Chapter 8
During a lull that afternoon, Aurelia stood in front of the Recommended Reads table.
Marigold used to swap out the table’s display of books once a month, but Aurelia hadn’t changed them since her aunt died.
It had been three months of keeping the status quo for Aurelia’s own sake, but maybe Mark was right and it was time to think about the shop’s customers instead of herself.
Anna Karenina was an obvious choice as it was Aurelia’s favorite book.
The first time she’d read it was the summer after her first year at university.
Reading that book, she could almost feel the flakes of snow against her cheek as Anna said goodnight to Count Vronsky in St. Petersburg; she could feel the sun beating down as Levin sowed clover at his country estate; and, most of all, she remembered feeling the heartbreak of Anna’s doomed romance with Vronsky.
Her mother had seen Aurelia reading the novel that summer and admitted that she’d never read it herself.
She then bought her own copy from Marigold so they could read it together.
Each week, one of them would read ahead before the other eventually caught up, but they both finished the book on the same day in August. They were forlorn that day, sitting outside in the shade in an unsuccessful attempt to escape the stifling heat, their hearts still in Russia with Vronsky as he mourned Anna’s death.
Aurelia remembered her mother had shivered as though there were a chill in the air as she said, ‘You never get over a love like that. A love that powerful is written across the heart in indelible ink.’ Looking at the book now, Aurelia put her hand to her own heart and tried to ignore the prickle of tears in her eyes.
The truth in her mother’s words seemed just as applicable to the pain Aurelia had experienced over the past year.
She gathered a few copies and put them on the table.
Antonia had just reminded her of their mother’s favorite book, Little Women, and that was Aurelia’s next pick.
Their mother had read it to them when they were in primary school; each night they had burrowed onto the sofa together, ready for a new chapter in the adventures of the March sisters.
With her natural bent toward writing, Aurelia felt her heart swell with pride when her mother said that she reminded her of the second-oldest sister, Jo.
Aurelia had started calling Antonia ‘Meg,’ her mother ‘Marmee,’ and her father ‘Papa,’ driving the family to finally ban the book for a solid year.
It was only with Aurelia’s solemn promise not to try to live out the story that her mother agreed to read it to them again.
An armful of copies went on the table.
Sense and Sensibility was a must. Aurelia had been in secondary school when she first read it.
She’d been assigned Emma in her English class and her mother, seeing the book amongst Aurelia’s school things, had complained that her favorite Austen novel, Sense and Sensibility, was often overlooked.
Aurelia had fished out her mother’s copy from the family bookshelves and read it over a bank holiday weekend, succumbing to the lure of Elinor and Marianne Dashwood and the sisters’ triumphs and woes.
On the table it went.
There was room for one more title. Aurelia looked at the spot where her next selection would go, which was now occupied by two copies of one of her aunt’s last selections: The Moonstone.
It had been her aunt’s favorite book, and it had frequently made an appearance on the Recommended Reads table.
Aurelia hadn’t read it until Marigold, shocked to learn this, sent her home with a copy and refused to let her return to work until she’d finished it.
Aurelia liked it, though she had to admit it wasn’t a favorite, even with its quirky old detective, Sergeant Cuff.
She didn’t know what the allure was for her aunt and, much to her regret, she’d never asked what her aunt liked most about it.
Aurelia hesitated before deciding that maybe she’d made enough changes for one day, and she left The Moonstone on the table.
After arranging the books just so, she stepped back and surveyed her work.
She smiled, knowing Mark would be happy to see she’d taken his advice.
Glancing up at the mantel clock, she saw it was a quarter to five.
It occurred to her that she might go upstairs to make her mark on the flat too, and she started toward the shop door to close a few minutes early.
But as she turned the lock, she remembered standing in that same spot hours earlier when she’d gotten the call from David.
“Oh no!”
She’d forgotten about his call, the random date he’d planned for her, and her own plan to call him back and refuse to go.
She barely had her head on straight these days—how was she supposed to pretend to be normal on a date?
She’d probably break down in tears, driving another man away with her ‘too much’-ness.
Phone in hand, she paced in front of the shop windows as she waited for David to answer.
“Need help picking an outfit?” was his greeting.
“No—no, I don’t because I’m not going. You’ve got to cancel.”
“I’m not canceling. It’s too late now.”
“It’s only just five! Your text said to meet him at eight.”
“Exactly. Much too late to cancel. I’m sure he’s looking forward to it and you don’t want to disappoint him.”
“Seriously, David—I’m not ready to meet anyone right now.”
“As your oldest friend, I’m insisting that you go. One date.”
Aurelia pulled a face, trying to think of a way to get out of it.
“Look, it’s been a wild week—truly. The idea of going on a date right now—”
“It’s not just an idea, Aurelia. It’s happening.”
“How about next week instead?”
David said nothing, prompting her to add quietly, “Or never?”
“I heard that, and no. You’re going.”
“I’m sure he’s lovely, but—”
“He is. You’re going to like him, but even if you don’t, it’ll be good for you to get out again. Have some fun. Drink some wine. Snog a boy.”
“Oh, now we’re snogging?”
“Don’t scoff—he’s cute. You’ll want to snog him,” David said with what she just knew was a wicked smile, even if she couldn’t see it. “Meet the man for a drink and see where the night takes you.”
She looked around the shop, at the Recommended Reads table where she was sure she’d seen a man’s hand vaporize and reappear in the wee hours; at the mezzanine, where she’d peered down and been certain she’d seen people gathered in the shop late at night.
Maybe getting out for a bit wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
“You’re really going to make me do this?” she asked, her resistance fading.
“I am. And you can thank me later,” David said, clearly pleased with himself.
“Fine,” she said on a dramatic sigh.
“And put in some effort,” he said bossily. “I’ve talked you up, so don’t go meeting him in a frumpy old jumper.” He paused, then added a little more gently, “It’s just a date, Aurelia. You’ll be fine.”