Free Cloudy With a Chance of Marriage by Kieran Kramer Page A

Fotherington, who lived”—he started, which made her start, as well—“almost two hundred years ago!”
    Jilly’s heart thumped madly. She loved a good story.
    “I wonder where she lived,” she said, and quickly thumbed through the first several pages. “My goodness.” She looked up at Otis. “She lived here, on Dreare Street, in Captain Arrow’s house.”
    “You don’t say!” Otis exclaimed, and walked to the window and looked first at the captain, who was busy sanding a small piece of wood, and then at the house. “Was she married?”
    Jilly bit her lip. “I don’t know, but I plan to find out. It’s not as if I don’t have time to read it.”
    Otis made a face. “True. But as soon as you’re finished, I want to read it, too.” He paused. “Here,” he said excitedly. “We have a new customer.”
    He straightened his coat, and they both watched the artist from down the street tip his hat to Captain Arrow, who acknowledged him with a friendly greeting.
    The fellow wore a faded coat, boots that had seen better days, and a sheepish grin on his boyish countenance when he arrived at the door.
    “Hello,” he said in a strong but kind voice. “I’m Nathaniel Sadler. Thank you for the scones. They were delicious, Miss Jones.”
    “You’re very welcome, Mr. Sadler,” Jilly said. “We have plenty more. And please call me Jilly.”
    “I’m quite full at the moment, but thanks.” He grinned. “And I’d be most obliged if you’d call me Nathaniel.”
    “Nathaniel, then,” she said. “And this is Mr. Shrimpshire, my assistant.”
    “Otis to artistic geniuses,” Otis explained. “I’ve seen your paintings in your window.”
    Nathaniel thanked him for the compliment, and the men shook hands.
    “I didn’t come in sooner because”—Nathaniel hesitated—“people don’t mingle on Dreare Street.”
    “I wonder why?” Jilly truly couldn’t fathom it. “In the country, we got to know all our neighbors very well.”
    Nathaniel shrugged. “Most people don’t mingle on any streets in Mayfair, actually. You’ll have a lord living next to a dress shop on one side and an attorney’s office on the other. People don’t speak unless they’re with people like themselves. But here on Dreare Street, the residents are even more isolated from their neighbors.” He looked at them from beneath a fringe of wavy black hair. “Lady Duchamp does her best to quash any signs of friendliness between us.”
    “That’s obvious,” Otis said. “She’s not a very happy person.”
    Nathaniel winced. “She’s a widow. Perhaps that accounts for it.”
    Jilly liked that he was a compassionate sort and began to get an idea, a very good idea. Somehow she wanted him to meet Susan.
    “Do you—would you mind if I looked through your books?” he asked.
    “Not at all,” she replied warmly.
    He scratched his head. “I don’t have any money to buy one. But I do love to read.”
    Those were the perfect words to say to a lover of books. “You go right ahead and browse,” Jilly said. “And if you see one you like, please take it as a gift from one neighbor to another.”
    What was one book between friends? She wasn’t making any money anyway.
    Otis made a face at her.
    She quelled him with a glance.
    Nathaniel blushed. “That’s very kind of you. Perhaps someday I could paint a small portrait of the exterior of Hodgepodge you could hang in the shop.” He looked around at the blank walls.
    “I’d love that,” Jilly said with enthusiasm. “I’d also be happy to hang any other paintings you might have. They could be for sale here.”
    His eyes brightened. “Really? I’ve had no luck finding a patron in London. You’d be doing me a great service. That is…” He looked around. “Do you get many customers?”
    She shook her head. “I’m afraid not. And I must confess that’s one reason I’d like to hang your paintings. Perhaps they’ll attract more clients. At the very least, your canvases would