“Nothing, Dad, just that Julián almost got away . . .”

“It’s my fault,” said Alicia.

“And you are . . .”

“Alicia Gris.”

“The lady who placed the big order? But please, come in, it’s cold outside.”

“In fact, I was just leaving . . .”

“I won’t hear of it. Besides, I see you’ve already made friends with my grandson. Don’t imagine he’ll go off with just anyone. Not at all.”

Señor Sempere held the door open and invited Alicia in. She exchanged glances with Daniel, who nodded, looking calmer now.

“Come in, Alicia,” Bea agreed.

Julián held a hand out to her.

“As you can see, you have no choice now,” said Granddad Sempere.

Alicia smiled and stepped into the shop. The perfume of books enveloped her. Bea had put Julián down on the floor. The child grabbed her hand and led her to the counter.

“He’s quite taken with you,” remarked the grandfather. “Tell me, have we met before?”

“I used to come here when I was a child, with my father.”

Sempere gazed at her. “Gris? Juan Antonio Gris?”

Alicia nodded.

“Good heavens! I can’t believe it. . . . It must be years since I last saw him and his wife! They used to come by almost every week. . . . Tell me, how are they?”

Alicia felt her mouth go dry. “They died. During the war.”

Grandfather Sempere sighed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

Alicia tried to smile.

“So you have no family left?”

Alicia shook her head. Daniel noticed the young woman’s eyes shining with tears. “Dad, don’t interrogate her,” he said.

Granddad Sempere looked crestfallen. “Your father was a great man. And a good friend.”

“Thank you,” murmured Alicia, barely able to speak. An overlong silence ensued.

Daniel came to the rescue. “Would you like a drink? It’s my father’s birthday today, and we’re inviting all our customers to a glass of liqueur from Fermín’s vintage cellar.”

“I don’t recommend it,” whispered Bea behind Alicia’s back.

“By the way, where’s Fermín gone?” asked the granddad. “Shouldn’t he be back by now?”

“He should be,” said Bea. “I sent him to get the champagne for the dinner, but since he refuses to go to Don Dionisio’s grocery, he’s wandered off to some dive near the Borne. He says that Dionisio mixes rancid church wine with soda and a few drops of cat pee to give it color. And I’m tired of arguing with him.”

“Don’t be alarmed,” said the grandfather, turning to Alicia. “Our Fermín is like that. When he was young, Dionisio was a member of the Falangist Party, and Fermín is always having a go at him. He’d rather die of thirst than buy a bottle of anything from him.”

“Happy birthday.” Alicia smiled.

“Listen, I’m sure you’ll say no, but . . . why don’t you stay and have dinner with us? There’ll be a big group, but . . . for me it would be an honor to have the daughter of Juan Antonio Gris among us tonight.”