Previously Loved Treasures (Serendipity #2)(26)

“I love it,” she said. “It looks so sturdy, like it’s been around for a hundred years and could be around for a hundred more.” She walked to the desk, slid several of the drawers out and back again. “How much is it?”

“Seventeen dollars.”

Ida gasped. “Seventeen dollars! That beautiful rosewood bed was only five dollars, and it came with a brand new mattress!”

“Yes,” Peter replied, “but this desk comes with stories.”

“Stories?” Caroline echoed.

Peter nodded. Although there was no one else in the store, he leaned in close and whispered, “This desk once belonged to Samuel Clemens.”

Caroline’s eyes grew big and round. “Really?”

Before anyone could say anything more Ida scowled. “Poppycock! This is nothing but an old desk that’s overpriced.”

“Not true,” Peter replied. “This desk is filled with stories. You can’t see them, but I’ll bet your granddaughter can.”

Caroline laughed. “I doubt Mister Clemens left any untold stories in this desk, but it is just right for my needs.” She pulled the wallet from her purse. “I’ll take it.”

“Overpriced,” Ida repeated.

~

Before they left the store Peter promised to deliver the desk that very afternoon. “Delivery’s free,” he said. “And I’ll include a few more things you’ll need.”

“A few more things?” Caroline asked.

“Yes,” Peter nodded. “A desk blotter, a ceramic jar for pencils—”

“A seventeen-dollar desk ought to include a chair,” Ida muttered.

In addition to knowing what a person needed, Peter also had excellent hearing. He turned to Ida. “Okay, I’ll include a chair.”

“Free?”

“Yes.”

Ida gave a smile of satisfaction. As they left the store she leaned close to her granddaughter and whispered, “Honey, you’ve got to learn how to negotiate.”

~

True to his word, Peter did deliver the desk that afternoon. He arrived in the same green van still wearing the same black suit. He pulled the desk from the van, hoisted it on his back, and carried it up the stairs as if it were nothing more than a sweater draped over his shoulders.

“Wait, I’ll help you,” Caroline offered, but Ida assured her that Peter Pennington was a lot stronger than he looked.

“He brought that big rosewood bed in by himself,” she whispered.

After he’d set the desk in place Peter returned to the van and carried in a chair. A high-backed desk chair such as Caroline had never seen. The leather was soft as a glove, and in addition to the wheels that would make it easy to slide in and out it had an overstuffed lumbar pillow.

Still smarting from what she felt was too high a price, Ida smiled. “Well, now, this is more like it.”

Before Peter Pennington was back in his van Caroline had unpacked her computer and placed it atop the desk. She powered up the computer and opened the file for her novel. It was still there, waiting for her to finish it. But it was a love story, a story of passion and shared dreams. She scrolled down to the last few pages she’d written and sat there looking at the final paragraph

He took her in his arms and begged forgiveness. “I’ve been a fool,” Matthew said. “Take me back, Claire, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making you happy.” With that he scooped Claire into his arms and caressed her with an abundance of passion. The heartache she had endured for so long was forgotten when he touched his lips to hers.

The words on the screen now seemed trite, unrealistic. Love didn’t simply repair itself in a single act of contrition. It clung to anger and pushed bitter resentment into every word. Obviously the story needed work. Men like Matthew were nothing more than fairytale princes. He needed a few flaws. And Claire—poor, gullible Claire. She would have to see life as it was; she would have to be rewritten with more determination and grit.

Caroline leaned back into the chair and stared at the screen for a few moments longer. Then she closed the file and logged off the computer. Tomorrow she would start rewriting the story, rewriting it with truth woven through the words. But for tonight she would simply enjoy being here.

Bounding down the stairs, Caroline called out, “Grandma, need some help fixing dinner?”





Ida Sweetwater





I had to laugh when Caroline came in asking if she could help with dinner. The poor child doesn’t know a skillet from a stew pot. Not that it’s her fault; she just never had anyone to teach her those things. Cooking is something you learn from your mama, and from what I can gather Caroline’s mama didn’t do any.

And as far as James is concerned, Joelle not cooking doesn’t justify his behavior. The two of them were a pitiful excuse for parents, if you ask me.

Right is right, and what they did wasn’t right. Regardless of what they were feeling about each other, they had a child they should’ve been thinking about.

I can’t give back the years Caroline lost with a no-good daddy and a mama full of self-pity, but I can make the future better. I’ll make sure she’s got a good home and plenty of love.

It may take a bit of work, but I’m going to teach her to cook. At least I’ll try.