Page 128 of The Witching Hours

He nodded, looking around proudly. “All the time. It never gets old because it never stays the same.”

“I see.”

“Unlikely,” he said as he began walking toward the soda fountain.

I wondered if that was a dig. Did Winkleman think I’m slow?

“So, I could order anything I want?”

“At your service. The more detail the better.”

“I’ll have a brownie with two scoops of Starbucks Jamocha Almond Fudge ice cream on top and Hershey’s syrup on top of that.”

I was secretly pleased when I saw him hesitate slightly. “Are you really going to eat that?”

I looked at my watch. “I know it’s early, but I had a light breakfast and I plan to skip lunch. It would be worth skipping dinner as well. So yeah. If you can produce what I’m holding in my mind, I can eat it.”

Not only did he recreate my vision exactly, but he served it in a thick green glass bowl with a Wallace Rose Point sterling spoon exactly like the kind my grandmother had. I smiled knowing the ice cream would make the spoon cold and enhance the experience.

“You really do know everything about me, Winkleman.”

“Just the good stuff.”

“Really? I wish I only knew the good stuff.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I don’t?”

“The good stuff makes you charming. The other stuff makes you strong, resilient, and interesting.”

“Well. When you put it that way…”

“It clarifies perspective.”

“Yes. It does.” After taking a bite of ooey gooey death by chocolate, I said, “Winkleman, this is even better than I imagined.” He smiled and leaned against the marble counter behind him. “Don’t you want to join me?” He gave my concoction a dubious look. “You don’t have to eat this. You could have something different.”

“Very well,” he said. “I’ll have apple pie with a thick piece of melted cheddar cheese on top.”

I suspected I gave him a look of near horror. He laughed softly. “To each their own?”

“Sure,” I agreed, vowing not to look if he actually intended to eat pie with melted cheese. He sat down next to me on a red leather swivel stool. “You seem wise, Winkleman. Has this always been your job, or did you have another occupation before you worked, um, here?”

“Trying to squeeze more info out of me, are you? Here’s a question for you. Have you always been so inquisitive about other people?”

“First, I wouldn’t call it a squeeze. Just friendly conversation. You have me at a disadvantage since, as you’ve said repeatedly, you know everything about me.”

“Before accepting my current post as caretaker of the Curious Goods store, I was engaged in a wide variety of ways to make a living or, as you put it, occupy myself. One of my fondest memories is that of being a teacher.”

“I can see how that would suit you. Did you teach children or older students?”

“At the time, society was different because life was harder. My students were young adults, but more mature than their contemporaries are today.”

“I see. Was that here? In New York?”

With a soft laugh, Winkleman said, “Your curiosity borders on prying.”

“That depends entirely on how you look at it. You could see it simply as having an interest in you.”

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