“Where's Eveline?” she asked, shrugging off her jacket.
“In the back,” Zara said, lowering her voice. “She's worried. Abe hasn't come in today.”
Emery frowned. “That's not like him. He never misses his morning tea.”
“Exactly. She's called him twice, but no answer.”
As if on cue, Eveline emerged from the back room, her phone in hand and her forehead creased with worry. She looked up, and Emery's heart did its now-familiar flip at the sight of her.
“You're back,” Eveline said. “How's your aunt's… tennis elbow?”
There was enough skepticism in her tone that Emery knew she hadn't completely bought the flimsy excuse, but there were more important matters at hand.
“Is everything okay? Zara says Abe hasn't been in.”
Eveline shook her head. “It's not like him. I've just tried calling a third time, still no answer.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a gesture Emery now recognized as a sign of anxiety. “I'm going to go check on him.”
“I'll come with you,” Emery said immediately.
Eveline looked surprised, but nodded. “Thanks. I'd appreciate the company.”
She turned to Zara. “Can you manage for an hour or so?”
“Of course,” Zara said confidently. “Take your time. I've got it covered.”
Outside, the autumn air had a sharp edge, and Emery pulled her jacket back on as they walked. Eveline moved with purpose, her strides long and determined.
“You know where he lives?” Emery asked.
“I sometimes have books delivered to him when he can't carry everything he wants to buy,” Eveline said. “He lives in one of those old Victorian houses by the railway, it’s only ten minutes or so from here.”
They walked in silence for a while, their steps naturally falling into rhythm. Emery stole glances at Eveline's profile, noting the tight line of her jaw.
“You're really worried,” she said softly.
Eveline sighed. “He's eighty-four, lives alone since Agnes passed, and has a heart condition he thinks I don't know about.”
“He means a lot to you.”
“He was my first regular customer,” Eveline said. “When I opened the shop, I had no idea what I was doing. I barely spoke English, had no business experience. Abe came in every day, bought a book, gave me advice.” She smiled at the memory. “He's… family.”
Emery felt a lump in her throat. This was a side of Eveline she rarely showed, the one who cared beneath her cool exterior.
They reached a street lined with imposing Victorian houses, their facades weathered but elegant. Eveline stopped in front of a blue door with a brass knocker.
“This is it,” she said, climbing the steps. She knocked firmly, then waited, her tension visible in the set of her shoulders.
No answer.
She knocked again, louder this time. “Abe? It's Eveline from the shop. Are you there?”
Just as Emery was about to suggest calling emergency services, they heard shuffling from inside. The door opened slowly to reveal Abe, looking pale and disheveled in a faded dressing gown.
“What's all this noise about?” he grumbled, but his voice lacked its usual vigor.
“Abe,” Eveline said, exhaling with relief. “You didn't come to the shop. You didn't answer your phone.”
Understanding dawned on his tired face. “Ah, I've worried you. I'm sorry, my dear. I woke up feeling a bit under the weather and decided to stay in bed.” He stepped back from thedoorway. “Come in, both of you. No sense standing out in the cold.”
