That’s one of the most terrifying things you’ve ever said to me.”
“Oh yeah?” he teased me, one eyebrow lifted. “I think I can do you one better.”
I grimaced as I held his gaze.
“She’s going to want to have the birth control talk with you shortly.”
I glanced over at her, now sitting in Jake’s lap, arms around his neck, looking just as besotted as he did. “I know.”
Sam took a breath. “Half of me wants to kill him.”
Quick nod from me. “And the other half is happy because it’s Jake, and you know all about his heart.”
“Yep.”
“It will be Hannah who breaks it off,” I assured my husband. “She’ll be the one to walk away from him.”
Quiet but clear scoff from my husband. “Are you kidding?”
I chuckled. “Love, she’s going to fly away and see the world. She has college to go to, a career to create for herself. Think of all the people who will come in and out of her life.”
“Mark my words,” Sam told me, squinting as he looked out our front window, “it’ll be Jake I hand her off to when I walk…her…down the aisle.”
“You have lost your mind if you––”
“Hold that thought,” he rushed out, passing me his beer as he went to the front door and threw it open, staring outside.
“Sam,” I advised worriedly, “you’re wearing socks and sweats. I don’t think––”
But he was gone before I could say anything more, and Hannah and Jake were beside me as I watched my husband bolt to our front gate, open it quickly, and run through, crossing the street to slip between two parked cars. Our neighbors were having a holiday party, despite the warnings in effect, and earlier, I’d seen no one wearing a mask.
“I should go make sure Dad’s okay,” Hannah began, taking a step out onto the porch.
“No,” I ordered, putting my arm out to catch her. “You stay right where you are, Bruce.”
“What?” she asked.
“Never mind,” I replied distractedly, watching my husband go around to the passenger side of some kind of SUV, bend over, and straighten up with a child in his arms.