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This was the type of thing he actually enjoyed—being rushed off his feet, having conversations with tourists and locals, returning customers and new ones. Both shop doors propped open meant freezing air being wafted in and Jack’s fingers threatened to turn numb, and he worked through the chaos until around three in the afternoon. Which was when Oliver rushed in, looking dishevelled and incredibly confused.
“What the—” he started, then looked around at all the small children in the shop, and shut his mouth. “What’s going on?” he amended.
“You didn’t show up for work this morning,” Jack said, with a smile that felt genuine.
“But you don’t have keys.”
“Mrs. Tanenbaum does.”
“You… I don’t understand.”
“Excuse me,” Jack said, and turned to the woman behind him clutching two mouse dolls and a half dozen accessories in her arms.
Jack wrapped everything in soft white paper and tucked the mice into his signature black bag, and gave her an extra-warm smile as she thanked him and left.
“You opened the shop,” Oliver said as soon as she’d disappeared down the street.
“Well, you clearly weren’t going to. I’ve kept a note of what you’ve sold, don’t worry.”
“That’s… why would you do that for me?”
Jack shrugged. “It seemed like the season for generosity,” he said. “I didn’t want you to lose your job.”
Oliver seemed lost for words. Then he found them. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. You’ll probably want to put the heating on when you get over there. The door’s been open all day.”
Oliver nodded again, ran his fingers through his already wild hair, then scampered back across the street.
Jack’s heart clenched as for the second time in twenty-four hours, he watched Oliver run away.
Oliver still wasn’t entirely sure what had happened. Not last night, at the cathedral with Jack, or spending all night writing a book, then oversleeping and rushing back into town to find Jack running two shops at the same time.
He did as Jack had suggested and got the heating going, shut the front door, and got down to the very serious business of selling books.
The experience he’d gained in the past few weeks proved vitally important as he worked on autopilot, stuffing purchases into bags and offering bland smiles alongside eachMerry Christmas.
At six, he closed the shop, following the same familiar routine, and stepped out onto the street at the same time Jack was locking the door of the Magic Toy Shop.
“Hi,” Oliver said, and Jack whirled around too quickly. His scowl melted when he caught Oliver’s eyes, and Oliver didn’t know what to make of that.
“Hi. Here.”
He shoved a piece of paper at Oliver.
“What’s this?”
“It’s the record of your takings from today. Just let me know and I can transfer the takings over.”
“Thank you. Again.” He shoved the paper into his backpack. “And sorry that you had to do that.”
“It’s okay,” Jack said, shrugging and slipped his hands in his pockets. He was wearing all black and looked absolutely delicious. “What happened?”
Oliver grinned. “I finished the book. The first draft of it, anyway.”
“You… youfinishedit?”
“Yeah.”
