She picked up the errant bit of paper to return it to him.
Mr. Evans put a hand up to stop her. “Those are some of the books sold here and how they might be sorted according to topic.”
She gave a little gasp of excitement and focused on the list. A neat row of handwritten titles with categories beside them. “Where might I find these books?”
He shrugged. “But once you’ve located them, it’s as good a place as any to start sorting out this mess, is it not?” With that, he turned toward the back of the shop. “Make sure you leave by two,” he said over his shoulder as he strode away. “I’ll not have you staying until evening again and going home in the dark. And I’ll certainly not be subjected to another call from Mrs. Weatherford on the matter.”
Grace winced. She could only imagine how such a discussion had gone. Rather than ponder over it and allow herself to feel bad for Mr. Evans, she put her attention to the list.
There were twenty-five titles labeled as classic fiction at the top followed by groups of history, philosophy and mystery. By the afternoon, she’d managed to locate only four of the classic fiction when the chime of the bell interupted her task. She pulled herself from a shelf she was examining and took her search to the front of the store to be near the customer.
The patron was not just anyone, however. Mr. George Anderson greeted her with a handsome smile. “Good afternoon, Miss Bennett.”
Grace’s pulse quickened. “Good day, Mr. Anderson. May I help you?” She almost laughed at her offer in light of how things went last time. “Or perhaps at least keep you company while I look about for titles.”
“Are you looking for something?” He glanced at the list in her hands.
She stuffed the paper behind her, realizing he meant to help, and shook her head. “It’s nothing.”
Those green eyes narrowed with playful suspicion and a smile teased at his mouth. “Nothing? I think not.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but what was the point when he knew the store better than she? Slowly, she brought the bit of paper around. “I’m trying to organize the shop and have been given these titles with which to start.”
He took the list and studied it. With his gray well-tailored three-piece suit, and his dark hair impeccably combed, he looked like a solicitor reading over an important case rather than a customer aiding a shop’s assistant with a tally of misplaced books.
What did he do for employment?
Grace pressed her lips together to keep from asking.
“I’ve found Wuthering Heights, Sense and Sensibility, A Tale of Two Cities and Frankenstein,” she said instead and came around beside him to point to the titles. He smelled clean, like shaving soap and something spicy she couldn’t name. It was an appealing scent.
“That’s a fine start.” He winked at her. “Let’s see what else we can locate.”
They scanned through the shelves together. While they did, she confessed her intent to go to Paternoster Row to see how best to help advertise Primrose Hill Books.
“Paternoster Row is a prestigious location for publishing.” His lashes lowered slightly as his gaze skimmed down the row of books before them. “There are printers and book binders and various publishing companies. Quite a few have a slant toward religion on account of its history.”
“What history is that?” she asked.
“St. Paul’s Cathedral is there.” His index finger ran along a series of multicolored spines. “It’s said that ages ago the clergymen would go on procession down the street while offering the Lord’s Prayer, hence the name.” He paused over a book with a maroon binding and gilt lettering along the top. “Sense and Sensibility. And if I may be so bold, an excellent story. A classic.”
“But also a love story?” Grace took the book in her hand and added it to the pathetically small pile she’d excavated.
He gave that rich, warm chuckle she found she liked a great deal. “You aren’t going to make this shop as pretentious as some of the others, are you?” He grimaced.
“I haven’t seen them yet.” Grace admitted. “But I don’t think that’s possible regardless. I would like to at least make this place appear more welcoming.”
“There’s an old world feel here I’ve always appreciated.” He lifted a shoulder. “It would be a shame to have it be like another Nesbitt’s Fine Reads, all crisp newness without any personality.”
“I’ll take it by your authority until I see for myself. I would like to do what I can to elevate Primrose Hill Books’ appeal. To bring in more customers.”