I wind up just grabbing the casserole dish of mac and cheese from the fridge and carrying it back down to the shop.
Standing at the counter, I take a bite while I admire the floor.
My best friend Chessie would say that I’m in “full goblin mode” right now—filthy clothes with my hair amess, eating cold leftovers right out of the container, and I guess she’d be right.
But if I can just get my energy back up, then maybe I can power through and get the rest of the carpet up tonight.
I’m only on my second bite when there’s a horrible crash followed by the tinkling sound of broken glass dancing along the surface of my pretty floor and skittering across the counter.
My fork clatters back into the casserole dish as I try to make sense of what I’m seeing.
It’s a tree.
A giant Christmas tree hasexplodedinto the window of the shop. Glass and pine needles are everywhere. I’m lucky there’s nothing in my eyes.
Before my heart starts fully beating again, the door to the bookshop bursts open and the giant from next door stands in the threshold, his blue eyes wild.
“Are you okay?”he demands.
I nod at him, speechless.
His eyes rake the shop as he strides in, taking in the disaster area of rolled up carpet, books scattered everywhere, and shelves leaned against the inside wall.
“You didn’t do all that,” I say quickly, finding my voice as I turn to watch him walk through the space. “I was already moving everything to rip out the carpet.”
“Whoa,” a little voice says from the doorway.
I turn back around to find a girl with a long brown braid, her blue eyes wide at the sight of the tree.
“I’ll replace the window,” Roan barks out.
“Thank you,” I tell him, feeling relieved. “The property manager said the landlord’s a grump, and I don’t want to get in trouble. I’m already pulling up carpet and I didn’t exactly get permission…”
“You took all the shelves away,” the little girl says accusingly, stopping me mid-babble. “I thought this was a bookstore.”
“It is,” I tell her right away. “I’m just moving some things around.”
“Wait right here,” Roan says, heading out of the shop like a man on a mission.
I turn back to the little girl.
“You can watch me while my dad’s gone,” she says in a nonchalant way.
Herdad.
Of course. With those blue eyes, who else could she be?
“Are you the bookshop lady?” she asks patiently, like maybe I need a little extra help socially.
“Yes,” I say quickly. “I’m Taylor. What’s your name?”
“Meg,” she tells me.
“Is Meg short for something?” I ask automatically.
“Margaret,” she grumbles.
“No way,” I say. “Just likeA Wrinkle in Time.”
