Chapter Seven
The shop was rather crowded for a Thursday afternoon. Aimee and the renewed Angelica worked like buzzing bees to wait on all the customers. Mrs. Whittier was down with a cold. It was nearly four o’clock when the onslaught finally died down. Angelica had two customers in the front of the shop paying for their purchases, and Aimee was at the rear counter speaking with Christopher.
“How are you doing, Aimee?” he asked her kindly.
“Just fine,” she answered, noting how her body seemed to warm again in his presence.
“You’re sure?”
“And why would you think I’m not?”
The man looked puzzled. “I suppose it’s nothing. I just thought that man the other day had upset you.”
“And what man was that?”
“I believe he lives in your boardinghouse.”
“You know where I live?”
“I took the
