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Every day, he tried to leave the house a little earlier than he had the day before, hoping to avoid the moment he walked down the street to his shop and inevitably met Rowe coming in the other direction.
Maybe Rowe was doing the same thing, because just like they had the past few mornings, Jack arrived at the shop exactly twenty seconds before Rowe did.
Jack shoved his key into the door, hoping to avoid eye contact at least, and conversation at all costs, but he hadn’t spotted the third person rushing down the street towards them.
“Mr. Daly! Mr. Daly.”
Jack took a deep breath and looked up.
“Mr. Daly. And Mr. Rowe! What a treat.”
“Hello, Mr. Pugh.”
Mr. Pugh was part of the local Business Improvement District and was part sweet old man, part pain in the arse. A few steps behind him was Mrs. Tanenbaum, who was also part of the BID and a much bigger pain in the arse than Pugh. Mrs. Tanenbaum was petite and rat-nosed, and always seemed to disapprove of whatever Jack was doing.
Pugh was wearing a black overcoat and a red fedora, with a matching red wool scarf wrapped around his generous neck. He had combed his moustache so it sat flat against his ruddy cheeks. The combination of his excitable grin and the way he was bouncing on the balls of his feet told Jack he was in trouble.
“We’ll finish the decorations along the street later today, Mr. Daly,” Pugh said, refusing to call Jack by his given name like he always had. Jack had tried to call Mr. Pugh ‘Alfred’ once. It had not gone well.
Jack half-listened, nodding in what he hoped were the right moments, and wondered why Rowe had stopped to listen as well. Mr. Pugh had called out to him, but he wasn’t part of the BID. There wasn’t any reason for him to get involved in this. Jack wanted to tell him that, but he couldn’t get a word in edgeways around Pugh.
“And you knew, of course, Mr. Daly, that Mr. Rowe is aninternationally famouschildren’s author?”
Jack ground his back teeth together. “I’d heard,” he said tightly.
Rowe had his lips pressed together like he was trying not to laugh.
“And illustrator,” Rowe added, the smug bastard.
“And illustrator,” Pugh echoed. “Of course, of course. It all makes such good sense. You’re in, aren’t you, Mr. Rowe?”
“I’m… in?”
“For the fundraiser. Mr. Rowe can sign copies of his latest book in your shop. And we’ll host the toy drive at the same time. For the children’s hospital. You’ve always been such a fervent supporter of the children’s hospital, Mr. Daly.”
Jack knew when he’d been backed into a corner.
Hehadbeen a supporter of the children’s hospital, for a long time.
And he tried to stay on the good side of the BID, because most of its members terrified him.
And hehadbeen part of the team who set up the Christmas toy donation drive for the kids in hospital who wouldn’t get home in time for Christmas. He’d even allowed himself to be convinced to dress up a couple of times, but this was before he was in a very intense rivalry with the bastard thief across the street, and now he was supposed to host?
A signing.
In his shop.
With Rowe.
Jack subtly worked his jaw free of the tension that had gathered around his back teeth.
“I’d love to,” he said, attempting to infuse as much enthusiasm into his words as possible.
Mrs. Tanenbaum actually clapped, though her hands didn’t make much noise from under her thick wool gloves.
“Wonderful, wonderful news,” Mr. Pugh said. “We knew we could count on you, Mr. Daly. Always an astute businessman, too.”
He winked at Jack.
