How a gentleman shows romantic interest in a lady:
- He compliments her frequently.
- He woos her with undivided attention.
- He bestows flowers upon her.
- He visits her and strolls with her in the park if properly chaperoned.
- He writes her letters as a way to show affection.
- He asks her to dance.
- He brings treats for her dog.
Okay, I made up the last one. The others hailed from Regency times. I preferred the old ways, but they probably wouldn’t have worked out well for Miss Josie. She broke all the Regency rules.
Here we were in the park once again, drinking wine, eating cheese, and flirting with the virile vet. But he worked hard not to mess things up this time. He kept Wrigley on a leash, fed Miss Josie lots of yummy food, plied her with alcohol, and wooed her with his undivided attention.
“Capone fought off a bear?” He leaned back on one elbow on the blanket, grinning up at Miss Josie, his green eyes sparkling. “Did he think the bear was made of cheese or something?”
I looked at him in surprise, long strings of drool hanging out both sides of my mouth. The drool was not my fault. I blamed the brie. It smelled incredible.
Miss Josie, wearing a dark blue dress with tiny falling leaves all over it and a matching blue cardigan, tights, and shoes, looked perfectly dressed for a fall picnic in the park. Doc McHottie had on jeans, a flannel shirt, and (gasp) real leather cowboy boots. I think Miss Josie was kind of into his boots. She kept glancing at them and turning pink in the face.
Miss Josie definitely had a fetish for all things cowboy. It made me wonder what else might lurk under her genteel, bookish exterior.
They had a lovely lunch, and they let me sample the brie—what a delight. I played in the leaves with Wrigley and didn’t try to eat a jogger. It was a perfect day, and as Doc McHottie walked Miss Josie back to Bartleby’s, he held her hand.
“They like each other,” said Wrigley.
“How can you tell?” I asked.
“It’s the way she looks at him and the way he’s always trying to touch her. It’s in the nice things he does for her, such as packing the food and wine he knows she likes for lunch. But, do you know what the real indicator is?”
“No. What?”
“The kiss. It’s always the kiss. Either the magic is there, or it isn’t.”
When we reached the door of Bartleby’s, Wrigley and I waited expectantly for Doc McHottie to make his move. “Here it comes,” said Wrigley. “The kiss. You can tell by the way they’re looking at each other. It’s about to happen.”
Sadly, Wrigley was mistaken. Rather than gathering Miss Josie into his arms for a romantic embrace, Doc McHottie gave her a rather tepid, and somewhat brotherly, kiss on the cheek.
I shot Wrigley a look of surprise. “Was that it?”
He frowned. “I’m not sure. I think it has to be on the mouth, but these things take time. You have to be patient.”
Note to self: I hate being patient.
“Do you want to go to Beaver Tales together Friday night?” asked Doc McHottie. “It’s the storytelling event at the gazebo in Irvine Park. The dogs could come, too.”
“Sure,” said Miss Josie. “This time I’ll bring the food.”
“Wonderful. See you then.”
As he and Wrigley walked away, he whistled a happy tune. Miss Josie did not whistle, but she seemed pleased. Although a rather anticlimactic end to their date, at least they had another one planned for Friday. And Doc McHottie might be a Charles Bingley and not a Mr. Darcy, but perhaps it wasn’t the end of the world. Bingley had his good points. He just wasn’t, well, Darcy.
Ugh. I wanted Miss Josie to have a Mr. Darcy.
The bookstore remained closed the rest of the afternoon, but Ms. Anne and Gracie came over to help Miss Josie. Gracie wore a fancy pink collar dotted with rhinestones.
“Love the new collar, Gracie,” I said. “It looks fantastic on you.”
“Thanks,” she said. “You’re dapper today yourself.”
I did not have rhinestones, but I wore a special bow tie collar. It felt almost like wearing a cravat and made me extraordinarily delighted. “Why thank you,” I said. “I appreciate the compliment.”
We sat on a dog bed Miss Josie had purchased for me to use in the shop. Although too big for me at the moment, the person at the pet supply store had assured her I would grow into it quickly. But, for now, it was the perfect size for both of us, and an ideal location for us to listen to Miss Josie and Ms. Anne gossip.
“Start at the beginning. Sexy Trainer Dude took you on a hike, and Capone had to save you from a bear?” asked Ms. Anne.
Gracie stared at me, admiration sparkling in her bright eyes. Or maybe it was the reflection of the rhinestones, but it certainly seemed like admiration. “Impressive, Capone. Where was Hans when this happened?”
“Running down the path as quickly as he could and leaving us to deal with the bear on our own.”
She laughed. “Typical.”
“How do you know Hans?”
“Doggie daycare,” she said. “Hans is a dog bully. I had to put him in his place several times. He doesn’t mess with me anymore.”
I frowned, remembering how I’d been called a dog bully the first time I met Luke. “I think I’m supposed to go to doggie daycare on Monday after my obedience training. Should I be worried?”
She shrugged. “I imagine Hans is pretty upset with you if you made him look bad in front of his owner, but you’re too young to run with the big dogs. They’ll put you in the puppy group.”
“What a relief.”
I heard a tap at the door and saw Mrs. Norris outside wearing a large green hat decorated with pumpkins, a scarecrow, and tiny, white ghosts. It should have been tacky, but on her, it looked whimsical.
Miss Josie unlocked the door and let her in. Gracie and I greeted her in our usual way, by barking, licking, and hopping up and down, but Mrs. Norris was ready for us this time. She had dog treats tucked away in her handbag, and she doled them out to us.
“Two puppies. Aren’t I the lucky one today?” She handed me an extra treat, earning a dirty look from Gracie, but Mrs. Norris didn’t seem to notice. “How’s my big boy Capone doing? Aren’t you the prettiest dog in the whole wide world?”
“Excuse me, old lady,” Gracie said with a huff. “I’m the pretty one here.”
I swallowed a chuckle at the look of indignation on Gracie’s face, and rushed to appease her. “Mrs. Norris’s sight is obviously impaired. You’re the prettiest dog I’ve ever seen.”
Mollified, she sank back down on the dog bed. “You’re right. I don’t like Mrs. Norris anymore. She has poor taste, and she smells funny.”
She did smell a little funny, but I had to assume it was a combination of mothballs from storing all her woolen things and the minty hand cream for her arthritis. I only knew about the cream because I’d tried to lick her hands. It had left a bitter flavor on my tongue.
Note to self: Do not lick old people.
“I’m here to ask you a favor, my dear,” she said, pulling some papers out of her bag and handing them to Miss Josie. “Could you hang these up for me? I’m advertising for my closing sale. I’m liquidating my inventory.”
Miss Josie took them with a sigh. “I’m sorry you’re leaving. I loved having you in the neighborhood.”
“You, too, Josephine, but to all things, there is a season, right? It’s now my time for a little adventure before it’s too late if you know what I mean.” Her last words came out like a whisper, as if her age was some huge secret. She brightened, giving Miss Josie a big smile. “Have you made any progress in finding out about Benjamin’s safety deposit box?”
Miss Josie shook her head. “Which is why we’re doing an additional inventory today. It’s not only a missing ledger we’re looking for at this point. Several valuable books are unaccounted for as well. It’s a disaster, to be honest.”
“Shouldn’t you ask that nice Cedric about it? He worked here quite a long time.”
Miss Josie managed to respond in a professional manner. “Cedric was a buyer, and most of his job involved traveling. He never spent much time in the shop and had nothing to do with the day-to-day business. I doubt he’d know anything about accounting ledgers or inventory.”
“Oh, too bad,” she said. “I wish I could stay and help, but I must be on my way. Happy hunting, ladies.”
Mrs. Norris breezed out the door, and Miss Josie gazed around the room at the many books tidily arranged on shelves and showcased on various tables. “They have to be here somewhere.”
Ms. Anne frowned. “Unless someone took them.”
“Like who?” Miss Josie stared at her a long moment, and they both said the same name at the same time.
“Cedric.”
I’d been licking, my, uh, undercarriage, but the sound of his name made me sit up and take notice. Cedric the Betrayer. Had he stolen from Miss Josie? Oh, calamity.
Miss Josie let out a sigh, shaking her head. “I can’t see it. Cedric may be a lot of things—”
Ms. Anne cut in, ticking each word off on her fingers. “An adulterer, a scumbag, a liar.”
“Yes, all of the above, but he isn’t a thief. And what would he do with the books anyway? We move in the same circles. Anyone he tried to sell them to would know him and know me. He wouldn’t be able to cover his tracks.”
I watched their interaction, wanting to help. Something smelled wrong to me here, but it wasn’t the sort of problem a gentleman could solve. To figure this out, I had to do something I rebelled against with every fiber of my being. I needed to think like a criminal. Once again, I had to be Capone-ish.
Who kept trying to break into the shop, and why? Miss Josie and Ms. Anne didn’t seem to be connecting the dots. The missing books and the attempted robberies had to be related. Maybe it would take a criminal mastermind, or someone named after a criminal mastermind, to figure it out.
Dang it. I had to put on my gangster hat again. They wore fedoras, not top hats. I’d look terrible in a fedora.
Ms. Anne’s lips tightened. “I’m not convinced. If we can’t find those books, he’s first on my list. He’s not happy working for Smythe’s Books. He’s the lowest rung on the ladder there, which is a huge blow to his ego. Don’t you think he should at least be a suspect?”
Miss Josie shook her head. “No. He would never have done that to Mr. Bartleby. He thought of him as a father figure. He was loyal.”
“Did he have the same loyalty toward you?”
“Not at all. To Cedric, I was nothing more than…” She frowned, trying to come up with the right word. “A convenience, I guess.”
“It must be hard for her to admit,” said Gracie, with a little shake of her head. “To have loved someone so deeply, then to be betrayed by them is bad enough. But if Cedric stole her books, it’s so much worse.”
“What do you mean?”
“Losing one book would be a hardship for her. Losing several would be a disaster.”
A disaster for Miss Josie would be a disaster for me as well. I cocked one ear and listened.
“Which books are missing, exactly?” asked Ms. Anne.
Miss Josie straightened her glasses and studied the list in front of her. “Seven, including the first edition autographed copy of Pride and Prejudice.”
“The one Mr. Bartleby paid for, but never listed in the inventory?”
“Yes. One and the same.” Her eyes misted up behind her glasses. “I’ll never find all seven books. I’m doomed.”
“We’ll find them. We have to.”
She put her face in her hands. “Even if we do, they’ll probably be ruined by now. What am I going to do?”
Ms. Anne gave her a stern look. “Well, we aren’t going to stand here and cry about it. You’re a good businesswoman, and you know more about books than anyone I’ve ever met. The books you have in your vault are more than enough to keep this business afloat. If we find those missing titles, it’s the icing on the cake, right?”
Miss Josie straightened her shoulders. “You’re right. Of course. It’s been a stressful week. With Capone nearly eating the jogger, then the encounter with the bear, and my big argument with Nate….” She paused and cleared her throat. “Well, it’s been a little rough, but I’m fine. I need to stay focused and get through this.”
“And I’ll help you,” said Ms. Anne, hugging her. “What was in his letter by the way?”
Miss Josie nibbled on her lip. “He made some good points, and it was well written.”
Ms. Anne rolled her eyes. “I’m not asking for a literary critique. I want to know what he said. Did he explain why his plans for First Impressions included both the haberdashery and Bartleby’s?”
She nodded. “Those were the original plans, created more than a year ago. Once Nate arrived in Beaver, and assessed the situation, he realized the appeal of the location was due, in large part, to the shops surrounding the coffee shop, including Bartleby’s. He insists he never asked Mrs. Norris to sell, but when she offered her property, he took it—at an extremely generous price. He said they already have room for their corporate offices upstairs and permits to incorporate Mrs. Norris’s property as well. By doing this, they’ll have more than enough space and won’t need to expand any further.”
“Good news, right? Did you make up with him?”
She shook her head. “No. I haven’t spoken with him since I barged into his shop and yelled at him. I’m not sure what to say.”
Ms. Anne studied Miss Josie’s expression carefully, kind of the way I stare at people when I’m trying to figure out what their words mean. “Maybe you should apologize to him,” she said.
Miss Josie sighed. “What’s the point? He’s leaving soon anyway. He said he’s only here to get the new location up and running. I’m sure the last thing he’s worried about is getting an apology from me. He probably couldn’t care less.”
“If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have written the letter. It’s like Captain Wentworth in Persuasion. Or Mr. Darcy when he wrote a letter to Lizzie in Pride and Prejudice.” Ms. Anne fanned her face with her hand. “There is nothing better than a letter written by a hot guy, except maybe when a hot guy sends you diamonds. Diamonds are a good option, too.”
Later, after Ms. Anne and Gracie left, I joined Miss Josie outside. It was cold enough now she needed a blanket, and she sat for a long time, staring up at the sparkling stars in the sky.
“They look like diamonds, don’t they, Capone?” she asked, as she stroked my head. “But I wouldn’t trade you for all the diamonds in the world.”
I licked her hand. I thought my heart might explode with utter happiness.
“Come on, puppy,” she said, leading me back into the shop. “Tomorrow is a new day. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find those missing books.”
It sounded like a quest, and gentlemen lived for quests. Or maybe knights did. I wasn’t sure. But having a quest certainly wouldn’t be a bad thing. I already had a damsel in distress (Miss Josie), and a villain (Cedric). I had a comrade in arms (Jackson, sort of), and a beautiful lady cheering me on (Gracie). I also had the Capone-ish side of my nature, which could be an asset in this situation. A quest could be the thing to push me into the realm of true gentleman status. The only question was where to begin?