CHAPTER FIVE
Jilly stayed busy in the midst of having no customers by washing her windows, dusting her books, and baking scones for the neighbors. She left the scones on their doorsteps with a brief note of introduction and the announcement that complimentary tea and scones would be provided to anyone who entered Hodgepodge that week. After that, they’d be sold for next to nothing to discerning readers who should feel free to sip, eat, and read to their hearts’ content at the bookstore during business hours.
When she wasn’t attempting to drum up business, she was writing a novel. She’d only just begun, but it was going to have a dastardly captain in it who married the ignorant daughter of a mushroom—who wore a silk hat smashed upon his ears so that they stuck out—and a giant woman who spoke so loudly, windows rattled.
Quill to mouth, Jilly mused on what their dozen children would look like. She already knew how they’d behave: rudely. And they’d be cursed with seriously good looks so that no one ever felt sorry for them. And people
Perhaps the woman who lived next door to the children would take them under her wing and teach them manners—she’d even take them to the seashore each year because she would be a very rich bookshop owner patronized by all the gentry and the Prince Regent himself.
Diligently, Jilly wrote a whole half page describing the scene in which the captain and his awful wife forgot Christmas Day. But when the cuckoo clock chimed two, she looked up from her scribbling. Otis was out, for far too long, looking for the perfect pair of secondhand shoes to go with his pink and white striped waistcoat, the one he’d found at Captain Arrow’s house the night of the theatrics. It had been adorning a bust of Admiral Lord Nelson on the stair landing, and when no gentleman there could claim the illustrious garment as his own, Otis had taken it with Captain Arrow’s blessing.
Poor Otis. Books weren’t his passion. Fashion was. But he was trying, and he was always so supportive of her.
Jilly heard the shop door open and wished she could be entirely excited at receiving a customer, but part of her was always prepared to see Hector. Yes, it was a shame, but it was the way things were. She knew as long as she lived, she’d never be completely free of him.
So when a breathtakingly lovely girl peeked in the door, she released a discreet sigh of relief. The girl had rich brown hair, the color of chocolate, pulled back in a luscious, loose knot, and a dimple on either side of her mouth. Her best asset was her eyes, which were large and sea green.
“Hello,” she said to Jilly with a shy smile. “I’m Susan Cook. I live down the street.”
Jilly put her quill down and stood. “It’s lovely to meet you, Miss Cook.” She smiled, too, excited that someone—especially someone other than Hector—had come into Hodgepodge! She was beginning to despair that anyone on the street was friendly.
A small boy, no more than four, popped out from behind Susan. He had her same button nose and a wide grin. “I’m Thomas,” he said in a robust manner, although Jilly couldn’t help noticing his legs were thin. “You make good scones. Could we have some more, please? And some butter and jam, too, if you don’t mind.”
Susan’s mouth became a round O. So did Jilly’s. And then they both burst into laughter. Thomas did, too, although Jilly could tell he had no idea what was so funny.
“Thomas!” Susan rubbed his head with a palm. Her tone was stern but fond. “We don’t go about begging. Be glad with what you got from Miss Jones. You don’t ask for
“I don’t mind a bit,” said Jilly. “I promised them to anyone who walked in, didn’t I?” She couldn’t help wondering if the lad got enough to eat. In fact, she was so charmed by Thomas’s cheeks turning pink with embarrassment she said, “Wait here. I’ve not only got scones ready at the moment, I’ve got something else.”
She went to the rear of the store and opened a door between two bookshelves, which led onto a small corridor. On the right was her office and down from that, Otis’s bedchamber. To her left was the staircase leading to the living quarters above the shop: her bedchamber and a spacious front room she shared with Otis each evening.
Picking up an orange sitting next to a ledger in her office, she brought it out to Thomas. “Here,” she said. “My friend Otis got this for me as a special treat, but I’d much rather give it to you.”
Thomas’s eyes widened. “Thank you very much.”
“You don’t have to do that, Miss Jones,” said Susan warmly.
“Please call me Jilly.” She smiled again. “And it’s my pleasure. I hope Thomas and I will become fast friends.”
Thomas clutched the orange in both hands and beamed up at her.
“I can see you already are.” Susan sighed and looked shyly at Jilly. “I hope we can become friends, too. I’d love for you to call me Susan.”
“Oh!” Jilly’s heart swelled with happiness and she squeezed her new friend’s hand. “I hope we can, as well.”
Susan’s mouth thinned into almost a grimace. “I don’t know if you’ll want to, Miss Jones, once you realize”— she looked back at Thomas and then at her again—“Thomas doesn’t have a father. We’re alone in the world, you see. I never married.” She swallowed. “I would have if—”
She broke off and hung her head. “My family won’t talk to me. I—I’m trying to make it on my own as a seamstress. I tell everyone I’m widowed, but it’s not true.” When she looked back up, her eyes were glassy with unshed tears. “I don’t know why I told you the truth. Maybe it’s because you’re the first woman on the street to show me any kindness. Bringing us scones like that.”
Jilly sighed and shook her head. “Women can be hard on their own sex, can’t they?”
“Yes, they can,” Susan agreed.
“It’s all right,” Jilly soothed her. “Of course we can be friends. I’m a woman alone, too, if you don’t count Otis, an old family friend who’s more like an uncle to me. He’d protect me from harm if he could, but somehow … I think I might protect him more.”
They both chuckled together again.
Susan wiped at her eyes. “It’s a relief to be honest with someone, I can tell you that.”
Jilly felt a pang of guilt. She wished she could be honest, but it was simply too dangerous for her to do so.
Thomas tugged on his mother’s skirts. “When can we go, Mummy? I want to see the tree with the new green leaves.”
“Oh, yes,” Susan said. “Spring’s here, thank goodness.”
“Yes, and more leaves will pop out soon, won’t they?” Jilly knelt before Thomas. “And have you noticed? The birds are singing.”
Thomas leaned close to Jilly’s ear. “No one sings like Mummy at bedtime.”
Jilly couldn’t help giving him a hug. “I’m sure she’s the best singer in the world.”
Thomas nodded solemnly. “She is.”
Susan glowed with the contentment of a happy mother. “We’ll come again,” she said at the door.
“Please do.” Jilly dared to give Susan a tentative hug, which her new friend returned unequivocally.
“See you soon,” Susan said, beaming.
When mother and son left hand in hand, Jilly looked after them with a twinge of envy. She’d wanted a child. But Hector … Hector hadn’t been able to father one. She guessed it was probably the main reason he’d been angry at her all the time.
And a good thing, too, because Hector shouldn’t have had any children. He’d have been an awful father.
She gulped, banished all thoughts of the family she’d always wanted but would never have, and put away her quill and paper. She wasn’t in the mood to write anymore, but what could she do now? Hodgepodge was as ready as it would ever be for customers. It was so clean, she could eat off the floor. The inventory was quite impressive, as well. The books ranged from old Latin texts to the most recent novels. The corner which held a few cheery tables
