Page 63 of The Battle of the Bookshops
“They’ll be out of a job,” said Roman soberly. “I’ll make sure they get a decent payoff, and they’ll just...” A thought struck him. “I don’t suppose you’re hiring?” he asked Jules, only half joking.
Of course,she thought. Capelthorne’s was the unrivaled bookselling queen of the high street again now. Somehow the thought didn’t make her as happy as she would have expected. It didn’t change anything really, on that score. The shop was still going to have to close by Christmas. Perhaps the Montbeaus would set up another bookshop here. Perhaps Roman would even run it. Her skin prickled in a moment of fierce rivalry, a fleeting return of her feelings toward him when she had arrived that winter.
“You’ve still got a few months,” said Roman, reading her thoughts. “I think last night demonstrated an awful lot can change in a few months.”
“Yeah, we will have sold off a lot more of our stock by then,” said Jules, thinking how very modestly the stock sell-off had contributed to Flo’s savings so far.
“And there’s some decent antiquarian books to sell. I’ve got the best ones for us to take to London tomorrow,” said Charlie. “The valuations are going to be... interesting.”
“True,” said Jules, slightly more optimistically. And Roman was right. Lots could change.
“You need a shower,” said Roman to Jules, draining his coffee and plonking the mug down on the table decisively.
“Rude,” Jules replied mildly, and then yawned.
“Exactly,” said Roman, noticing. “And then bed.”
“Whoa, you guys,” quipped Charlie, “not in front of the children.”
Roman chuckled. “I’m serious,” he said to Jules in a low voice. “Get some sleep.”
“What about you?”
“I’ve got things to do,” he told her, getting up and stacking crockery to take it into the kitchen.
“I’ll run you a lovely, hot bath, darling,” Flo told Jules, disappearing off to the bathroom.
At the top of the stairs, Roman caught Jules in his arms and dropped a kiss onto her forehead.
“Don’t go!” she pleaded.
“Give me today,” he said. “Let me sort out this mess. I have to put wheels in motion—I don’t even know what started the fire... And I have to see my parents. They deserve to be told face-to-face about us.”
Jules didn’t need him to tell her what he meant.
“I love you,” he murmured.
“Love you back,” replied Jules, resting her head against his chest.
And it just felt so right.
Nearly dozing off in the bath, Jules—who never, ever napped in the daytime—was immensely relieved to put on the clean pajamas Flo put out for her before slipping between the cool, soft sheets. The golden autumn sun poured in through her window, lighting her face, but Jules closed her eyes against it, and within seconds she was gone.
Chapter 28
Waking, groggily, to see the sky painted pink and orange, Jules was disorientated. Was it sunrise or sunset? She lay still for a moment while her memory returned. The fire. Roman. Going to bed at the height of the morning. She climbed out of bed, her head pounding slightly, and went to explore.
“Darling,” said Aunt Flo as she came out of the little kitchen. “How are you feeling? Did you sleep? I’ve made macaroni cheese.”
“Yum,” said Jules, giving Flo a hug. Suddenly it seemed important to show people she loved them. All the time. Because you just didn’t know how long you had. “Macaroni cheese is exactly what I feel like. Actually, I’m starving.”
“Not surprised,” said Flo. “After your exciting adventures, I didn’t like to wake you at lunchtime—you needed the rest. Now, let’s be slobby and eat supper on our knees. You go through and cuddle up with Merlin by the fire.”
Jules followed instructions and found the venerable old feline curled into a perfect circle in the middle of one of the fireside armchairs. He purred rustily when she lifted him and then settled him back down on her lap, where he pummeled her briefly with his paws, claws carefully sheathed. Then, curling back into his perfectcircle and tucking his nose under his tail, he went instantly back to sleep.
The little fire was blazing merrily in the grate, so cheerful and benign in contrast with the thick black smoke and the evil glow of the flames imprinted on her mind’s eye from the night before. Jules gazed around the little room, cozy and familiar in the lamplight. It was almost impossible to think that all this would be gone by the end of the year.
Flo came in carrying a tray with napkins, forks, and two deep green bowls, piled high and steaming gently. There were even two wineglasses filled generously with purply-red wine. “I thought we could do with a little glass of something,” explained Flo, handing one to Jules.
