Page 12 of Festive with a Grumpy Fae
He comes to work with me, finds a place to sit, however uncomfortable, and reads my book.At first I thought he was ignoring me—and everyone else—but then I realized that if I had to go help a customer or work on a different task, within fifteen minutes he’d drift into my general sphere again.He’s never more than ten feet from me if he can help it, but he doesn’t get underfoot or interfere with my work.Except that one time I was getting yelled at by a customer because I wouldn’t price match a chain bookstore.I smile fondly as I remember the way he loomed over the belligerent man, saying something in a low, calm voice that made the customer go ashy and wide-eyed, then catching hold of his collar and dragging him to the door.I lectured him after about customer service and letting me handle it, but I can secretly admit that it was one of the best moments of my life.
On my first day off after the summoning, I was still feeling pissy and petty, so I made him help me decorate my cottage for Christmas—something I wasn’t planning to do this year, since I wasn’t really in a festive mood.The knowledge that I’d have someone here with me after all—and that I could stick him with the shitty tasks of fluffing out all the branches of the artificial tree and untangling the lights—changed my mind.That was when things between us became more… congenial.For starters, it’s hard to be annoyed with someone who does the jobs you hate, but also, I spent most of the day laughing my arse off.He asked me to explain Christmas to him, and I never realised what a weird, illogical story it is until I tried to make someone who’d never heard of it understand.Somehow, I tangented from baby Jesus to Santa Claus, and that just made things more confusing for him.I’ll never forget the furrow between his brows when he asked, “So, it’s a good thing that a strange man is entering homes uninvited?”That prompted me to putHome Aloneon for us to watch while we finished decorating the tree.
Since then, I’ve made it my mission to introduce him to every terrible made-for-TV holiday movie I can find.We’ve watched some of the good ones too, but it’s way more fun to listen to his scathing critiques of bad movies while we eat Christmas Crack or whatever other holiday-themed sweet treat recipe I saw on social media and decided to try that day.I’ve always wanted to make those things, but when it was just me eating them, it seemed like a fast track to diabetes, so I limited myself.
I’ve also acquainted him with some of the farm chores I offered to handle while Aunt Maggie is away, taken him around the local area, including on a hike to one of my favourite places, and we even went down to Melbourne for a day and night, so I could knock out my Christmas shopping in one go and show him the city.He was reluctantly fascinated but not overly fond of it.When we got back to the cottage, he informed me that he much preferred Typford to Melbourne… and to my surprise, I found myself agreeing.I might not have come to Typford voluntarily all those years ago, but I can’t deny the pleasure and relief I felt to get back here, even after a single night.I enjoy the city, but it’s not home anymore.I guess I can thank Cillian for helping me to realise that.It’s only been two weeks since I met him, but in a lot of ways, he’s already changed my life.
I’m just terrified that when he’s gone, it’ll feel even more empty.I’ve gotten so used to having him here, with me, all the time.To turning to him when I have a funny thought, or an idea, or… anything, really.To hearing him potter around in the kitchen in the early mornings while I slowly wake up.To his derisive comments and occasionally, his faint smiles.
To the way he watches me, like I’m something important and he needs to keep track of me.Like he cares.
Fuck.I wanted not to be alone for Christmas, but this might be a case of “be careful what you wish for.”
“Lachie?”Godfrey’s voice brings me out of my gloomy little daze, and I turn as he reaches the top of the stairs.It’s a Wednesday, which means the store is quiet and we’re able to get a lot of inventory management and order fulfilment done.
“Hey.Did the delivery arrive?I can come down and get it unpacked if you want.”I’ve been waiting for the courier to deliver our latest orders from publishers—at this time of year, everything gets delayed, and I was worried the books might not come before the holiday shutdown.
“It came,” Godfrey says, and the coldness in his tone has me hesitating.In my peripheral vision, I see Cillian look up from his—my—book.“Imagine my surprise when I saw how many boxes there were.”
“There should be six,” I reply.“Did they bring the wrong order?”
“Why are theresixboxes of new books, Lachie?This is an antiquarian bookstore.”
He’s pissed at me, and it takes me a second to process that.I know Godfrey doesn’t like selling new books, but he’s never gotten angry about it before.
“We’re sold out of almost everything,” I say slowly, trying to understand what’s happening.“Plus, the week between Christmas and New Year’s is always chockers, so I thought?—”
“Don’t think, Lachlan.Your job is to do as I say and help customers.”
I blink, taken aback and hurt.Godfrey doesn’t talk to me like that, ever.Sure, I’ve been pushy lately about stocking new books, but I didn’t realise he was so annoyed by it.
“I’m sorry?—”
“No.”
The word cracks like a whip, and Godfrey and I both spin to look at Cillian.My sexy faerie has stood up, his—my—book put aside, and he’s glaring at my boss.I think Godfrey might faint—this is the first time Cillian’s spoken to him unprompted.
“You arenotsorry, Lachie.”
I’m… not?I don’t get a chance to verbalize the question, though, because Cillian’s still talking, this time to Godfrey.
“Perhaps this has escaped your notice in the midst of your snit, but Lachie is trying to make more money for your business.”
Godfrey’s mouth opens and closes twice before he says, “My business is selling rare second-hand books.Lachie’s changing that.He’s… he’s taking over.”
“I’m not!”The cry tears from me.I’d never try to edge Godfrey out of his own business.I owe him so much, almost as much as Aunt Maggie.Part of me, deep down, likes to think of him as a father figure.
“He is not,” Cillian confirms icily.“He’s merely taking advantage of the opportunities that present themselves to grow your business.Have you never noticed how many people come in here asking for books you don’t have but could easily obtain?”
“Well, I…” Godfrey frowns, as if realising something for the first time.
“Lachie is too kind and respects you too much to tell you how foolish you are,” Cillian continues, and I wince.“Instead he’s doing his best to make your store as profitable as possiblewithout your help.”
The silence that descends is awkward, and I hate it.“I can send the books back,” I offer impulsively, even though that’s the worst idea ever.“They’re all sale or return, and I’ll pay the courier fee myself.I just… I know we can sell almost all of them in the next few weeks.The tourists always come looking for holiday reading at this time of year.”
“Holiday reading?You mean… genre fiction?”Godfrey doesn’t sound angry anymore, but genre fiction is never a subject that makes him happy.
“Not all of it, but… yeah.People want escapism while they’re on holidays.”I hesitate and then figure I’ve got nothing to lose.“I could probably sell the same number of second-hand genre fiction, too.”