KENTWOOD CHRONICLES BOOK 2
A SLOW-BURN, AGE-GAP, OPPOSITES-ATTRACT ROMANCE
A grieving scholar teams up with a fun-loving librarian to solve a century-old mystery. On paper, they make no sense. In person, they’re history in the making.
What to expect:
- A loose adaptation of Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility
- A nine-year age gap (he’s 34, she’s 25)
- Clumsy attempts at flirting in a foreign language
- A dastardly rival
- A lovable stray cat
- And, of course, an HEA
And the Rest is History: Excerpt
Chapter 1
Allison
From: a.ambrose@kpl.org
Subject: Re: Change of plans
Dear Dr. Matuschek,
What do you mean your sabbatical research project has been hijacked?! What about the nineteenth-century Hungarian cement-plant workers? Huddled over their goulash in bedbug-infested boarding houses? Pounding plum brandy in rowdy company-town saloons? Will no one think of the Hungarian cement-plant workers?!
Allison Ambrose
Research Librarian
Kentwood Public Library
From: t.matuschek@benton.edu
Subject: Re: Change of plans
Dear Ms. Ambrose,
I’m just as heartbroken as you are. And I should be offended that you seem to know only two things about Hungarians, but that’s one more thing than most people, so actually I’m impressed.
Dr. Tamás Matuschek
Assistant Professor of History
Benton State University
From: a.ambrose@kpl.org
Subject: Re: Change of plans
Dear Dr. Matuschek,
There are SOME people who would think solving a century-old mystery in order to wrest Missouri farmland out of the hands of an evil multinational corporation is more EXCITING than the plight of Hungarian cement-plant workers, but they would be WRONG.
Allison Ambrose
Research Librarian
Kentwood Public Library
From: t.matuschek@benton.edu
Subject: Re: Change of plans
Dear Ms. Ambrose,
You know it and I know it. My clients don’t agree, unfortunately. But I’m not abandoning the cement-plant workers; I’m just dividing my attention between them and our mystery family.
Dr. Tamás Matuschek
Assistant Professor of History
Benton State University
From: a.ambrose@kpl.org
Subject: Re: Change of plans
Are your clients paying you at least?
P.S. I also know about the paprika.
Allison Ambrose
Research Librarian
Kentwood Public Library
From: t.matuschek@benton.edu
Subject: Re: Change of plans
Well done you. And yes.
Dr. Tamás Matuschek
Assistant Professor of History
Benton State University
From: a.ambrose@kpl.org
Subject: Re: Change of plans
Are they paying ME?
Allison Ambrose
Research Librarian
Kentwood Public Library
From: t.matuschek@benton.edu
Subject: Re: Change of plans
Yes. Someone from the firm of Snyder & Luebbering will be in touch shortly to negotiate your fee. This is assuming, of course, that you can actually provide certified translations of any German documents we find and aren’t just catfishing me.
Dr. Tamás Matuschek
Assistant Professor of History
Benton State University
From: a.ambrose@kpl.org
Subject: Re: Change of plans
I would never!
Allison Ambrose
Research Librarian
Kentwood Public Library
From: t.matuschek@benton.edu
Subject: Re: Change of plans
And if you use AI, you won’t get a cent.
Dr. Tamás Matuschek
Assistant Professor of History
Benton State University
From: a.ambrose@kpl.org
Subject: Re: Change of plans
You sound like an awfully strict professor, Dr. Matuschek.
Allison Ambrose
Research Librarian
Kentwood Public Library
From: t.matuschek@benton.edu
Subject: Re: Change of plans
You better believe it.
Dr. Tamás Matuschek
Assistant Professor of History
Benton State University
I giggle at this last message and settle back into my friend Meg’s couch to craft an appropriate response. Although appropriate is hardly the right word. I’m playing a risky game. I know absolutely nothing about Dr. Tamás Matuschek, Assistant Professor of History at Benton State University, except for the following:
1. He’s planning to relocate from Hopkinsville, Missouri to my small town of Kentwood – about an hour and a half north – to conduct research on the turn-of-the-century Hungarian employees of a local cement plant;
2. He was recently contacted by a descendant of a certain Reuben Lambert, who in 1891 may or may not have been robbed of land now owned by Arcadion, the aforementioned evil multinational corporation;
3. His German is passable, but not good enough to provide accurate translations of documents pertaining to Helena Gernsheimer, a German immigrant and Reuben Lambert’s mother;
4. He’s a killer flirt.
He probably has three hairs on his head. He probably has yellow teeth, a beer belly, and breath that smells like stale cigarettes. Even if he doesn’t, anyone old enough to be a professor is certainly too old for me. Hopefully, when he arrives in Kentwood next week, Dr. Tamás Matuschek won’t expect to jump into bed with me, because I’ll probably have to disappoint him. Then we’ll still have to work together and I’ll have shat where I eat six months into my first research librarian position. But I’ve got to think that, like me, he gets bored at work around 2:00 PM and just wants to slap himself awake with a little harmless banter. And maybe, like me, he realizes that it’s the risk of disaster that makes this so much fun.
“If you’re not going to watch,” my best friend, Kayla, chastises me, “you could at least turn down your volume. The soundtrack of Sense and Sensibility doesn’t need to be punctuated by your clickety-clickety-clacking.”
“Sorry,” I whisper and silence my phone. Kayla is squished next to me on the couch, paying much better attention to the Regency romance our monthly movie club is watching. It used to be a book club, but the moms in the group were too tired and their tastes too varied to commit to reading actual books. Instead, we get together after kid bedtime to binge rom-coms, drink beer, and raid each other’s snack cabinets. Pajamas are required; watching the movie is not. Meg is currently talking to my sister-in-law, Hannah, about how contagious ringworm is really; three other friends are discussing whether they should collectively take over Kentwood’s city council. Ringworm and revolt are social, though, unlike falling into your phone when you’re supposed to be hanging out with friends.
“What did I miss?” I ask, shifting my attention back to the TV.
“Marianne is sick,” Kayla mutters.
“Yeah? Did she walk in the rain? Have a baby? That shit’ll kill you in the nineteenth century.”
Kayla turns to me and raises an eyebrow. “When, exactly, did you stop paying attention?”
“When it became clear that she wasn’t going to marry the hot guy.”
“Colonel Brandon is the hot guy,” Kayla sighs in exasperation. I squint at the screen, where a middle-aged man with the beginning of a beer belly is fretting and pining while an attractive young woman is threatening to die from what is likely a totally treatable illness.
“That guy? He’s the old guy. The young guy – Willoughby? – is the hot guy.”
“No, Willoughby is the one who rides around the countryside jilting everyone, including her, which is why she’s sick.”
“Right, I forgot that a broken heart can be just as deadly as a drop of rain. Still, I think Willoughby is just misunder– ooh!” Another email from Dr. Matuschek pops up on my phone.
“Speaking of old guys.” Kayla rolls her eyes indulgently. Ever since my Secret Scholar, as she calls him, reached out to me earlier this year, Kayla has teased me about how the simplest query – about, say, Kentwood Public Library’s collections, databases, or facilities – quickly devolves into reckless flirtation. But even though I refuse to tell her who he is – we both went to the university where he teaches, and while I don’t recognize his name, she might – I strongly suspect that she’s rooting for him. Outwardly, she officially disapproves of shitting where you eat. Inwardly, she would love it if I ended up with a pining, beer-bellied, middle-aged old guy. Kayla hates the men I usually date, who are much more likely to spend a year adding to their collection of neck tattoos than burrowing into public library archives.
I chuckle incredulously at Dr. Matuschek’s latest message. “I don’t think this one was intended for me,” I tell her. “Listen.” I read it aloud, leaving off the signature, of course.
From: t.matuschek@benton.edu
Subject: Re: Change of plans
Dear Mr. Fletcher and Mr. Dorsey,
Word has reached me that one or both of you may have been romantically involved with a Ms. Garner while the three of you were instructors at the Junior Historians Academy this summer. Given that she is an undergraduate enrolled in Dr. Webb’s class this fall and that you are both employed as his teaching assistants, I have to remind you of the university’s policy on amorous relationships. According to Benton State’s Code of Conduct, an amorous relationship between a university employee and a student is prohibited when the employee is responsible for supervising the student or grading their work.
I am not accusing you of any misconduct and I apologize if, in fact, you had no relationship with Ms. Garner. Enjoy the rest of your summer, and for questions on this matter or your courses of study, please don’t hesitate to reach out to Dr. Webb during my absence.
Dr. Tamás Matuschek
Assistant Professor of History
Benton State University
“Just tell him,” Kayla prompts automatically, like the responsible grown-up she is. “Tell him he made a mistake.”
I flash her a mischievous grin. “Who knew Benton State was such a den of iniquity? I don’t remember any teacher-student love triangles when we were there. Dare me to write ‘pics or didn’t happen’?”
Kayla suppresses a smile. “Alli. He’s just trying to do his job. You never should have seen that. Try to maintain some level of professional decorum.”
“I’m extremely professional,” I retort. But I’m sorely tempted to find out more about Ms. Garner’s Junior Historical Academy hijinks, especially since my own real-life love life continues to disappoint. Is Mr. Dorsey rakish but exciting, capable of spicing up her nights after days spent corralling middle-school historians? Is Mr. Fletcher dull but supportive, eager to help her on her path to becoming – what? A social studies teacher?
Or should I see what happens if I say that Ms. Garner seems like a very bad girl who needs to be taken firmly in hand?
Maybe it’s the movie-club beer talking, but I like Option B. Before I can reply, though, Dr. Matuschek slides into my inbox again.
From: t.matuschek@benton.edu
Subject: Re: Change of plans
Dear Ms. Ambrose,
Please disregard my last message. You were obviously not the intended recipient. I’d be grateful if you deleted it to protect the privacy of those involved.
P.S. You can see, though, that I am indeed very strict.
Dr. Tamás Matuschek
Assistant Professor of History
Benton State University
“Ooh!” I squeal and promptly read this latest morsel aloud to Kayla, whose jaw drops.
“Well, at least you two are on the same page,” she says with a chuckle. “I think this is the best relationship you’ve had in months.”
“It’s not a relationship,” I fire back quickly. “It’s a… friendly correspondence.”
“Very friendly,” Kayla corrects. “What are you going to write back?”
“Something professional and innuendo-free. Don’t worry.”
From: a.ambrose@kpl.org
Subject: Re: Change of plans
Message received (and deleted), Dr. Matuschek. And I promise to be on my very best behavior when you’re here.
Allison Ambrose
Research Librarian
Kentwood Public Library