Chapters (51)
- Cover
- Praise for A Season for Second Chances
- Also by Jenny Bayliss
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Thirty-nine
- Forty
- Forty-one
- Forty-two
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- Discussion Guide
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
“Yes!” said Ameerah, clapping her hands together. “Andrew is spot-on. This is about fighting against the patriarchy. Women have spent too long making apologies for men’s bad behavior. If you don’t come to this house party, you are allowing the cycle of systemic misogyny to continue. Don’t be part of the problem, Elinor Noel, be part of the solution. Break down the walls of patriarchal mind control!”
Nory gave in. She was no match for Ameerah’s courtroom arguments. And why should she be relegated to hide in the shadows because Guy couldn’t keep his penis in his pants? She hadn’t cheated on anyone! With Ameerah looking over her shoulder, she messaged Jenna, apologizing for “dragging her heels” and confirming that she would be coming on Sunday for the whole week.
Nory felt indignantly roused by Ameerah’s speech for a full hour before she came down off the high and remembered she was a compulsive worrier and had just agreed to spend a week in a castle avoiding Guy’s wife.
Two
It was dark when Nory locked the door to Serendipitous Seconds. She stood for a few moments looking in at their festive display through the thick leaded windows. They had left the fairy lights on and Father Christmas rocking in his chair. The Christmas titles stared out at her: a 1930s reproduction of A Christmas Carol, a particularly battered copy of M. R. James ghost stories, an illustrated copy of The Nutcracker and the Mouse King by E. T. A. Hoffmann, and Tolkien’s Letters from Father Christmas. And her favorite of all, a vintage edition of The Night Before Christmas illustrated by Arthur Rackham—she wasn’t sure she could bear to part with that one; she had fought Andrew on having it in the window and he had won. He was right, of course, it looked beautiful, laid open to a page of Father Christmas in his sleigh among the snowy rooftops. Maybe she would pop a little red “sold” sticker in the bottom corner to put off potential buyers.
She was slowly becoming resigned to, even a little excited by, the idea of spending seven days in a drafty castle with her old school friends. Ameerah had messaged to say they would leave on the morning of Sunday the twenty-ninth, stopping for a leisurely pub lunch somewhere. Jenna had insisted that no one should arrive before 3:00 p.m. because she wanted to get acquainted with the place first. This was Jenna code for wanting to make it absolutely clear to the staff that she was the bride aka number one guest aka in charge.