Chapter 4 #2
Nigel lifted his gaze from the dancing figures on the page, looked at her from under his brow. She was frowning at him, even as her fingers finished sliding the last buttons into place. For a moment, they held each other’s gaze. Silent. Uncertain.
Then Luna took a quick step up to the counter, leaned her elbows on the edge, reached over.
And placed her hand on top of his.
Nigel couldn’t say if his blood turned to ice or fire at that point of contact. Possibly both. Simultaneously.
“You shouldn’t stay here in the shop all day, Mr. Grimm,” she said, earnestly. “You should come out. See the fair. Have a little fun.”
He opened his mouth to speak. No words came, and she didn’t wait for him to make a second attempt.
Her hand pulled away from his. She turned, trotted down the center aisle, her dilapidated boot heels clicking smartly across the floor.
The door opened and shut with a tinkle of bells, and she was gone.
Nigel remained where he stood. Painfully aware of that place on the back of his hand where hers had rested.
If he moved, he might displace the sensation, never to be reclaimed.
So he held very still.
“Never mind.”
Nigel jumped, as his raven appeared, flapping down the stairwell from the apartment above, and landed with a flutter on her skull-pot. He flashed his teeth in a grimacing sort of smile. “She didn’t mean anything by it, you know. She’s just . . . concerned. Or something.”
Debbie turned her head to stare at him from one black eye.
“All right!” Nigel threw up both hands, then ran one of them through his hair, dislodging all the pomade he’d used to carefully arrange it that morning. “All right, I admit it. I’ve got a . . . a . . . What is it the kids used to say? A crush. Nothing to take seriously. It happens! To everyone!”
“Never mind.”
“Yes, well, you are a bird. I suppose it’s a bit different among avian species.”
Debbie clacked her beak at him.
“It doesn’t mean anything,” Nigel persisted and slammed the logbook shut with a snap. He stared down at the cover and drummed his fingers on the countertop. “It’s just . . . feelings. One cannot let oneself be ruled by them. Gods, if I haven’t learned that lesson the hard way!”
A ruffle of wings and shifting of taloned feet.
“Quite right.” Nigel drew a long, steadying breath, and smoothed his hair back once more. “We face the truth. We compartmentalize. We move on. It’s the only way forward. I have a crush on Miss Luna Talbot. She, on the other hand, has feelings for this Officer Ward. That’s her business, not mine.”
Only she claimed she wasn’t going to the fair with Officer Ward.
Was it the truth? Or was she just afraid to be honest about it? Afraid Nigel would suddenly change his mind, like he’d done yesterday? He didn’t think Luna Talbot was the sort to go speaking falsehoods. She had her secrets, but she never lied. At least, not that he was aware of.
“Never mind.”
“No, of course.” Nigel shook his head shortly. “She works for me. I pay her wage. Any fraternizing between us would be inappropriate. So we go on as we have. Nothing changes. Nothing needs to.” He let out his breath in a ragged gust. “It’s just a crush.”
Bolstered by the double fortifications of honesty and reason, he set to work caring for the plants.
The clock ticked on, and the hour drew nearer to opening time.
Customers lined up on the sidewalk, eager to start their day with one of Luna’s teas before continuing on to the festival.
They watched Nigel’s comings and goings through the window. Some smiled; some waved.
But he didn’t see them.
When the clock chimed nine, he moved in a vague sort of way to the door.
As his hand reached for the sign to turn it to OPEN, however, his gaze shifted.
Even from inside the shop, he could see the garlands and bunting festooning Addle Street.
With a little crane of his head, he spied booths and tables set up farther down the sidewalk.
Music reached his ears as well, both automagic and live.
All swelling in a storm of noise, mingled with the voices of early-morning festival-goers, determined to make the most of their holiday fun.
Someone tapped on the window, an impatient, wordless inquiry. Someone else spoke, voice muffled through the glass: “Oi! Are you opening any time today?”
Nigel rubbed the thumb of one hand across the knuckles of the other. Right where Luna’s fingers had gripped him for a lingering moment.
“Have a little fun,” she’d said.
His jaw worked. After all, why shouldn’t he have a little fun? A little fun, a reasonable amount, never hurt anyone.
Suddenly, Nigel turned to the faces peering at him through the windows.
“We’re closed all day,” he said loudly, and pulled the shade of the square door window firmly down.
An eruption of protests sounded from the sidewalk, but he did not care.
He yanked off his apron, tossed it at the counter, and Debbie squawked furiously as it settled over her head.
She fluttered and struggled, escaping its folds just as Nigel pulled on his jacket and grabbed his hat.
“Never mind!” she declared furiously, batting her wings in the air.
“Never you mind,” Nigel replied.
And he slipped out the back door, into the alley.