shouldn’t go making assumptions.”
He jutted his chin. “I think it was reasonable to assume your best friend was a girl. Not many twenty-one-year-old women call a seventy-four-year-old man their best friend.”
“They didn’t know Ed.” She looked at the floor-to-ceiling case beside the desk. Each book in it had a detailed account typed up beside it. Steve obviously got his meticulous sense of order from his father. The pieces of her story must sound like so much gibberish. She could put it all together for him, but why do that for a man who wouldn’t believe her anyway?
A draft raised gooseflesh on her arms. It was the same at the front. The cold that had seemed magical and refreshing in the snow was just chilly inside. She could wear the jacket he’d lent her, but she would look like she was going out the door, and that might give him ideas.
“Could I run over to Granny’s Trunk real fast?” She didn’t want to tell him his place had the atmosphere of an igloo, but a warmer shirt was required.
“Granny’s Trunk?”
She caught her elbows. “Get something to work in tomorrow?”
“I’m not open Sunday.” He slipped the keys back onto his wrist, then noticed her shiver. “I guess you’ll need something for Monday, though.”
“If I don’t have my car back. I have plenty of clothes in my car.”
He opened his mouth and closed it, then glanced toward the front. “Well, the piranhas have gone for the moment.”
Alessi fingered a Venetian-glass paperweight and studied its swirling pattern. “They’re worried about you for Christmas.”
“They’re on the hunt.” He was growling again. “The whole pack of them.”
“School, you mean.”
“What?”
“It’s a school of piranhas, not a pack.”
He tucked his tongue into his cheek. “School, then. Either way they’ll eat the flesh off my bones.”
“Why?”
“A bereaved bachelor in Charity is fair game to every divorcée, widow, and single woman within a decade of my age. The holidays just rev them up.”
It might have sounded vain, but she’d seen it for herself. “How long do you figure I’ve got before they circle back?”
Now his mouth did jerk sideways. “Make it quick.”
She pulled the two tens from her pocket. “You sure about this?”
“Get going.”
Seven
T HE COLD OUTSIDE SEEMED LESS SEVERE as she made her way back to Granny’s; the string of jingle bells almost cheery. If the woman she’d spoken with earlier was Granny, she held her age well. She’d been polite in her rejection. Definite, but polite. Alessi waved. “I’m back again.”
The woman sent her a concerned glance. “I really don’t have any positions.”
“I’m just going to find a new sweater.” Alessi passed the antique glassware, china, and dolls, a trunk of gloves, collars, and scarves, and wove between chairs, lamps, and farm implements. The rack of vintage clothing would be beyond her means, but there was a section marked nearly new and she headed there. “I need something nice and warm to work in.”
“You found a job?” She probably didn’t mean to sound so incredulous.
“Bennet’s Books,” Alessi said. “Just temporarily, until they find my car.”
The woman didn’t ask what she meant. The car didn’t seem to be a subject people wanted to discuss. “You’re working for Steve?” Granny slipped on a pair of half lenses that added years to her face.
Alessi circled the rack. “At least as long as it takes him to inventory his new stock.”
Granny nodded at that. “Yes, I knew he went after an estate collection.”
“Well, he got it. Lots of books. They’re heaped up in back.” She’d caught a glimpse when he made his escape.
The woman must have decided to believe her because she said, “Do you want something seasonal?”
Alessi studied the red-and-green sequined sweater the woman pulled from the rack. “It’s really pretty.” But considering the limitations of her wardrobe and the few weeks until
He jutted his chin. “I think it was reasonable to assume your best friend was a girl. Not many twenty-one-year-old women call a seventy-four-year-old man their best friend.”
“They didn’t know Ed.” She looked at the floor-to-ceiling case beside the desk. Each book in it had a detailed account typed up beside it. Steve obviously got his meticulous sense of order from his father. The pieces of her story must sound like so much gibberish. She could put it all together for him, but why do that for a man who wouldn’t believe her anyway?
A draft raised gooseflesh on her arms. It was the same at the front. The cold that had seemed magical and refreshing in the snow was just chilly inside. She could wear the jacket he’d lent her, but she would look like she was going out the door, and that might give him ideas.
“Could I run over to Granny’s Trunk real fast?” She didn’t want to tell him his place had the atmosphere of an igloo, but a warmer shirt was required.
“Granny’s Trunk?”
She caught her elbows. “Get something to work in tomorrow?”
“I’m not open Sunday.” He slipped the keys back onto his wrist, then noticed her shiver. “I guess you’ll need something for Monday, though.”
“If I don’t have my car back. I have plenty of clothes in my car.”
He opened his mouth and closed it, then glanced toward the front. “Well, the piranhas have gone for the moment.”
Alessi fingered a Venetian-glass paperweight and studied its swirling pattern. “They’re worried about you for Christmas.”
“They’re on the hunt.” He was growling again. “The whole pack of them.”
“School, you mean.”
“What?”
“It’s a school of piranhas, not a pack.”
He tucked his tongue into his cheek. “School, then. Either way they’ll eat the flesh off my bones.”
“Why?”
“A bereaved bachelor in Charity is fair game to every divorcée, widow, and single woman within a decade of my age. The holidays just rev them up.”
It might have sounded vain, but she’d seen it for herself. “How long do you figure I’ve got before they circle back?”
Now his mouth did jerk sideways. “Make it quick.”
She pulled the two tens from her pocket. “You sure about this?”
“Get going.”
Seven
T HE COLD OUTSIDE SEEMED LESS SEVERE as she made her way back to Granny’s; the string of jingle bells almost cheery. If the woman she’d spoken with earlier was Granny, she held her age well. She’d been polite in her rejection. Definite, but polite. Alessi waved. “I’m back again.”
The woman sent her a concerned glance. “I really don’t have any positions.”
“I’m just going to find a new sweater.” Alessi passed the antique glassware, china, and dolls, a trunk of gloves, collars, and scarves, and wove between chairs, lamps, and farm implements. The rack of vintage clothing would be beyond her means, but there was a section marked nearly new and she headed there. “I need something nice and warm to work in.”
“You found a job?” She probably didn’t mean to sound so incredulous.
“Bennet’s Books,” Alessi said. “Just temporarily, until they find my car.”
The woman didn’t ask what she meant. The car didn’t seem to be a subject people wanted to discuss. “You’re working for Steve?” Granny slipped on a pair of half lenses that added years to her face.
Alessi circled the rack. “At least as long as it takes him to inventory his new stock.”
Granny nodded at that. “Yes, I knew he went after an estate collection.”
“Well, he got it. Lots of books. They’re heaped up in back.” She’d caught a glimpse when he made his escape.
The woman must have decided to believe her because she said, “Do you want something seasonal?”
Alessi studied the red-and-green sequined sweater the woman pulled from the rack. “It’s really pretty.” But considering the limitations of her wardrobe and the few weeks until
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