She tried to fight him as he grabbed her hand, hissing that someone would see; strangely, he didn’t care.
Fin wasn’t sure what was going on with him, but he wanted to be close to her. For now, he ran with it.
“Hello!”
“Shit,” Maggs muttered, trying to shake off Fin’s hand and failing as Mr. Goldhirsh and his cycling buddies pulled up at the curb.
They dismounted, but only Mr. Goldhirsh lifted his bike onto the sidewalk, then placed it onto one of the bike stands that had suddenly appeared around town.
“They haven’t always been there,” Maggs said, briefly distracted.
“Mayor Gripper and Mr. Goldhirsh are poetry buddies. My guess is he leaned on the mayor to get these here,” Fin whispered in her ear. He only just resisted nipping it.
“Didn’t you go walking with your stick thingies this morning?” Maggs said, prying Fin’s fingers off hers and moving closer to Mr. Goldhirsh. “Doing so much exercise is not good for your recovery, surely?”
Mr. Goldhirsh was wrapped up to rival an Egyptian mummy. Even the lower half of his face was covered.
“Exercise within your limits, Maggs. It’s all a matter of understanding that.”
“You should come with us, young lady. We could do with a pretty face to look at,” one of the men said.
Fin stomped down the unreasonable snap of jealousy. These men could be her father, for pity’s sake.Get a grip.
“Dazza,” the man said, holding out his hand for Maggs to shake.
“Oh, I don’t think so. I’m not really much for hot sweaty exercise.”
And suddenly he was back in his bed with her under him. Fin shook his head to dislodge the erotic image.
“We’ll work on that,” Mr. Goldhirsh said. “See you later, boys.” He raised a hand as his friends cycled away. “Let’s get inside. It’s cold out here.”
“Hi, Miss Marla, Miss Sarah,” Fin said as they walked into the shop, which was bigger now. They’d knocked out a wall, you could buy books in part of it, and the tea shop had more tables. It was homey, which he loved, and the changes only enhanced that.
“Hello, you two. Have you worked out the handwriting, Maggs?”
“Sorry, I thought it would come to me, but it hasn’t, Miss Sarah.”
Good girl.
“Fin, sit. I need someone to taste test this tea, and even though you’re terrible at it, I live in hope that will one day change,” Miss Marla said.
“You’re not going to get all bent out of shape when I get it right, are you?” He sat. When one of the seniors of this town asked you to do something, you did it.
“As if you would.” Miss Marla chuckled. “No one but Joe can get it right.”
“Which is odd,” Fin said, “seeing as the guy drinks coffee.”
“Go on through with Mr. Goldhirsh, Maggs. The knitting club are straggling in. We’ll make tea and bring scones, and you can join in.”
“Oh, but knitting is not—”
“It’ll do you good to learn,” Miss Sarah said, placing a hand on her back and nudging her into the other room. “It’s soothing and helps us relax and empty our minds. Especially after the day you’ve had. I’m not going to mention what you didn’t tell us happened. I think you’ll have enough people doing that.”
“My mind could sure do with emptying,” he heard Maggs mutter.
He was then blindfolded and handed a cup. He’d long ago given up on working out how the gossip grapevine worked in this town. He doubted his friends would have gone out of their way to tell anyone what happened to Maggie in London, but it had traveled around town anyway.
“It’s hot, so sip it slowly.”
