“I know how it sounds, but it’s true. The characters I’ve met have also met Marigold and my other aunts, and they know things about them and the shop that I didn’t know and that they could only know if they’d really met my family before.”
The words began tumbling out of her mouth now that she’d started.
“And now Julia can see them—and she was excited and told Antonia, and Antonia thought we’d both completely lost it or were having a laugh, and so she came here yesterday, and then last night we tested it out and she was able to hear them too, but she can’t see them. But she believes us now, and I’m hoping that maybe if you talk to her—and Julia—and maybe if you stay up tonight, then you’ll hear their voices too, and you’ll see—or at leastunderstand, since you won’t be able toseethem—that it’s real. That it really happens.”
“Aurelia, slow down,” he said, shaking his head in confusion. “There are voices in the shop at night? I’m trying to follow, but I think I’m missing a step somewhere.”
“Characters—fictional characters—come out of the books in the shop at night,” Aurelia said slowly. “Right now, we have Sergeant Cuff and Miss Clack fromThe Moonstone, Kitty fromPride and Prejudice, Mrs. Jamieson fromCranford, and… I’m forgetting someone… Oh—Blanche fromJane Eyre.”
She was mentally kicking herself. After explaining things to Julia and Antonia, she should be an old hand at this by now, but it didn’t seem to get any easier with practice.
Oliver stood, rubbing his hand over his forehead.
“I don’t… I can’t figure out what’s going on here. You sound very serious, but this is obviously some kind of joke or story that you and Julia have been putting together.” He looked at her, waiting for her to confirm his suspicion before adding, “I might laugh if you didn’t seem so… sincere.”
“It’s not a joke or a story,” Aurelia said, shaking her head. “I know it’s a lot to take in, and I’m sorry. There must be a better way to do this… But there is something unique and wonderful about the shop. I’ve seen it countless times, now. I don’t know why or how it happens, but… it does happen.”
He walked into the kitchen and Aurelia rose to follow him, unsure of where he was going but wanting to keep him near until he believed her.
“The characters are incredible, Oliver! It’s amazing to ask them about their lives and learn things that aren’t in their books. Some of them really have become friends.”
“Tell me again. You see characters—in your mind?” he asked, turning around so suddenly that he almost knocked into her. “You imagine them?”
He reached out and cupped her head in his hand, as though there might be something wrong in there.
“No, Iseethem. They’reactuallyin the shop with me. Well, I can’t touch them and they can’t touch me—but they look solid until you try and touch them, then they sort of… dematerialize for a few seconds.”
She realized with a sinking feeling that details like that might not be helpful right now.
Oliver ran his eyes over her face, trying to read her. She gave him an encouraging smile, and he took his hand away, looking hurt.
“I’m not sure what’s got into you, but I don’t like being made the butt of some joke.”
“It’s not a joke—this is—”
“Real, right. You’ve said. I’m going to go unpack.”
He began walking downstairs to get his bag and she followed him.
“I know it’s a lot, that it sounds like a story or something I’ve made up, but it’s not.”
“So you’ve said,” he called over his shoulder as he got to the bottom of the stairs.
Aurelia sat on a step, blocking his way as he climbed back up with his suitcase.
“Aurelia—”
“Oliver, I need you to hear me. Iamserious. This has been happening since I took over the shop, and now Julia can see and hear them too. I don’t expect you to believe me on the spot, but please know that it’s not a joke, that I’m not having a laugh, and that there’s nothing wrong with me.”
She was on the verge of tears, desperate to make him understand. Telling Antonia had been hard, but this was different—so different. As upset and confused as Antonia had been, as sisters they had a long history of arguments and reconciliations. It had made it easier to believe that Antonia wouldn’t stay angry for long, since they’d always found ways to work through their issues. But Aurelia had only known Oliver for a few years, not a lifetime. She didn’t know what his breaking point was—where he might draw a line at forgiveness and trust, and whether she’d crossed it without knowing.
He took a few more steps toward her, his bag in hand, then looked down at her.
“You believe that there are characters in the shop.”
“Yes, I do. And at midnight tonight they’ll appear again.”
“Tonight?”
