Page 29 of The Wallflower Manifesto
“Yes, I like it too,” Millie agreed, picking up the sample and holding it up to see it in the sunlight. “You’ve good taste, Mr. Murphy.”
“I know I do,” he replied, making her giggle again.
“Would you like to see our paper options now, Miss Yardley?” the shopkeeper asked, immediately setting off to his task when she nodded.
She let out a sigh as he vanished behind the little door to the rear of the shop, and she turned to face Abe, the little leather sample still gripped in her fingers. “I don’t think I’ve ever bought a journal so elaborate before,” she told him. “That’s the first I’ve heard of choosing from different papers! I imagine he’s got every type imaginable back there.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever considered that there’s variation in paper, to be honest,” Abe confessed with a chuckle. “But, clearly, that man values his work.”
The chime rang again, startling Millie so much, she jumped away from Abe, dropping the little swatch of leather in the process. Dot had returned with a snipped vine of morning glory, complete with several trumpet blooms and a few of its distinct heart-shaped leaves.
She blinked in surprise at their new guest.
“Mr. Murphy!” she cried, rushing forward and shaking his hand like an old friend. “Why, what a coincidence! What brings you to Bloomsbury?”
Abe shook Dot’s hand with a grin and gestured around at the shop. “There are many things to tempt a man with a little extra to spend in this neighborhood, my dear Mrs. Cain.”
“That is true!” she agreed, setting her vine on the countertop. “I always say Bloomsbury has the best artisans in London. Are you searching for something in particular?”
“Ah, only information, I’m afraid,” he admitted, “though I always keep an eye open for unexpected treasures when I’m on the job.”
Millie gave a little cough, hoping her cheeks were not warming again, and turned her head in relief as Mr. Carruthers returned with his paper samples.
“If only we were having luncheon together today,” Dot was saying as Millie attempted to turn her attention to the paper samples. “We’ll have to run into one another on another day. I’ve already promised the afternoon to Silas’s client. I’m to assist him in finding suitable lodgings for his stay in London. I hope you don’t find me terribly rude.”
“You? Never,” Abe replied smoothly. “This is the Portuguese fellow? Cresson mentioned the whole affair to me over breakfast last week.”
“This one, please,” Millie said to Mr. Carruthers, tapping a textured, cream-colored paper that reminded her faintly of papyrus. “It’s lovely.”
“Excellent choice. Very sturdy!” Mr. Carruthers said. “I’ll just put this with … where did that color sample get to?”
“Oh!”
Millie knelt down, searching the floor for the little square of fabric, only to find Abe already crouched low himself, holding it out to her with a sparkle in his eyes.
She accepted it, her mouth inexplicably dry, and straightened herself. “I”m afraid I dropped it. My apologies.”
“Oh, never mind that,” Mr. Carruthers said, happy to accept it.
“Those flowers will close up rather fast,” Millie told him, pointing to the vine Dot had brought from outside, “but now you’ll know what to look for if you need another reference piece. As the name suggests, the blooms are most open in the morning hours.”
“Wonderful,” he replied, bending close to look at the detail on the sample.
His cuckoo clock chimed, announcing that it was ten o’clock. The little gray and red bird erupted from behind its wooden door, ensuring that no one in earshot would miss the occasion.
“Oh, isn’t he darling,” Dot observed. “What a wonderful clock. Did you buy it here in Bloomsbury?”
Mr. Carruthers confirmed that indeed he had, which prompted Dot to give a gloating little smile to Abe Murphy.
“See?” she said. “I told you so.”
“You did indeed,” he agreed with a chuckle.
“Ah, but if that is the time, I really must go. Millie, will you be all right for the rest? Mr. Murphy, can you ensure my dearest friend gets home safely?”
Millie flushed, another jolt of her heart nearly knocking her off balance. “Oh, you don’t have to …”
“Of course I will,” he said before she could argue. “It would be my pleasure.”
