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?
Nory flicked on the lamps and breathed in the comforting smell of old books and the lingering scent of cinnamon and spice candles. She turned the shop’s sign to read Open and parked her case and bags in the kitchenette. Then she began to busy herself in the little shop, visually taking stock of what had been sold and moving books from one place to another to keep the view fresh for returning customers.
She stood in front of the glass display case, where Serena De-Veer’s—Heba’s—precious first editions lay on a bed of crimson silk. They shouldn’t be displayed, not when the name on the cover was a lie. Nory unlocked the case and removed the books. She wrapped them carefully in a cotton sheet and locked them in the bottom of her filing cabinet.
It felt like she was dragging her limbs from one place to the next. The look of utter betrayal on Isaac’s face kept replaying in her mind, making her breath catch every time. She wished she could unsee it, but her brain seemed hell-bent on torturing her over and over.
It was a blessed relief when the first customers came in and distracted her from her thoughts, and the shop was mercifully busy with Christmas shoppers for the whole afternoon. At times she had a queue for sales at the counter while several other people waited patiently around the shop for her attention. She was spread too thin, rushing from one person to the next, but it was all-encompassing, and she was grateful for more than simply the sales that day.
When Nory locked the door at half past four, she was exhausted but not ready to be alone with her thoughts just yet, so she set about hoovering the shop and tidying, getting everything ready for the morning. Andrew would be most impressed when he got in tomorrow to find all the morning jobs already done.
Two unopened boxes lay behind the counter, and she recognized the handwriting on the labels as one of her vintage book contacts. She opened them up and breathed in the perfume of age and possibilities that rose from well-loved pages. This was treasure in paper form, and she knew instinctively which of her customers the various titles would suit, as though their names were already written into the bindings, waiting to be reunited. She would call them tomorrow and tell them what she’d acquired.
Eventually she had to go home. She thought about going out for dinner, but she would only be putting off the inevitable; sooner or later she was going to have to be alone, without the bolster of other people forcing her to keep her shit together.