Page 37 of The Bookshop of Forbidden Books

“The opposite of what you should do, which explains why I’m single at my age.”

“But I thought you and Madame Ateltow—”

“I thought so too, but she decided we’d be better off as friends. The cruellest fate a woman can inflict on a man who loves her. Absolutely heartless. If you have feelings for this Anna of yours, don’t ever let yourself be talked into that sort of compromise.”

They lingered at the bar late into the night, but kept the conversation to books and music. As they parted, music holding its liquor better than literature, Verner urged Mitch to stop following the prosecutor. “You’d do better to put your heart somewhere, anywhere, other than the courthouse steps.”

* * *

The last suburban train had long since left, so Mitch was forced to spend what remained of the night in his shop. As he stepped into the storeroom, his eyes came to rest on the rug that lay over the trapdoor. The dusty sofas in the cellar would be far more forgiving than the bookshop floor, but he still couldn’t quite bring himself to set foot in the secret room. Not yet.

The cat woke him up at dawn brushing against his cheek and purring.

“How did you get in here, huh?” Mitch murmured, picking the cat up and setting it on his chest.

The night watchman had no interest in snuggling. He immediately leapt onto the radiator. Mitch closed his eyes again and woke an hour later, alone.

He got up, massaging his bad leg, and left the shop through the courtyard. Back at home, he took a long, hot shower and shaved carefully, then pulled on a crisp white shirt and his best jacket, and caught a train back into the city. His hangover was stubborn, but his heart felt lighter: he’d made an important decision.

He treated himself to breakfast at a café in the centre of town, then stopped at a nearby florist. Bouquet of peonies in hand, he returned to the street he and Verner had walked down the night before. He finally stopped in front of a large window covered in brown kraft paper. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the restaurant door.

Anna was bent over the counter, her back to him, an electric sander by her feet. She ran her fingers along the grain of the wood, then switched the machine back on and set to work again. A loud high-pitched whining noise filled the space. Mitch took the opportunity to move a bit closer.

“If it’s not completely smooth, the varnish will crack!” she called over the noise.

“Depends on the number of coats you use,” Mitch shouted back.

She turned off the sander and looked over her shoulder.

“How did you find me?”

“Luck. I was passing by and saw you go in.”

“And the flowers? Happened to have them on you?”

“Do you like them?”

Anna took the bouquet from him and placed it in a bucket, which she filled with water.

“The plumber’s missing in action. The kitchen range is supposed to be delivered this morning; if the gas line isn’t hooked up, they’ll leave it on the curb. The tilers won’t be able to do anything when they come in this afternoon.”

“Do you have tools?” asked Mitch, eyeing the equipment on the workbench.

“The workmen left a toolbox in the office, but you’re not a plumber.”

Mitch shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair. Anna watched as he strapped on a pair of protective goggles and picked up a welding torch. An arc of electricity sparked to life right in front of him.

“Won’t take long,” he said.

Anna didn’t respond; she was too taken aback by the unlikely image of this bookseller she’d been avoiding for weeks, now crouched over her gas line with a torch in hand. But she didn’t have time to question it. Moments later, Mitch stood and admired the weld, blowing the dust off the copper pipe. He turned to her, looking pleased with himself.

“Done. Now, every time you turn on the burners, you’ll think of me.”

“In those goggles? Hard to forget,” she commented wryly. “Thanks. I owe you one. Now, tell me what you’re doing here.”

“Just a little welding. And if you need anything else, just ask. It’s my day off.”

“You closed the shop just to come and see me?” Anna asked. She kept her voice level but polite.