Every Perfect Gift Read Online Free PDF Page B

before she got married.”
    “Maybe she’s had second thoughts and wants Mr. Chastain back.”
    “After all this time?” Robbie shook his head. “I doubt it.”
    “Remember how he read stories to us on Founders Day? And showed us his sleight-of-hand tricks? I should go by and see him.”
    “Oh, but that’s another big change. Mr. Chastain left town shortly after his wife took off—sold the bookshop to one of Jasper Pruitt’s cousins and never looked back. My folks bought it from Jasper’s kin after Pa’s accident.”
    Sophie nodded. “Ada told me about that. I was sorry to hear it. Mr. Whiting was always kind to me.”
    “It was pretty bad,” Robbie said. “A load of timber slipped off a skip loader and pinned him underneath it. For a while it looked like he might lose his leg, but eventually it healed. He never could work the lumberyard again, though. He sits at a desk now. Hates it. Mother runs the bookshop.”
    “Mrs. Whiting is a bookseller now? Ada didn’t tell me that.”
    “Mother took it over only recently. She seems to like it.”
    Setting the book aside, he peered over her shoulder into the back room, where the printing press stood amid a jumble of crates she’d recently unpacked. “You know how to work that thing?”
    “Of course. I started hanging around the newspaper office back home when I was twelve or thirteen. Mr. Hadley—he’s the owner of the Inquirer —showed me how to load type into the tray, but he wouldn’t let me actually run the press till I was older.” She grinned. “It’s a dirty, tedious job, and slower than Christmas. Soon as I start making a profit, I’m going to look into replacing this old press with a more modern one.” She tamped down a stab of uncertainty. “Assuming I actually make a profit. Sometimes I wake up and ask myself why on earth I came back here. Maybe I’m foolish for even trying.”
    “Not at all. I’m certain the Lord has a purpose for it.”
    She gazed past his shoulder to the street, quiet now in the cool spring afternoon. “Do you really believe that, Robbie? That there is a purpose to everything?”
    “Yes, ma’am, I do.” He smiled down at her. “I really have to go, but one of these days I want you to meet my wife.”
    “I’d love that.”
    “Come to services next Sunday. I’ll save you a seat in the first pew.”
    He left the office whistling and jogged across the street to hiswaiting rig. Sophie watched as he turned the rig for home, her mind whirling. Heavenly days, but Hickory Ridge was all ajumble. People of every stripe milling around town like ants in a hill. Houses going up every which way. Mrs. Lowell dead and gone. Sweet Mr. Chastain all brokenhearted, no doubt, and off to who knew where, while his wife was on her way back to town.
    Sophie frowned. Why would the former Mrs. Chastain come back here after so long a time? There was no accounting for human behavior and no telling what might happen next. But one thing was for sure: Lucy Partridge wouldn’t have room for her at the Verandah. With Blue Smoke set to open in a matter of weeks, every room was taken or already reserved.
    She grabbed her hat and shawl, locked the office, and headed for Mr. Tanner’s livery. His rates were outrageous, but the Rutledge farm was too far to walk. Farther along the street, Eli McCracken emerged from his office and headed for Miss Hattie’s. Sophie’s stomach groaned. What she wouldn’t give for one of Miss Hattie’s legendary Sunday dinners. But Carrie Rutledge was expecting her.
    She entered the livery, breathing in the familiar, dusty scent of hay, horses, and manure. “Mr. Tanner?”
    He shuffled to the front of the building, wiping his hands on a faded towel. “Miss Caldwell. What can I do for you?”
    “A horse and rig, please. That little chestnut mare I had last week will be perfect.”
    “She’s a beauty all right, but I sold her yesterday to Blue Smoke. Mr. Rutledge usually takes care of anything related to the Blue