A Springful of Winters by Sister Dawn

Author:Sister, Dawn [Sister, Dawn]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Beaten Track Publishing
Published: 2018-07-27T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

Planning Dates

or

Water Does Not Taste the Same from Other People’s Taps

Morning break in the bookshop is for catching up on news. Yenta likes to hear about the things I’ve been doing when not at work, so today, I tell her everything that happened with Stephan the night before. Well, almost everything. I leave out the bit about kissing because I’m still processing that.

“His ankle is only sprained,” I explain. “He texted me last night and I replied with a smiley face emoji, followed by a sad-faced one just in case he thought I was smiling at his misfortune and not just the fact that his ankle isn’t actually broken.”

“You could have called and spoken to him, Lapushka,” Yenta chides gently.

I purse my lips then blow out my cheeks. “Yenta, you know I don’t understand the rules of talking on the phone. I mean, I don’t want Stephan to think I’m stupid.”

“He won’t think that, he likes you.”

“Yes, I know.” I nod, thinking a little more about our kiss and smiling. “He wants me to visit him today. He said so in his text and asked me last night. I replied with a thumbs up emoji.”

Yenta sighs and shakes her head. “You should take him some flowers,” she suggests as we finish our tea and get back to work.

“Flowers?” I ask in disgust. “Yenta, you know how I feel about flowers. I mean they’re technically dead as soon as you pick them. And they stink, and the smell only gets worse as they sit there in the vase slowly decaying before your very eyes. Why anyone thought cutting the heads off living things and presenting them as a—”

“Most people think it’s romantic, Kit,” She stops me in mid-rant. “And it’s a traditional gift when visiting someone who is ill.”

“But Stephan isn’t ill. It’s not as if he’s going to die or anything. He hurt his ankle.”

“Or when they’re injured,” she adds. I can see her rolling her eyes. She isn’t going to convince me. “Chocolates, then.” She suggests as an alternative.

“Chocolates would be better.” I give the matter some thought. “But which brand? I can’t just give him any old chocolates and hope he likes them. Maybe I should ask him.” I get out my phone, glad of an excuse to send him a text that is more than a simple picture expressing emotion.

“Kit, you can’t ask him what he likes, that would spoil the surprise,” Yenta exclaims with a degree of frustration in her tone that even I can hear.

I put away my phone with a sigh. “Okay, but I still need to think about what brand he would like.”

“Go to the chocolatier’s along the high street and pick out some special ones.”

“But Yenta, it’s Wednesday!” I gasp. “You know I don’t go shopping on a Wednesday.”

“Not even for a special occasion?”

I scowl. She’s right of course, but I hate to change my routine. Oh, I know I’m older now and have developed strategies to cope when my routine changes, but that doesn’t stop me resisting any unnecessary deviations.

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