Page 5 of Bookshop Cinderella

“But, Evie, you’ve put seven lumps of—”

“Oh, do leave off, Clarence,” she cut him short impatiently and nodded to the two remaining finger sandwiches and single slice of seedcake on the counter. “Have your tea. Then you can unpack that crate of books that came this morning.”

The fifteen-year-old glanced down at the meager offerings without enthusiasm. “I don’t know how you expect me to work so hard if you never feed me,” he grumbled as he put the food on a plate and poured himself a cup of tea. “I shall tell Mum you’re starving me to death. She’ll believe me, too,” he added as Evie laughed. “I am her son, after all.”

“Which is exactly why she won’t believe you. Anna can always tell when you’re lying. And since she’s one of my oldest friends, she knows that I don’t tell lies. Now, off you go.”

Clarence heaved a long-suffering sigh, grabbed his teacup in his free hand, and departed for the storage room. “If that man keeps coming in here, I’ll never have a decent tea again.”

“Oh, stop complaining,” Evie called after him as she attempted to blot the stains on her blouse with a napkin. “I’ll make you more later, I promise.”

Her efforts to remove the unsightly stains from her shirtfront did little good, however, and Evie gave it up. Tossing the napkin aside, she refilled her cup with the dregs from the pot, and after unsuccessfully attempting to tuck some of the wayward strands of her brown hair back into the bun on top of her head, she picked up the laden tea tray and went in search of Rory.

He was no longer wandering amid the bookshelves but was now lounging by the counter at the register, as if waiting for her. As she hurried forward with the tray, the bell over the door jangled and another man entered the shop, moving to stand behind Rory near the register as Evie took her place behind the counter.

She gave the newcomer a nod of greeting, but her hurried glance took in only an expensive, well-cut morning coat and dark hair peeking beneath the brim of a gray homburg before Rory spoke and once more diverted her attention.

“Why, Evie, what’s all this?” Rory glanced over the tray as she placed it on the counter between them. “Oh, dear, I hope I haven’t interrupted your tea?” he asked, looking up, a frown of concern knitting his brows together.

“Oh, no, of course not. I thought...that is, I wondered...um...” She paused, seized by sudden shyness, and she had to swallow hard before she could go on. “I was making tea anyway,” she managed at last.

“Perhaps, but nonetheless, I’m honored that you would think of me.”

“Of course I think of you,” she blurted out, then could have bitten her tongue off, but Rory only laughed.

“I think of you, too, Evie.” He paused and leaned forward over the counter. “All the time.”

Instinctively, she leaned closer, too, but thenthe stranger gave a cough, and she straightened with a little jerk and glanced at him. “I’ll be with you in a few moments, sir.”

“Dearest Evie,” Rory murmured, once again diverting her attention, “you shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.”

“As I tell you every time you come by, it’s no trouble making tea for you. Besides, it’s the least I can do after that box of violet creams you brought me.”

“That’s different. Eating violet creams with you is a tradition. But since you insist,” he added, laughing as he reached for the cup in front of him, but when he took a hefty swallow of the tea, he immediately choked.

“Is something wrong?” she asked in dismay.

“No, no.” He set the cup down, cleared his throat, and patted his chest. “I...um...I just swallowed wrong, that’s all. But perhaps...” He paused, giving another cough and casting a hungry glance over the tray. “Perhaps one of those sandwiches might help?”

He helped himself, taking two, wolfing down the first one in two bites.

“Better?” she asked as he finished the second one and took a third.

“Yes, thank you. You’ve always been so good to me,” he added, reaching for a fourth sandwich. “But I didn’t come intending to cadge a meal.”

The man behind him made a stifled sound of disbelief under his breath.

“Of course not, Rory,” she said, giving the other man a frown of reproof. “I know you’d never do such a thing.”

The stranger lifted one black eyebrow, clearly skeptical of her contention, and Evie decided it was best just to ignore him. Returning her attention to Rory, she asked, “Have you decided what you’re going to do now that you’re home? You’ll take up a job, I suppose?”

“Me? Work in an office adding up figures or taking dictation for some wealthy magnate?” Rory laughed, shaking his head. “No, I’ve a soul above double-entry bookkeeping and typewriting machines.”

“Of course you do,” the stranger murmured, sarcasm in every syllable.

Thankfully, Rory ignored him. “Besides,” he went on as he took another sandwich off the tray, “I have a university education, so I’ve decided it’s time I put it to use.”

“Doing what?” she asked.

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