Or maybe there was just something wrong with her.
“I just don’tgetit,” she whispered to herself now, in the privacy of her bed, and chewed the inside of her cheek. What was the point of all that mashing of mouth against mouth? Ward had seemed excited about the whole business, and she had wanted to rise to his excitement. But gosh. It did get old rather fast, didn’t it? Apparently, all those racy darning-basket novels had lied to her over the years.
Only . . .
Bryony had seemed to enjoy Mr. Grimm’s kisses. Rather a lot.
“He is a damned good kisser. I’ll give him that.”
Luna squeezed her eyes shut. Yes, it was certainly for the best that she leave. Before Ward got back. Before more kisses were required of her. Before the memory of Mr. Grimm with his mouth on Bryony’s neck faded, and she let her own imagination start playing tricks with her again. Before she started believing she sawsomethingin the way her employer looked at her. Something she’d surely imagined in the heat of a confused and emotionally-charged moment.
A quivering little breath escaped through her lips. “I’m going to be good. I’m going to be strong.”
And she was not going to be happy that Bryony had declared her intention of never going out with Mr. Grimm ever again. Because it didn’t matter.
She was leaving.
“One month,” Luna whispered. “Just one more month.”
The following morning, the street fiddler decided to go classical.
Luna frowned as she darted swiftly past Mystic Infusions (her face turned away from the window, just as usual) and took the turn from Nettleton onto Addle Street. Though she cast her gaze up and down the sidewalks on both sides of the busy road, she couldn’t spy the fiddler anywhere. But she heard his music, rising to the heavens in soaring runs and crescendos. Luna had never heard him play anything but pop songs before, but this virtuoso performance was something altogether different. Both deep and searing and dizzyingly fast. It filled her heart with strange longings.
As though her heart wasn’t pretty much topped-off with strange longings already.
Hunching her shoulders, she stood poised on the curb, waiting for a lull in the morning traffic before crossing over. While she waited, she looked across to the shop, searching for some sign of life in the windows, and . . . caught her breath.
The door.
It was standing wide open.
Luna blinked swiftly, trying to clear her vision, convinced she must be seeing things. But no—the door really was open wide to the world.
It was probably nothing, of course. Mr. Grimm must be coming and going to shovel the front walk. He usually didthat long before Luna’s arrival, so that she’d have a nice clear pathway to walk on her way to the door. There was no sign of any shoveling done now, however.
“Maybe he’s just airing out the shop?” Luna whispered, her breath puffing frostily in front of her lips.
Or maybe something was wrong.
Up the road, the traffic light switched, signaling for a break in the traffic. Luna looked both ways, then hastened across, her boots carrying her swiftly to the far sidewalk. She’d been so nervous at the prospect of seeing Mr. Grimm again. Particularly after the last glimpse she’d had of him was sounprofessional, as it were. Now fear eclipsed all other feeling, and she hastened under the awning. The door wafted a little on its hinges, causing the bells to keep dinging cheerfully, their voices a strange contrast to the darkness and cold gloom inside. Gingerly, Luna pushed the door a little farther open and peered across the threshold.
Her gaze immediately landed on the figure lying sprawled in the middle of the floor.
A little, “Oh!” bursting from her lips, Luna shut the door firmly behind her and locked it. Then she hastened across the floor and dropped to her knees beside her prone employer. “Mr. Grimm! Mr. Grimm, are you all right?”
He still wore the exact same clothing he’d been wearing last night. There was something rather rumpled and disheveled about him, but she didn’t see any signs of injury and, when she checked, his pulse was clear and strong. He just seemed to be sleeping.
“Sleeping it off, rather,” she muttered, sitting back on her heels. She cast a worried gaze around the shop. All the flowers looked a bit chilled but otherwise demure in their pots and basins. Debbie perched on her skull, performing quite athorough preen, seemingly not in the least bit concerned with the plight of her master.
“What happened here?” Luna demanded.
The raven looked at her and ruffled her wings.“Never mind.”
“Well, that’s easy for you to say!” With a sigh, Luna looked down at her boss again. There was somethingdistressedabout his attitude. She couldn’t pinpoint it. Something in the set of his brow, in the way his arm lay outstretched. Had something happened to upset him? With Bryony, perhaps?
Luna bit her lip hard. Then, uncertain what else to do, she rose, removed her hat and coat, hung them up on the peg, and set to work lighting the stove in the back. Time to get a bit of heat in here; it was cold as an icebox! She fetched the kettle as well and went about filling it and putting on a Sniff-Me-Not tea to brew. All the while, she kept glancing Mr. Grimm’s way.
He did not move. Not a muscle. Green Mother spare her, she’d think he was dead were it not for the lack of panic among the plant life, not to mention Debbie’s general indifference.
