Chapter 22

The winter sunlight in Prabrurgh always carried a touch of gentleness. Vanessa pushed open the glass door of the bookshop, and the wind chimes made their familiar, clear sound. The bookstore wasn't large. It was just about 600 square feet but filled with Modierin and Frioench books. A long oak table was placed by the window, and fresh seasonal flowers were always placed in a vase at its center. Today, it was a bouquet of white marguerites. "Ms. York, where should I shelve the new picture books?" asked the young staff, Mary Dubois. She was cradling a box in her arms. "Children's section on the shelf by the window," Vanessa replied in Frioench, her accent now barely discernible from the locals. This was her third year in Prabrurgh, and her bookshop had grown from being completely ignored to becoming a well-known cultural salon at Blue River. The bookshop hosted weekly book clubs and flower arranging classes. She was organizing newly arrived books when her fingers suddenly touched