Grace closed her eyes, fighting off a swell of worry. Staying busy would help get her through this. After all, she’d worked through concern and hurt before, when her mother was ill. Even after she’d died. Grace’s tasks would keep her mind occupied. She blinked her eyes open and put on a bright smile for no one in particular.

“I knew I ought to have married him first,” Grace said loudly and with a heavy flair of drama. Then waited.

Mr. Evans poked his head out from between the shelves and regarded her with waggling brows. “I do hope that was a joke.”

“I had to do something to lure you from your work.” Grace lifted the list she’d assembled. “I have some changes for the shop I’d like to discuss with you.”

“No.” He tucked himself away once more, like a turtle disinclined to face the world.

She carefully folded George’s note back into its envelope, slipped it into her purse and settled the book on the counter. “We’ll start small,” she coaxed.

“You’ve already cleaned the place and upset my piles.”

“Just have a look.” She peeked around a shelf and found him scowling at her the way a sullen child might.

Regardless, she thrust the list at him and left him with it while she put her things in the back room. When she returned, he slid her a wary look.

He set the list on top of a row of books. “You can move things about to help properly organize. But mind you’re not too heavy on your advertising. And I’ll not be buying back books or hawking used wares like Foyle’s.”

“Of course not,” Grace promised.

He issued a low mutter that might have been a yes.

“I beg your pardon?” she asked innocently. “Was that permission to make changes to Primrose Hill Books?”

He sighed. “Yes.”

She snapped up her list, already knowing where to start. “You shan’t regret this.”

“I hope you’re right,” he grumbled and pulled a book from the shelf into his waiting palms.

Regardless of his trepidation, she was certain he would be happy with the results. Eventually. For it would all take a considerable amount of work to implement in the coming months. She only hoped it wouldn’t take more than her allotted time at the bookshop, however, as she certainly had no plans to stay.

SEVEN

The next two months dragged on for London with unrealized anticipation of the war. All the preparation, all the expectation and fraying nerves had been for naught. There were no more air raid warnings, no rations put into place, no gas attacks and the news on the wireless seemed to report the same updates on a tiresome loop.

Grace had not heard from George. While she didn’t have an address to reach out to him, she’d hoped he might send her a letter to the shop.