A Thousand Moments (A Heart of Vallantine Novella) Read online

  A Thousand Moments

  A Heart of Vallantine Novella

  Kelly Moran

  Wallflower Rosemary Fillmore has never endeavored anything more than a good book, a cool glass of sweet tea, and a cat to curl up in her lap after a long day of teaching teenagers how to dissect literary masterpieces. Dowdy and shy, hardly anyone in her quaint southern town of Vallantine, Georgia, knows she exists, and the only time she has an ounce of confidence is if the world is a fictional one. So, when three of her star students suddenly start to show an interest in her personal life, or lack thereof, she wonders what on earth the girls are after. Or why. And how it involves a certain town librarian. Because she hasn’t exactly agreed with how he’s been running the beautiful landmark into the ground since taking over, and frankly, she’s been more than a little upset about it. Besides, he is probably the sole person more awkward than herself, despite how kind or understatedly handsome he may be.

  As the only living descendant of the original town founders, saving the Vallantine Library from destitution falls on Sheldon Brown’s shoulders. And he’s failing. Miserably. The one-hundred and forty-year-old historical building, erected by his ancestors, has been in near ruins for a decade, and the state of the library system is declining. What he doesn’t need adding to his burden is giggling teenage girls hanging out between the stacks, spying on him, and asking silly questions about their teacher. Even if the woman in question is Rosemary. Pretty, sweet, and utterly endearing Rosemary, who he’s been attempting to ask on a date since forever. Except he’s chronically gotten the impression she doesn’t approve of him or his attempts to save the library. But then a mishap one night and a strange challenge from an unlikely source changes everything, and he wonders if perhaps two introverted bookworms can get a happy ending, after all.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  © COPYRIGHT 2022 by Kelly Moran

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Content Warning: Not intended for persons under the age of 18.

  Cover Art Design by: Moor Books Design

  ISBN: 9781005759254

  Smashwords eBook

  First Edition

  Published in the United States of America

  Praise for Kelly Moran’s Books:

  “Breathes life into an appealing story.”

  Publishers Weekly

  “Readers will fall in love.”

  Romantic Times

  “Great escape reading.”

  Library Journal

  “Touching & gratifying.”

  Kirkus Reviews

  “Sexy, heart-tugging fun.”

  USA Today

  “Emotional & totally engaging.”

  Carla Neggers

  “A gem of a writer.”

  Sharon Sala

  “I read in one sitting.”

  Carly Phillips

  “Compelling characters.”

  Roxanne St. Claire

  “A sexy, emotional romance.”

  Kim Karr

  “An emotionally raw story. A compelling read.”

  Katie Ashley

  “I devoured the book!”

  Laura Kaye

  Dedicated to all the introverts and bookworms in the world. You are less alone than you believe.

  Dearest Visitors,

  Welcome to Vallantine, Georgia, where the only thing sweeter than the Belle Peaches we’re famous for are the patrons.

  Founded in 1870 by William & Katherine Vallantine, our cozy, picturesque town is home to 2500 residents, not far from Savannah, and nestled beside the Ogeechee River. We have 3 inns and 2 B&Bs for convenience, or a hotel just outside the city limits. There are several family-operated restaurants for your dining pleasure to suit your palate or fancy.

  On your visit, be sure to check out our main square. There’re over 45 locally-owned independent shops along the old-world cobblestone streets. Take a riverboat dinner cruise at sunset or a horse-drawn carriage ride through the historic plantation district. Enjoy a walking tour of the Vallantine Cemetery or Peach Park, where multiple statues stand in remembrance of important figures in history, and stroll among the hundred-year-old oak trees teeming with Spanish moss. You can even view parts of the original library, still standing, that William built in 1875 for Katherine, who loved books. Some say she never left, that her spirit can be caught reading one of her favorite volumes between the shelves while she idly waits to assist all who enter seeking knowledge.

  You may have been lured here for our annual Peach Festival or Pecan Fair, but our southern charm will make you never want to leave. Hospitality is our middle name. If you’re so inclined, before you do depart, go say hello to Miss Katie—the first Belle Peach tree ever planted in town, named after the one and only Katherine Vallantine. It’s legend around these parts that doing so will bring you good luck and a lifetime of love. She’s also been known to grant a wish or two if she’s in the mood.

  Y’all come back now, you hear!

  Gunner Davis, Mayor of Vallantine

  Table of Contents:

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Dorothy Wilson set her hand on her hip, staring at the mayor of Vallantine as if he’d fallen out of one of their town’s infamous peach trees, and bruised his fruit on each branch of his dissent. Because, really. He wasn’t making a lick of sense.

  Struggling for patience, and a break from the sweltering humidity, she fanned her face with the folder he’d given her. The historical library didn’t have AC. It didn’t have much by way of anything, actually. It had been erected by the original town founder, William Vallantine, for his wife, Katherine, in 1875 because she’d adored reading. The gorgeous, if not severely dilapidated old colonial-style building, had remained with the ancestors ever since.

  It was still one of her favorite places on Earth. And now, the mayor was as lost as last year’s Easter egg if he was claiming it belonged to her. Well, her and her two BFFs.

  “Gunner Davis, all due respect, but I think you done gone crazy.”

  He offered her a withering glare and cinched his slacks higher. Or tried to. Belt aside, the pants weren’t going any farther north, not with his very round paunch of a belly. It was a habit of his, though, when getting down to business or he had something to say. Which he always did. Couldn’t find a nicer guy, but he was a blowhard.

  Bless his heart.

  “Miss Wilson, I assure you, all my marbles are in the bag.” He ran his pudgy fingers through his thinning white hair, damp with sweat. The collar of his white polo was soaked through. “As the estate attorney for Sheldon and Rosemary Brown, I drew up the papers myself, based on their wishes.”

  He was one of a handful of attorneys in town, but he didn’t practice law often anymore since becoming mayor twenty years ago. He still had an office on Belle Street and took new business, yet the majority of his clientele had been in their prime around Vietnam. She did know for a fact that Sheldon Brown, descendant of William Vallantine, was a client of Gunner’s. Except…

  “He’s not dead. Neither is his wife, Rosemary.” I
t felt weird to call Ms. Fillmore by her first name. She’d been Dorothy’s middle school teacher, and her favorite, to boot. “I just saw them both yesterday at the ice cream stand. Fit as a fiddle. Even if they had died, why would they leave the library to us?”

  He jutted his chin. “They left you girls a note. It’s in the folder. You’re the only one who showed today, so I’ll leave it up to you to tell the others.”

  The others being her best friends since the age of…gestation. Their mothers had been closer than sisters and had started the first book club in town. Thus, Dorothy and her besties had been named after southern fictional characters. Townsfolk had dubbed their trio the “Bookish Belles” before they’d hit kindergarten. Rebecca had left Vallantine right out of high school to pursue college and had stayed gone for her career. She came back a few times a year to visit her grandmother. Scarlett was still in town, and knowing her, merely running late, not blowing off the meeting. Probably.

  This whole thing was odd. The Browns were not deceased. A town this size? Heck, Dorothy wouldn’t even have her coffee brewed, and she’d know the details of how and when. Without asking. From about a hundred people via the gossip mill. This library had never been out of Vallantine heirs’ hands. And leaving Dorothy and her friends a note seemed suspiciously like they’d moved. Or moved on. Or something.

  She pressed her hand to her forehead, damp with perspiration. “I’m confused.”

  “Pretty clear, Miss Wilson. You, Rebecca Moore, and Scarlett Taylor are now the proud owners of the Vallantine Library.”

  “Gunner,” she said through a sigh, “that’s about as transparent as the Ogeechee River.”

  “I’ll be in my office if you need me.” He nodded and waddled out the open doorway in the foyer.

  She stared after him. “The hell?”

  Throwing her hands up, she glanced around.

  Square footage on the main level was roughly a thousand square feet, and about half that for the second story loft. A wrought iron set of curved stairs led to the upper area with a matching railing. A large stained-glass window depicting a book laying in the grass under a peach tree allowed filtered light upstairs. The loft otherwise was empty. The ceiling was coffered with copper plating. The floorboards were original cherry. In the center of the room downstairs was an ivory marble counter, large enough to fit two people working comfortably. Wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined the left, right, and back wall.

  Those were the highlights.

  There was an errant scent of dust and mildew. The floorboards had needed refinishing two decades ago. A large lead-glass chandelier had cobwebs forming their own cobwebs. The roof was this close to caving. Plumbing and electrical hadn’t been updated since the turn of the twentieth century. Chunks of plaster were missing from many areas in the walls upstairs. And she was uncertain just how stable the Greek support columns were for the loft, since one of them slanted precariously to the left.

  Over time, Sheldon Brown had done what he’d could to salvage the beautiful old place, but funding had been nearly non-existent and the town’s fundraisers had only helped so much. It had broken his heart, day after day, year after year. How he’d tried, though. So hard.

  She’d spent hours here as a girl. Escaping. Reading. Getting lost amongst the stacks. Searching for Katherine Vallantine’s ghost, since rumor had it, she haunted the place. Dorothy had never spotted the spirit. She didn’t think anyone else actually had either. Their mayor had probably started the tall tale to draw in more tourism.

  Admittedly, she’d dreamed of taking over the library. Her friends, also. But, that had never been likely or possible. They weren’t Vallantine descendants.

  Frowning, she glanced at the folder Gunner had given her and opened it. Inside were three copies of the deed. They seemed legit. There was also an inspection report, appraisal, and an envelope. She pulled out the latter, unfolded the paper inside, and read the letter.

  To Our Bookish Belles,

  Once upon a time, three young girls helped a teacher and a librarian find love. And you did it inside these walls that were built a century ago by a gentleman who adored his wife so much, he created a haven dedicated to her.

  We want that love to continue, to pass down to another generation, but not just anyone will do. Since we don’t have children of our own, and because of you, we found our happy ending, we choose you. No one loves this place or respects it more than you girls. Our beloved library is filled with volumes of knowledge and exciting adventures just waiting to be explored. You genuinely understand that and know the importance. We feel you are the best caretakers and will restore it in ways we cannot. It is yours to do as you see fit.

  As for us, we are off on a grand adventure of our own to see the world. We don’t know when we’ll be back, only that we will return someday. When we do, we know you’ll have made us and the Vallantine legacy proud. There’s something inside this envelope to help with financing. Gunner Davis can explain. We are so very grateful to you and proud of the young women you’ve become.

  Happy Reading,

  Sheldon & Rosemary Brown

  Well, geez. Shock and doubt assaulted Dorothy, even if hope was prying for footing.

  Eyes misty, she checked the folder again. And nearly dropped it.

  A cashier’s check, made out to her, Rebecca, and Scarlett, was behind the deed. A very, very sizable check.

  The breath whooshed from her lungs, and she laughed. Hysterically. Uncontrollably.

  Then, she shakily sat in a chair by the counter and cried.

  Chapter One

  Spring, 2004

  “You should totally put your hair up, Ms. Fillmore.”

  Rosemary glanced up from the desk in her classroom where she was grading papers—terribly written book reports—and looked at Rebecca Moore. The girl was one of Rosemary’s favorite eighth graders. Astute, driven, and self-aware, Rebecca mimicked the love interest of Tom Sawyer in Huckleberry Finn, the fictional character her mama had named her after. Just as feisty, too. A blonde-haired, blue-eyed, slender firecracker who was going to break hearts soon.

  She and her two best friends—known as the Bookish Belles—had stayed late after class to voluntarily wash boards and prep the classroom for spring break. What that had to do with Rosemary’s hair, she hadn’t a clue.

  “You know, try a new style or something.”

  “Oh.” Rosemary skimmed her fingers over her brown, wavy strands, hoping it hadn’t frizzed to a poodle state with all the humidity. “Um, well…” Hmm.

  “Yes!” Scarlett Taylor paused in motion of placing a chair upside down on a desk. Favorite student number two, the girl was as dramatic as O’Hara in Gone With the Wind, for whence her mama had named her. Though she’d come from money, and a lot of it, she wasn’t a snob and seemed keenly aware of others around her. She just preferred all the attention. Sleek cocoa locks, willowy frame, and bright golden eyes. The latter of which were alight with interest. “Maybe a haircut with layers and highlights? That would look so great on you. Ohmigosh! And contact lenses!”

  “Uh.” Rosemary adjusted her glasses, not sure why they were suddenly an issue. Plastic and black-framed, they were a bit large for her face, but the selection hadn’t been that extensive when she’d had her eye exam. Plus, she hadn’t wanted to drive an hour to Savannah or almost two to Statesboro for the sake of eyeglasses. No one noticed, anyway. She’d had them for two years.

  At a loss, because hardly anyone in town was aware of her existence, she glanced at favorite student three, wiping off the dry-erase board. Dorothy Wilson, named by her mama after the lead in The Wizard of Oz, had auburn hair, blue eyes, and a very curvy shape, bordering on plump. She was down-to-earth, strong, and like her friends, very smart. She was the quietest of the three, probably because she hadn’t grown into her esteem yet. Kids could be cruel sometimes. She was watching the conversation, but had kept mum.

  “What do you think?” Rosemary prompted.

  “I think y
ou’re very pretty the way you are, Ms. Fillmore.”

  Shucks. She hadn’t been called pretty in, well, ever. “Thank you. How kind of you to say.”

  “Of course, she’s pretty.” Scarlett emitted an exasperated noise and rolled her eyes. “We just mean she could, you know, do more.”

  For what purpose? And why mention it now, after Rosemary had them for English class the entire school year last term and this one? Besides, a wallflower didn’t suddenly start blooming.

  “Yeah. Something different.” Rebecca tucked her hair behind her ears. “A cute dress or whatever.”

  “What’s wrong with my dress?” Rosemary glanced at the article of clothing in question. Short sleeves, high collar, hem to her ankles, and navy blue with white roses. “It’s comfortable.”

  “It’s a little outdated.” Rebecca raised her palms. “It doesn’t show off your figure.”

  Figure? “Girls, I appreciate your advice. Sincerely, I do. But—”

  “A little makeup?” Scarlett nodded, facing Rebecca, as if Rosemary wasn’t in the room and they weren’t discussing her.

  Now this was more normal.

  “Agree.” Rebecca eyed Dorothy as if willing her to chime in. “Don’t you think?”

  An exhale, and Dorothy gave Rosemary a once-over. “I think she should be herself, but it wouldn’t be terrible if she tried a couple things, I guess.”