Chapter 24 #2
“And you’re going to dinner with him tonight.”
Mr. Grimm spoke the words with a frank conclusiveness. Not a question at all.
Luna pinched her lips tight. He must have overheard.
Was he eavesdropping? No, surely not. He wouldn’t do something so ungentlemanly.
But it wasn’t as though either she or Ward had made any effort to lower their voices.
It wasn’t a big shop. And it was his shop.
And she was supposed to be working, not flirting with customers.
Not that she was flirting with John Ward exactly, but . . .
“Yes,” she answered a little shakily. “At The King’s Crown.”
Mr. Grimm nodded. “That’s a nice place.” He crouched, set down the heavy pot, then straightened. Hands on hips, he surveyed his newly-emptied shelves as though deeply invested in his rearrangement efforts. “You’ll enjoy yourself.”
“Yes. Um. I hope so. I’ve never been. But I’ve heard good things.
” Luna looked down at her feet. The toes of her scuffed and battered boots seemed to stare back at her, and it occurred to her suddenly that it was a good thing Mr. Grimm had given her new shoes, as these certainly wouldn’t be appropriate to wear to a swanky joint like The King’s Crown.
“Mr. Grimm,” she tried again, “about that . . . um . . .”
He bent abruptly and picked up two glass vases from the floor. “I was wondering, Miss Talbot,” he said, turning the vases around in his hands, studying the way the light caught on their curved surfaces, “if you might answer a question that’s been much on my mind lately.”
Her stupid stomach performed another dip and flop. “Yes?”
“It’s about your roommate. Miss Braithwait.”
Luna blinked. Her lips parted silently. “Bryony?” She swallowed and tried again. “You mean Bryony?”
“Yes. Bryony.” He cleared his throat. “She, erm, made an impression on me. At the Saint Jollify Fair, you know. I was wondering if you knew whether or not she’s seeing someone?”
Luna refused to break his gaze. Refused. Utterly. She held that look with everything she had in her, like she was holding the shield wall, and one small chink would let the enemy hordes through for slaughter.
Briefly—so very briefly, it hardly counted—she considered telling Mr. Grimm that Bryony wasn’t seeing someone, because she had a steady stream of various someones whom she saw on rotation.
Most of whom didn’t know anything about each other.
Which added to the fun, according to Bryony. But Luna didn’t want to be catty.
She swallowed again. Her throat was feeling rougher by the moment. “I don’t believe she’s stepping out with anyone in particular these days, no.”
“Ah.”
“You should, um. You should call on her sometime.”
“Telephone?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t. Mrs. Boggs charges extra for phone calls. Best to, um, call at the house. Directly.”
“Have you the address?”
“Well, yes. She’s my roommate, you know.”
“Yes. Of course.”
“I’ll . . . write it down for you, shall I? Before I leave today?”
“That would be very helpful. Thank you.”
“Good. Um. Happy to help.”
At long last, she blinked. Turned. Took a step away from the door.
“Miss Talbot?”
Her stupid stomach popped back up one last time to perform a dangerous triple axel. “Yes?”
“You can leave early if you like. To prepare for your date.”
“Oh!” Her hand shot out, gripped the doorframe for support. “Um. There’s usually a last wave of tea-drinkers, you know. Around four o’clock.”
“No worries. I’ll post the NO TEA SERVICE sign in the window. And I’ll pay your wage for the full day of course.”
“I didn’t mean . . . That is to say . . .” She stopped and bit her lips again. Then: “Thank you, Mr. Grimm. That’s very generous.”
“Have a good time, Miss Talbot. On your date.”
“Yes, I . . . I will. And you, um . . . I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Grimm.”
He nodded.
And Luna made her escape.
It was more of a relief than she liked to admit, eluding that expressionless blue-eyed stare and the eerie mask created by the bulb’s cold light.
She hastened from the passage and back to the nook behind the counter.
Hands shaking, she removed her apron, hung it up.
Then, because she’d promised, she pulled out a slip of scrap paper and a pencil, jotted down the address of Mrs. Boggs’s building.
It didn’t occur to her until later that she’d refused to give that address to Ward.
Or to the aunties. But if Mr. Grimm needed it for the pursuit of love, well! Who was she to stand in his way?
She finished scrawling out the street number, threw down the pencil so hard, it bounced to the floor to land beside the pruning shears, then nearly doubled-over coughing. Hard. Harder than before. It felt like she might bring up a lung.
When the fit subsided, she felt a stern, avian stare fixed upon her. She lifted her head, scowling at Debbie. “Never mind!” she snapped.
Startled, Debbie fluttered her wings and turned around on the skull-pot.
As there didn’t seem to be anything else to do, Luna grabbed her hat and coat, picked up her box of new shoes and, not bothering to change into them first, fled The Arcane Bouquet for the streets outside, hurrying as fast as her ice-cold feet could carry her.