Page 2 of Rewitched

“Of course,” Belle said placidly, taking a breath to swallow her pride. “The man might not know a paperback from a pumpkin, but he does know his profits and losses.”

Belle hoped that the music she’d chosen that morning was enough to hide the not-so-muffled sounds coming from the back office, where Christopher was taking it in turns to either roar expletives or guffaw pretentiously down the phone to an associate. She winced as she spotted a distracted customer turn their head towards the noise.

Profits and losses were seemingly all that Christopher knew, leading to decisions that broke Belle’s heart a fraction more every day. In the two years since Violet had decided to step down and, albeit reluctantly, hand over the reins to her corporate son, he had been gradually chipping away at the ideas that Belle herself had implemented at Lunar since she had started working there almost ten years ago. Their precious small baked goods and coffee cart had been the first to go, with Christopher declaring that cappuccinos “turned the place into a mothers’ meeting.” Her annual harvest book festival with other local businesses had him laughing so profoundly that he’d genuinely slapped his knee. More worryingly, just a few days ago, she had overheard him discussing at volume how the younger members of staff were hanging on to the payroll by a thread. This being the final straw, Belle had brought his questionable decisions to Violet’s attention. But Christopher had quickly interjected, insisting that Belle was being dramatic, laughing it off, wrapping Violet around his finger as usual. Belle kept the reality of just how bad things had got to herself, like a cold hard pebble to carry around in her pocket.

“Somehow, I blinked and it’s a modern world out there now, Belle,” Violet said. “I sure as hell can’t keep up with the times, but he will make sure this place does just that.”

“This place isn’t supposed to keep up with the times,” Belle said. “It’s supposed to exist in its own little bubble of cosiness that’s entirely separate from the real world.”

“If only,” Violet said wistfully. “See you next week. I’ll call you about those figures from August.” She leaned across to offer Belle a kiss on the cheek, leaving her usual little smear of magenta lipstick behind, a brush of ever-so-slight whiskers and a waft of sugared perfume.

“See you, Vi,” Belle said fondly, waving her off as she headed out to the shiny black car waiting to drive her home to her equally perfect townhouse. She was impossibly wealthy after a life spent on-stage as a theatre star of days gone by, before a vocal injury put a stop to things and recovery sent her to the healing world of books. Belle sunk her hands into the pockets of her denim apron embroidered with Lunar moons across the front, and her mind wandered back to its usual battlefield.

Taking Violet up on her offer, to actually buy Lunar Books from her, was a dream that always felt far too big. And every time that Violet broached the conversation and reminded her of the chance she was letting slip through her fingers like sand, she felt herself flinching away even farther.

There was so much that could go wrong. She was clueless as to what the process would even look like, and her meagre savings were too precious to throw at something that wasn’t a guaranteed success, even though Violet had made her an overly generous, sentimental offer. Plus, there was the small matter of risking the job that she adored and had worked for, all the way up from Saturday girl to store manager.

Still, she dared to think about it all the time. Dared to imagine herself really doing it, rewarding herself with the bravery that had once been at the root of all her decisions. But she could never find quite enough courage to light the taper, to find out whether the explosion would be a controlled one or a wildfire. And so life had unfolded. The wheel stayed in hands that weren’t her own, and she continued watching out the window as the road sped past.

A woman in a salmon pink cardigan reached the till, juggling an armful of picture books with a roll of rainbow wrapping paper and a toddler attached to her right hand.

“This is a lovely one, it might be my favourite,” Belle told the little girl as she wrapped up the book on top of the pile in brown paper. “Did you choose this? You did so well.” The girl nodded shyly, then promptly buried her face in her mum’s skirt.

“Thanks for all of your help with finding the right ones. Should keep her busy for a while.” The lady smiled gratefully.

“Of course.” Belle rang up the total. “Sorry I couldn’t stay with you longer. It’s a bit crazy in here today. This weather makes everyone want to curl up with a book.”

On perfect cue, a flash of bright lightning split through the bruised evening sky, cracking through the soft lighting that kept Lunar feeling warm and welcoming no matter the conditions outside. A loud thunderclap followed quickly behind, so intense that it rattled the top floor’s stained-glass windows. The woman gathered up her shopping, stowed the books underneath her jumper and pulled up her child’s hood before reluctantly heading out into the rain.

A BUSY EVENING unfolded. Life at Lunar, locally loved for its charm and indefinable specialness, swung chaotically from calm and quiet to unstoppably busy. Belle would often receive a call on her days off from a frantic Jim, tearing out what remained of his halo of fluffy hair while attempting to simultaneously refill shelves and man the till. Their tiny team had been struggling to keep up with Christopher’s schedules, each day understaffed and overcommitted.

Ringing up another customer, she glanced over at the kids’ section. As always, it had been completely ransacked, despite Belle setting up a neat little Libri Liberi Ordino incantation for the soft books and toys to return themselves to their boxes when nobody was looking. It was safe enough magic to pepper about the place amongst the other incantations she had strung around. Children didn’t question it if the odd picture book tidied itself away and, of course, adults never noticed.

Closing time grew tantalisingly near. While Jim and Monica dealt with the debris of the day, Belle was run off her feet with a queue of shoppers that remained as relentless as the rain outside. In the back of her mind somewhere, she registered the sound of the brass bell above the front door ringing for the millionth time that day. She rubbed at her forearms as a layer of goose bumps swept over her skin with the gust of chilly air from the open door.

“Would you be interested in taking home this week’s Stellar Read? It’s a really…”

Belle felt her breath catch short. A feeling like a warm wave breaking over the crown of her head, strangely pleasant but forceful, slipped over her from top to toe and almost sent her reeling in the swell. She gripped the countertop for balance. If she didn’t know better, she’d have said…Well, she’d have said it was magic.

“Are you okay?” A customer gave her a concerned look.

Belle swallowed hard, then flapped her hands dismissively. “Oh, fine, fine. Sorry. A bit dizzy. Means it’s time for another coffee.”

She laughed dryly and composed herself, ignoring the potent feeling that had appeared one moment and washed away the next. It had been a long day. Sliding the stack of sold books into a bag with a hasty, stressed smile that Violet would not have considered signature Lunar service, she called for the next customer.

The man waiting on the other side of the desk caught her off guard. She noticed his height first, tall to the point of feeling slightly looming. And he was—she couldn’t help but also acknowledge—intimidatingly handsome. The kind of handsome that would have her reporting back to Ariadne when she got home and had her instantly wondering why she hadn’t done something better with her hair that morning. He was wearing belted trousers, a rust-coloured shirt tucked in over a white T-shirt and round wire glasses, which he removed when their eyes met. He popped them into the inside pocket of a long black leather coat that hung across extremely broad shoulders, and a curl of shaggy, shoulder-length dark hair fell into his eyes as he looked down. A silver thumb ring glinted with an amber stone as he pushed it back, placed a hand down on the countertop and leaned ever so slightly towards her. She forced herself to break eye contact almost instantly, unable to hold it as her face flushed hot.

“I’m wondering if you can help me.” He spoke with a deep honey voice, like burnt caramel, and a twang of a London accent. “I’m looking for something rather specific. A little special.”

Belle blushed so fiercely that the tops of her ears prickled with heat. A strange, barbed sensation travelled to the ends of her fingers as she rested them on the counter, then in her pockets, before finally settling on grabbing a pen, sending ink splashing across the counter.

“Sorry, sorry.” She hastily mopped it up with the end of her sleeve. “Sounds interesting. How special are we talking, exactly? Is it a gift?”

The sides of his mouth perked up almost imperceptibly. “It is a gift.”

Belle quickly gathered her remaining composure, distinctly embarrassed by her own embarrassment.

“Great. That sounds great. You could take a look at our Special Editions section, there’s some signed copies which might go down well for a present. Or we have some great popular titles on the Stellar Reads table if you’re looking for a more recent—”