“You live in France but only know English people?” Julia asked disapprovingly.
“Yes, well—the locals’ society leaves something to be desired.”
“I can sympathize,” Blanche said. She stared down Clack, who either didn’t register the insult or was ignoring it.
Meanwhile, Julia was gaining steam: “I’m half French, you know. SoI’mone of the locals.”
“Perhaps we ought to intervene?” Cuff suggested. “That will give us an opportunity to speak with Julia and resolve your question.”
They climbed back down the spiral staircase and walked over to the Recommended Reads table. Cuff began inspecting it as Julia and her circle of characters joined them.
“The table looks very clean, very tidy,” Cuff observed.
“I dusted it a few days ago,” Julia said.
“Just as I thought. And did you remove the books from the table as you dusted?”
“Aunt Aurelia said I had to do that or I would just be moving the dust around,” Julia said defensively.
“When you completed your task, did you put the books back on the table?”
“Yes, exactly where they are now. Did I do it wrong or something?” Julia asked.
“No, but it does explain the phenomenon your aunt spoke of,” Cuff said, smiling at her.
Aurelia raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to explain.
“Julia removed the books from the table and placed them back there herself. She was making a new selection—as a different aunt or niece associated with the shop—and thus different characters appeared for her.”
“Even though they were the same books?” Aurelia asked skeptically.
“They are the same books, yes, but a different person made the selection and the table responded to her.”
“The table ‘responded’ to me? Well… Hello back, Table,” Julia said facetiously, waving a hand at it.
Kitty laughed and the two girls shared a smile.
“What do you mean, ‘responded to her’?” asked Blanche.
Aurelia looked around and realized that everyone was waiting for Cuff’s answer.
“It is a hypothesis only,” he began, “but it is built on a wealth of experience in the shop.”
“You haven’t steered me wrong yet, Sergeant Cuff. Let’s hear it.”
“When you first visited us, Aurelia, you were a writer who was not writing. You were grieving your mother and aunt. In addition, I think I may safely observe that you were also unattached. Romantically,” he clarified.
Aurelia nodded.
“You met a collection of characters who inspired you to write, helped you through your grief, and encouraged you to open your heart to someone new.”
“They did,” she said softly, remembering once again just how much that first group of characters had meant to her.
“In that same way, I suspect that these ladies may have appeared to Julia because they have some role to play for her.”
Cuff regarded the women and looked quite pleased with himself, as though he were waiting for them to pat him on the back for his cleverness. Instead, silence filled the shop as all eyes—some accusing, some curious—turned to Julia.
23
