“You know,” said Carmen, interrupting her boss, which she normally wouldn’t do, but she had immediately got the sense that they might be there all day, “she’s very much at an age where she might eat quite a lot of The Jolly Christmas Postman.”

“That’s true,” said the woman. “But I have to have this. I just have to. How much is it?”

The printed sum on the back read “2’11d,” which was absolutely no help to anyone, and Carmen looked at Mr. McCredie, who shrugged and mentioned something called the Net Book Agreement and patently had absolutely no idea and seemed about to launch into quite a long book-based spiel again.

“Uh, seven pounds?” ventured Carmen, and by the way the woman’s face lit up, she instantly knew she’d made a terrible mistake. Oh well. Too late now.

“Where’s the card reader?” she hissed at Mr. McCredie, who, it became immediately obvious, had no such thing.

“Um, we take checks,” he said, prodded into action. The woman and Carmen looked at each other, Carmen giving an apologetic smile. Finally, after the woman handed over a ten-pound note, she managed to count out three pounds in small change from a battered gray tin underneath the till.

The bell rang as the woman maneuvered the large stroller out the doorway.

“Oh,” said Mr. McCredie. “Because the really interesting thing about Pookie is he became a complete word-of-mouth success after the war. There were so many rabbits, you know, but this one had wings. I’ve filed him with all our rabbit books, subspecies wings. Such a special title.”

Carmen looked at him. “You don’t separate children’s books and adult books?”

He blinked, not really understanding. “But books are for everyone,” he said. “Who knows what you’ll love? How dare you tell children what to read?”

Carmen rolled her eyes. “Well, technically I agree with you,” she said. “But . . . should we try selling a few first?”

He looked at her. “Well, your sister tells me I have to let you do your thing.” He leaned forward. “I’m sure you’re going to be excellent. Right, I am off to do some reading. I’m so glad you’re here to save the shop.”

“What?” said Carmen. “What did you say?”

“Your sister says I’m going to lose the shop if it doesn’t make any money, and I’ll be out on the street. They’re putting up the rent. If we don’t make money over Christmas, the bank is going to take everything. But you’re here to save the day.”

“What?”