Page 129 of The Witching Hours

“Why are you so interested in me, Ms. Campbell? Most of my customers are much more interested in what I can do for them.”

I shrugged. “Everything about you suggests a past worth hearing. You know I have a professional as well as personal interest in the fantastic. So, you shouldn’t be surprised that I want to hear your story. That and…”

“And what? Go on.”

“I suppose you’ve caught me at a moment in my life when I’m both excited and content.”

“Ah!” He clapped his hands once. “You’re likely onto something. You’ve already taken steps to supply your own need for new or different experience. Again. Brava. Still, I’m here and this,” once again he waved at the offerings,” is available to you. Consider it a bonus.”

Looking over my shoulder while allowing my tastebuds to fully blossom around jamocha almond fudge ice cream, I nodded, swallowed, and said, “Okay.”

“A gift for the girl who has everything,” Winkleman said as if he wasn’t expecting to be heard.

“Woman.”

“What?” he asked absently.

“A gift for thewomanwho has everything.”

“Ah, yes.” He chuckled. “Sometimes I forget the preferred language of the times.”

“No harm. No foul. So do I.”

“Instead, of talking about me. Let’s discuss some of the things you’ve seen so far that were interesting to you.”

“This doesn’t mean I’m not still more interested in you, but when it started raining and the street filled with umbrellas?”

“Yes?”

“There was a moment when I had a thought about wishing I could capture it in a watercolor painting.”

Winkleman gave me a new look I hadn’t seen before, as if he was appraising me. “Yes,” he said. “I can see you as a person who longs to create beauty.”

“Wow. Wait a minute. You just went from zero to sixty in under four seconds.”

“Is that a car reference?”

“It is. Winkie, do you have a driver’s license?” I asked the question thinking I might get closer to pinning down his age.

He laughed under his breath. “First, do not call me that. Second, persistence is a commendable trait, Ms. Campbell. I suspect you have it in abundance.”

I waggled my head. “My dad told me once that when I want to know something I’m like a rat terrier. On that note, show me your driver’s license and I’ll stop calling you Winkie.”

“Comparing you to a rat terrier is what passes for a compliment in your family?”

It was my turn to laugh. “Yes. Rat terriers don’t look like rats, if that’s what you’re thinking. They’re actually quite handsome. Proud. Intelligent. Andverydetermined to succeed.” I pulled out my phone, found an image on Safari, held it up and said, “See?”

“Oh, yes. I see what you mean. I suppose those contraptions have their upside.”

It took a second to understand his reference. “If you mean cell phones, yes, they do.” As I dropped my phone back into my pocket, I said, “So?”

“Hmmm?”

“Driver’s license?”

“No. Never needed one.”

“Is that because cars weren’t a thing in the days before you…” I tried to remember how he’d put it. “Accepted this post?”