Mr. Evans didn’t lift his head when she entered. She knew better than to expect as much at this point. Detritus littered the countertop, the blackout curtains were still drawn tight against the daylight and several new piles of books had sprung from the dingy floorboards like weeds.

“It appears we’re at war,” Grace said softly.

Mr. Evans looked up with an elevation of his brows. “It should be done by Christmas according to Mr. Pritchard.”

“What do you think?” Grace asked.

“War is unpredictable, Miss Bennett.” Mr. Evans nestled a strip of paper between the pages of his book and closed the ledger, leaving another scrap behind.

She picked up the errant bit of paper to return it to him.

Mr. Evans put a hand up to stop her. “Those are some of the books sold here and how they might be sorted according to topic.”

She gave a little gasp of excitement and focused on the list. A neat row of handwritten titles with categories beside them. “Where might I find these books?”

He shrugged. “But once you’ve located them, it’s as good a place as any to start sorting out this mess, is it not?” With that, he turned toward the back of the shop. “Make sure you leave by two,” he said over his shoulder as he strode away. “I’ll not have you staying until evening again and going home in the dark. And I’ll certainly not be subjected to another call from Mrs. Weatherford on the matter.”

Grace winced. She could only imagine how such a discussion had gone. Rather than ponder over it and allow herself to feel bad for Mr. Evans, she put her attention to the list.

There were twenty-five titles labeled as classic fiction at the top followed by groups of history, philosophy and mystery. By the afternoon, she’d managed to locate only four of the classic fiction when the chime of the bell interupted her task. She pulled herself from a shelf she was examining and took her search to the front of the store to be near the customer.

The patron was not just anyone, however. Mr. George Anderson greeted her with a handsome smile. “Good afternoon, Miss Bennett.”

Grace’s pulse quickened. “Good day, Mr. Anderson. May I help you?” She almost laughed at her offer in light of how things went last time. “Or perhaps at least keep you company while I look about for titles.”

“Are you looking for something?” He glanced at the list in her hands.

She stuffed the paper behind her, realizing he meant to help, and shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

Those green eyes narrowed with playful suspicion and a smile teased at his mouth. “Nothing? I think not.”