Her impudence was reflected in Mrs. Nesbitt’s narrowed eyes. “Are you here to spy on me?” the woman demanded. “I know you work in that miserable hovel of a shop owned by Percival Evans.”

“If it’s so miserable, why do you find it such a threat that I’m here?” A thrill at her own audacity raced through Grace’s veins. She’d never been one to stand up to others, but something about Mrs. Nesbitt’s nastiness had her emboldened.

Mrs. Nesbitt sniffed and tossed her head dramatically. “Don’t come in here with the intention to copy my shop.”

“I don’t intend to copy it,” Grace answered indignantly. “I intend to do far better.” With that, she swept from the shop.

Floating on her victory and eager to put some of her ideas to paper, she rushed back to the townhouse. Between what she’d seen in the large plate windows of Paternoster Row, the organization of Mrs. Nesbitt’s Fine Reads and even the elaborate detail of a reader’s mind Mr. Anderson had offered, Grace knew exactly what she wanted to do.

The thought of George Anderson sent excitement tickling through her. Viv would just die when she heard about the upcoming date.

Later that evening, Grace was in the middle of writing a meticulous catalog of what she wished to implement at Primrose Hill Books when the door to the room she shared with Viv opened and her friend swept in, bringing with her a new floral scent.

Viv had always been chic, but her sense of fashion had risen to grander levels during their brief time in London. Her blue pullover from Harrods paired beautifully with the tweed pencil skirt she’d sewn the day before, and her curls were artfully arranged so she looked like a woman on a magazine cover.

“Grace, darling. I hoped to find you in here.” A small bag dangled from the crook of her elbow.

Grace sprang up from her seat. “And I was hoping you’d return home soon. I have news.” She grinned at her friend.

Viv rubbed her hands in anticipation. “Oh, do go first.”

Grace wriggled her shoulders coyly. “I’ve been asked on a date.”

Viv gave a squeal of delight. “The gentleman from the bookshop?”

Grace had mentioned George Anderson in passing to Viv on one of their many evening chats as they fell asleep in their small separate beds. Leave it to Viv to hold on to that bit of information.

Grace nodded excitedly and went on about how he’d offered to come up with more ideas with her at the café.

“And you said yes?” Viv folded her hands over her chest, sending the bag at her arm spinning.

“Of course.”

Viv clapped her hands, her pretty face alight with joy. However much Grace had been looking forward to her date, she was now doubly eager after Viv’s jubilant display.