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“Are there supposed to be only three legs?” he asked.
Willow grimaced. “Not ideally.”
“No bother,” he replied cheerfully. “I’ll make due.”
In theory, it shouldn’t have mattered. Montgomery was, after all, weightless. But the laws of physics tended to elude him. And even though a living human wouldn’t fall off a three-legged chair if they sat correctly, this chair wouldn’t abide by such bothersome rules. Perhaps because it was made with magic. But when he sat down, it wobbled under him, tipping him over onto the floor.
“I’m sorry, Montgomery,” Willow said in earnest. “This is one of the reasons I don’t do magic.”
“It’s perfectly alright,” he said. “I’ll be fine on the floor. And… my friends call me Monty.”
“I’m your friend?” she asked nonplused.
“You’ll do,” he replied, and allowed a crack in his smile.
“Okay,” she said, tossing him a pillow. “Monty.”
She made herself comfortable on her bed, petting her cat, and played the movie, pretty much talking the entire time. Every now and then she’d glance over to Montgomery, asking if certain scenes triggered him, or if anything he saw helped him in any way. He told her he wasn’t bothered in the slightest, although there were a couple moments that sent his heart racing—particularly the pottery wheel scene.
Eventually, he picked himself off the floor to recline on the bed, but kept a good distance between himself and Willow.
It was a silly thing, he knew it. He was no longer flesh and bone, and he would remove himself from her room as soon as the movie ended. But Willow set him at ease with the way she hummed and laughed at the screen, and the soft way she’d talk throughout the film, telling him she’d be there to listen once he decided to tell her if he remembered anything else, or who the blonde woman was.
But he didn’t know. And right now, he didn’t care. He suddenly felt more at peace than he had in life or death. And for the first time in one hundred and eleven years, he closed his eyes, and let sleep overtake him.
He looked so peaceful that she didn’t want to wake him. Then again, how could she wake someone up who wasn’t even alive? Hadn’t he mentioned he never slept? Willow supposed if she hadn’t slept in over a century, she’d be pretty frickin’ tired, too.
So she left him alone, settling on the mattress beside him. Watching him. How was he so beautiful? She’d thought she found him so striking because of those unreal green eyes, the way they seemed to stare deep into her soul. But now, with his lashes fanned over his pearlescent cheeks, and a straight, celestial nose leading a path from perfectly symmetrical brows to his tidy mustache, she was convinced Montgomery Harland was as lovely as he was perplexing.
She fell asleep next to him, and dreamt again of balls and lavish gowns, but this time it was 1912 fashion and she was dressed like Jane Seymour inSomewhere in Time, and Montgomery was Christopher Reeve. When she awoke, he was no longer in her bed, and she didn’t see him before she left for her morning errands.
There was a Women’s Business Council meeting in an hour, and she rode her bicycle to Bo’s Diner on the way. That copy ofIce Planet Barbarianswas still in the basket.
Bo seemed ecstatic to see her, and although the diner seemed extra busy, he had her pumpkin pancakes with cinnamon butter ready before her coffee was cool enough to sip.
“I picked up the property records for your shop,” he said, barely slowing down on his way to refill someone’s coffee. “But they’re at my house. If I’d known you were coming in today…”
“That’s okay. I can pick them up another time.”
“I can bring them to you,” said Dale, who was having his breakfast next to her at the counter. “I know where Bo lives.”
“Or I can bring them to your bookshop myself,” Bo said, giving Dale the side eye.
“Either works fine for me,” said Willow.
An older man sitting at a window table waved his empty coffee cup in the air. “Excuse me!”
Bo grunted with an infinitesimal roll of the eyes.
“I’ll be right back.” He gave Dale a look and walked off.
“What’s that look for?” Willow asked.
Dale, still with a bite of waffle in his mouth, replied, “He’s sweet on you.”
“Oh!”
“Don’t worry. He’s too shy to act on it. He just wants to make sure I don’t either.”
