Elizabeth Camden Quotes

You are a child of God, and that means that there is great, shining beauty within you.

Was there anything more inspiring than being able to look up and see oneself surrounded by thousands of books all the way to the ceiling three stories above?

It seems like everything sleeps in winter, but it's really a time of renewal and reflection.

The Lord's capacity to forgive a person who is truly repentant is without limit, without qualification

Wasn't the willingness to believe despite uncertainty the very essence of faith?

So long as she had access to enough light to read, Anna could entertain herself for years.

Anna's words from long ago came back to him. "We are all beautiful but broken people. Jesus forgives us, even when we don't deserve it. That's a pretty good reason to be forgiving.

You're still alive because God has plans for you, even if we don't understand what they are yet.

After all, everything in here is just pieces of paper with words and lines on them. They're not even very valuable. Pieces of paper with words and lines on them have the ability to change the world...They always have.

Do you know how long I've wanted you? You're like sunlight and water and air to me. All you need to do is walk across my line of sight and my whole world lights up.

Chocolate always makes everything better, don’t you think?

I like rescuing damsels in distress.' 'I'm not a damsel in distress.' 'Could you pretend? I'm actually just searching for an excuse to see you again.

She smelled of lemon and sunshine and a thousand Summer days filled with laughter.

If you don’t ever make mistakes, it means you aren’t dreaming big enough,

Kate, I can't live my life in the shadow of your fears.

God has created a huge, complex tapestry with our lives. It's got shadows and darkness shot through with highlights of gold. We can never go back and undo those threads and weave them into something else.

Funny how older brothers could still be annoying even after everyone was all grown-up.

people make this kind of money. Lawyers are just good at figuring out how to siphon a piece of it their way.

Nonsense, I grew up on a farm. Animals are food, not friends.

And why is that?” he asked softly. “Because you don’t scare me anymore.” She placed her other hand on his chest. “You used to intimidate me down to my toes, but since the fire, everything is different. I can be myself around you. Flaws and all.” “You don’t have any flaws.

Dreams are hard," he said. "You work toward them, struggle and sacrifice, but that doesn't always mean you will get there. I used to believe if I wanted something badly enough, I was destined to win it as long as I never gave up trying.

I need you to find me a recipe for poison," he snapped. "Something that can kill the varmints that riddle this town." "Animal varmints, or the human variety?" She was so prim when she said it, earning a reluctant twist of his lips as he tried not to smile.

She wasn't a woman of tremendous valor or daring heroism, but she'd always tried to lead her life in a way that would honor Jesus through small acts of goodness every day. Hour by hour, brick by brick, these small choices had slowly built a life of integrity.

Making mistakes means you’re learning, growing, pushing… that you yearn for something and aren’t afraid to chase after it. You’re being creative and contributing to this world, even if it doesn’t work out as you hoped. Go ahead and make mistakes. For once in your life, quit playing it safe and make some spectacular mistakes… Make glorious mistakes that will echo through the ages. Make mistakes that no one has ever thought of! Don’t limit yourself, no matter how outlandish. Reach out and strive for something beyond all dreams.

It was the best they could do, and the rest would be in God's hands. It was the same with raising a family. There were no guarantees in life [...]

Tick's eyes twinkled, and he drew a long sip of coffee. "Poor Kate... wanting to run the world and yet no one will let her.

No matter how miserable his morning, all he had to do was walk within ten feet of Kate and listen to her sling an insult at him and he felt better.

She embodied laughter and optimism and steadfast determination. Being with her felt like wind in his sails.

She was a better person for it. Wiser, sadder, but more confident of her true value in the world. Her heart was full to the breaking point, for echoes of that gilded age would live with her forever.

Even now, a pull of energy and a sense of purpose gathered momentum inside her. A life of great purpose and fulfillment lay before her, if she could just be bold enough to step through the door into the unknown.

What are you doing here? I thought I was to meet with Dr. Kendall." "I am Dr. Kendall. I changed my last name when I went to college." She was flabbergasted. "Why would you do such a thing?" "You changed *your* name." "I was married!

Why are you so angry at me?” she asked. The question ratcheted him even closer to the boiling point. “Because for some insane reason, I adore you. For three solid years I have thought you were the closest thing to perfection on this earth, and I can’t watch you risk your life crossing that bridge!” Had she understood correctly? After all these years of cold decorum, Zack’s eyes glittered in a face streaked with soot and sweat as he stepped closer, shouting over the roar of wind and fire. “I’ve been insane about you since the moment you waltzed into my office three years ago in that ridiculous suit and your hair as prim as a schoolmarm,” he shouted. “Don’t you dare get yourself killed on me now!

Don’t you have any pride?” she snapped. He blanched, but she was too angry to stop. “You’re like a stray dog I can’t get rid of. I want nothing to do with you. Not with your business, not with you. Just go away. Please, just go and stay away.

I'm going to need help, and I need someone who is fearless. Someone who isn't afraid to stand up to dragons and battle them day after day. Our results may not show promise for years. Our patients will die. There will be days when you feel so beaten down you'll want to crawl home and give up. But I'll need you to get up, dust yourself off, and be ready to wage battle the next day." He locked eyes with her. "I need someone who wants to win as badly as I do. That is why I want you for this job.

I've been alone most of my life because I'm the only person in the world I can rely on. For a few days I deluded myself into thinking you were someone I could believe in. That I could trust you and lean on you, that you would never lie to me. What a mistake I made.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his heart beginning to split. Reaching out to hold her was stupid and he was bound to pay for it, but sometimes he needed her so badly. He simply needed. Needed to know he wasn’t alone. Needed the solid warmth of another person who cared.

I can’t go through you walking out on me again,” he said. “I’ve got skin tougher than a rhinoceros hide, but I’ve always been a big weakling when it comes to you. If you want back into my life, it has to be for good this time.” “For better or for worse, for richer or poorer . . . is that what you mean?” “Till death do us part. Yeah, that’s what I’m getting at.” Her face was beautiful and shining and confident. “That’s what I want too.

Why did the two of you fight so much?” “We fought plenty, but I always respected him.” “But why all the arguing? The nitpicking? It always seemed strange to me.” It would. He smiled and turned his face to the sky. For all her practical, level-headed business sense, Mollie didn’t understand much about men. “Sometimes men just like to argue,” he said simply. “We like the competition. We sniff out the opposition, measure it up, challenge it. Frank never backed down. Even though he was blind, Frank was still a man, and when I came on the scene, I think he immediately sensed my interest in you. Long before you ever did.

Paradise on earth didn't exist, but God still blessed them with the the tools they needed to be happy, even in a sometimes imperfect, fallen world.

Grief freshens our perspective on life; it helps us appreciate the blessings we’ve been showered with. ‘Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.

And for once, I want you to snap out of that hidebound practicality that sucks all the joy out of life. Were you an Indian, your spirit name would be Dream Killer.

I really hate it when you're right," she said with a reluctant smile. He touched the side of her face. "You were a match for me. I was always right about that.

Whenever she was with him, it was as if she could dream bigger, see farther.

You don't believe in writing in books?" "Of course not. Nor do I dog-ear the pages, crack book spines, underline passages, or otherwise mistreat government property.

He stayed true to his convictions, despite the overwhelming pressure to capitulate.

Metaphors are something grown-ups use when they can't set troublesome boys on fire.

Sometimes, no matter how desperately hard a person worked, there were no happy endings [...].

There was no shame in losing a battle; but running away from one was a regret he'd carry forever.

God had never promised them a life free of sorrow, only the tools to hold and keep them through stormy days.

laughingly

The problems of the world cannot possibly be solved by skeptics or cynics whose horizons are limited by the obvious realities. We need men who can dream of things that never were.

Kate was the best thing he’d done in his professional career, and he could handle anything so long as she didn’t leave him.

The only thing that might attract vermin is the rancid expression on your face," she said. "I was having a brilliant morning until you came in to sour the air." "Ah, well. We are born to suffer.

Even their contemporaries felt that the relationship of Elizabeth and Robert transcended the details on practicality. There had to be some explanation for their lifelong fidelity, and those contemporaries put it down to 'synaptia', a hidden conspiracy of the stars, whose power to rule human lives no-one doubted: 'a sympathy of spirits between them, occasioned perhaps by some secret constellation', in the words of the historian William Camden, writing at the beginning of the seventeenth century. Theirs was a relationship already rooted in history and mythology. And that moment when Elizabeth heard she had come to the throne encapsulated much about their story. If our well-loved picture of Elizabeth's accession is something of a fantasy - if the reality is on the whole more interesting - you might say the same about our traditional picture of her relationship with Robert Dudley.

Mollie, tell me what happened. I haven’t slept in two days.” “Guilty conscience?” “Yes!” he bellowed. “I never should have let you stay in that church so long! I wish I’d thrown you over my shoulder and dragged you to my house that first night.” He tried to wrap his arms around her, but a stiff arm kept him at bay. The expression in her eyes was even worse. “For pity’s sake, talk to me. Scream at me, hit me . . . just quit glaring like that.

How curious that sometimes objects became more beautiful as they weathered the storms and traumas of the world. What caused some wood to rot and decay into nothing, while other pieces of wood became burnished, splendid, and tougher under the relentless assault of the pounding ocean current?

Listen, Mollie, I need to get home and let my parents know I’m alive. Then I am coming back for you. If my home is still standing, I’ll provide a place for you and Frank as long as you need.” “Why would you do that?” She looked a little taken aback, which surprised him. Because he loved her. Because they had just experienced the worst two days imaginable, and the bond that had been forged between them was not something to be tossed away. If Louis Hartman didn’t like it, he would quit. The fire had just taught Zack what was most important in this world, and she was looking straight at him.

Let’s go for a walk, Mollie.” Frank Spencer stiffened, but Mollie’s annoying lawyer spoke in a calm voice. “They say that when a wolf wants to lead a sheep to slaughter, he’ll try to cut her off from the herd where he can do his worst in private.” There was snickering around the firelight as the entire herd moved in to protect the object of his affections. With the grinning faces of several men gloating at him, it would be impossible to sneak Mollie away. Zack turned to her with a pleasant smile on his face. “You know how in mythology the blind man is always the source of great wisdom and insight? Why couldn’t you find one of those blind guys to be friends with?” Frank appeared flattered by the statement. He grinned as he warmed his hands before the brazier.

Amd I am not blind to the fact that I have been given gifts you never had. Living a godly life was expected on me, and it was an easy path for me to follow. No one ever had such expectations of you. For you to embrace the Lord at this point in your life would be nothing short of heroic, Alex. It would take an act of such strength and courage that it would be humbling for all who have ever know you. You can begin building a life of valor today.

The minister’s eyes widened, then dimmed in sorrow. “I’m sorry you have been led to believe that,” he said. “I can’t pretend to say I understand the grief that led your mother to reject the gift of life, but Jesus died on the cross for our sins, and that includes the sin of suicide. And nothing, not even your mother’s own destructive actions, can separate her from God’s eternal love. Do not let thoughts of this cause you to turn away from the gift of the Lord’s light.

Mollie?” He placed his hand on her shoulder, willing her to look at him. “Mollie, let’s go someplace where we can talk,” he said gently. Her entire body stiffened. “I’ve got work to do,” she mumbled. Was it his imagination or did she inch a little closer to the blond man beside her? Zack grasped her elbow and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Mollie, get your backside off that stool and come outside with me. I’ll buy you a pretzel, and you can tan my hide for being late.

Do you know how long I’ve wanted you? You’re like sunlight and water and air to me. All you need do is walk across my line of sight and my whole world lights up.” “You love your crusade more than you love me,” Kate said, her lips trembling. “You’ll kill yourself! You’ll die because you’re too arrogant to think another doctor could work with those patients as well as you.” She stepped forward, bumping against him and grabbing the lapels of his coat. “Please . . . we could be so good together.” He pulled away. “Don’t touch me, Kate. Don’t come near me. I love you, but you don’t know the meaning of the word. You only love when it’s easy, when there are no storm clouds on the horizon.” “Trevor, I’m afraid.” “Of course you’re afraid!” he shouted. “Do you imagine for one second that I’m not? But I won’t give in to it. I would lay down my life for you. I would lay down my life for any one of the thirty-two people lying in those beds upstairs, and I won’t turn my back on them. If I run away from what I’ve been fighting for all my life, then I begin dying. Then my purpose will be over.” She flinched and began straightening her shirt. “I’ve got to get out of here.” “Don’t go.” She twisted away to fumble with the doorknob. He tried to turn her to face him. “Kate, don’t go, please. Stay and fight this out.” She shook him off and fled from the closet as though it were on fire. He braced his hands on the doorframe, watching her dart around the people in the hallway. He wanted to run after her, drag her back into the closet, and plead with her to stay.

He grasped her chin, tilted her face toward him, and kissed her deeply. She was wearing no perfume today, but her skin carried a faint scent that reminded him of apples. It could be because they had been living in an apple orchard, but Michael knew it was simply the way her skin naturally smelled. When he withdrew, he smiled at the attractive flush that darkened her cheeks and made her eyes sparkle. “If you had looked at me like that the first time I saw you,” he murmured, “I would have flung you over my shoulder and carried you off to the nearest church. No man can have a woman look at him like that and not want to marry her.

If Colonel Lowe doesn’t treat you like a goddess, he’ll have me to answer to,” he said gruffly. She mustered a little laugh. “Please, no basket of fish on his desk.” “Trust me, I’ll be far more creative if he hurts you.” The diamond powder weighed in his hands. “You will want this,” he said as he extended the sack to her. “Zack, I don’t want any gifts.” He picked up her hand and pressed it into her palm. “It’s diamond powder. I heard you were in short supply, and Caleb Magruder has a mill that can produce it.” Her eyes widened in surprise, and she peeked inside. It looked as if she was about to cry as she pulled the drawstrings closed. “Zack, I can’t accept this. It wouldn’t be right.” “Take it. What would I do with diamond powder?” He tried to sound light-hearted, as if this glorious woman had not just trampled on the dreams he had been building for three years. She still looked hesitant, which was insane because he knew she craved that diamond powder like a drowning man craved a life raft. He sighed impatiently. “If you don’t take it, I’ll throw it in the lake. You know I will.” She must have believed him, because she relented and accepted the gift. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “Thank you for everything, Zack.” “You deserve it,” he said bluntly. “I’ve never seen anyone work as hard as you.” “Don’t be nice to me,” she said. “I’ll start bawling like a watering pot if you do.” His hand looked big and clumsy against her delicate cheek. He was such a sap where this woman was concerned. Had been from the first time he ever clapped eyes on her. “Don’t shed any tears over me. I’m not worth it.” He had to get out of there before he made a complete fool of himself. Before he fell to his knees and begged her not to fling herself at a man who would never feel a fraction of the soaring love he had for her. Stepping aside and letting Richard Lowe court his woman made his gut tie itself into knots, but it had to be done.

This has nothing to do with Marten. You and I would be unequally yoked.” He blinked, his confusion apparent. “My faith is what makes me who I am,” she said in a shaky voice. “Religion is important to me, and I couldn’t be married to a man who did not share that fundamental belief. You would grow to resent my devotion—” “I said you could teach Pieter the Bible,” he said tightly. “It’s not enough. You would eventually resent the way I lean on my faith. Even now, I can see you getting annoyed, as though if you glower enough it will shake me from this position. And I don’t want to be the only spiritual leader in a family. I would want my husband to help, to back me, and I will resent it if you can’t do that.

There is something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” she said as she handed Zack a bratwurst. It was a little awkward, but if Zack was the man she was going to marry, she needed to know what she was getting into. “Yes?” “That story about the fish. Is it true?” Zack’s grin was roguish. “I don’t know. What have you heard?” “Something about a hundred pounds of fish dumped on a merchant’s fancy desk. Is it true?” Zack took a large bite of his sausage and watched her through laughing eyes as he chewed. How could she consort with a man with such a shocking reputation? She was a safety-and-security girl, and Zack was an untamed force of nature. He finished chewing and sent her a wicked grin. “It was trout,” he said proudly. “And we’ve never had substandard fish palmed off on us since.

Sophie isn’t leaving,” Quentin asserted, his voice pure steel. “That woman sheds grace and light in every room she enters. Any man with a functional brain would try to catch a fragment of that grace and cherish it, rather than push her aside. I’m not sending her away. Were it in my power, I would cut the moon out of the sky and give it to her on a silver platter.” Her notebook dropped from her nerveless fingers, splatting open on the tile floor. Quentin whirled around to see her standing in the doorway. If he was embarrassed to have been overheard, he gave no sign of it. On the contrary, his eyes that had been sparking with anger gentled the instant he saw her. She glanced away, rocked by the protective expression on Quentin’s face. It shot straight to a vulnerable part deep inside and enveloped her with a sense of well-being. No man had ever spoken so passionately on her behalf, and a rush of wild, electrifying emotions stirred inside.

He couldn’t believe his ears. She was rambling on about nonsense, and he needed to put a stop to it. “I don’t want to change you—” She cut him off. “From the day you came to the workshop, you told me I should sell the company and go to the south of France to celebrate. That I should wear my hair down and quit being a howling mass of anxiety. Zack, I don’t want to go to the south of France. I want to turn the clock back and reconstruct my life exactly as it was before the fire. I want my workshop back. I want to make watches and know what is on the schedule for the next day, next month, next year. I need order and stability.” His fist clenched around the leather sack. She was trying to cut him out of her life, and he wouldn’t let her. “And what about Colonel Lowe?” he demanded. “Is Colonel Lowe among the things you want?” She stiffened and couldn’t meet his eyes. “Richard means a lot to me,” she said softly. Richard. So he wasn’t even Colonel Lowe to her. A wave of heat crashed through his body, and he wanted to break something. He stood and stalked a few feet closer to the lake. He couldn’t bear to sit beside Mollie while she talked about another man, but she hadn’t stopped speaking. “Richard and I are very much alike,” she said. “I feel . . . safe with him. I don’t need to change to suit him.” “I don’t want to change you,” he said through clenched teeth. Where did she get these insane ideas? He could feel her slipping away from him, like water dribbling out of his cupped hands, and there was nothing he could do to stop it from draining away. “Please let me go,” she said. “I need to move on with the rest of my life, and I can’t do that with you in it. The notes need to stop. And the visits. I will be forever grateful for what you did for me on the night of the fire, but, Zack . . . that’s all there is. It was gratitude and the temporary rush of insanity because I was glad to be alive. You and I will never work.

Don Quixote

In 1543 the historian John Leland wrote, for example: A Stately place for rare and glorious shew There is, which Tamis with wandring stream doth dowse; Times past, by name of Avon men it knew: Here Henrie, the Eighth of that name, built a house So sumptuous, as that on such an one (Seeke through the world) the bright Sunne never shone. Leland’s words were quoted in the exhaustive history of Britain published by William Camden, Ben Jonson’s tutor. So the description would certainly have been known to Jonson. In another work, Leland explained that “Avon” was a shortening of the Celtic-Roman name “Avondunum,” meaning a fortified place (dunum) by a river (avon), which “the common people by corruption called Hampton.” Raphael Holinshed similarly wrote in his sprawling 1577 book of British history, Chronicles, that “we now pronounce Hampton for Avondune.” William Lambarde in his Topographical and Historical Dictionary of England affirmed that Hampton Court is “corruptly called Hampton for Avondun or Avon, an usual

This isn’t bad at all. But how do we convince Connie Johnson that we’re a big London gang?’ Ron motions to himself, offended. ‘I just show up, don’t I? Whack on a suit. Tell ’em I’m Billy Baxter or Jimmy Jackson, down from Camden. Flash the tattoos, flash the diamonds.’ ‘Hmmm,’ says Elizabeth. ‘I’m not sure that gangsters have Chairman Mao tattoos,’ says Joyce.

You’re still alive because God has plans for you, even if we don’t understand what they are yet.

You look at a neighborhood like this and see a slum. I see the garden I was meant to tend.

Her laughter rippled out over the gloomy landscape like a ray of gilded sunshine.

oh, darling, don't you understand that there is something deep inside every woman that longs for a courageous, steady man she can't intimidat? Nathaniel has my back. He is my foundation. We seem like complete opposites, but we fly together in tandem.

between 1586 and 1607, the historian William Camden wrote that the “small market-town” of Stratford-upon-Avon owed “all its consequences to two natives of it. They are John de Stratford, later archbishop of Canterbury, who built the church, and Hugh Clopton, later mayor of London, who built the Clopton Bridge across the Avon.” Camden was clearly aware of the poet Shakespeare—he referred to him elsewhere as one of “the most pregnant wits of our time”—but he apparently did not regard Stratford as the poet’s origin.

The playwright Christopher Marlowe was born into similar circumstances—his father was a shoemaker—but Marlowe’s early signs of genius did not go unnoticed, and he won a scholarship to the King’s School, followed by another scholarship to Cambridge. Other playwrights, such as Thomas Nashe, George Peele, and Robert Greene, earned university scholarships, too. Ben Jonson, who attended the Westminster School, wrote an epigram acknowledging his debt to William Camden

Even in these darkest of hours, she knew that Jesus had not abandoned her. Her life was unfolding as God wished it to, and she must not yield to the soul-destroying effects of despair. “Well,

I can build things to make life better for the people around me. And when I do that, I feel God smiling on me.

Once something is lost in a library, the odds of finding it again are minuscule.

Pieces of paper with words and lines on them have the ability to change the world,

To date you have displayed the manners of a common wood tick, but I live in hope. Sincerely,

If her artist's eye had given her nothing else, it taught her to see beauty where few others noticed it.

Zack leaned over to whisper in her ear. “It’s true, Mollie,” he said. “Everything that man said is true. Tomorrow we begin rebuilding. Playing music. Dancing. I promise you.

He hoped her dreams were peaceful, for in a few moments she would awaken to the catastrophe that had befallen her. Could he persuade her to return home with him? Rumor had it that everything west of the river was untouched by the fire, which meant his townhouse had survived. He wanted to extend the protection of his home to Mollie. Never had he seen a woman as brave as she had been for the last thirty-six hours, and it confirmed what he had believed about her all along. She was worth fighting for, and he wanted her to be a part of his life.

No!” She yanked it away, curling protectively around it. He felt like she had slapped him. “What do you think I am going to do, snatch it and throw it in the lake?” he demanded in an angry voice. She took a step back, and he followed. “Do you?” “Shhhh!” she said in a fierce whisper. “People are still sleeping!” He stepped closer, his face inches from hers. “And I am dying here because a woman I have hankered after for years just kicked me in the teeth. Again.” Mollie blanched. “Why do you keep talking like that? We barely know each other!” He was mad enough to spit fire. “I couldn’t court a woman who did business with Hartman’s,” he ground out. “That was the quickest route for me to get canned, but after the fire, I don’t care anymore about rules. You are a woman I want in my life, but my hand to God, if you keep accusing me of trying to swindle you, I am liable to combust.” Her eyes narrowed in distrust, and he was smart enough to know that blasted scrap of paper was going to be a wedge between them forever unless he could figure a way to dispose of it. He settled his hands on her shoulders. “Mollie, you have a piece of paper. In the coming years, the court system in this city is going to be swamped with a legal quagmire the likes of which this country has never seen before. With the archives of the courthouse in ashes, there is no way to prove the legitimacy of that deed.” “No way to disprove it either.” “Exactly.” He turned her around and cupped the side of her face. He tried using a gentle pressure to nudge her face up to look at him, but she resisted. “Mollie, I have cared about you for years. I have made a great study of Mollie Knox and the way she runs her business, but you know nothing about me. I suppose it is not fair for me to expect you to trust me when I’ve never been more than the man signing off on your quarterly revenue statements. Come live at my house. Bring Frank. Heaven help me, you can even bring Sophie, but come. I can’t stand the thought of you shivering in that church. No matter what it takes, I intend to earn your trust, and after that, you’d better put an armed guard around your heart, because I plan on winning you and folding you into my life. Fair warning, woman.” Mollie squinted at something over his shoulder, and Zack realized she had not been paying attention to a single word he’d said.

Mollie, come home with me now,” he said. “The fire didn’t jump the river, and that means I’ve got a home with plenty of food and fresh water. Come home with me.

She must not cry in front of all these men. They would think her a useless watering pot unworthy of her father’s inheritance. Everything went blurry as she turned away, trying to hide the tears. Colonel Lowe bent down to peek beneath her lowered head, a trace of humor on his strong face. “Tears? We’ve come all the way across the state to meet the famous Miss Mollie Knox, and all she has for us are tears?” She swiped them away. “It is just that I have felt so overwhelmed. It has been a difficult few weeks.” “Then those are the last tears you will shed from being overwhelmed,” he said. Colonel Lowe’s face was a blend of kindness and humor as he smiled at her. “We will not leave this city until your factory is rebuilt and you are once again producing the world’s most magnificent watches.

I was born into a family of swinging fists and bellowing voices, but when I opened the pages of a book I found men of valor. To anyone watching, it probably looked like I was reading a book in the front room of my father's house, but I was really in Paris, fighting alongside the three musketeers. Or twenty thousand leagues under the sea, or racing around the world in eighty days. They led me to the Holy Grail and to the Sermon on the Mount. Reading was my liberation, my Magna Carta, from hopelessness and tyranny.

Now," Gertrude said as soon as they were seated, "tell me what's got you so upset, and don't bother denying it because I've known you too long not to recognize the anxiety radiating off you.

This is a library," she said, trying to calm her heart to a normal rate. "We generally try to avoid howling like banshees.

One of them is clearly wrong, and I'm not the type to let things go.

Libby gasped as two hands clamped around her waist. In a mighty heave Mr. Dobrescu hoisted her into the air and spun her around as he carried her from the room. So tightly did he clasp her, Libby could not even draw a breath. “I told you not to speak with her,” Dobrescu snapped. He kicked the bedroom door shut, then tossed Libby back on her feet. The hallway whirled and she braced her hand against the wall to regain her balance.

Are you pulling my leg?” she asked. “Can you really dissect fragrances just by a simple sniff?” He looked befuddled. “Yes, I can tell exactly what is in almost any fragrance, but I am not pulling your leg. I have not touched your leg or any part of your body. I would not do so after the last time you were here and I treated you badly.” He was utterly serious, and Libby had to stifle a laugh as she passed the cake of soap back to him. “I apologize. Pulling my leg is a figure of speech, not something to be taken literally. I was asking if you are teasing me.” Understanding dawned in his eyes. “Ah. I see. Well, Miss Liberty Sawyer, you seem like the type of person I would like to tease were I free to do so, but I was not teasing you. I think you are a much better artist than the person who painted this soap label. He obviously wanted something pretty, but I think you would want something accurate. Am I right?” She nodded. “You are right.

Those stormy blue eyes glowered at her, staring rudely at her smartly matching vest and tie and skimming all the way down to her tightly laced boots. “What kind of name is Liberty?” he asked. “It is not a proper name for a woman, it is a concept. A noun.” She didn’t quite know what to say. She had always been fond of her unconventional name. “It is a perfectly good name.” “I don’t like it.” His statement was blunt and completely unnecessary. “Apparently, they do not teach manners in Romania, but in Massachusetts we wait until formal introductions are complete before hurling insults and seizing houses.

I am Michael Dobrescu, and I apologize for speaking harshly to you. But do not talk to my children or my sister when I am not here,” he said and held his hand out. Libby thought he meant to shake her hand, but when she extended it, he bowed low and brought it to his lips. She snatched her hand back. Well that was a European practice she was not accustomed to. She was thrown off guard and twisted her hand where his lips had touched.

Why do you dress like a man?” he asked. That made her pause. She glanced down at her smart little suit, the one that always made her feel so sharp. “I don’t dress like a man,” she denied. “I dress in a clean and respectable manner.” His comment hurt, but she would not retaliate. It would be unkind to comment on the battered leather pants he wore or the strange shirts of his children that fell almost to their knees. “No, you definitely dress like a man,” he said. “And your hair is so tightly bound . . . like you don’t want anyone to see it. All of this looks very mannish to me.” She could not let him keep insulting her. Long ago she’d learned that if she did not stand up for herself, the belittling could go on endlessly. “So, you don’t like my name and you don’t like the way I dress or wear my hair. Mr. Dobrescu, is there anything pleasant you can say about me?” He considered the question. Was it her imagination, or did he just sway slightly closer to her? He closed his eyes and he appeared lost in thought, as though he was struggling very hard to come up with something nice to say. At last, he raised his eyes to hers. “I like the way your hair smells.” Her eyes widened in surprise. “My hair?” she repeated stupidly. “Yes.” He leaned forward again and breathed deeply. She took a step back, but the brute followed, sniffing at her in a vulgar display of poor comportment. “I like this scent very much,” he said.

Why don’t you call me Michael,” Mr. Dobrescu said. “You will damage your throat if you keep mangling our name.

She was stunned when he suddenly pushed off the sofa and knelt on one knee before her. “Libby, you have no cause to help me,” he said in an earnest voice. “I have been nothing but trouble to you and your family, but does that mean we are destined to be enemies in all things? Because I think you are a woman of great quality. I watch you march into town armed with nothing but the strength of your compassion for a family in need. You are smart and courageous, and I find this very attractive.

She cast a worried glance at Michael, but a grin had split his face wide open. “You look like a frightened mouse. A little rain will feel good in this heat.