Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Rosie

I t wasn’t jet lag that had me waking up at three in the morning and staring at the ceiling where Moira had hung faux green vines.

It was Daniel’s sad eyes.

And Edina’s hopeful expression.

I’d accepted their money, hadn’t I? It was officially a transaction, even though I hadn’t known what I was getting involved in, and now I felt a responsibility to see this through.

Or I could just refund their money. It wouldn’t be hard to explain that I wasn’t cut out for this job and they’d likely have better luck on a dating app.

I pictured Daniel trying to upload photos to Tinder and shook my head in the dark room. It would be like leading a lamb to slaughter. That poor man would be torn apart on the dating apps, if my brief experience on them had taught me anything.

People were not their kindest selves when hidden behind a screen.

Which didn’t mean that I thought all people were bad. Contrary to that thought, I actually landed more in the default thinking that most people were good, albeit being around people at times annoyed me. But that was a me thing, not a people-hating thing.

I scrubbed a hand over my face, swiping at the screen of my phone to see that it was now four o’clock. Obviously I wasn’t getting back to sleep, so I might as well take this time to be productive. Surely this time of night would not bring me any visitors knocking at my door. Energized by the thought of actually working through some of my lists without interruption, I hopped in the shower, did my morning routine using two heavy books as hand weights, and got dressed. Today’s outfit was a cute pair of purple, wide-leg corduroy overalls and I paired it over a red, frilly almost sheer blouse. Piling my hair in a messy bun on my head, I wrapped a silk scarf around my tresses, and out of habit, patted some lip stain on my lips. Again, it wasn’t like anyone was going to see me at this hour but, knowing my tendency to lose track of time once I was hyper focused on a task, it was best to dress as though someone would come knocking. That way I wouldn’t be caught in my faded sleep shorts and ratty Minnie Mouse T-shirt.

After I brewed a cup of coffee and snagged another buttery, I walked out into the shop and pulled the chain to light the fringe lamp. Dropping into the chair, I put my coffee down, buttery in one hand, and reached for my list with the other.

I stopped, mid-reach, as my eyes landed on the Celtic heart book. I’d put it on the table the night before, promising out loud to the shop that I’d look more deeply into it the next morning, and it had stayed put through the night. Except for one small difference. Now, a magnifying glass attached to a long gold chain was on top of the book.

Finishing the pastry, I wiped my hands on the paper towel I’d brought with me, and then reached for the magnifying glass. It was small, maybe three or so inches in length from the handle to the top of the glass, and hung from a thick gold chain. The handle was ornate, gold vines twisting around a pink quartz heart, and lightly etched flowers lined the circle of gold around the glass.

“Isn’t this pretty?” I was a sucker for fun and unique pieces, and this looked to be vintage. Immediately, I pulled it over my head and beamed as I held it up to my eye.

Blurriness greeted me through the lens.

“Oh, right. Duh.” I laughed at myself. I was trying to hold it like a pair of glasses when it was meant to be held against the papers. A thought occurred to me. “So if this was left with the book, am I meant to use this with magick? With the love spells?”

The speaker behind me flicked on and began to play Mariah Carey’s hit single, All I Want for Christmas is You .

I winced.

“Admittedly this song is a banger, but I’m also about to hear it four thousand times in the next month, so can we not?” The song switched to instrumental Christmas music, and I nodded in relief. “Thank you. Whomever you are.”

I still wasn’t certain if the shop was sentient, if there was a ghost, or if the actual magick that lived here was what was making the calls. I’d read enough fantasy books that anything and everything could be charmed or hold magick, so I was holding out on landing on any theories until I collected more evidence. Speaking of which…

Pulling out a fresh notebook, I opened it and started a new list of magickal observations. It wouldn’t hurt to take notes to reference. Once I noted the few oddities I’d seen so far, I put my pen down and reached for the Celtic heart book.

“Okay. I’m going to use this magnifying glass”—I held up the glass around my neck—“with this book.”

The music kept playing so I took that as a positive sign and opened the book to a random page.

“‘Susan and Sean.’” I read the names out loud at the top. “‘Susan is a single mum who doesn’t believe in love after divorce but hopes to find a father to be a good role model for her son. Her favorite book is The Hunger Games .’” I tapped the magnifying glass as I thought about the book that was a global phenomenon.

“‘Sean has never been married but comes from a big family, and he’s looking to settle down. He loves working with his hands and specializes in building custom cabinetry. His favorite book is Four Blind Mice by James Patterson.’”

And their books brought about a match? How? One was about a woman sacrificing herself in a game of death to protect her sister and another was about a hero cop who solved murders.

Remembering the magnifying glass, I held it over the page, though I could read the words clearly enough without it.

Protect.

The word hovered briefly in the air beneath the magnifying glass, above the page, glimmering softly in the dark shop.

“Holy shit,” I breathed, putting the glass down and catching my breath.

If this was some magickal ink trick, well, it was a damn good one. Taking a healthy gulp of my coffee, I leaned forward and studied the words written on the page. Nowhere was the word “protect” written that could be seen. Even if it was invisible ink or something like that, there was no reason it would hover off the page in such a manner. Holding up the magnifying glass again, I sucked in my breath when the word “protect” lifted off the page and danced in the air beneath the lens.

That was the common link.

Both of these people liked to protect others. To nurture. Which would make them good partners, of course, because neither would feel like what they were giving wasn’t being reciprocated.

“Ohhhhh, okay, okay, okay. So, I’m looking for ways that their ideologies complement each other. I think I get it. This is so cool.” Excitement zipped through me as I flipped the page and read another pairing.

“ Eat, Pray, Love and Climbing Mount Everest ?” Before I used the glass I wanted to see if I could guess the commonality. “Hmmm. Travel?”

Holding the glass up, the word adventure popped off the page.

“Not bad, not bad. Okay, so it’s like finding a common thread. Even if the books are different. I think I get it now.” Pleased at this new discovery, because it made matchmaking seem a touch less daunting, I hummed my way through reading several other matches. “This is fascinating.”

Updating my list of magickal observations, because already my mind was spinning with potential book ideas for my half-finished novel, I paused, tapping the pen against the paper.

“Wait, how long does this all take?”

Would I just have to wait for someone to walk in the door and ask for the perfect book? Or was there a database of previous people who had ordered the “special” and were waiting to be matched? I glared at the computer, certain that the info I needed was in there, and sighed. In theory, this could work. But in practice, matchmaking, particularly with the use of magick, sounded like a full-time job.

A notebook in the pile of ledgers on the table shook.

“Listen, I feel like I’ll get used to this assistance at some point, but honestly, this freaks me out a little. Or startles me, I should say.” It was true, too. I wasn’t scared by what was happening in the shop. Excited. Interested. A bit on edge. But scared? No. Because the magick or ghost or whatever was here didn’t feel evil. There were no scrapes down my skin or bloody words showing up on my mirror.

If I had to be exposed to magick, well, this was the perfect kind.

Unless a falling book took me out one day.

That would not be good. I’d already had one blunt force-induced epiphany this year, and I wasn’t really looking for another. Pulling the notebook closer, I flipped it open.

“And we’ve struck gold.”

It was a list of Moira’s customers along with their orders, preferences, and contact information. Certain pages had little red hearts at the top. Taking that to mean she’d matched them, I cross-referenced the names in the matchmaking book.

“Yup, okay, I see. And the rest? Surely they all can’t be single?” That’s when I noticed an individual letter at the top of each page. S. M. W. D.

“Single. Married. Widowed. Divorced.”

This was starting to fall into place. I had to admit, I was absolutely transfixed with the possibility of being able to bring people together over their shared love of books. My fingers paused as I came across Alexander’s name.

Alexander MacTavish.

Sighing, I reached for my coffee. His full name sounded even sexier than just his first. Telling myself that this was simply professional curiosity, in case a perfect match came in for him, I checked the letter at the top of his page.

“Divorced. Hmm, I wonder what happened.”

None of my business . I then scanned his purchase history. His listed favorite book had a question mark after it, but it made my heart dance.

The Hobbit.

I mean, it wasn’t unlikely that The Hobbit was many people’s favorite book. It had been my gateway into reading fantasy and magick books after all, and I am sure many others. But still, it was a foundational block for my love of reading and seeing that next to his name made me warm to him.

“Let’s see, what else, Dr. MacTavish? My, you have a varied reading list, don’t you?”

It was as eclectic a list as mine. It seemed the man bounced from science fiction to murder mysteries to self-help books. I paused at one title.

“ Get Divorced, Be Happy. Aww, poor guy. At least he sought some advice for it.” I had to admire a man that reached out for help, even in the form of a self-help book, after a breakup. Not all men, frankly all people, were sufficiently in touch with their emotions to do so.

“ Losing a Parent. Navigating grief. Oh, buddy. That’s a tough one too. Jeez, you’ve had some wounds, haven’t you?” It made me think back to our stilted conversation yesterday. I made a note to try and be as gentle with him as I could. Who knew what level of grief he was currently dealing with? Discreetly, I checked the dates next to the sales. Over three years ago . I hoped he was in a better place now.

Even so, I made a mental note not to add him to my dating pool. He hadn’t come in and asked for the “special,” and it was clear he was taking some well-deserved healing time.

“It’s astonishing what information you can glean from someone’s book choices.”

Curious, I flipped through until I found Esther’s page. Or pages, I should say.

“Oh, you’re a hopeless romantic.” I laughed at the endless list of romances she’d purchased through the years, everything from deeply erotic books that I’d read and had even made me blush to sweet, clean closed-door romances. It seemed that Esther didn’t discriminate in her romance choice, she just wanted everyone to find love.

I wondered if they’d like to be involved with the matchmaking.

Turning the thought over, I paused as I saw Esther’s favorite book.

Pride and Prejudice.

“Is that right? Interesting .” I drew the word out as I thought about Daniel. They were similar in age, from what I could guess, but I wondered how his sweet nature would do with Esther’s battering-ram approach to life. Would she just steamroll the poor man?

“I’ll think on that one.” In the meantime, I needed to get these accounts sorted so I could have my first proper day of business. Which also meant I needed to take stock of what books were in this shop.

The disorganization was surely going to keep me up at night. While the Book Bitches had done a great job getting everything cleaned, dusted, and sorted yesterday, I still had entire shelves of books that had no rhyme or reason to how they were put away. I suppose that was the easiest way to do it, just shove a book onto a shelf when you were done with it, but no way was my brain ever going to allow me to function in a shop without some sort of order.

The music flipped off.

“Oh, don’t be in a huff about it. If you want me to stay here, I need to do some things my way. And I can’t run a shop and make a profit if I can’t track the stock. It’s as simple as that.”

The music flipped back on.

Mariah Carey again.

“Cute. But I’m taking that to mean you agree with me, even if you’re annoyed about it.”

The volume increased and, despite myself, I laughed.

“Well, I’d promised myself a new adventure, didn’t I? I guess this is what I get. A sarcastic ghost and a matchmaking business.”