Prologue

Sophie unfolded the letter for what must be the hundredth time, the creases nearly ripping from folding and unfolding and folding again, the paper worn to an almost silky finish.

My dearest Sophia,

By the time you read this, I will be winging my way to Japan.

Or possibly Patagonia. No matter.

My destination, however, is nothing compared to the adventure on which you are about to embark. My wishes have always been few – to live comfortably, to see the world, to take a lover or two, and to see my favorite great-niece break out of her staid life and live a little.

I hope I have given you the tools you need to do just that.

Hay-on-Wye has been my home for years and years, my farmhouse my refuge, and my bookstore my favorite place on earth. I hope you find it the same. I'm so proud of all you have accomplished in your life, but I long for you to see the world a bit, rather than sitting at a desk writing that never-ending dissertation of yours.

And so, as we discussed (or should I say when I COERCED), you are now on your way to Hay to take over my life, as it were, while I try on another one. Enjoy the house, help yourself to the car, change anything you'd like at Belletristic, just make a go of it, love. Matthew can help you with the shop, and the village is full of the best souls on earth. You'll never meet a stranger, I promise you. And if you do, tell them who your favorite Auntie is – that will set them to rights.

As you well know, I never had children of my own, and so I have always thought of you as my adopted child – the one I love to smile with, talk to, and spoil shamelessly. Though we have lived on opposite continents for our entire lives, I think of you as a kindred spirit, and there's no one else to whom I would entrust to babysit my life while I flee my own to see new places. But as I hope you soon see, America isn't so different from Wales in the day to day life – besides which, you certainly spent enough time here as a child. You are as British as the people who live here, so just remember that when they make fun of your accent (and trust that they will, my love).

Alright, lecture over. I know getting on that plane, leaving your own life behind, must have been a bit frightening. But I hope the life you find in Wales will suit you just as well as any other life back home. I can't wait to hear of your adventures, of your accomplishments, of the changes with the bookstore, with how you enjoy the farm, and whether you take a lover or two of your own.

(I may be old, but I'm not dead, darling.)

Enjoy this time, and I can't wait to hear about all of it! My great-niece, I love you so!

Love,

Auntie Barbara xo

Sophie exhaled a deep breath, smiling a small smile as she could practically hear Auntie Barbara's rich voice reverberating in her ear.

And then, the icy dread gripped her heart again – what in the holy hell was she THINKING, jetting off like this?

Flying off to Britain, leaving graduate school (okay, dissertation writing which has been languishing for a long, LONG time) behind, and she didn't even want to think about James…

Sophie exhaled again, slowly this time, remembering a breathing technique from yoga class. In and out, in and out…

It was going to be okay.

It was just books and green fields and people who spoke English – just like Indiana.

It was going to be fine.

As the plane began to descend into Cardiff, Sophie shut her eyes against the panic of her decision to leave her life behind and "try on another"…

This was going to be a disaster.

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