“You will do no such thing!” Beatrix cried as she bolted after her, hoping to avert disaster.
The thought of her sister trapping Jennings in the entryway and demanding he tell her all she wanted to know made her pace quicken, and she managed to catch up with Violet just as she reached the threshold, pulling her back in time to shut the door behind her. The house, knowing that Beatrix had experiencedenough distress for one day, clicked the lock so that Violet would have to walk through the busy kitchen to get to the tearoom.
“Traitor!” Beatrix heard Violet cursing at the walls as she wove through the tables of ladies sipping their tea and moved toward the front of the shop, where she could see the top of Jennings’ head peeking over the corner that led to the entryway.
As soon as she caught sight of those unruly locks, which Jennings had the habit of running his fingers through whenever a conflict arose in her calendar book, Beatrix felt her breathing slow for the first moment since she’d woken up that morning, only to have it pick up again when his gaze found hers across the room.
“Miss Quigley,” Jennings said, beaming from ear to ear as she got closer.
“Jennings,” Beatrix replied, feeling a pleasant ache in her cheeks as her own lips turned upward into a smile.
“It’s good to see you again,” Jennings said as he took a step toward her, the movement causing a curious tingling sensation to bloom at the base of Beatrix’s spine.
Beatrix opened her mouth to reply but realized that the shop had become suspiciously quiet.
Turning around, she was horrified to realize that most of their customers had halted their conversations and were staring blatantly at the scene unfolding in the front of the shop. A few of the ladies had even turned their chairs so that they could lean forward in the hopes of overhearing as much as they possibly could.
“I think it’s best if we step outside,” Beatrix said as she wrapped her hand around Jennings’ forearm and pulled him toward the door. “To avoid disturbing the customers.”
“Of course, of course,” Jennings replied. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“But you weren’t intru—” one of the customers nearest the hostess stand started to call out, only to be cut off when Beatrix slammed the front door closed, the sound of the bells drowning out the rest of her sentence.
“It’s quite busy in there, isn’t it?” Jennings remarked as they stepped onto the sidewalk.
“Yes, it is,” Beatrix said. “My sister Anne expanded the shop while I was away, and it seems that the extra seats she’s put in are always filled.”
A strong gust of wind blew through the snowcovered street as Beatrix uttered those last words, causing her teeth to chatter.
Noticing the way that Beatrix was beginning to wrap her hands around her waist, Jennings quickly pulled off his coat and draped it around her shoulders before she could refuse. The fabric was worn with rough stitches that were clearly holding everything together by the barest thread. But as Jennings pulled up the collar so that the exposed skin of Beatrix’s neck would be shielded from the wind, she couldn’t help herself from burrowing a bit deeper into the garment’s warmth.
“You mustn’t, Jennings,” Beatrix insisted. “You’ll catch a cold while standing out here without your coat.”
“I’ll be just fine,” Jennings said, his smile widening a fraction as he looked down at her. Beatrix wondered if he was amused by the way the long sleeves seemed to engulf her delicate frame, but it wasn’t humor that glinted in his eyes. No, it was something else that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
Before Beatrix could give it any more thought, though, another blast of wind whipped down the street, nearly knocking her offbalance. Instinctively, she slipped her hands into the pockets of the coat to brace herself and was surprised when her fingers hit something wrapped in parchment paper.
“I’ve brought you a gift,” Jennings said when he saw the confused expression flit across Beatrix’s face. “It arrived at the office this morning, and I knew you’d be eager to see it.”
Curious now, Beatrix pulled the object out and looked down to find the outline of a book covered in brown paper with the address for Donohoe & Company scribbled across the front.
“Open it,” Jennings said, clearly eager to watch Beatrix’s reaction.
Slowly, she pulled back the paper, exposing the bright green of the cover design, so cheerful that it almost made Beatrix believe the clouds had briefly parted to let in a single glimpse of summer. Then her eyes wandered to the gold title printed above the embossed flowers, and the sight gave her such a shock that she nearly dropped the book onto the sludge of the sidewalk.
“But this isn’t meant to be out yet!” Beatrix exclaimed as she ran her fingers along the spine.
During her tour, Beatrix had the fortune of hearing about a new book written by another author who was taking England by storm. She’d been crestfallen when she learned that the story wouldn’t be available in America for some months yet, impatient to slip into a tale that she was sure would keep her up well into the evening hours.
But here it was now, resting between her very own hands!
“How did you get a copy of this?” Beatrix asked in amazement as she flipped open the cover and let her eyes take in the watercolor illustration that awaited her there. It depicted a garden, so bursting with hydrangeas and summer flowers that Beatrix almost forgot that her own breath took the shape of clouds whenever she exhaled.
“I may have pulled a few strings with our London branch,” Jennings said, clearly delighted. “I hope you like it.”
“Like it?” Beatrix echoed in disbelief. “I’m not going to be able to stop myself from reading it cover to cover in a single sitting.”
As soon as the words left her lips, though, Beatrix thought of the empty notebook that she’d abandoned in the study, and her excitement shifted, slipping beneath the worries that had whispered in her ear as she tried to write.
