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

A chill passed through me. Had the telegram gotten lost somewhere along the way or… The opened letters. The delayed notes. Had the mail been diverted to Camden House before it came to me at the gatehouse?

I shook my head as if the question had been spoken aloud. Surely not. Would Mrs. Camden resort to such deviousness? Reading my letters from Oliver and resealing them? And what other personal information had been redirected? The deed? My stomach dropped and I pressed my fingers into the wall to steady myself. The marriage certificate.

Mr. Harlow walked with me down the lane toward the postman’s house as I, somewhat carefully, explained my concerns. Whether his presence, a wounded soldier in uniform, nudged Mr. Craven’s guilt or not, the man blubbered through a confession, confirming all mail for the gatehouse had been directed to Camden House.

His appeal, so that I would not report him, was that the Camdens owned most of the buildings in Fenwick, or possessed the power to appoint or take away certain positions, which left Mrs. Camden with more power than I ever imagined…and perhaps more hatred than Oliver ever did.

The combination did not bode well for me as I bid Mr. Harlow a heartfelt goodbye and strode directly toward Camden House. What else had I to lose at this point?

Chapter 24

Clara unlocked the bookshop door and tugged Max through, nearly out of breath in her excitement.

“This is your shop?” He pulled free of her hold and glanced around, his eyes dancing in the white of the fairy lights glowing on all sides. “It’s brilliant.” He released a light laugh. “It’s so much of you.”

Clara paused in her mad dash to find Robbie and stared up at Max, then followed his gaze over the shelves and the stuffed animals and the decorative displays, even breathing in the scent of books and peppermint. Max’s lips parted in a smile, his expression every bit as fascinated as a child with his first Christmas tree, and everything seemed to click into place like that moment when books fit onto a bookshelf perfectly aligned.

“I’m so glad you’re here.”

He looked down at her and squeezed her hand, the lights bringing out brighter hints of gold in his dusty blond hair. “So am I.”

“Well, someone decided to take her mom’s advice, I see.” Robbie emerged from the back hallway, arms laden with a collection of books, biographies from the look of them. His gaze trailed from Clara to take in Max.

“And I’m guessing you’re Max?”

Max shifted, almost imperceptibly to feature his right side. “Robbie?”

Robbie placed the books down and stepped forward, holding his chin a little higher as if it might increase his overall height. Clara smothered her grin with her palm. Robbie stepped forward, hand extended. “Says a lot that you’d come all this way.”

Max’s gaze sharpened almost imperceptibly, his smile flickering to life as he took Robbie’s proffered hand. “Happy to meet you.”

“Robbie, we need your help.” Clara took his arm. “And your screwdriver.”

Robbie’s rust-colored brows skyrocketed. “A screwdriver, a bookshop owner, and a Brit.” He squinted. “Why does that sound like the beginning of a bad joke?”

Clara rolled her eyes heavenward.

“Or a Doctor Who episode,” Max offered as Robbie grabbed the toolbox he kept nestled in a storage closet near the shop office.

Robbie nearly dropped his toolbox, his smile taking a slow slide to full grin before he looked back at Clara. “Okay, you can keep him.”

Clara tossed a look to Max. “I’m planning on it.” She tugged Robbie toward the stairs. “Max and I found out another mystery about Granny Sadie’s story. Mrs. Carter at Biltmore shared a letter.” Clara handed the copy of the letter to Robbie, who skimmed over it as they mounted the stairs.

“It seems that Sadie did more than just open up a bookshop an raise a son when she came back to Asheville after Oliver’s death.”

“She helped women find jobs?” He looked up from the letter.

“Even more than that. It seems that she helped at least a dozen so women who would have typically been outcasts in society. U mothers. Those of ill repute.”

“So the bookshop was used as a safe house of sorts?”

“And the women carved their names into the wall.” Clara toward the back wall of the massive space lined with four large and bookshelves.

“Women’s fiction and history?” Max murmured as he came Clara’s side in front of the shelves. “Appropriate.”

Robbie narrowed his eyes at Max, as if trying to figure him out, and then looked back at Clara. “So you think these names could behind one of those bookshelves?”

“Maybe, if the wall hasn’t been altered in a hundred years.” C began removing books from the shelf closest to the windows. “And only way we’re going to find out is by using your brawn.”

“My brawn?” Robbie puffed out his chest and tried to stand a little taller beside Max who clearly had at least six inches on him. “That’ always the way to secure my help. Compliment my brawn.”

Max’s grin spread to a chuckle.

“Well, come on, Brawny.” Clara waved him forward. “Let’s get these books off and see what we can find out.”

He released an exaggerated sigh and joined Max in helping Clara remove the books from the first bookshelf. “You know, these shelves have been here forever. We might find more than markings on the walls behind them.”

Clara cringed and shot him a glare as she removed another stack of books and tossed a nod to Max. “That’s okay. I brought a wizard with me, so he can take care of the other things.”

“A wizard?”Robbie examined Max from head to toe, then shrugged. “For some reason the Doctor Who reference makes perfect sense now.”

Robbie began unfastening the shelf from the wall. “Did Sadie ever mention anything about helping these women to your dad or mom?”

“Not that I know of.” Clara smiled her thanks to Max, who took a stack of books from her arms and placed them with the