“Enough information, Mom,” Emma interrupted.

Fee smiled again. “All I’m saying,” she said, “is that we all have different styles of making ourselves feel good about ourselves. And it happens that shoes don’t mean so very much to me, so if I were to spend a deal of money on them, that would just be money wasted. But if they happen to make you feel like a million dollars, then you should by all means go ahead and treat yourself from time to time, and what better occasion to do so than your wedding day?”

“That’s all very well,” said Emma. “But there’s still a credit-card bill coming in that I have no idea how I’m going to pay.”

“How much did you say it was for?” said Fee.

Emma groaned. “The same as the fridge,” she said.

Fee rose, went into the hallway, and returned with her handbag. She opened it, rummaged, and produced her checkbook.

“This,” she told Emma, reaching for her glasses as she flicked open the cover, “is one of my treats.”

5

“Miss Atwater, will you come into my office, please. There is that which I wish to discuss with you.”

So it was happening, thought Lulu dully, following her employer into the narrow cubbyhole that he referred to as his office. It was a windowless space, with room only for a small desk and a chair on either side, and Mr. Goncharoff rarely used it but for matters of solemnity or importance. Matters, thought Lulu, such as the announcement that he was about to sell the shop.

“This morning,” said Mr. Goncharoff, “I go to meet with the gentleman with the headgear. We will exchange contracts. At the end of the month, Goncharoff’s Antiques will become another coffee shop for the people of Haverstock Hill. Irena and I will move to Spain. Irena is pleased about this and says she hopes to be swimming in the sea on Christmas Day. Alexander has been accepted into a training course at Sotheby’s. He is pleased with this, too, as it is something he has wanted.”

He stopped and peered at her over the top of his spectacles. “So much for the Goncharoffs,” he said. “But it leaves us with the question of you, Miss Atwater. I know that none of what is about to happen will come as a surprise to you. Have you thought yet what you will do with yourself?”

Lulu sighed to herself. There had once been a time, she remembered, when people had not been asking her that question, and she supposed there would come another time in the future when they would not be again. She hoped that, whenever that time did come, she would remind herself to enjoy it to its fullest.

“Well, I don’t know, Mr. Goncharoff,” she said now. “I suppose it’s time to start deciding, isn’t it?”

“It seems that it is.” He sat back in his chair and looked at her, thoughtfully twirling his thumbs. “You could not spend all of your life bringing biscuits and keeping the files for the Goncharoffs. Work is not so easy to find these days, but—although you do not talk about it much—I remember from your letters of reference that you were a gifted student at the university. The world needs scholars always, and in particular now in these troubled and exciting times. Perhaps you should take the rest of the day off to put your thinking cap on about what it is you really want to do.” He stopped, and frowned. “What is a thinking cap, by the way, Miss Atwater? I have often wondered.”