Page 6 of Love Walked In

CHAPTER FIVE

Mari

We walked through some of the rooms I’d seen before, but Graham colored things in for me and told me more about the history of the shop.

He pointed out the framed and labeled photographs hanging on the walls of the sections of famous novelists, historians, travel writers, most of them with Alexander shaking their hands.

In one picture, an older Alexander was clearly telling a story to John le Carré while holding a skinny black-haired boy on his lap.

The little boy was leaning into Alexander’s chest, and I felt a pang at the security, the sweet trust that the camera had captured.

But I thought I recognized the thick glasses and the beginnings of high cheekbones. “Is that…”

“Leo, yeah,” Graham said. “This place was his nursery. Alexander liked having him around, teaching him little things.”

For a split second, I remembered my mother’s arms around me when I was that age. That sense of trust and safety, gone. I’d had nearly two decades to live with that loss, and those hugs had been few and far between anyway. But Leo had lost that sense of safety so recently.

“And now we get to go to the best part of the shop,” Graham said, and I slotted that thought away for later.

He led me all the way back down the staircase, into the basement I hadn’t explored. “Catriona and I have our differences, but I can’t deny that she’s brilliant at selling books,” he said. “Lovely taste in music, too.”

I stopped to listen. It was Billie Holiday, asking softly if she was blue. The melody twined around me like a friendly cat, reminding me so much of Orchard House on a rainy day, Suzanne playing crackly old records on her hi-fi, that I was… choking up?

No, I couldn’t be homesick. I was having an adventure, there wasn’t any room to be homesick. I guessed I was feeling tender after seeing the picture of little Leo and Alexander.

We followed the notes through cluttered rooms that got smaller and smaller, until we arrived at a doorway that said “Gallery” over it in worn gold lettering.

When we passed through, it was like we’d walked into someone’s living room.

The music floated from what looked like an ancient record player, a dinged-up wicker box next to it full of sleeves.

There were two squashy chintz armchairs, a little worn and cat-scratched, sitting around a big coffee table, a scattering of classic novels calling to me to pick them up and sit in one of the chairs for a spell.

If I squinted, I could tell that this section had the same under-stocking problem as the rest of the store, but someone had taken the time to make a virtue of the empty space, to turn it into a kind of salon.

Catriona glanced up from behind a register, which sat on top of what looked like a Victorian teacher’s desk decorated with white Christmas lights. “Ah,” she said, a small smile on her face. “I see you found my hideaway.”

I turned in a circle, taking in the cozy space. “It’s beautiful,” I marveled. “You’ve done an amazing job.”

Her ears turned pink. “It’s no bother,” she said a little shyly. “It was sitting empty when I first got here and Alexander said I could try to do something with it.”

“I mean, you totally have, it’s incredible. How much did it cost?”

“Basically nothing.”

“Nothing?” I blurted, astonished.

“Never doubt a Scot’s ability to squeeze a pound until it screams for mercy,” Graham said with a grin.

Catriona rolled her eyes. “And never doubt a Cockney’s ability to fall back on regional stereotypes.

It’s all Facebook Marketplace,” she explained.

“The furniture, the record player, all of it was going to the tip before I rescued it. You’d be amazed at the things old posh people in North and West London want rid of.

I fix up what needs fixed up, cover up what can’t be fixed, and there you have it. ”

I observed Catriona with new appreciation. Behind her sharp tongue and no-nonsense attitude was someone who got a lot of fulfillment from making things nice for other people. It was like finding a gleaming geode inside a forbidding piece of rock. “Damn, you’re talented,” I said, meaning the praise.

She didn’t respond, just smiled and looked down. Maybe that was enough compliments for today, before I killed her with sheer embarrassment. “So you remember how it was before Alexander’s death?” I asked.

“Of course I do,” she said bluntly. She paused for a second.

“It was a really good place,” she said more gently, “when Alexander ran it. He was a big personality, but he had a way with customers, to make them feel welcome and to encourage them to buy books they might not have bought otherwise.” She sighed.

“I suppose you could say he gave this place heart.”

Clearly those days were over, and everyone had lost that heart. “How did Leo feel about everything you did here?”

“I suppose he was a bit skeptical at first, but he was really happy with the result.”

The wheels were turning in my brain. “OK,” I tried, “then why isn’t the rest of the shop like this? It’s warm, it’s welcoming, it would make people want to stick around.”

Catriona shook her head. “We were talking about it, but it was right before Bex…”

“Cat,” Graham said sharply.

Flickering expressions and turned-down mouths telegraphed silent messages back and forth between the exes, and after a few seconds, Catriona rolled her eyes. “Before it all went wrong,” she finished.

“Now it’s too much like change for Leo,” Graham said with his hands open.

Catriona nodded in agreement. “He’s got so much else on his plate. I don’t want to push him.”

It seemed like Leo Ross was both the master key and the unbreakable lock, too. “It’s time for honesty,” I said, putting my hands in my pockets and trying to sound both warm and businesslike.

Catriona snorted, but I continued firmly. “Judith brought me here to give an outsider’s perspective on what’s wrong with the store. I have some thoughts already, but I want to hear from you.”

The two of them looked at each other for a long time, until Graham finally said quietly, “We’re doing the best we can, but after Alexander died, it’s like we all got untethered. It’s not what it was.”

“It started before that, Grammie,” Catriona said. She looked at me and folded her arms. “Alexander had very strong ideas about what he wanted on the shelves. And he was slow to return books that had been gathering dust for ages.”

That would explain the piles sitting in front of the shelves. If you only had a certain amount of space, you had to return older books to the publisher regularly to make room for new ones. “Are you behind on your invoices to publishers, too?”

They both nodded. “Seems so. Leo’s been meaner with our buying budgets,” Catriona said. “But you’ll need to chat to him to get the full picture.”

“I’ll do that. Is Leo equally slow to do returns?”

Graham rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. It’s like…” He paused, sighed. “Like he wants to leave things as Alexander had them. I understand he’s hurting, but I know it’s not a good thing, either.”

I exhaled. No wonder Judith had wanted to bring me over. I knew the Rosses were unhappy, but they obviously needed an outside person who wasn’t emotionally tied up with this place.

I leaned forward, making eye contact with the two booksellers. “Look, I think we can put this place back on track.” I patted one of the shelves. “It has good bones. But we need to think about what Ross and Co. could be, not what it was.”

A pause while they took my words in. But instead of nods, I got an uncertain look from Graham and a downright skeptical one from Catriona.

“You make it sound so straightforward,” she said, implying that it was as straightforward as a hill full of switchbacks.

“And I know Americans have all this can-do attitude, but don’t be surprised if Leo’s allergic to it.

” Suddenly Catriona sat up in her chair, and Graham straightened where he’d been slouching against the shelves.

“Good morning,” Leo said behind me. “What am I allergic to?”

I turned around and casually shoved my hands in my back pockets. “Good morning,” I non-answered.

He squinted suspiciously at each of us in turn, and my muscles tensed in preparation for having a more serious discussion right off the bat. But he only said, “We open in fifteen minutes. I take it everything’s ready, if you’re chatting down here?”

A stupid part of my heart felt sad at how he looked even more tired than he did yesterday, like sleep was something he’d loved and lost a long time ago. But the patronizing way he said “chatting” made me want to stick pins in a little Leo-shaped doll.

He turned and walked out without waiting for an answer, and Catriona and Graham followed him like ducklings, me trailing behind.

When we got to the main floor, Catriona turned into the fiction area while Graham gave me a wink and continued climbing upstairs.

Leo paused for a second, taking what looked like a deep and necessary breath.

Why did he already look so exhausted?

“Are you OK?” I asked gently. “Something on your mind?”

His eyes snapped open and his shoulders hunched. “Nothing. And I’m perfectly all right.”

His curt tone was as good as a hard shove. Clearly his state of being was none of my business, even if his words didn’t match his weary expression. “Cool, cool,” I said, forcing good cheer. “I’d like to help out today. Where do you want me?”