He ducked his head and darted up to his apartment. While he was on this errand, Luna took the opportunity to hunt around the counter nook. She found a set of boxes meant for the transportation of bouquets. The lid of one was rather bent; Mr. Grimm wouldn’t mind if she confiscated it, surely.
Fetching both lid and scissors, she set to work cutting strips from the cardboard. Mr. Grimm returned just as she began. He offered her a pair of woolen socks, gifts from Mrs. Goddard, unless Luna missed her guess. She’d learned a thing or two about his landlady’s unique generosity. These socks were surely knitted with loving care and featured little holly berries and leaves around the top and heel.
“I’ve never worn them,” Mr. Grimm said rather dryly.
“What?” Luna grinned. “No holly on the door nor on the feet?”
“Hardly.”
“Pity. They’re just what you need to get you in the festive spirit!” She pulled the socks on. They were much too large for her and came nearly up to her knees. But they were so blessedly warm, she wished she might ditch her own much-darned stockings for the rest of the day and simply pad around in Mr. Grimm’s borrowed pair. Somehow she didn’t think that would look right to their customer base, however. And whatwouldMrs. Goddard think?
This sobering thought in mind, Luna set back to work cutting her strips of cardboard. Mr. Grimm watched her silently until she began to stuff the cardboard into her boots. Then he said abruptly, “Miss Talbot, you are in grave need of new shoes.”
“Don’t I know it!” Luna sighed. “I’ve been trying for weeks now to save up enough, but it’s nearly impossible. Mrs. Boggs keeps upping her prices on everything. Now it costs half again as much rent as usual, just to get a little heat up to our attic room twice a day!” Following this most recent price-hike, Luna’ssavings had been reduced to mere pennies. She’d been obliged to delve into her shoe-stash several times.
“I’ve been down to the chantry house on Giltspur,” she continued sadly. “Checking the donation barrels, you know. Nothing, so far, has come anywhere close to fitting me. One wouldn’t think a size seven would be so rare a find. I’d be happy to squeeze into a size six or flop around in size eight as well. But they’ve only had worn-out men’s work boots for weeks now. And don’t think I haven’t tried them!”
Mr. Grimm listened solemnly, a stern line settling between his brows. Then he turned and pretended to read the logbook, not very successfully. “I’ve been thinking,” he said at length, turning pages at random, back and forth, “I might just pay you a holiday bonus. You’ve been working extra hard, and—”
“No, Mr. Grimm,” Luna said firmly. “I know the shop is doing much better these days, but we’re certainly not at holiday bonus status.”
“Well, then, perhaps an advance on next month’s salary—”
“And what would I do when next month rolled round, hmmm?” Luna shook her head. “Every penny is accounted for, I’m afraid. You might as well hold onto it until then.”
Mr. Grimm rolled his jaw in thought. “There’s the tip jar. You could have that, and—”
“I don’t think they’re selling boots for buttons and half-sucked peppermints.” Luna laughed bitterly and tested her stockings. They were still quite damp but so thin, so pitifully thin. They might just be dry before opening.
The kettle whistled. Mr. Grimm moved to pour, but Luna hopped up. “No, no! I’ll get it.” She poured hot water into the teapot he’d prepared, first peeking to check the proportion of tea leaves within. Mr. Grimm had learned to make a decent orange llarmi over the last few months. Satisfied, she covered the pot with both lid and tea cozy. “Six minutes to brew,” she declared,catching her employer’s eye. “Shall I fetch those poinsettias for the front table while we wait?”
Just as she spoke, sounds of a clatter erupted from the kitchen. “How about you see to Mrs. Goddard?” Mr. Grimm suggested. “I’ll deal with the poinsettias.”
Luna knew what he was doing—giving her opportunity to eat his breakfast. Again. For the most part, she’d gotten over her guilt, and she and Mr. Grimm had come to a silent arrangement: she would eat half the meal and leave the rest for him. They never discussed it. But she knew he wasn’t touchinganyof the meal if she didn’t eat first. If he knew she had eaten, however, he would finish what was left, and she hoped it was enough that he no longer needed to venture down to The Egg ‘n Spoon in the early hours of the morning.
So she made her way back to the kitchen, Mr. Grimm’s socks sinking to her ankles as she went. She pushed open the door and called out a cheerful, “Good morning, Mrs. Godd . . . ard . . . ?” Her voice trailed away.
Because therewasa round little figure holding the covered breakfast tray. And the face was even somewhat familiar, boasting the same bright, snapping eyes and button nose. Only, despite its similarities, it was also wildly different. Rather than belonging to a happy, large-hearted, comfortable woman of a certain age, these features were those of a puppyish young fellow of maybe twenty years, with a mess of reddish hair and a valiant attempt at a mustache sprouting beneath his cherry-like nose.
He lifted the cover and slipped a piece of sausage out on the sly. Luna’s jaw hardened. “Excuse me,” she said in her sternest voice. “Who are you?”
“Me?” The ginger-haired boy whirled to face her, sausage protruding from his lips and the faintest trace of guilt in his eyes. “Why,” he said, chewing and swallowing quickly, “I’m the owner of this ‘ere building, ain’t I? Yessir, that’s who I am!”
Luna raised an eyebrow. “You most certainly are not. Where is Mrs. Goddard?”
“Oh, Ma’s visitin’ with her cousins over in Westside this morning. She sent me ‘round with the meals instead.” He tossed curly strands of red hair back from his forehead and attempted a flirtatious grin that was totally spoiled by that mustache-spruff. “I’m her sweet li’l son. Tobias—that’s me. Butyou,” he added, “can call me Tobe.”
His eyes traveled down her body in the usual manner of tactless young men the world over. Upon coming to rest on Mr. Grimm’s socks—which had pooled around Luna’s ankles, their festive quality still evident—his brow knotted with some confusion. Then he shrugged, and let that lingering gaze glide upward once more, finally reaching her face. “And who mightyoube?”
Luna gritted her teeth and, not for the first time, wished there was a kind of shower simply for rinsing offgazes.“Miss Talbot,” she answered frostily. “So you’re Mrs. Goddard’s son, are you?”
“Seventh and superior,” he answered boldly. “Thought I’d drop me in for the holidays, see what the old biddy’s up to. She says, ‘What’cha earn your keep whil’st you’re here?’ No holiday for sweet Tobias, oh no!” He waggled his eyebrows and leaned his elbows on the counter. “But I must say, fings is lookin’ perkier ‘an they were a moment ago, ain’t they?”
Luna forced a thin-lipped smile. “I will let Mr. Grimm know his breakfast is here. Mrs. Goddard may fetch the tray and dishes back this evening when she comes with supper. There are last night’s supper dishes on the draining board,” she added, pointing.
Tobias heaved the sigh of the put-upon, muttering something about being a fetch-‘n-carry boy all his life. “But mark me!” he declared, piling washed dishes rather haphazardly in his hands, “I’m on to grander fings soon enough! No more fetchin’ an’carryin’ for old Tobe, nosssir! Once me ship comes in, I’ll be rollin’ in it. Then I can get any girl I fancies, even the girls up at the Rowdy House.” He winked broadly. “They like a fellow who can flash a bit o’ coin, don’t they?”
Luna endured his presence, maintaining her chilly smile until she saw him off the premises. She liked Mrs. Goddard, and didn’t wish to be unkind to any kin of hers. But, Green Mother bless her, it was a drag, being flirted with so very clumsily! She wasn’t altogether comfortable with flirting as a general rule, even with a man who knew how to go about it, but she could usually get into the spirit of the thing, if the fellow in question put in a bit of effort.Thiswas just exhausting.
