Tomorrow she’d make a checklist of everything she had left to do before Christmas Day. Then, she had Sunday free to go shopping, and visit the Christmas Tree farm. Perhaps that was her opportunity to ensure the little family had enough. Because from the lack of money Abbie had at the supermarket and selling their only child-friendly car, the signs pointed to a difficult festive season.
The first hour the bookshop was open saw no customers. Not one. Rosie and Charlotte had both brought lunch with them and expected to be run off their feet until the earlier Saturday closing time of four.
“Is this her doing?” Rosie muttered under her breath as she peered out the window for the third time.
“Rosie, come and have your coffee because once the rush begins, you’ll have no chance. And no, Octavia Morris does not control the buying habits of a whole community, especially not after one day.”
“How did you hear me?”
“I have super-hearing. Just one of my superpowers.”
Unable to do anything but smile, Rosie wheeled around the counter to her usual spot. “What are the other ones? These superpowers?”
“You’ll find out over time. They mostly revolve around being bossy in times of crisis. Ask your son.”
Rosie shot her a look with her eyebrows raised, but Charlotte did a zipping motion across her mouth. “That’s all I’m saying.”
“You are being quite mean. Using my son to get my attention then refusing to divulge why. I will ask him.” She picked up her coffee and drank.
“See. Isn’t that better? Now, you enjoy that, and I’ll fill you in on the events of last night after I left you.”
In a few sentences, Charlotte told Rosie about her chance meeting with Abbie and her thoughts about the financial situation up at the farm. She left out mention of Sid.
“Well, I’m sorry to hear Abbie had trouble at the register, but thankful you were there. I admit to worrying about that little family. They might have been better to sell the place when Darcy’s dad passed on, rather than try and regenerate a sinking business.”
“Why would they leave their own home and come here? It seems risky.” Charlotte picked up her own coffee.”
“Family pride. Darcy has volumes of belief in hard work, responsibility, and doing the right thing. He’d have been heartbroken at the state the place got into and if there are outstanding rates to pay, he’d want to pay them.”
“Is there a market up here for properties so large?”
Rosie nodded. “Always. We’re one of those fast growth regions and council don’t seem to mind encouraging it. So far though the town has overturned a few of their planning decisions, but a big parcel of land like Darcy’s would surely attract developers.”
“Not a fan of some developers.”
“Do you mean the one your friend was engaged to? Christie? Didn’t he try to sink the yacht she was on or something?”
“Yes. Quite an interesting personality mix in him. Narcissist with sociopath tendencies. And really cunning.” Charlotte stared into the distance. “The sort of patient I’d love to have but would end up walking away from.”
“What do you think of me?”
Charlotte turned to Rosie with a frown. “I don’t actually analyse everyone I meet. And never you, or anyone I care about. Not unless they have asked for help and I need more insight.”
“But I’m curious.”
“From the look of things, we’re about to have company.” Thank goodness. “But I will say the two words that make me smile about you.”
“Oh? Crazy cat lady? That’s three. Or, world’s best boss?”
“Which is also three. I had no idea your maths was so bad.”
People stepped out of a car parked outside.
“I was thinking along the lines of tough cookie.” Charlotte said.
Rosie thought about it. “I do like cookies.”
“Careful or I shall analyse you. Come on, time to make a whole lot of money.” Charlotte grinned and got up to greet the customers as they wandered in. “Good morning! How may I help this lovely day?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
At the busiest part of the day, a tall man and very short lady waited patiently at the counter as both Rosie and Charlotte contended with what felt like an endless stream of customers. Rosie took money and chatted. Charlotte gift wrapped.
Rosie had acknowledged the couple and asked if they minded waiting, so there they stayed, for at least ten minutes. When at last there was a break at the counter, although Charlotte continued roaming the shop from customer to customer, Rosie had reached her hand out to shake theirs.
“Charlie, this is Pastor and Mrs Stevens. They are generously helping with the giving box. Pastor, Mrs Stevens, please meet Charlotte Dean who recently joined me here.”
That done, Charlotte took off to take books from someone with a tower in their arms and missed much of the conversation. The next time she looked, they’d left, and the giving box was empty. Not for long though, with two more donations—this time with a request the books go to a residential aged home—straight back in the box.
The shop empty again, Charlotte flopped onto her stool and gulped some water.
“You are a little powerhouse, darling. Two more hours then a whole day to recover!”
“Gonna need it! So, your visitors took everything?”
“They run a local charity and although I’m not personally a church goer, have seen the wonderful work they’ve done in the community in the past. I’ve every confidence they’ll spread the love around.”
“But we’ve still got the books for Lachie?”
“Of course. And look at the collection!”
Charlotte turned around. On the back counter were seven, no eight gift wrapped books for him. They ranged from the latest age-appropriate fiction to a biography of a sportsperson he apparently liked, and a very cool book about young entrepreneurs. That should keep him busy for a while.
“What about his parents?” she asked.
“I don’t know Abbie very well so don’t know what she likes. And
