Page 11 of Save a Wish

Hank lowered his hand holding the key. “Look, maybe you’re not used to folks being neighborly wherever you’re from.” He paused, and I got the distinct impression he waited for me to say where I was from. When I didn’t, he continued. “Here in Greenridge, we take care of each other as much as we can.” He wiggled the key. “Offering this cabin is me taking care of you. I’m not using the cabin right now anyway. Usually I rent it out through the leaf-peeping season, but my wife, Sarah, hasn’t been feeling well. I’ve been tending to her as well as running this store and time slipped away from me this year. You’d actually be doing me a favor by staying there and keeping an eye on the place.”

He moved his hand so the key danced in the air between us again.

“C’mon, Sadie,” he said. “I won’t be able to sleep knowing you’re shivering in a tent overnight.”

His kind eyes and genuineness touched me deeply. I’d often begged my father to be more helpful and caring to our subjects, but he’d always insisted that such things made the monarchy look weak.

“But strengthening our people will strengthen the country overall,” I’d argued, but my reasoning had fallen on deaf ears time and time again.

“The cabin has a cozy feel Sarah has curated perfectly,” Hank said, “and the view of Slater’s Pond is one of the best in town.” He set the key down on the counter between us and slid it toward me.

“All right.” I picked up the key. “But we’re working out a payment plan of some kind as soon as I get myself organized.”

“Sure, sure.” But something about the way Hank said that hinted he wouldn’t accept payment now or in the future. “Now, let’s take care of all this.”

I paid and Hank bagged my items as he glanced at the clock behind him.

“It’s quitting time in fifteen minutes. We close at noon on Sundays,” he said. “If you can wait, I’ll give you a lift to the cabin.” He held up a hand when I opened my mouth to decline. “It’s on my way home anyway, Sadie, so it’s no trouble.”

“Thank you, Hank.” I put a hand to my heart. “Truly.”

He winked then collected my bags and set them on the floor behind the counter. “Why don’t you take a spin through Ye Olde Wisdom Bookshop?” He gestured toward the door of the hardware store. “Exit and take a left. You can’t miss it. Georgia stays open about an hour longer than I do on Sundays. I’ll come get you when I’m done closing up here and I’ll bring your purchases and suitcase.”

The prospect of looking at some books was an attractive one so I agreed after thanking Hank again.

The bookshop came into view after a short stroll along the sidewalk. I noted a bakery, a convenience store, and something called Bear Belly Tavern also in close proximity to the hardware store and promised myself I’d visit them as well once I sorted myself in this new location.

In this new life.

Was this wild plan actually going to work? Had I successfully run away from my country, my family, my duties as a princess? An arranged marriage? A future I certainly didn’t want?

I was encouraged. Only one day here in Greenridge and I’d already figured out I wanted to help people with my meditation practices and related skills and I’d found at least a temporary shelter.

I’d also met an extremely nice shopkeeper.

And a handsome jogger, despite his aura problem.

Maybe I could convince him to be a client of mine once I formalized my service offerings. Assuming I’d see Beckett Hartley again.

Why did I want to see him again?

Probably because I wanted to help him.

Satisfied with that answer, I turned my attention to the quaint bookshop and pulled open its front door. The loveliest sight greeted me—shelves and shelves of books.

“Hi, there!”

I turned toward a woman wearing a bright orange dress, a scarf with a colorful leaf print on it tied at her throat, and copper leaf earrings swaying from her ears. Like Hank, her eyes were welcoming behind her red-framed glasses.

“I’m Georgia,” she said. “What are you in the mood to read, honey?”

“Romance.” The word spilled out of me.

Georgia grinned widely. “A favorite genre of mine as well. Right this way.” She signaled for me to follow her, and we walked briskly through the shop, stopping at an entire wall filled with books with happy couples and cozy scenery and . . . amazing stomach muscles on the covers.

“We’ve got contemporary, small-town, sports romances, romantasy, paranormal, historical. You want it, I got it.” Georgia faced the wall. “I’ll give you some time to peruse. Give a holler if you need help, love.” She floated away, leaving me in awe of all the options.

Not wanting to lose myself and keep Hank waiting, I chose three small-town romances because I now lived in a small town.