The Last Bookshop in London: A Novel of World War II(9)

An older woman in a checked pinafore housedress approached with her gaze fixed on Grace. “Excuse me, do you have The Black Spectacles?”

Grace smiled easily. At least this was a question she could answer. “We don’t carry spectacles here, I’m terribly sorry.”

The woman blinked her wide blue eyes. “It’s a book. By John Dickson Carr. I finished The Crooked Hinge last night and just had to find the next edition in the Gideon Falls series.”

If the earth were to open up at that moment and swallow Grace whole, she’d offer no protest.

She had two book names and a series to work with and no idea where any of them might belong. While cleaning, she’d tried to find some order to the layout of the books, to no avail.

“Oh, of course.” Grace waved for the woman to follow her in the hopes she might somehow have the dumb luck of stumbling upon the book by happenstance. Or be struck by lightning on the way. She’d accept either at that point.

“Did you find The Crooked Hinge exciting?” Grace asked tentatively in an effort to glean what type of book she was seeking.

The woman pressed her palm to her chest. “Oh, it was the best kind of mystery. I locked myself in my bedroom for the last chapter so I could finish it without the children interrupting.”

Ah, yes, a mystery. Maybe there were some located near the back where she was currently leading the woman. “I believe it will be somewhere on this wall.” Grace’s gaze skimmed over the spines of multiple books. None of which were in any order, not by title or name or even color of the book jacket.

“If I may...” A masculine voice spoke from behind Grace.

She leapt in surprise to find a tall man in a finely tailored gray jacket with his black hair combed neatly to the side. She’d noticed him earlier. After all, what woman would not when he was so handsome? But it had been rather a while ago, and she’d assumed he’d already departed.

“I believe it’s on the shelf on the far wall.” He glanced toward the opposite side of the shop.

“Yes, thank you.” Grace’s cheeks burned. No, her whole body burned, flaming with an embarrassment made all the more scorching by the man’s gaze on her. She indicated the woman follow once more. “If you’ll come this way, please.”

“If you don’t mind, miss...” The woman looked pointedly at the handsome man and blushed. “I’d rather he show me.”

His eyebrows went up with surprise, and he gave a rich chuckle. “By all means.” He offered his elbow to the older woman, who took it with a beaming smile.

Grace watched the two with amusement as the gentleman took down a black book with bold red type on the front. The woman thanked him and met Grace at the cash register on the cluttered counter.

“What a gentleman.” The woman patted her reddened cheeks before removing the payment from her purse. “If I were as young and pretty as you, I don’t think I’d let him leave without finding out his name.”

Grace flicked an anxious glance at the man to ensure he hadn’t heard the woman’s statement. He remained facing a shelf several paces away, apparently oblivious. Thank goodness.

The tension in Grace’s shoulders eased somewhat. She counted out the woman’s change, thanked her and handed her the purchased book. The housewife gave her a quick wink and exited the shop, sending the little bell chiming.

When its ring cut off, a heavy silence filled the cramped space. While Grace had been oblivious to the man’s lingering presence in the store earlier, she was keenly aware of it now. If this had been the shop in Drayton, she could offer to assist him, perhaps make a few suggestions. As it was, he appeared to know the store better than she.

She discreetly brushed as much of the lingering dust from her dress as possible and vowed not to wear anything white again until the shop had been thoroughly cleaned. In the end, she opted to tidy the bits and bobs scattered over the counter as she waited for him to make his selections. She found an old cup in one of the cabinets below, where she gathered the pencil nubs, each worn nearly to its end. Next she disposed of the scraps of rubbish, but only after confirming they were not in fact account slips, as the two often looked similar.

The gentleman was standing before the partially cleared off counter when Grace looked up. He smiled at her and met her gaze with the most striking green eyes. There was a slight cleft in his chin, which complemented the sharpness of his jaw nicely and made him as alluring as one of the actors in a cinema production.

Grace’s mind tripped over itself for something fascinating to say and quickly came up empty. “Is there something I can help you with?”

He nudged the stack of books on the counter toward her, books she’d been too lost in his beautiful eyes to notice.

“I’d like to purchase these, please.” He put his hands casually in his pockets and settled into the wide-legged stance of a man intent on conversation. “I’ve never known Mr. Evans to have a shop assistant.”

Grace punched a button on the old National cash register, and its accompanying thwack resounded in the empty shop. “It’s my first day.” She cast him a sheepish glance as she reached for the next book. “It was kind of you to help earlier. Thank you.”

His smile widened and made the smooth skin around his eyes crinkle at the corners. “It’s the least I could do. I’ve been coming regularly since I was a boy. I noticed you’ve cleaned the place up a bit. That’s quite the task to take on.”