I decided the best course of action was to call on snippy Rita. I didn’t know why he was staring, but it wasn’t a prelude to flirtation. The phrase ‘out of my league’ came to mind. Because the man was odd, but devastatingly attractive.
“Well, perhaps you’d tell me why you’re standing in the middle of the shop?”
At long last he blinked, which was a relief because I was getting worried about his eye health.
“Perhaps. Perhaps not,” he said in English, but with a trace of accent that gave away foreign origin.
I didn’t especially care for that answer no matter how Valentino he might be. “The thing is, this is a business. We sell things here. So unless you want to buy something…”
“What if I simply required help with directions?”
“Do you need directions?”
“No.”
“Is this a game?”
His face might have altered to allow for a ghost of a smile, but it was hard to tell. His eyes finally left me long enough to scan the premises and come to rest on the statue of Eros.
“How much for that?” he asked, pointing at the archer.
I hoped there was a price tag since I didn’t know any more about it than he did. A quick check and I found it hanging from one of the love god’s wrists.
“Twenty-five thousand. I guess that’s pounds.”
“What else would it be?” The challenge was accompanied by a second hint of smirk.
His eyes wandered back to the life-size bronze statue. At least it would have been the likely height of a god in the days of Ulysses. Now it was more the height of a typical fourteen-year-old boy. He, Eros that is, was notching an arrow, appearing intent on a target. His upper body was half bare, the rest tastefully covered in a short toga with leather belt. I had to admire the man’s taste as well as his looks and, by all indications, money.
“I’ll take it,” he said. “I’ll send someone around tomorrow at eleven. Will that do?” As he spoke he removed a flat leather wallet from his jacket breast pocket, selected a Coutt World Card and extended it in my direction. “Here you are then.”
Since I had no idea how to process the card, I wrote down the information and asked for his name.
“John David Weir. Mrs. MacHenry knows my address.”
My eyes met his when I handed back the card. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Weir. And thank you for your patronage.”
“And you are?” he said.
“Rita Hayworth.”
That time I was certain a smirk had flitted by. He couldn’t possibly be old enough to know the name, Rita Hayworth. Apparently he was satisfied that the exchange was concluded because he turned and left without looking back. I drifted toward the front window and watched as he mounted and rode away looking every bit the nineteenth-century gentleman.
Maggie emerged from the rear. “Oh. I see you met the vampire.”
I turned slowly. “The what?”
She looked like I’d just caught her in something very naughty, but her expression changed quickly. “Oh,” she chuckled. “’Tis what we call him because he’s secretive and lives alone.”
“He’s strange, you mean.”
“Well… I suppose that could be said. But it might also be said of any of us.”
I couldn’t help but smile at the generous spirit behind that remark. “True enough.”
“He probably just wanted to get a look at the new proprietor.” She paused. “Nice enough lookin’ fella.”
I smiled because it sounded like she was fishing. “Oh? I didn’t notice.” She chuckled. “He bought that.” I pointed at the Eros statue. “I didn’t know how to process so I wrote the info down. He said he’d send someone to pick it up tomorrow. At eleven?”
“Seems you’re good for business. Luck has already turned our way. That’ll make book for the month to be sure.”
“I didn’t do a thing except ask him to buy something or leave.”
Her face fell. “You did that?”
“He was just standing in the middle of the store. Still as a statue. I asked if he needed help. He said no. The conversation went downhill from there.” I took in a deep breath. “But he did end up buying something.” I eyed the Eros statue. “It’s a nice piece. Do we, um, put a sold sign on it?”
“O’ course we can. ‘Tis high unlikely some other gentry or out-of-season tourist will wander in and ask to buy it before tomorrow. But we have nothin’ else to do at the moment. So why no’?”
“He must live close by. Since he arrived on horseback?”
“Just a few miles. Has a good-sized place. Old manor estate. Keeps tenant farmers like the glory days.”
“Glory days?” I repeated dumbly. It seemed like I was doing a lot of that.
“Downton Abbey and all that. ‘Twas no’ so glorious for the people doin’ the work. But ‘twas glorious for the idle rich.”
I nodded. “He’s right out of central casting.”
“Central casting?”
I smiled about taking turns with Maggie, repeating the end of a sentence and turning it into a question.
“It means that, if I was casting a character for that part in a movie, I’d pick somebody just like him. He looks the part.”
“That he does.”
“I think I’ll have a look around the village then.”
“Oh, well, sure. If ye get hungry, the pub will be servin’ a decent Shepherd’s pie. Or some roast chicken with peas and carrots. ‘Course they’ll have a fillin’ potato soup with leeks.”
“Stop or I’ll never get back into my goal jeggings.”
She blinked. “Do no’ know what this is.”
I laughed, realizing that there’s more separating me from Britain than an ocean. I chose to change the subject.
“Is there anything in particular that I should look out for?”
“On your stroll about the village? Aye. Avoid the little goblin at the boot shop. He wears a nasty humor like a prize waistcoat. If you’re in the market for a custom-made pair of boots, that’s fine. He does know his way around a length of leather. But if ye have no need of new boots, pay him no mind.”
“I didn’t really mean look out for in the sense of avoidance. I meant is there anything in particular I should seek out?”
“’Tis a distinction it is.” I nodded. “We get some tourists now and then.” I immediately began calculating how the village stayed afloat with anything less than a steady stream of tourism. “They like to take pictures of the mill wheel.”
That did pique my interest. Flying my turista colors proudly, I asked, “Which way?”
“River’s a few strides downhill. Go past your front door, keep walkin’. You’ll run right into it.” She chuckled. “Do no’ recommend that. The water’s already coolin’ off, gettin’ ready for winter. I have a distant cousin who…”
She looked away quickly so that I didn’t hear the end of that sentence as she busied herself moving things around.
“I didn’t hear the end of that. You have a distant cousin who what?”
“What? Oh. I think I hear the kettle.” With her cheeriest smile so far, she began walking away, saying, “Have a nice outin’. Get yourself settled in, but be back ‘round for dinner on time.”