Chapter 19
Pushing herself to focus on trying to patch things up with Vronsky, the next day Aurelia took notes during breaks from helping customers, writing out points to raise with him. As she scribbled, her emotions cycled between calm determination and heated irritation.
When Mrs. Smith appeared at the shop door just before noon, it took Aurelia some effort to drop her lingering annoyance.
She stood up from her desk and said hello in the friendliest tone she could muster.
Mrs. Smith strode over to Aurelia, displaying her usual rush of energy and shortage of time to spare.
As usual, Alfie was trotting alongside her.
“Ready for another book so soon?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Smith said brusquely. “You mentioned you had a recommendation for me—a mystery I haven’t read.”
“Oh, yes—it’s here, actually.”
Aurelia led her to the table at the front, where The Moonstone sat with her other selections, but then hesitated, unsure whether she should remove the book from the table.
There was another copy there, she told herself.
Shouldn’t that be enough to bring Rachel and Sergeant Cuff into the shop again?
Aurelia picked one up and handed it to Mrs. Smith but made a mental note to order a few more copies.
“I’m surprised Marigold never recommended this. It was one of her favorites.”
“She did recommend it. I was just never all that interested in reading it.”
Mrs. Smith peered down at the back cover.
“Yes, fine. I’ll take it,” she said, handing the book to Aurelia. “I’m tired of re-reading my Agatha Christies. I may as well try something new.”
Aurelia felt a burst of pride in having swayed Mrs. Smith with one of her recommendations but tried to keep from looking self-satisfied. She could just imagine her changing her mind if it seemed Aurelia was too pleased with herself.
Mrs. Smith began following Aurelia to the register before stopping as she caught sight of the other titles on the table. “Anna Karenina? I never bothered with that one since everyone seems to know how it ends. Not much of a mystery, is it?”
“It’s one of my favorites,” Aurelia said automatically.
She paused then, looking at the cover and struggling to keep in the burst of frustration that surfaced as she thought about Vronsky.
“You know, to be honest, I’ve been rethinking that. I mean, Count Vronsky is so pompous and set in his ways. Tolstoy describes him as loving all things new and modern, but his thinking is completely backward.”
“Sounds as if you’ve met a Vronsky or two yourself,” Mrs. Smith said, pursing her lips in a conspiratorial smile.
Aurelia’s eyes widened, almost believing that Mrs. Smith might have guessed her secret.
“Come to that,” Mrs. Smith continued, “throw a stick in this city and you’re bound to hit one.”
Aurelia let out a laugh of relief; clearly she was talking about real-life men, not the fictional one Aurelia had in mind.
“I’d best stop throwing sticks, then,” she said, still laughing as she led Mrs. Smith to the desk to ring up the sale.
Mrs. Smith paid for her copy and stuffed it into her handbag, then thanked Aurelia as she strode toward the door and pushed it open. Alfie dashed over and managed to squeeze himself through just before it closed behind her.
Aurelia shook her head, still smiling at the fact that she’d managed to break through Mrs. Smith’s cool exterior, all thanks to her argument with Count Vronsky.
She watched Mrs. Smith and Alfie walk through the square, then her eyes fell to the displays in the front windows.
It had felt good to have Mrs. Smith take her up on a book recommendation.
Maybe it was finally time to update the window displays and give other customers something new to see as well.
When her father appeared at five o’clock, Aurelia gave him a puzzled look—what was Dad doing here?—before she remembered.
“Oh, dinner!”
“Forgotten me, then?” her father teased.
“I did for a minute—it’s been busy here.”
She put the book she was holding in the window display and turned to give him a hug. “How was the train?”
“Fine, fine. Same as ever.”
“All your errands in town done, then?”
“Yes, all ticked off the list. You don’t mind an early dinner, do you?”
“Not at all.” Aurelia spotted the overnight bag in his hand. “Should I make up the guest bed for you?”
Her heart sank a little, thinking that with her father visiting she might not have a chance to sneak away and see the characters.
“No, thanks, darling. I promised Edward I’d stay with him. I’ll leave my bag here, if I can, while we’re at dinner?”
Her father and Edward had taught at the same university. Edward was divorced and had been a good friend to him over the past year.
“Of course.” Aurelia took the bag and tucked it behind her desk. “Let me just run up to the flat and make myself presentable.”
An hour later, as their waiter brought dinner to the table, Aurelia had run out of small talk and found herself thinking back to the night—and nights—before. She grew quiet, which her father couldn’t fail to notice since she was normally a chatterbox.
“Something on your mind?”
“Me? No. Well… Yes.”
“Let’s have it.”
“It’s nothing, really.”
Her father gave her his patented ‘out with it’ look.
Aurelia thought through how best to say what was on her mind since she couldn’t exactly tell her father Count Vronsky annoyed me last night or I’ve been having chats with a man from the nineteenth century.
“There’s this… customer, an older man,” she began. “I’ve had a bit of an argument with him.”
“Is he bothering you?” Her father’s protective instinct jumped in and he set down his fork.
“Oh, no—not at all. It’s just that we’ve had a disagreement and I can’t figure out how to… well, how to convince him that he’s wrong.”
“Give it time. I’m sure your stubbornness will wear him down,” her father said, chuckling.
“I am not stubborn,” Aurelia insisted.
“You see the problem?” her father asked, tenting his fingers in a professorial pose.
She rolled her eyes at him but couldn’t hide her smile.
“Alright, I’ll give you ‘strong-willed.’”
“I’ll take it. You get that from your mother, by the way.”
“I know.”
They were both at risk of growing misty-eyed, so they focused on their food for a moment.
“Is he a regular customer, or someone you won’t have to worry about seeing again?” her father eventually asked.
“Who? Oh, right. I’d say he’s become a regular.”
Although she supposed she could try taking his book off the table, that seemed like a petty way to avoid him.
Not to mention the other characters likely wouldn’t appreciate thinking she’d pull their books off the table any time they said something that might annoy her.
No, she’d just have to try to get Vronsky to see reason—or avoid him so she could keep chatting with the others.
“Aurelia? Have I lost you?”
She shook her head, returning to the present. “Sorry, I was just thinking of something else. Someone else.”
“Someone I know?”
She blushed.
“No, no one you know.” Just a few characters that’ve been materializing in the shop, she added to herself.
“Really? Someone new, then?”
The sudden memory of her date with Oliver turned her cheeks redder still.
“Oh, Dad, not like that. Not a boyfriend. Just… some new friends.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear you’re out meeting people again.” Her father turned serious. “I do worry about you, Aurelia. It’s a lot of pressure on you to run the shop, and living and working in the same spot can be very isolating.”
Aurelia heard echoes of conversations she’d been having with Antonia.
“I don’t want you to worry, Dad. It’s fine—I’m getting used to it all.” She paused as she realized that was finally true. “I’m actually starting to enjoy it,” she said with a smile.