“I hope 1940 brings us an end to the war.” She bound together another bundle of silver tissue. One more and she’d have all she needed.

“You’re two-thirds of the way through your six months here.” He regarded the ledger before letting it fall closed.

“I am.” She studied him and found his face impassive.

He opened his mouth as if he meant to say something further when a tall, slender man with a heavy mustache entered the shop and set the small bell jingling. Mr. Evans gave a soul-deep exhale. “Good afternoon, Mr. Stokes. Have we suffered an infraction?”

The man’s name was familiar, but Grace couldn’t place it.

“I’m not on duty.” There was an authority to his tone that tugged harder at Grace’s memory, and it struck her at once.

Mr. Stokes was the local ARP warden.

“I confess, it’s been rather dull of late.” Mr. Stokes scanned the rows of books, his brow furrowed. The lines creased his forehead, indicating it was an expression he wore often. “I could use a book to get me through the night. My partner is little more than a lad and not much of a conversationalist. You would think with Christmas festivities, there would be more lights visible, but...nothing.” The corner of his lip tucked downward in apparent disappointment at not having more opportunities for rebuke.

“Perhaps a nice mystery, eh?” Mr. Evans waved the other man to follow him.

That was where Mr. Evans excelled. And where Grace failed. She had focused for so long on the setup of the store that she had not had time to read its wares, especially not to the point of being able to recommend a book. Was that what Mr. Evans had planned to tell her when he mentioned her time at Primrose Hill Books would soon come to an end?

She never had the opportunity to find out. The rest of that afternoon became impossibly busy, and Mr. Evans hadn’t brought it up again. With the new year soon upon them, she had it set in her mind that she would take the time to read the books they sold. Then perhaps she could finally offer proper recommendations rather than merely suggesting books based on what seemed most popular.

Christmas was a solemn affair without Colin. Mrs. Weatherford had put together a feast in light of the impending ration, which was rumored to begin in January. She’d found a plump turkey to roast for their dinner along with parsnips, potatoes and brussels sprouts. They’d exchanged gifts in an attempt to lighten the heavy mood, though it only helped a little. The house was not the same without Colin’s goodness to make it glow with warmth.