“Yeah, we were really close.I worked here with her on and off over the years.I sort of knew I’d be the one to take it over.”
“Why’s that?”
“You’re a man of many questions, Oliver,” Aurelia laughed, hoping to change the subject before she got weepy discussing Aunt Marigold.
“I am,” he said, smiling as he looked down at the mug in his hands.“My ex-girlfriend used to say that conversations with me felt more like interviews,” he added, a little abashed.“I can drum up some small talk if you’d prefer?”
Aurelia wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him looking so self-conscious, and she smiled reassuringly.
“No, it’s fine.You asked why I thought I’d take over the shop?”
He nodded.
“Well, Cristobel, Lucy, and Marigold never married and didn’t have any children.My sister, Antonia, is married with three kids and lives in Paris.And me—I love books, and I’ve loved this shop ever since I first stepped inside when I was little.It took some getting used to, but it really feels like mine now.”
“Does that mean you can never marry or have children?Is that the curse of the shop?”
He said it with a smile, clearly intending it as a joke, but Aurelia bristled.She’d never thought of that possibility—as if there might be a requirement that she stay single in order to run the shop.She knew Marigold had dated on and off over the years, and while it was true that her great aunts hadn’t married, Aurelia didn’t think that meant they’d never dated or were lifelong spinsters.
“No, of course not,” she insisted, ignoring her own uncertainty.“And there’s no curse—I can do whatever I like.It just seems to be a pattern, that the women who run the shop are independent.”
There was a strained pause, which Aurelia broke by jumping up from her seat.
“I promised you pages, didn’t I?I’ll run and get them for you,” she said.
He stood slowly, seemingly aware that he’d hit a nerve.
“Sure.”
Aurelia felt flustered.She was angry and self-conscious at the same time.Something about his questions made her feel as if the life that her aunts, and now she, had chosen was something sad and lonely.
She slipped her shoes back on and led him to the spiral staircase, flouncing down at double speed with Oliver following at a normal pace behind her.The chapters were held fast under a book on her desk, and she pulled them free and bound them together with a large clip she found in a desk drawer.
When she turned to hand them to Oliver, she was surprised to find him standing just behind her, an apologetic look on his face.It reminded her of their first date—when she’d turned around in the hotel lobby to find him standing right behind her, waiting for her.Only now, that confident, slightly bored man had shifted into someone who wasn’t quite sure how to right whatever had gone wrong.Aurelia’s frustration melted into guilt for being so short-tempered.
“Thanks for lunch,” she said, giving him a smile.“And thanks for agreeing to read my book.”
“Thank you for trusting me with your book,” he replied, inclining his head toward her.
His gesture was so much like Vronsky’s that Aurelia had to hold in the laugh that bubbled up at the resemblance.
“I’ll be in touch after I’ve read your pages,” Oliver said as they walked to the door.
Once he was across the street from the shop, he turned back and waved to Aurelia just as he had after his first visit.She stood in the doorway and waved back at him, her eyes moving to his hand, which was holding her only copy of Vronsky’s story.Her heart gave a lurch as she realized it was now well and truly out of her hands.
37
Beforearrangingtomeetwith Oliver, Aurelia had decided not to tell Vronsky.She wanted to wait until she could tell him she’d found a publisher, rather than get his hopes up for nothing if she had to pitch his story to a few different ones.
But in the nights that followed her lunch with Oliver, it was difficult to keep it from Vronsky.Her mood shifted constantly as she thought about Oliver’s questions, how he’d challenged her about her subject matter, and the possibility that he might decide he didn’t want to work with her at all.A few times, Vronsky asked if she was alright but instead of answering she just asked what he wanted to happen next in his story.
And in the days that followed her lunch with Oliver, Aurelia found it almost impossible not to wonder what he’d have to say about what she’d written.The exception was a Monday visit from Mark that led to a new discovery about Aunt Marigold and the shop.The visit started as his visits always did: Aurelia had tea waiting for him, they said their hellos, and then Mark began his wander.But this time, when he passed the Recommended Reads table, Mark stopped to look at the books on display.
“You’ve had these out since before Christmas, haven’t you?”he asked.
Aurelia had been looking out the window, wondering if Oliver would call that day to discuss the book, and Mark’s voice brought her back to the shop.
“Hmm?”
