“Have you tried the fish and chips at Warrington’s recently?” Mr. Pritchard asked. “I just had some and they’re bloody awful. It’s a shame what’s become of London when you cannot even find a decent meal of fish and chips. I know they don’t have the same fat to fry them in, but after the queue I stood in and the price I paid...”

The men continued on discussing how the ration had affected their enjoyment of food and how margarine could never fully replace butter. While they did so, Grace grappled with the dismal realization that soon she would no longer be employed at the bookshop.

After all the times she’d dreamed of being alongside Viv at Harrods, amid the colorful, stylish clothes and the air scented with costly perfume, never once had she considered how much she genuinely enjoyed her current position.

Her stomach clenched and she clutched George’s book more tightly in her hands, as though it could somehow help ground her spiraling emotions.

In only one month, she would have her letter of recommendation, and her employment at Primrose Hill Books would be done.

Mr. Evans had told her from the start not to get attached. Though she hadn’t meant to, somehow she had.

And now she didn’t want it to end.

NINE

Grace had not been able to dislodge her melancholy at the idea of no longer working for Primrose Hill Books. Yet in the three weeks that followed, she couldn’t summon the temerity to speak to Mr. Evans about the possibility of staying on. Not when he’d been so insistent that she not become attached.

She did, however, finish The Count of Monte Cristo and so thoroughly enjoyed it, she couldn’t stop recommending it to customers. So much that she’d had to order more than the five they had stocked, something Mr. Evans had commented on with enthusiasm.

She couldn’t wait to get to the last page to find out if Edmond had his revenge and if his life finally settled into happiness. But as much as she loved reading the story, no one had prepared her for the end being so bittersweet. No one told her finishing the book would leave her so bereft. It was as though she’d said goodbye for the last time to a close friend. When she mentioned it to Mr. Evans, he simply smiled and recommended she try another book. And so, she consoled herself with Emma, which was a most marvelous distraction.

Through it all, however, Grace couldn’t help but notice Viv had been rather out of sorts. It became most apparent during one of their afternoon teas in the sunny yellow and white kitchen at the townhouse. First Viv forgot to turn the stovetop on, which left the kettle sitting cold on its surface, and then she brought the tea over without any teacups.