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?
“It won’t stop being your work.” Nory laughed at his vehemence.
“Are you sure about that?”
She looked at him. His expression was clouded, guarded even. “I don’t understand,” she said.
For a moment, Isaac seemed to be weighing something in his mind, and then he said: “I want to show you something.”
“Okay.” Nory was confused by the sudden change in atmosphere.
They made their way upstairs. Isaac pushed open the door to the study and Nory went in. He fished around in a vase on one of the shelves for a set of keys, then crossed the room and knelt in front of a large traveling trunk in the far corner. The maroon leather on the trunk was flaking with age, and the iron studs had tarnished to a dirty gold. It had clearly seen some mileage. Peeling customs stickers from various countries had been haphazardly slapped onto the leather.
The locks clicked one after another, after another, until finally, Isaac pushed his thumbs against two rectangular brass buttons, and the top gave a jump as though surprised. Isaac pushed up the heavy domed lid.
Nory, who had been gingerly stepping closer and closer throughout the opening process, could no longer suppress her curiosity. She leaned over the trunk.
She saw a couple of yellowing parchments folded and secured with a wax seal, and some newer envelopes that looked as though they held bank statements and solicitors’ letters. Isaac brushed them aside and carefully lifted out a set of A3 sketchbooks, which he placed gently down on the desk.
He turned to Nory, who was now practically hopping with curiosity, and gestured for her to take a look. At once she could see that they were very old. Most of the books had been hand-bound in cloth—calico, if she wasn’t mistaken. Faded ribbons sewn into the edges of the discolored fabric were tied in loose bows to keep the books closed. Her heart was racing. It felt like finding treasure; just the bindings alone were enough to set her fingers tingling. She cast an inquiring look up at Isaac, who smiled and said quietly in answer: “Go on, take a look.”
She picked up the first book and laid it flat on the desk, sitting herself on the chair in front of it. With utmost care and trembling fingers, she pulled one of the ribbon ties. The silk slipped out of its bow and spooled onto the desk. Nory opened the book to the first page.