Page 34 of An Enchanted Moment on Ever After Street
His eyes, I think, fall on the mini rose plants on either side of the counter. ‘You know, a blonde woman came in today and bought two mini roses, and said she’d just seen the roses in your shop and had to get some for herself. Why do I think you’re responsible for that?’
‘They weren’t red and white, were they?’
‘Yes. How’d you know?’
‘Alice in… never mind. That was Cleo, I think she might be my new friend.’
‘You got someone to sign up already?’ His voice is excited and I love how supportive he is about this. ‘You didn’t have to send her to me.’
‘I didn’t. She saw the roses and thought they were beautiful. All I did was reassure her you’re not as scary as you’d have people believe.’
For just one second, my words catch him off guard. I think he smiles or at least wants to smile, but then he shakes himself and walks away instead. He circles the children’s section again, tidying the shelves up as he goes, putting wonky books back theright way and pushing them into rows as neat as the variety of heights, thicknesses, and sizes will allow.
I’m at the counter, supposedly trying to balance the end-of-day bookkeeping, but it’s impossible to concentrate on anything with Darcy so near. A soft scent of aftershave follows him around, a giddy mix of wood and spice and fresh air. Not overpowering, but a gentle reminder that he’s there. I hear his every soft footstep on my grey carpet, so hyperaware of his presence that it’s like I’m in tune with his every breath.
‘It’s been so long since I was in a bookshop,’ he says from somewhere between the shelves. ‘I’d forgotten how special they are.’
That long-ago thing again. He talks often about things he used to enjoy, but it always sounds like he doesn’t do them any more. I’m desperate to find out why – what changed him from being someone who taught creative writing and loved bookshops to being who he is today?
There’s the unmistakeable sound of books being removed from shelves, flipped through, and then returned to their rightful positions, before he reappears from between the bookcases. ‘Your shop is beautiful.’
It sounds so genuine that it makes my eyes sting again. He isn’t the kind of person who says things just because someone else wants to hear it. He must mean it.
There are display tables filling the space in front of the counter and he wanders around them, straightening up piles of flyers for the book festival and neatening stacks of postcards that have been rifled through by customers and I haven’t had a chance to tidy yet. Now he’s in front of me, it’s even more impossible to drag my eyes away.
‘How’s the interest in the festival been?’
‘Good.’ I sigh. ‘Better than expected…’
He looks up from the modern-day retelling ofThe Nutcrackerhe was leafing through. ‘Why does that sound like a bad thing?’
‘Because more interest equals more people to disappoint.’ I sigh again. ‘Three authors have confirmed and I keep wanting to email them and makesure-sure that it’s not a practical joke. Something is bound to go wrong. Things like this cost money I don’t have and need expertise I don’t have. In fact, the only thing I will have is many disappointed people when it fails.’
‘Or…’ He holds a finger up. ‘An alternative point of view – it all works out, you show Mr Rowbotham who’s boss and tell the council to shove it where the sun wouldn’t dream of shining, and along the way, you gain many new customers, new friends, and even match up some friendship couples of your own.’
I go to protest but I look up at him, and somewhere behind that visor, he’s looking at me, and the words die in my throat. ‘Youstill support the friendship dates after the other night?’
‘That had nothing to do with the concept itself. That was me. It was a mistake to let anyone pretend I could be normal. And it’s you. You make it easy to support anything you do because you love it so much.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, because I’m not sure how to fight the first part of that sentence. His continual support and unwavering faith in me is something that I haven’t had in my life for a long time, and for once, I don’t want to contradict him, I just want to believe him.
He’s still wandering the shop and he does a double take when he looks into the window display and sees Mrs Potts there. ‘So that’s where you’ve been hiding. Hello, darling lady.’
Never mind Mrs Potts,myovaries explode at that term of endearment.
She meows and gets up,brrrriping and rubbing around the hand he’s holding out to her. He crouches in front of her, invitingher to step into the cradle of his arms, and she rubs against him so hard that he nearly overbalances and then throws herself against his chest, rubbing at his chin as he stands up with her in his arms.
‘Have you liberally coated yourself in Dreamies? Started using tins of cat food as deodorant?’
‘No, but I’ll bear that in mind for next time.’ He carries on wandering the shop with Mrs Potts in his arms, talking softly to her like he’s taking her on a tour of the bookshop, stopping to look at the watercolour prints of Belle and the Beast on the walls.
‘This place reminds me of what it was like to love reading.’ He’s murmuring so quietly that I’m not sure if he’s talking to me or himself. ‘As a child, I’d peer into every wardrobe in the hopes of finding a door to Narnia, and look out for enchanted castles every time I walked through a forest. I remember begging my mum to leave a window open every night so Peter Pan’s shadow could find its way in. I looked up at the top of every tall tree in case there was a magical land up there, and thoroughly investigated every rabbit hole in case it was an entrance to Wonderland. I was always the odd one out as a child, but I never felt that way, because of books. And now, so many kids must come in here and feel less alone because of you. This place is beautiful, Marnie. A real sanctuary for readers. Every inch of itshineswith your love for books. People must step in and never want to leave.’
I get the feeling he’s talking about himself, and if he didn’t want to leave, that would be fine with me.
‘Unfortunately most of them leave without buying anything.’ I try to match his cheery tone, but it’s a sad fact of life – a vast majority of my customers come in to browse but leave empty-handed.
‘Let me guess, they come in to find things they want to order on Amazon?’
