“He told me he spied on you at your store.”

She didn’t know what to say, so again she smiled and let him talk.

“I knew he had gone to North Carolina. I just didn’t know why. Tells me he found a few music boxes in your store, bought them all.”

“He did. Each is handmade by some of the best artisans in the state. He has good taste,” she said.

“He does. I want to apologize for his sneakiness.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for. He’s watching out for his family; I get that. In his position, I might have done the same.”

“That offer you made, the one I refused when I talked to Ms. Winters, you still considering that?”

She took a deep breath and felt light-headed all over again. “I thought it was off the table.”

“I wanted to meet you first. You have quite the reputation, and when you offered a deal, I knew you were the perfect author to write my biography. The deal’s still good, if and when you’re ready.”

She couldn’t help but grin. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

For the next hour, they made small talk, getting to know one another. Lauren thought him extremely likable, exactly as his employees said. He had a light lunch delivered to the office, for which she was grateful. Turkey sandwiches, with fruit salad, and more ginger ale.

“You feeling better?” he asked when she drained her glass.

“Much, thank you.”

“You gonna be able to tell my story in six weeks?” he asked out of the blue.

“Yes, I’m sure I can, but do you mind if I ask why?” She hoped he wasn’t dying and wanted her to write his final good-bye to the world.

“I always said I’d have a bio by the time I was seventy. I’m seventy-two, and late.”

She laughed. “Seriously?”

“Yes. I’m the kind of guy who likes to keep his word, though I am late on this. I’m thinking that at least now I have a couple more years’ worth of stories to tell you.”

“Then it all worked out for the best,” she agreed.

They spent the next three hours going over the high points of his life. He told her how he had to work three jobs to put himself through college. His parents had died young. He wanted to make them proud, even though they weren’t around to witness his success. Lauren took notes, using a pencil and a steno pad.

“Kind of old style,” he remarked.

“It is, and I’ll transcribe my notes later. My dad is old style, too.” She told him her father’s story, how his father and grandfather worked, opening the general store, then how the big-box stores forced them to sell pieces the big stores didn’t want, hence their exclusive Christmas pieces.