Free Death Overdue (Librarian Mysteries) by Mary Lou Kirwin Page A

bird on its eggs?
    “Oh, I’m so sorry,” I couldn’t stop myself from saying.
    “It’s not your fault. Would you like a cup of tea?” she asked. She had to slip off the chair to let her feet touch the floor and, instead of growing taller when she stood, she actually shrank. “It’s about that time.”
    I had noticed that wherever you went in England, it was almost always teatime.
    “That would be lovely,” I said, even though Caldwell shot me a look.
    While she went away, we turned around in a circle, taking in the crammed and cramped quarters. The place couldn’t have been much larger than the small bedroom on Caldwell’s first floor, but there was much about it I liked: the coziness, the south-facing front window, the worn wooden floor scattered with old Persian rugs.
    “This won’t do,” he whispered to me.
    “Let’s just see what she has to say,” I suggested. “Maybe there’s a back area. She’s obviously gone someplace.”
    “Go see,” he said.
    I walked back to the small door she had gone through, knocked, and waited a moment before pushing it open. I found myself in an even smaller room that was obviously the toilet. Mrs. Gubbins was heating water in a plug-in kettle. A tray with a teapot and a plate of biscuits was perched on the sink.
    “Won’t be but a minute,” she said as she poured the hot water into the pot.
    “Thanks,” I said as I watched her maneuver in the small space.
    “Your man seems to have his head on right,” she observed.
    I was glad to hear it was so obvious. “I think he does,” I told her. Then I backed out, as there was no room to turn around.
    *
    An hour later, we found a Chinese restaurant not far from Mrs. Gubbins’s store. The interior glowed in red and gold and smelled of soy sauce and garlic. I found I was famished.
    After ordering a beer, and before ordering our food, Caldwell said, “Absolutely not. The place is simply too small.”
    “But you said yourself the price was right.”
    “It would take months to get her to agree to leave, then years to sort out that place. Plus, it’s considerably too small.”
    I knew he was right. “I won’t argue.”
    “How unlike you,” he said, and smiled.
    “I know you’re right, but I just liked the feel of the place. So cozy, so intimate. But I admit, not much room for your thousands of books. And since it will be your shop, you must be comfortable with it.”
    “We must be sensible,” he said, and then stopped. “However, I do think of it as our place.”
    “Oh, Caldwell, we agreed that I would have this trip to decide about all that.”
    “But you’ve been here two weeks. Even though it feelslike just a moment. Other than the horrible demise of Sally, and I know it’s hard to see around that happening, haven’t we been doing well?”
    I reached out and touched his cheek. “Yes, more than well. But I won’t be rushed. My indecision really isn’t about us.”
    “Then what?” he asked.
    He deserved the best explanation I could give him. “I haven’t had much luck in relationships before. Maybe I’m just protecting myself, but I want to be sure that I can be happy here in London before I commit. How horrible it would be for you and for me if I came to live here, only to find that it just wouldn’t work.”
    He closed his eyes.
    I reached out and touched his cheek. “I couldn’t bear that to happen and neither could you.”
    “Yes, I see.”
    “Plus, this horrible Sally affair must be settled. You could still end up not owning all of the bed-and-breakfast.”
    “That’s an awful thought.”
    “But one we must face. If Sally left no will and if her legal claim turns out to be legitimate, then her half might well go to Penelope.”
    “Yes, Penelope said she was checking into that. I guess there is a solicitor who their family always used. Maybe she’ll have some news for us when we get home. At the very worst,I would only own half of it, but that should still be enough for us to move