Alice sat down uninvited at one end of the table, much to the chagrin of the March Hare. The Hatter began speaking in riddles, which eventually caused the conversation to fall apart as nobody seemed to be buying his nonsense.
The Hatter was the first to break the silence. “What day of the month is it?” he said, turning to Alice: he had taken his watch out of his pocket, and was looking at it uneasily, shaking it every now and then, and holding it to his ear.
Alice considered a little, and then said, “The fourth.”
“Two days wrong!” sighed the Hatter. “I told you butter wouldn’t suit the works!” he added, looking angrily at the March Hare.
“It was the best butter,” the March Hare meekly replied.
The chapter was only a few pages long, and I finished reading the rest quickly.
“What do you think?” Duke asked.
“I think they’re all nuts,” I said.
“That’s patently obvious,” Duke said. “What else?”
“There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with the book,” I said. “Not even a comma out of place. If this March Hare were involved in some grand conspiracy against me or Pops…he’s doing a good job of hiding it. I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense, does it?”
“No, but it is Wonderland, where they routinely try to fix broken watches with butter,” Duke said. “Darling, I’m afraid we have no choice. We’ll simply have to go and have a talk with the man. I mean, the Hare.”
“Can’t do it. Dr. Fanshawe took my umbrella, remember?”
“Do you know where it is?”
“Actually I do. Penny told me. And she said she might have left the back door unlocked.”
“Penny, the new apprentice? Tell me about her.”
“Not much to tell. She’s a sweet kid, probably too sweet. For somereason, she let it slip that Dr. Fanshawe put my umbrella in the supply closet in Words, Words, Words.”
“That’s helpful. Very helpful. Remind me to send this Penny a thank-you note for the act of aiding and abetting.” He stood up and glanced out the window behind the desk. “Good. The fog’s rolled in. We’ll need the cover. Ready?”
Duke held out his hand to me.
“Wait. Aiding and abetting?” I said, refusing him my hand. “Aiding and abetting what?”
“What else does one aid and abet? A crime.”
“And what crime specifically?” I asked, although I already knew—and feared—the answer. I knew what. Of course, I knew. I just didn’t want to know what I knew, you know?
“We’re going to steal your umbrella back, you adorable fool.”
I stared at his waiting hand. “That sounds like a bad idea.”
“Oh, come on, love. A little felony never hurt anyone,” he said. Then added, “When we find the March Hare, good chance we’ll find your grandfather.”
“Good point.” I put my hand into his. “But if I end up in jail for this, I’m definitely firing you again.” Then to Koshka, I said, “Come on, boy. Time to go commit crimes.”
Chapter Fourteen
A bookstore by night is a different place than a bookstore by day, even if they share an address. A daytime bookstore is for real people with real problems seeking a few hours’ escape into stories. It’s awake, alive. But when a bookstore is closed, and the people are gone, it still doesn’t sleep.
The books themselves work the night shift.
Every reader can recall a book that stayed with them for hours or days or even weeks after they’d closed the cover. They think about the book even when they’re not reading it, not realizing that the book is also thinking about them.
Duke said that once he learned he was a fictional character, he became subtly aware of his readers. He felt their watchful eyes and sensed their quiet, gentle presence. He knew his stories were being read when the light had a certain warmer quality to it. And when the lights dimmed, he longed to be read again the way a plant with dry soil longs for rain.
