Page 57 of The Spellreader and the Phoenix

He also texted Alex himself. They assured him that everything was totally fine and Max didn’t need to worry.

Max

Okay. We’re going in to dinner, but if there’s any issues at all, you call us. You’ve never closed before.

Alex

And it’s so difficult to make sure the store is empty, flip a sign, and lock the door.

Max

Smartass.

Alex

[laughing emoji]

Max

Just… if you need anything.

Alex

It’ll be fine, I promise. But yes, if anything goes sideways, I’ll call.

And I’ll text when everything is closed up, so you don’t need to panic.

Stop worrying.

Max would… try.

Thankfully, there was a staff person stationed outside the library who could conduct them back to their room, wait the few minutes for them to get ready, and then lead them down to the dining room. Max wondered if you ever really got used to living in a place this size, or if there were always parts of it that remained a complete mystery.

He couldn’t actually imagine living somewhere this big. It seemed so unnecessary—although he could admit that his one-bedroom apartment felt a little bit small now that he and Rory were staying in it together.

He could definitely see why his mother had moved out of it when she’d met his father. They’d had a little house that was a twenty-minute walk away, and Max had kept it until Evie moved to California.

She stayed in a hotel when she came to visit him, agreeing that it would have been silly to keep the house for those rare visits.

It was the house they’d grown up in, and it had been perfectly acceptable, but they’d spent most of their time at the bookshop. When Max thought of his childhood, that was the place that always sprang to mind. He’d have a lot more of an issue with losing the bookshop than the house.

In this massive house, the dining room they were led to was… not as big as Max had imagined, which probably meant that there was more than one. The table looked like it seated twelve. They’d been arranged at one end of the table, with Mr. Jones at the head. Peter was seated on one side, Rory was on the other, and Max was next to him.

The food was placed on the sideboard because they were apparently going to “feed themselves,” which Max took to mean that they needed some privacy for discussions.

“I trust you don’t mind,” Mr. Jones said in the tone of voice that meant the decision had already been made.

Max sort of wanted to argue on principle, but probably fortunately, Rory spoke first.

“We usually eat sandwiches and takeout,” Rory told him, grinning. “We’re not going to complain about anything your cook makes.”

Max thought he’d been doing slightly better with food than that, but then Rory winked at him as Mr. Jones laughed softly, and Max subsided.

He did still like to eat sandwiches and cereal.

Peter got food for Mr. Jones and himself, and Rory and Max served themselves. Rory appeared to have decided to try a little bit of everything, and on balance, Max thought that wasn’t a bad plan, so he did the same. There was some sort of fish in a creamy sauce, a tomato-based pasta dish, grilled chicken, steamed mixed vegetables, mashed potatoes, cheese sauce and gravy, and three different kinds of salad.

Max was pretty sure he and Rory could eat for at least a week, maybe more.