Chapter Seven #2
“What use do you have for a flying broom?” a woman asked. “You’re a fisherman.”
The man’s eyes darted to mine. If I were him, I’d sell it for more than I bought it for. I doubted he’d have a hard time selling it for at least fifty pounds, depending on where he lived and how common magic items were in his neck of the woods.
“I offered it to him first,” I said to the crowd. I was tempted to make a sales pitch for the shoppe, but as it seemed no one knew who I was, I didn’t want to risk revealing myself now. Not until after this fisherman and his grandson were far away from Ardmuir.
“Sold,” the old man said, reaching for my hand to shake it. “Come aboard and I’ll get your money.”
Disappointed murmurs came from the crowd, but they dispersed peacefully enough. Relieved, I followed the man onto the boat and waited with his grandson while he collected my money.
I handed over the broom to little Ivan, happy to see that his hair floated the same way Bri’s had when he touched it. He smiled so big he revealed several missing teeth. “I can’t wait to try it out.”
“Probably best not to do it at sea,” I said, leaning in conspiratorially. “I’d pick somewhere with a soft landing if I were you. At least till you get the hang of it.”
He nodded, and once again I felt terrible for cheating these people out of their hard-earned money. A few shillings here or there didn’t bother me, but this was a large sum for fisherfolk.
Once, I’d asked Da why it was okay to sell fakes to honest people. “Who said they’re fakes?” he’d asked, earning a “you’re not fooling anyone” glare from me.
He’d taken me outside and down the street, past the fancy shoppes we never went in.
“All these people are selling the same thing I am,” he said, gesturing to a frilly dress on display.
“The shoppe owner will convince her customer that this dress can finally turn the eye of the boy she’s been pining after.
But she can’t guarantee it, can she?” He walked on, pointing to a top hat in black silk.
“The man who buys this will believe it makes him distinguished, proper. Powerful. But at the end of the day, it’s only a hat. ”
I eyed him skeptically. “But people need clothing.”
“People need beauty, too. They need dreams and possibility. They need magic, Willow. They believe because I believe. I hope someday you will, too.”
Oh, Da, I thought, my chest aching at the memory. I’m starting to.
At least I wasn’t selling these people a fake. I only wished it could last a little longer. But today’s sale was about survival. From now on, I’d do everything I could to make an honest sale. Starting tomorrow.
With my coins in my satchel, I wished the man and boy well and headed straight for my landlord’s office. A little voice in my head whispered, You could turn this silver into more silver, you know, and it sounded eerily like my father.
Absolutely not. My father hadn’t been a gambler, but the way he worked was almost as risky.
Never satisfied with what he had, always searching for the next object.
He was a treasure hunter, really, and I wasn’t interested in hunting anything.
All I wanted was to keep the shoppe open in Da’s honor and make enough money to keep one girl—and one growing kitten—alive.
(And perhaps buy a new wardrobe and a pony of my own and a steady supply of baked goods. Listen, I never said I was perfect.)
Mr. Granger’s office was in downtown Ardmuir, not far from the print shoppe.
He owned multiple properties in the city, leasing them out to people like me who couldn’t afford to buy a place of their own.
I’d once asked my father how anyone came to own more than one house, and he explained what an inheritance was.
It sounded like the most wonderful thing in the world.
To be given everything, without ever having to work for it?
“How do I get one of those?” I’d asked, breathless with wonder.
I hadn’t understood then that you could inherit debt, too.
I rang the bell and waited for several minutes before Mr. Granger himself opened the door.
“Apologies for the delay. How can I help…” His smile evaporated when he realized it was me.
“Ah. Miss Stokes. I wondered if I’d ever see your face again.
If you’re here to ask for an extension, I’m afraid that’s simply impossible. ”
“I’ve come to pay,” I said, wishing he’d open the door wider and let me in. Several people had passed while he admonished me, and my cheeks were burning with shame.
His eyes went so wide I could see the whites all around. “Wonders never cease. Please, do come in.”
I followed him inside, taking a seat in front of his enormous oak desk. I said a silent, mournful farewell to the most money I’d ever held and placed the sack of coins in front of me. “That should cover the three months I owe you, plus next month’s rent.”
His fingers twitched, and I had the horrible feeling he didn’t believe the coins were real. “How did you come by so much money all at once?”
I stiffened. “That’s none of your concern.”
“Actually, Miss Stokes, it is my concern. If you’ve stolen it—”
This was the second time in one day I’d been accused of theft. “Mr. Granger, I may struggle to pay the bills since my father died and left me in debt, but I can assure you, I have never stolen anything in my life.”
He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “You remind me of him, you know.”
It wasn’t the first time I’d been compared to my father. I wasn’t sure it was a compliment. “Thank you?”
Mr. Granger sighed. “Very well. Continue to pay your rent on time, and I will happily continue to rent you the shoppe. But remember, Miss Stokes. No more extensions. I have people asking about that space all the time.”
Bollocks. The shoppe was in one of the older, narrower buildings at the outskirts of Ardmuir, away from the nicer shopping area. You wouldn’t find it unless you were looking for it, or you were an outlander who happened to get lost.
I rose from the chair, gathering my now-empty satchel.
I’d done it. I’d sold the broom, I’d paid my debt, and for a moment, the weight lifted from my shoulders, just a little.
I left the office and strolled down the streets of Ardmuir, glancing in shoppe windows for the first time in years.
Chocolates and ham hocks and little round cheeses wrapped in fig leaves beckoned me.
A few more big sales, and I might finish a meal full for a change.
I caught my reflection and froze. My proud, stubborn chin jutted out above my neck, and I couldn’t help thinking that I was, indeed, my father’s daughter. A part of me wished the similarities ended at my chin.
Unfortunately, I knew very well they didn’t. I needed to get home, change, and feed Argyle, then somehow manage to stay awake long enough to make it back to the docks at midnight.
A man was selling dragon teeth, and I was going to find out where they came from.