Chapter 15
By the end of the week, Sasha and I have cleared half the third floor.
Her ingenious pulley system has been an immense help, even if I am not myself able to help much beyond operating it from well inside the bookshop.
She sets up tables outside the shop with a Free for All Takers sign, and nearly every pile of books we set out finds a home, with only a few of the most obscure books left.
Sasha squirrels them away behind my desk with the ominous words: “I’ve got an idea; don’t touch.
” I give her money for pillows and a couple of comfortable chairs, and then the two of us teach ourselves a complicated resizing spell, to make them small enough to get upstairs.
I leave it to her to arrange things to her taste—which includes draping flowing scarves over the ceiling beams, wind chimes from the window frames, and deep-pile rugs across the floorboards.
By the time she’s finished, the room is transformed from a cramped, dusty attic space to an inviting, cozy sanctuary.
There are bookcases devoted to rare plants and animals, to tragic romances, and to anything she’s ever read and approved of—mostly long, miserable poetry.
Sasha has also set up a bookcase with little notices on each shelf to denote the contents: chickens, your parents will hate this, and so bad it’s good.
She let me add one little note to a shelf and fill it myself.
After much thought, I wrote out a little note that said trust me, just try and added a few books that I’d had to read under duress but had wound up absolutely loving.
She’s been utterly immune to my recommendations so far, but perhaps if I just leave my suggestions near her, she’ll pick one up out of curiosity.
There was no sign of the pirate all week, and I hoped that he’d found what he needed in the books he’d stolen, and returned to the high seas.
I was also, secretly, disappointed, a fact I admitted in my never-to-be-sent letters to Honey before hiding them under the clothes stored in the drawers beneath my box bed. I refused to ask Sasha.
I had five customers inside the shop once Sasha began putting tables outside and—given that I’d had no customers before, just one angsty teenage dracone and one sticky-fingered cursed pirate—that felt like progress.
They stuck their heads inside, looked around a little sheepishly, slipped inside almost apologetically, gave me oddly self-conscious grins, and then vanished upstairs to find something to read.
I logged their purchases in my account book and went to bed at night more or less satisfied.
Another quiet afternoon. I’m sitting at the desk, stroking the cat and paging idly through a book about curses that’s five hundred years old if it’s a day, when the chimes tinkle.
Sasha, looking embarrassed, enters. She casts me a beseeching look and I realize she’s not alone: the Lord Mayor and her husband are behind her. Sasha’s parents.
“My dear princess. I hope you can forgive the intrusion. We weren’t sure whether you’d want company,” the Lord Mayor says, rushing forward to take my hand. “It’s such a strange situation.”
“I’m delighted to have you,” I say. “Truly.” I decide not to mention how few customers I’ve had.
“After all,” the Lord Mayor continues, “perhaps you don’t want anyone here.
It’s so hard to know. But when Si’mashasha mentioned that she’d not only been continuing to visit—thank you, by the way, for being so welcoming; she’s always considered Beulah’s such a comfortable space—but that you and she had been hatching some sort of scheme to improve the shop…
Well, Se’darthan and I knew we had to drop by.
” She lowers her voice. “Si’masasha can be so private, we often don’t have any idea what she’s up to. ”
“Moooommmmm,” Sasha says, looking embarrassed.
“Sasha’s been indispensable,” I say, and I mean it. “I suppose I could just curl up in the back room and wait for someone to sort something out, but what’s the fun in that?”
“Too true, too true,” the Lord Mayor’s husband says.
“And with Mrs. Gooch gone, why not make the shop a going concern, eh? All the best towns have eccentric little bookshops; no reason why Beulah’s shouldn’t be Little P’s, eh?
Tourists love ’em. Makes for good atmosphere, I hear, what?
” He laughs, and the Lord Mayor shoots him an affectionate look. Behind him, Sasha mimes gagging.
“You do bring it an air of, shall we say, respectability, but even once you’re gone, I suspect the association will linger…
” the Lord Mayor says. Ah, she’s wondering how long my power as a tourist attraction will last after my curse is broken and I’m back to cutting ribbons and attending state dinners.
“I hope so,” I say. “I’ve always loved books and reading, but I’ve always had to travel so much…
” I trail off. “Honestly, having the chance to slow down a bit, focus on something like this”—I gesture at the bookshop—“it’s probably really good for me.
My mother’s always after me to build up my character a bit. ”
“I hear you’ve had your first shoplifter, as well,” the Lord Mayor says, lowering her voice. “Delightful! If he returns, you must call the constable immediately.”
I feel myself blush, as every mention of the blasted pirate seems to cause my cheeks to flame. Fortunately, the Lord Mayor takes my discomfort as evidence of my unhappiness at the theft.
“Oh, Your Highness, don’t worry yourself about it,” she says, giving me a sympathetic look. “I believe every shop owner in Little P would assure you that theft is simply an irritating fact of life for the self-employed. Character-building, your mother would agree, I’m sure.”
“Yes, I’ll be sure to call the constable,” I murmur. “Would you like to see what Sasha’s done upstairs?”
“Oh yes, darling, we must,” the Lord Mayor gushes. Behind her mother, Sasha widens her eyes at me almost comically, a clear Petrify me with your most powerful spell now expression. “Why don’t I show you,” I offer, “and Sasha can look after the till.”
“Our little girl, all grown up,” the Lord Mayor’s husband says, affectionately. Sasha blows out a breath and moves behind the desk while I gesture her parents up the stairs, the bluecaps trailing after us like fairy dust.
“Sasha did mention the bluecaps,” her mother says, “but my goodness, to actually see them. To think we had an entire nest right here in Little P, all this time! We should register with the Society for the Protection of Magical Creatures.”
“Greater P can absolutely stuff it,” her husband agrees. “So’tathran will be beside himself when he finds out.”
I look back at Sasha, who mouths “Lord Mayor” at me. Ah, the Lord Mayor of Greater Pepperidge. Well, a friendly rivalry seems about right between the two towns.
Sasha’s mother is already on the third floor, cooing about the decor. “So bohemian,” she says, her voice drifting down the stairs.
Sasha shrugs at me. “Parents, right?”
I nod. I’m still waiting to hear from my own, and have no doubt the experience will be memorable.