My hand flew to my purse. I kept my father’s letter inside my wallet, and I found myself fingering it every time I felt stressed or upset. Right now, I was stressed as fuck about the event tonight. I still didn’t have any answers about who my father was or why he’d left me and Mum, but just knowing that somewhere in time he still existed, and he still thought about me, calmed me.
“Right, then.” I pointed at Quoth. “You, put on your human suit. I need you to move furniture, set up chairs, and hang your artwork on every spare wall in the Events room.”
Quoth fluttered over to perch on the edge of the desk. A moment later, a very naked and harried-looking man leaned over the desk, wiping a strand of shampoo-commercial perfect black hair from his eyes. “You want my artwork—”
“On the walls, yes. This is going to be the most people we’ve had in the store ever. I want your pieces front and center.” Quoth’s terrified expression made me pause. I leaned in and brushed my lips against his, trying to assure him that it would be okay. I pointed to Morrie. “You – you’re on customer duty. I don’t have time to field a single query about how to find the History section or get into an argument about whether J. K. Rowling’s best book wasLord of the Rings. I’ve got too much to do—”
“Speaking of time-wasters,” Morrie smiled, his eyes on the window. “I see one arriving now, wearing a look of determination that suggests our ‘CLOSED’ sign will be thoroughly ignored.”
Quoth’s hot and naked human body disappeared in a cloud of feathers just as the bell tinkled. A moment later, my old high school English teacher Mrs. Ellis appeared in front of the desk. Without a word of greeting, she upturned her purse onto the desk, spilling a stack of brightly-colored travel pamphlets on top of my ledger.
“Mina, help me!” she wailed. “I can’t decide what to do!”
Chapter Three
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Ellis. You know I’m always happy to help with your craft projects, but I just don’t have time today. I’ve got so much to do before tonight’s event.” Guilt flared in my heart, but I pushed it down as I leaned over to jab Morrie in the arm. “Mr. Moriarty will help you with whatever you need.”
“Yeah, I can help.” Morrie picked up one of the brochures, admiring an image of a tanned Mediterranean man wearing a toothy grin, white Speedos, and about ten gallons of baby oil. “Are you making your own swimsuit calendar again? I’ve got this computer program that can do photo manipulations. We could scan these and remove the swimming trunks, no problem—”
“Don’t tempt me, young man.” Mrs. Ellis snatched the brochure from his fingers. “I can’t be distracted by the thought of what’s under his trunks. I have a time-sensitive issue and it requires a woman’s input. Mina, you must help me! There’s no one in my life with your level of discerning taste.”
I sighed. It was clear that I wasn’t going to get rid of Mrs. Ellis until I’d helped her with her problem. I picked up a brochure, admiring yet another picture of a buff Greek man in a Speedo standing on the deck of an enormous cruise ship. The brochure was advertising holidays in the Greek islands.
“Are you going on holiday, Mrs. Ellis?”
“I certainly am! I’ve always wanted to take a cruise, and there’s no time like the present, while England is still all cold and miserable. The only thing is, I need to place a deposit at the travel agent today, and I can’t decide where to go!”
“Where do you get the money for a cruise like this?” Morrie asked. “Are you running an underground gambling ring or international Ponzi scheme we don’t know about?”
“Not everyone is a criminal mastermind,” I shot back. “Mrs. Ellis probably saved her money like a normal person—”
“Heavens, no,” Mrs. Ellis clucked, as she opened out a full-page poster of a cruise liner sailing across a superimposed image of a shirtless man. “I’ve never saved a pound in my life. I spent every last shilling on wine and shoes and gifts for accommodating young men. But just this week I’ve had a lovely windfall! That nice Mr. Lachlan came to me last week and offered me a vast sum for my tiny flat. I’ve decided to take him up on it. I’ll be able to take my cruise, with enough money left over to buy a smaller house across the village, and some left over after that to stuff into a lucky young gentleman’s g-string.”
Morrie and I exchanged a glance. Six weeks ago, the developer Grey Lachlan had visited the shop. He made Heathcliff an offer on Nevermore – at least four times what the bookshop was actually worth. Of course, there was no way Heathcliff could sell the shop with a time-traveling room on the third floor and a bunch of unsolved mysteries and the possibility of random fictional characters popping in at any moment, so he’d said no. The whole conversation had been a little weird, actually. Grey didn’t like being told no. He kept offering more money and saying the weirdest things – it almost sounded as though he was threatening us.
Grey hadn’t returned to the shop since, but it worried me that he purchased Mrs. Ellis’ flat across the road. Whatreallywas his plan for Argleton, and how did Nevermore fit in?
“Since when is Mr. Lachlan a ‘nice young man’?” I asked. “According to you and Mrs. Scarlett, he was ruining this village with his King’s Cross development.”
“Oh, Mina,” Mrs. Ellis waved her hand. “Such an old-fashioned attitude. We can’t stand in the way of progress, can we?”
Of course we can’t, not when we can all get a nice fat cheque and a holiday to Greece out of the deal,I thought but didn’t say.
“Are you sure you don’t want to think about this? You’ve lived in that flat for a long time. What would your late husband think if you sold it—”
“Of course I don’t want to think about it,” Mrs. Ellis scoffed. “And I don’t care for Ronald’s opinion, not after he upped and died on me, leaving me without a man to remove spiders from the shower or keep me warm at night. The only thing I want to think about is whether I should be cruising around Australia with strapping Crocodile Dundee blokes, or swanning about the Amalfi coast with oiled Greek gods?”
“Okay… well…” I shuffled around the brochures until I came across a particular handsome Greek. I held it under the desk lamp and squinted until I could make out the small print underneath the heading, which specifically stated the cruise was ideal for seniors. I held it up for her. “This looks like the man for you.”
“Oooh, hello, gorgeous.” Mrs. Ellis kissed the brochure, leaving a smudge of bright blue lipstick across the Greek god’s face. “Yes, I think you’ve cracked it. I knew I could count on you.”
“You’re welcome. Will you be coming to the reading tonight?”
“I’ll drop by with the ladies from my knitting club.” Mrs. Ellis skipped toward the door. “I might leave early, though. I’ve got to pack my bags. I’m leaving in a few days. Oh, and shop for a swimsuit. And learn the Greek for, ‘buy me a drink, handsome’.”
As the front door slammed shut, Heathcliff’s brooding face appeared on the staircase. “I know you think you run this shop now, but that doesn’t mean you can open early.”
“We aren’t open yet. That was Mrs. Ellis. You know how much attention she pays to signage.”
