Page 15
Noémi scratched her head. What would such a shop be selling? Perilous hiking experiences in bad tights? Dangerous one-way holidays to the Dickensian times of smallpox and cholera? Whatever it was, it was setting off alarm bells and unwanted memories – and she was not here for it.
‘Nothing good,’ she concluded.
She would find out more – but for now, she was embracing her confetti cannon of motivation.
‘His presence is having a positive effect on you,’ Daniel mused, as he took a slurp of his latte.
‘Not true. Now, if you two have quite finished your coffee break, we have work to do.’
‘Sometimes she sounds just like her mother,’ Felix whispered.
Noémi allowed herself a small smile. Perhaps that much was a good thing.
It didn’t take long for her to assign everyone jobs from the SOB list. She put Felix in charge of ideas for the book club, figuring he couldn’t make too much trouble with a notepad. She would spread the word to the locals about Saturday’s first meeting – which would be dedicated to choosing books and future meeting times. She put Daniel in charge of taking photos for their website and social media – with or without Barbara’s smelly stuffed badger.
‘And keep your eyes peeled for that brazen-faced neighbour,’ she added. ‘Because I want words.’
When the others were settled into their jobs, Noémi took command of the dusty boxes she’d pulled out from the storeroom. Her mum had gone through a forgetful period of ordering all sorts and promptly hiding things in a ‘tra-la-la, nothing to see here’ fashion. Noémi had never got around to having a proper sort-out – because who liked cobwebs? But today, she was doing things differently.
As Noémi sat next to the twinkling Christmas tree, listening to the sweet sounds of Nat King Cole and opening boxes. She felt like at least some of her festive wishes were being granted. The idea of beautifully wrapping customers’ purchases, as if every story was a gift, had been growing on her. She’d even thought about setting up a new ‘blind date with a book’ stand, where customers could select a book pre-wrapped in brown paper with only a few written clues of what was inside.
And right here was a full box of new wrapping paper, in all sorts of exquisite patterns and shades. She gasped as she pulled out a roll with little golden reindeer prancing across a deep indigo sky, followed by one with tiny fox cubs and ruby-red post boxes. There were reels of ribbons and paper bows and even a set for stamping wax seals. This was wrapping heaven.
Noémi jumped up, her mind already whirring with ideas for her new wrapping station, which would take the customer buying experience to the next level. Well, when they had any customers.
Daniel looked up from his spot in the bookshop window, where he’d found the best light to photograph stacks of LGBTQ+ Christmas romcom novels on a bed of rainbow tinsel.
‘Found something?’ he asked.
‘Yes! And I bet that if I keep searching, there will be at least one box of stationery for our new stationery section. Mum could never resist the stuff.’
Noémi looked over to the cosy patchwork sofa near the fireplace where Felix had now fallen asleep, even though it was barely nine thirty in the morning and the fire wasn’t on.
‘Bless him,’ said Noémi, wondering if she should tuck him up with a blanket, even though Daniel was tutting about him sleeping on the job.
The sound of the bell tinkling over the door roused him from his slumber. Noémi shot the door a look, but it was just Mrs Jingleman. You could set your watch by her. Any day that Felix happened to be on the rota she would be here, reading books, until she tottered home for lunch. Noémi couldn’t remember her actually having bought anything from the shop, or even having said much, other than the odd mumble when she accepted free tea and biscuits. But the place wouldn’t feel the same without her.
Noémi went to help the elderly lady through the door with her tartan shopping trolley. Nobody knew what she kept in there, though it was usually as light as a feather, so Noémi guessed it might just be an aid to help her walk.
Mrs Jingleman darted Noémi her usual glance and then looked away, as though too much eye contact was no good for you.
‘It’s nice to see you,’ Noémi reassured her. ‘Daniel was just about to make tea.’
She could feel him bristle from where he was. But he knew the drill, even if he’d be muttering about rolling out the red carpet and being careful that she didn’t nick something. Mrs Jingleman was not a thief.
Daniel saw Noémi scanning the street outside.
‘I’ll settle Mrs Jingleman,’ he reluctantly agreed. ‘You go and check for elves.’
Chapter 9
They hadn’t seen any kerfuffle on the street so far that morning, nor had the gossip committee reported any clear sightings of Santa’s errant helper. Noémi had marched outside on more than one occasion, but the most she’d caught a glimpse of was a scribbled note taped to the inside of her neighbour’s shop window reading ‘Closed today. Grand opening tomorrow.’ She had no idea what that was about, but she would be ready.
Noémi had also witnessed another coach full of visitors loitering, but it hadn’t stopped. She assumed it had continued to the main square in search of posher climbs. She remembered Monday’s coachload who’d been looking for her once-award-winning Christmas cookies, and had vaguely wondered if …
But no. Today’s lot probably hadn’t been looking for cookies or books, and that was fine. She had plenty of other hopeful plans.
And right then, Mrs Jingleman was settled by the fire with the large-print romance novel she’d started last week, and Felix gathered wood – even though Noémi had hidden all matches and lighting implements. Daniel entered with a warm teapot and a plate of crumbly mince pies. Yes, this was exactly Noémi’s sort of cosy adventure. Christmas lights danced across the fireplace, crackling logs and the homely smell of burning wood were imminent, and stories were about to unfold. Her heart felt good.
