“But Miss Roy, we want loosening,” Miss Miller said.
“It’s what we came for.” I laughed with the others and nodded my ascent to the waiter.
Miss Scatcherd said, “We all know what you came for, Miss Roy. Canning jars and pectin.”
“And a new boiling pot besides,” Miss Roy said good-naturedly.
“Is this yours?” I held up the hot scone I’d spread with a wonderful raspberry lime marmalade. Miss Roy not only taught homely arts, she made fabulous jams and jellies and sauces. The inn and the grocer bought such a steady supply from her that she had a good side business going.
“It is,” she answered with pride. She never spent but on her business and on good things for her beloved pet birds. I suspected Miss Roy would retire with an enviable nest egg.
“What are you after today, Miss Eyre? Paints, caramels?” Miss Scatcherd looked pointedly at my exposed collarbones. “Lace?”
I blushed. My hand flew protectively to my uncovered throat, and I fingered the gold cross pendant Miss Miller had given me upon passing my licensing exams.
Miss Scatcherd moved on to Miss Miller. “I suppose you’ll visit the heathen bookshop.”
The clinking of knives and forks halted with the conversation. She’d do it, too, I thought. In taking Miss Temple’s administrative place, Miss Miller had adopted her courage as well.
“What would be wrong in that?” she said. “Mrs. Dean has books her grandfather didn’t carry, and I want to see them. Lord knows it would be a pleasure to read something new.”
“I wouldn’t patronize that foreigner with one penny,” Miss Scatcherd said. “She has an entire section devoted to witchcraft, you know.”
“I didn’t know, Miss Scatcherd. How do you?”
“I believe I heard something from the kitchen.” Miss Scatcherd turned red and looked down at her plate. “Cook said she has the Harry Potter books.”
“Oh, those are wonderful,” I said.
All heads jerked in my direction, as if I’d admitted to a deviant crime.
“What?” I said. “They are. People who denigrate those books haven’t read them. My uncle had a complete set, and he was an Anointed Elder. The Arabian Nights also.”
I didn’t mention his secret books kept in the Red Room behind a locked glass door. If only I’d had the courage to look for the key when I had the chance! I never missed Gateshead, but I did miss Uncle Reed’s library.
“Harry Potter is all about love of others and self-sacrifice,” I said. “Christian themes, if I’m not mistaken. I’m surprised Lowood doesn’t teach them.”
At that Miss Scatcherd spilled a little of her champagne.
“That shall be our guide,” Miss Miller said. “An Anointed Elder! I want to see what this American has done with her grandfather’s store, and I don’t think the Gytrash will get me for having a look.”
“Maybe your Gytrash will in fact be your fairy godfather,” I said.
Sadly, as no one else had read The Prisoner of Azkaban, none understood my reference to the mysterious great black dog, a shapeshifter who turned out to be Harry’s guardian.
A sense of claustrophobia came over me. I was so different from these women, yet in that moment I saw my future: bit by bit and with each passing year, I would chip away at my sharp edges. I would modify myself to fit in. I would become less like myself and more like them.
Despite my purple dress with its low neckline and a mind that once read scandalous books.
I turned down Miss Miller’s invitation to go with her and Miss Roy to the bookshop. It felt good to get out of the inn and go my own way. Anyway, today I had a plan. I meant to splurge, not on candies or paints. My salary had been raised, and I’d kept out half my quarterly $500 to spend on a pair of custom-made boots at the cordwainer.
Blackstone’s felt more like someone’s parlor than a place of business, but for the display samples on the wall. While I waited for Mr. Blackstone, my gaze went straight to a pair of black leather knee-high lace-up boots.
I couldn’t help myself. I lifted a boot from its stand, caressed the leather and inhaled its rich smell. The interior was lined with soft, soft microfiber. How warm the boots must be!
“Will I measure you for a pair then?” said a deep voice behind me just as I became aware of a masculine presence at my back. I turned around, but the gray hair and twinkling blue eyes I expected weren’t there.
I caught my breath. My eyes were level with a young man’s broad chest. He wore a dark forest green cotton shirt with the long sleeves partly pushed up exposing muscular forearms. The shirt buttons were open to his breastbone. He had the scent of a man who’d been working physically. My heart raced, and my breathing was shallow.