Maya exchanged a look with Abe. “Mmmhmmm. You just keep telling yourself that, dear.”
Eveline busied herself arranging the croissants on a plate, avoiding Maya’s all too perceptive gaze. “Don’t you have a bakery to run?”
“That I do,” Maya said. “And I can also take a hint. Remember though, my nephew is single and he loves a good book.”
“Goodbye,” Eveline said firmly, taking Maya’s elbow and turning her toward the door.
“Fine, fine. Just you think about it,” said Maya. “He’s a good looking man, got a steady job—”
“Out!”
Maya was laughing as she left the shop.
THE REST OF the day passed in a blur of customers, rearranging displays, and frequent bucket emptying. By closing time, Eveline’s feet were aching, and she still needed to deal with Chapman the plumber. She was just counting the till when Clare, her part-time assistant, burst through the door.
“It’s your day off,” Eveline said, looking up, surprised.
“I know, I know,” said Clare. Then she stopped short, taking in Eveline’s disheveled appearance and the buckets still littering the floor. “What happened?”
“Life happened,” said Eveline wearily. “It’s fine. I managed.”
Clare bit her lip. “Um, I don’t think I’m about to help when it comes to managing things,” she said. “The thing is, I can’t work anymore.”
Eveline looked up from the pile of change she’d been counting. “What?”
“I got accepted into a study abroad program,” Clare said, looking genuinely apologetic. “I thought I didn’t get in, but then it turns out that the letter was lost, and I am and… Well, I don’t have time to give proper notice. I leave next week.”
“Next week,” Eveline said faintly.
“You’re not cross, are you?” Clare said anxiously. “I know autumn is your busy season…”
Eveline forced herself to smile. “Non, of course not. Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” Clare beamed. “I’m honestly really sorry.” She looked down and picked up something off the floor. The article that Abe had clipped. “Emerald Pearl? I put a reminder on the order sheet to request twenty of them.”
“Twenty?” Eveline said, eyes widening in horror. “I only need one for Abe!”
“She’s doing a signing down the road,” Clare said. “Which means we might get the overspill when they sell out over there. Plus, Pearl always sells, you know she does.”
Eveline sighed. “Fine, fine. Twenty copies of mindless drivel that I’ll have to find space for.”
After Clare had spent twenty minutes talking her ear off about Lisbon, and Chapman the plumber had come and smacked a hole in the ceiling, patched up a pipe, and said the problem was as good as solved, Eveline finally got to lock up the shop.She trudged up the narrow staircase to her flat. The small space was the very opposite of the organized chaos below. Pristine, minimalist, white walls adorned only by a few black and white photographs.
She kicked her heels off, poured herself a generous glass of red wine, and sank onto her sofa. Silence wrapped around her, comforting and relaxing. She glanced at her phone. Not a call, not a text. Just what she wanted to see.
And yet, as she sipped her wine and looked out over the twinkling lights of Notting Hill, Eveline couldn’t quite ignore the hollow feeling in her chest. It wasn’t loneliness, whatever Maya might think. It was… She sighed. She had no idea what it was. She was tired, she’d had a long day, maybe it was just that. Fatigue.
The constant battle to keep the shop afloat, the constant competition with online sellers and big chains. Chains that could afford splashy book signings with authors like Emerald Pearl.
Fatigue of the name Emerald Pearl, for that matter. Even the name irritated her. Twenty copies she’d have tomorrow ofWhen a Bride Meets a Groom. And no assistant to help her sell them.
She drained her wine glass and stood up, moving to her small desk where she kept a stack of resumes of people that had dropped in asking about work. She needed to hire someone quickly. Someone reliable and knowledgeable about books. Preferably someone immune to romance. The last thing she needed was another Maya in her life.
But as she tried to read through the stack, something distracted her. A noise. The constant tap-tapping of water. She groaned.
So much for the problem being solved.
She put her shoes back on and grabbed her keys. A new assistant would have to be a problem for tomorrow. Tonight, shehad more pressing concerns. Like making sure her first editions didn’t dissolve into papier mâché overnight.
