‘What? I no …’
‘Yeah. Yeah.’ Houdini pops his head around the back of Zorba’s leg. Does he have a wallet in his mouth? I go to mention it but the dog shoots off before I can comment.
When I return with a fresh pot of coffee, Zorba is gone but he’s left his calling card. I sigh as I rearrange the colours once more. Zorba seriously needs to be banned just for the sheer amount of work he creates. If Houdini did steal his wallet, maybe he’ll think twice about visiting the bookshop every day.
‘Bloody Zorba,’ Roxy says from the front door, motioning to the stack of books I’m rehoming.
I smile. ‘Right? He’s a menace but is so intent about moving the books into a certain order. Have a look.’ I point to a row he’s reorganised. ‘He’s moving them into height order – do you think the varying heights bothers him?’
‘Ooh, good spotting! Another oddball customer quirk to add to the list. Speaking of oddball customers …’
Roxy heads behind the counter and ferrets in her handbag. ‘Look what I got.’ She brandishes a pen attached to a curly cord with a heavy-duty clip. ‘Try stealing this, pen pincher!’ She attaches the clip to the counter and winds it on tight.
‘Genuis.’ I laugh. Roxy really is one of life’s problem-solvers. She gives me a triumphant smile, hands on her hips, Wonder Woman pose. ‘You’re just missing the cape!’
‘And a superhero name.’
‘The Romance-anator? I’ll stop.’
She waggles her eyebrows and pretends to be a swashbuckling book lover. ‘We can work on it. Are you all ready for Lucy’s arrival? Should we offer champagne? Organic orange juice? Whatdobestselling writers quaff? Probably whisky.’
It’s the big day before the big day! Georgios is picking up Lucy at the airport and bringing her here for a tour of Bibliotherapy and Epeolatry before we explore Santorini, finishing with a winery tour.
‘Why whisky?’
‘You know those moody writer types, up at all hours, bashing away at their typewriters, cigar stuck to a lip, subsisting on a diet of one-hundred-year-old barrel-aged spirits and imported Cuban cigars that sit in a humidifier on the desk.’
‘Erm. That’s very Henry Miller-esque … perhaps Lucy is a little more modern?’
‘Yes, yes, you’re right. The finest champagne. Only the best for our guest.’
I wring my hands. We’ve already spent far more than intended for the launch, not including expenditure for the activities we’ve got planned with Lucy today. Just how much does fancy champagne cost?
I don’t want to continually lament our money woes to Roxy so I say, ‘Why don’t we offer Lucy a literary cocktail? Even better, let’s design one around her!’
‘Ooh, great idea! I’ll email the mixologists and ask them for a spicy cocktail recipe that shall be known as the Lucy Strike!’
I smile. I’m sure Lucy will love the idea and it will save on endless bottles of bubbles that we can’t afford right now. Facing myriad micro problems head-on has been a real learning curve for me. While I’d still prefer to hide from any issues that arise, I’m discovering that it only lengthens the whole process.
Roxy shoots off an email and then helps me replace the mixed-up books when Donkey Man arrives. He points to absolutely nothing and orders me about just like normal. Roxy bursts out laughing at his performance. ‘What?’ I ask. ‘What’s he saying?’
‘He says he comes in every day and asks you on a date, but you give him water for his donkey, coffee, mints, books, once a scarf even though it’s summer and never say yes. You’re rejecting him because he’s too old for you and he understands that, but he’s got a lot to offer if you’ll only consider him.’
‘What! But he did ask for water. I committed the Greek words to memory and have been offering it to customers.So latrevo.’
Roxy doubles over with laughter. It takes a full five minutes for her to compose herself, when she does her eyes are bright and her cheeks red. ‘You’ve been saying that to customers?’
‘Yes? It’s hot out and I thought they’d appreciate some water.’
‘It doesn’t mean water.’
‘What does it mean?’
‘I adore you.’ She bursts out laughing again.
‘Oh. My. God.’ No wonder some of them had real worry in their eyes. Here’s me thinking I’m simply offering them a refreshing drink and they’re wondering if I’m trying to lure in unsuspecting bibliophiles for nefarious purposes.
Soon we’re all laughing, mine the more hysterical kind.
