“Which book was it?” Nina’s eyes were beginning to sparkle. Golden Age mysteries were one of her many literary jams. Possibly the jammiest.

The guy beamed. “It was Gaudy Night, by Dorothy L. Sayers.”

Laura watched Nina’s face fall. “Damn,” she said loudly, then apologized when the guy looked worried. “Sorry, sorry, but that is the worst place to start Dorothy Sayers, the worst.” She sighed. “Let me be clear, it’s an amazing, incredible book, great plot, satisfying denouement, and I can totally see why it got you here, but it’s the final book in the all-important Whimsey-Vane romantic subplot. You’ll have to cleanse your reading palate with something equally good but different and go back and start over with Sayers later on, maybe in a few years.” She turned and led the customer away. “Let’s stay in the genre, but leap the ocean and a decade or two . . . Rex Stout to the rescue, I think. Not strictly speaking Golden Age, but . . .” Her voice faded away as they disappeared into a separate part of the store, through a doorless doorway.

Laura crept out from behind the bookshelf and approached the checkout desk, where Polly was going over an inventory list.

“I could totally see you,” said her new friend, not even looking up. Today Polly was wearing a black turtleneck (the AC in the store was very efficient) over vintage patchwork jeans, with her hair in the jaunty pigtails Sandra Bullock wears when she kicks Benjamin Bratt’s butt in Miss Congeniality. Laura noticed the pigtails, but wouldn’t have gotten the reference. Not a huge movie fan. Looking at Polly, though, made Laura painfully aware she was wearing leggings, running shoes, and a black Columbia University T-shirt that was faded almost to gray (it had escaped the fire by being on her at the time), and that she basically wore the same thing every day. Maybe she should get some fashion advice from Polly? Or Nina? Although there was something slightly familiar about Nina’s outfit today, and Laura couldn’t place it.

Nina reappeared with the customer, who was carrying a small armful of books and looking encouraged. “This is Polly,” Nina was saying. “She’ll take your information and I’ll be in touch.” Then she turned to Laura and said, “Hey, I knew you’d be in. I’m going to get my cast taken off this afternoon.”

“Great,” said Laura, because that seemed like an appropriate response. “It will feel weird for a while.” She hesitated. “Your skin might be dry. You can soak it in warm water, then gently brush your arm.” That sounded wrong. Who brushes their arm?

Nina looked interested. “Did you know the average person sheds several pounds of skin every year?”

Laura shook her head. “No, sorry, I didn’t.”

Nina raised an eyebrow and said, “It’s not a test,” and then both of them felt awkward.