Hope Between the Pages Pepper Basham (thriller book recommendations TXT) 📖

as much here as He did back at her church in the States, and that she could feel so at home herself. She’d stayed so close to home for so long, her world had grown small, somewhat stifled. Was it possible for her dreams to grow beyond what she’d thought them to be?

The notion lingered for a moment, during the final hymn, as the voices rose around her in myriad harmony and skill. When the service ended, friendly folks stalled their exit to meet Clara or chat with Gillie about whatever local news happened to be the flavor of the day. Max kept close, responding in his quiet way, his smile at the ready among the folks of Fenwick. He easily welcomed her into conversations and, as they left the church, he wrapped her hand in his for a subtle embrace before opening the car door for her.

Clara sat in the back of the car basking in Max’s affection, in the sweetness of his world, and trying very hard to keep the future at bay for another day. The idea of returning home after such a glorious introduction to romance and friendship left her quivering on the inside, so she turned her mind to the countryside and searched for more descriptions to add to the growing children’s book in her mind.

“Max mentioned that you two have a special afternoon planned.” Gillie grinned at Clara from the passenger’s seat. “But don’t let the time get away from you, dear. We have a cake to make.”

“Make sure that son of yours is listening.” Clara met Max’s gaze in the rearview mirror, his eyes creasing with unleashed laughter. “He’s the one who’s set up this surprise, so I know nothing about it.”

“Ah, well, you’re going to be bowled over, luv.” Gillie chuckled and patted Max on the shoulder. “I nearly thought Christmas had come and gone at Max’s excitement in finding—”

“Mum.” He shot her a warning look. “Surprise and all.”

“Yes, yes.” Gillie sighed and turned back to Clara. “I’m horrible at surprises, Clara. I become so thrilled with the prospect of the receiver’s excitement, I’m positively hinged to tell all as soon as possible, but Max is excellent at surprises. And loves granting them.” She patted his shoulder again. “Like his father.”

He glanced over at his mom, and Clara felt as if she’d peeked in on a private conversation. A sweet one, between two people who understood each another. Clara knew that connection with both her parents, a blessing too few children experienced.

“Have you made any more headway on finding what you needed, Clara dear?”

Clara couldn’t tame her smile at Gillie’s endearment. She’d drawn Clara into the community of her inn as if she were part of the family. “Not what I need to find, but I’m still hopeful something will turn up.”

“And the email you received last night from the Biltmore archivist,” Max added, meeting her gaze through the mirror again. “It sounded interesting.”

“She didn’t give details, only that she’d uncovered a letter Sadie wrote to Mrs. Vanderbilt in 1917 regarding some sort of project Sadie was working on. But at this point any information could be helpful, so I hope to meet with her as soon as I get back home.”

“Well, I hope it won’t take a family mystery to have you return to us in the future, Clara.” Gillie sent a look to Max before returning her gaze forward. “You’ll always find a place to stay.”

After lunch at a two-hundred-year-old inn called The Copper Pot, they took a stroll down main street Fenwick, and Clara appreciated again the conglomeration of buildings lining the narrow lane. Some thatched-roofed limestone, others tan with slated roofs, a few stone ones, and all patched together in the most idyllic line with an occasional tree or lamppost or sign breaking the row. Yet, among the restaurants, inns, shops, two banks, and churches, there wasn’t a bookshop in sight.

As Max and Clara took a narrow road away from Camden House and their conversation moved from admiration for Fenwick, Gillie, and excellent sermons, the countryside continued its breathtaking unveiling…and the road seemed to grow narrower.

“I don’t think I could ever drive on these roads.” Clara straightened after she’d pressed up against the door as they passed a car. “How on earth do you keep from hitting every other vehicle on the road?”

He offered her his signature grin and returned his attention to the road. “You learn and practice, and use the laybys when necessary.”

She looked over at one of the “laybys,” an added space on the side of the road where one car could stop to let another pass.

“I promise to teach you when you return.”

She turned to him, but he kept his face forward. Return. Right. She only had a few days left and then…back to everyday life. Her breath squeezed through her tightening throat. How was it possible to care about him so much already? To feel connected to him in an almost tangible way? And what would it be like to live thousands of miles apart, now that she’d experienced…whatever this was with him?

She’d find a way.

She placed her hand over his resting on the gear shift. “It’s a deal.”

He held her gaze for a moment, the gravity of her statement mirrored in his eyes. “Good,” he whispered before turning his attention back to the road.

“Maybe when I come back, we can talk about how wonderful it would be to have a bookshop in Fenwick.” Clara bit her bottom lip with her smile. “You know it could use one.”

“An excellent conversation to ensure your speedy return.”

His grin broadened and, as if he’d planned the moment, he gestured with his chin to the front window. With a raised brow, Clara followed his gaze and gasped. The coast appeared ahead, as if by magic. The car followed the beach along a narrow road perched on a cliff overlooking the vast expanse of cobalt ocean. “It’s the sea!”

“Saltom Bay, to be precise.” He beamed like a little