“No, no, come on in.” As I ushered them toward the tree, I noticed more people in the hall behind them. I mouthed to Morrie to deal with my mother and the bloody cat, plastered on my best customer service smile, and went out to speak to my customers. Self-consciously, I touched my hand to my hair. I’d tried to create a festive look by pinning a string of tinsel through my hair, but several of my sparkly bobby pins had disappeared, so my ‘do kept drooping.
“Look at these lovely Christmas storybooks!” a woman cooed, picking one up from the display.
“And these leatherbound editions.” A man wearing a hideous Christmas sweater peered at a set of the complete works of Jane Austen. “This is the perfect gift for my wife.”
“These decorations are lovely.” Cynthia Lachlan fingered the strings of tinsel I’d used to line the bookshelves in the hall. “I must get some for Lachlan House. It’s great to see Nevermore Bookshop finally embracing the Christmas spirit.”
I glowed with their praise. Ever since I started working here, I’d wanted everyone in Argleton to realize Nevermore Bookshop was special and magical, and that its surly proprietor was actually a big soft teddy bear on the inside. If I could make the first thing happen, then surely the second was right around the corner?
The gifts piled up under the tree as more and more villagers filed into the shop. Morrie managed to wrangle my mother into working the ancient till, and she chatted merrily with customers as she upsold them on expensive wrapping paper and ‘Bedazzled Gift Caddies,’ whatever those were. Quoth perched on Morrie’s shoulder, tugging books from the shelves with his beak and handing them to customers while Morrie talked up the merits of giving the gift of reading this Christmas. Heathcliff and Bertie remained locked in the office, which was probably for the best since I’d never seen the shop this full. Grimalkin was still wriggling on the catnip-soaked rug. My stomach flipped in a giddy, happy dance.
As I helped a little boy find a place under the tree, Tabitha O’Shea walked in. Tabitha was a posh friend of Cynthia Lachlan, and she looked the part today in a figure-hugging coat of fine cashmere, leather trousers, and Louboutin heels. Her husband was a diplomat and was usually overseas on business, so Tabitha filled her time by sinking her perfectly-manicured nails into a million community projects (and also, according to Mrs. Ellis, several of the community’s eligible bachelors). She volunteered at the housing estate youth center with Mum as well as at the animal shelter with Quoth, and she was also responsible for organizing the charity tree every year. “Mina, I can’t tell you how happy we are that you’re in charge of the charity tree this year.” Tabitha beamed, clutching my hands as she gazed at the mounting present stack and majestic tree in awe. “Nevermore Bookshop has never participated before, but I can already see this will be the best tree yet. Those animals are going to be so spoiled thanks to the town’s generosity.”
“Thanks. I was worried the tree was a little too big, but everyone seems to be loving it.”
“Nonsense. A Christmas tree can never be too big, and yours is simply majestic!” She circled the tree – well, as much of the tree as one could circle without crashing into a wall – and fingered Mum’s glitzy baubles. “And those decorations! They’re absolutely stunning. It's a Christmas wonderland in here. It will be the perfect location for the calendar photo shoot!”
“The… what?”
“Didn’t I tell you?” Her eyes sparkled. “Every year the village puts together a charity calendar for the New Year. Local personalities are the models for each month, and we pose them in front of the charity tree or with different Christmas-themed props. All the businesses contribute props and logo-ed G-strings. It’s all good, harmless fun. We’ve booked the shoot. We’ve got a famous photographer coming all the way from London – Roland Crabapple.”
“RolandCrabappleis shooting the Christmas calendar?” I nearly choked. I knew his work from my fashion industry days. He was famous for shooting the more… shall we say,risquéeditorials and celebrity BDSM parties. “Is this calendar going to be… PG?”
“Oh, of course, of course! Just a little bare chest, maybe a few cheeky cheeks. A little something to titillate the Argleton housewives.” Tabitha glanced around the room, her eyes resting on my mother behind the desk. “I was actually wondering if I could talk to Mr. Heathcliff. I thought he’d like to model—”
“HELL NO!” Heathcliff bellowed from behind the closed office door.
How did he hear her?Heathcliff must have supersonic hearing when it came to people suggesting his involvement in Christmas community events.
“Don’t mind him.” Morrie materialized at my side, grinning that dangerously sexy smile of his. “Heathcliff may be one hot piece of ass, but he’s basically the sexy Grinch who stole Christmas. He’s the last person you’d want on your calendar. I, on the other hand, would be happy to assist…”
Tabitha looked Morrie up and down, biting her lower lip in barely-concealed lust. What Morrie lacked in Heathcliff’s imposing bulk and muscle, he more than made up with his impressive height, wiry muscles tense with excited energy, and those glacier eyes that seemed to strip any woman bare.
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Tabitha purred. “And who are you?”
“James Moriarty, at your service.” Morrie took a deep bow. “I’m Heathcliff’s flatmate, and the only thing I like more than taking my clothes off for a good cause is making sure I do everything I can to be on Santa’s naughty list.”
“Oh, yes. You’ll do nicely.” Tabitha ran her manicured nails along Morrie’s arm. “I’m sure I must’ve mentioned the shoot to you, Mina. It’s all been arranged. Roland’s booked to come up from London, and he wants to start the shoot day after tomorrow at 7AM sharp to capture the early morning light. That means we’ll have to at the shop at 5AM to set up the lights and get everything ready.” Her shoulders sagged. “Oh, no. That’s really too early to ask you to accommodate us when your friends live upstairs.”
“Kinda, yeah.” My eyes flicked to the closed office door. 5AM? Not bloody likely. Not Christmas Eve, the morning after the village Christmas market. I planned to get very drunk on hot toddies, stay over at the bookshop, and shag my boyfriends all night.
Morrie gestured to his body. “Sorry, luv. All ofthisneeds eight hours solid shut-eye.”
Tabitha lowered her gaze. “Forget I said anything. We’ll find another location for the shoot. Perhaps Richard over at the Rose & Wimple pub will let us use the pool room—”
An idea occurred to me. “Not to worry.” I dug into my pocket and produced my shop key. “I’ll give you this. It unlocks the front door. Just let yourselves in and do what you have to do, then return it to me when we drag ourselves out of bed.”
Tabitha’s face brightened. “Are you sure? We won’t disturb you?”
“Nah, we sleep pretty soundly.”Especially after all the alcohol and shagging.
She eyed the table with the nativity scene. “Can we move a few things around? Roland will love the tree – he’s obsessed with foliage, but he’ll want to get the lighting just right. Even with all the lamps, it’s a very dark shop.”
“Don’t I know it.” Even with the lamps blazing all day, I still tripped over things and banged into shelves. “Sure. Just put everything back before you leave. Bring some tape to make a note of the furniture alignment, because if the table is even a few inches from where it should be…”
Tabitha’s gaze settled on Heathcliff’s locked office door. She gulped. “I promise. Thank you, Mina. It means a lot to me, and the village, how much you’ve turned this shop around.”
A lump rose in my throat. I came back to Argleton in a cloud of shame and depression after I got my diagnosis and lost my amazing fashion industry job. I felt like a failure, and I’d wanted so bad to prove that I could make a success ofsomethingin my life. To know that the work I’d done at Nevermore had been noticed and appreciated made me choke up. “That means a lot. I honestly thought I’d hate being back in Argleton, but actually it’s—Grimalkin,no!”
