Hope Between the Pages, Pepper Basham [best ebook reader android .txt] 📗

He turned at her whispered words, his smile slanted in acceptance of her gratitude.

“There is this wonderful photo of Oliver.” She pulled out her phone from where she’d stashed it in her purse during the last half hour of her conversation with Maggie. “He was laughing and seemed so happy. I thought you’d like to—” A line of missed calls rolled down her phone. All from Robbie.

All heat fled her face.

“What is it?”

She flinched at the suddenness of Max’s voice in her thoughts. “Robbie’s called at least five times over the past half hour. He didn’t leave a message.”

Max’s expression sobered and the car jolted forward into a faster speed. “There’s a restaurant about five miles ahead which should have Wi-Fi.”

Clara nodded, afraid to allow her mind to wander too far into the what-ifs. Was Mother all right? Had Julian done something to jeopardize the bookshop? Had the law discovered they didn’t have a deed and given the shop back to Mr. Long without giving Clara time to save it?

Before the car came to a full stop, Clara slipped out and rushed inside. The phone rang only once before Robbie answered.

“What is it? Is Mom okay? Are you?”

Silence met her questions and then Robbie responded, soft, slow. “Your mom’s had a massive heart attack, Clara. We just arrived at the hospital, but it doesn’t look good.”

Chapter 21

Though I’d lived in England and been Oliver’s wife for two weeks, I hadn’t stepped one foot into Camden House. In part, it was Oliver’s desire to protect me from the disdain of his mother, but also, I learned as we walked toward the grand house for dinner, she would not see me. To which, Oliver had said, she would not see him either.

With his departure only a few days away, Mrs. Camden acquiesced. Oliver left the final decision to me, ever protective, but I longed to be an agent of reconciliation between him and his mother, if I had the ability within me to do so.

The house rose before us. We’d taken the carriage instead of walking, since the weather looked uncertain, but even from the carriage window, the house made an impressive introduction. Emerald mountains rose behind it, in sharp contrast to the pale cream exterior, and the windows…so many windows. With the beauty of the countryside, every house should be cloaked in windows, if possible.

Oliver assisted me from the carriage and held my hand until we reached the door, his smile tight. We’d spoken about this scenario on several occasions, talking through how to react, the best way to ease the transition of her hostility to, at the very least, indifference. Kindness. Patience.

Oliver gave my hand another squeeze and leaned to kiss my cheek before ringing the bell.

A rather somber-looking man greeted us, his attention keeping to the ground as he ushered us forward through an entryway of stone and hardwood floors. A lovely stone fireplace stood to the left, its fire glowing brightly against the dark furniture nearby. Down a long hallway to the left, I caught sight of bookshelves.

“The library,” Oliver whispered, his grin perched crooked. “I’ll see if we can relocate a few books from there to our little castle later.”

My smile burst free and I shook my head as we passed a set of closed double doors to our right. Oliver looked from the doors to the butler, his brow wrinkling with a frown. I had little time to sort out his sudden shift in mood, for as we turned the next corner, we came to an intimate, yet beautifully decorated dining area, though nothing like the expansive dining room Oliver had described.

Mr. Camden walked forward, hand extended and smile as welcoming as ever. “So good to have you visit, Sadie.” He bowed over my hand and patted Oliver on the back. “I saw you two walking in town together a few days ago, laughing. Seems marriage is agreeing with you.”

Oliver’s grin returned and he placed a palm to my back. “Indeed, Father.Not only agreeing but delightful and contented and enjoyable—”

“Please, Oliver, don’t make a spectacle of yourself.” A woman stepped from behind Mr. Camden, her soft brown hair twisted back and her dark gaze slipping from the hem of my burgundy gown to the top of my pinned head. “You’ll embarrass Sadie.”

It took all my willpower to hold onto my smile when I desperately wanted to confirm every adjective Oliver had used and add a few more of my own. “Mrs. Camden.” I offered a slight curtsy, which seemed to please her enough to perpetuate her smile.

“I hope you enjoy roasted chicken, Sadie,” Mr. Camden said, bringing his palms together, either oblivious to the tension in the room or ignoring it. “Our cook is truly excellent at her craft.”

“Oliver spoke very highly of Mrs. Long. I look forward to trying whatever she’s made for us.”

“Of course you do.” Mrs. Camden’s brows rose in mock innocence as she gestured toward the table. “Shall we?”

Oliver’s attention focused on his mother as he took the seat beside me. “I don’t recall us using the breakfast room for dinner in the past. Is this a special occasion?”

“It is.” The lack of movement in Mrs. Camden’s composed expression left an unsettling twinge in my stomach. “We thought Sadie would be more accustomed to smaller spaces. No use in overwhelming her on her first visit, especially given her upbringing.”

I grabbed Oliver’s hand to silence him before the rising color in his face turned into unhelpful words. If I was going to be near enough to Camden House to possibly come in contact with Mrs. Camden, and Oliver planned to go to war, I had to attempt to maintain civility, if nothing else.

“I appreciate your concern for my comfort, Mrs. Camden.”

Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.

“Though you may underestimate Sadie’s experience in a house nearly three times this size, Mother.”

“Yes, dear.” Mrs. Camden’s unswerving gaze bore into Sadie’s. “But I doubt she dined with the family, given her position.”

I squeezed