A Contract of Hearts

CHAPTER2

The Last Customer

"You close early."

The voice comes from the door.

I am shocked and look up.

I didn't hear the bell.

The man is tall and standing still just inside, as if he has been there longer than I expected. He doesn't go any further inside. Just watch.

I check the time and say, "We close at six." "It's almost—" "I know what time it is."

He seems peaceful.

Not enough fun.

It makes me grasp the book harder. "Then you know I'm still open," I say.

A little respite.

After that, he walks on.

Don't worry. Measured.

His shoes barely make a sound when they hit the floor.

I had never met him before.

I would remember."Are you looking for something?" I enquire.

He doesn't respond right away.

Instead, his eyes travel across the shelves.

Taking it all in.

He says, "Something like that," as if he's struggling to remember it.

I point to the section for fiction. "That side is—" "I'm not here for books."

The words linger between us like a weight.

I sit up a little bit more straight.

"Then I can't help you."

A second break.

Then he smiles.

Not warm.

Not good.

Just... nice. "I think you can."

"My chest feels tight." "I think you should go."

He doesn't care about that.

He pulls something out of his coat.

My muscles get tight.

But he only pulls out a piece of paper that is folded.

Gently place it on the counter.

"I came to give you this."

I don't move. "What is it?" "Something you've been putting off."

"I don't know you." My gut hurts.

"You don't have to."

He looks me straight in the eye.

Steady.

Sure. "Open it."

I don't know.

Then, slowly put down the book and pick up the paper.

It looks like it weighs more than it should.

It seems like it can store more than ink.

I opened it.

Look at the first line.

After that, the next one.

"I can't breathe," I replied hastily. "This isn't right." "There must be a mistake."

"There's not."

I shake my head.No, I've been paying. "All I need is more time."

"You don't have any time left."

My hands are shaking a little. "That's not how this works."

"It is now."

I gaze up at him.

Getting furious. "You can't just come in here and change everything."

He says in a calm voice, "I'm not changing anything." "I want to remind you." "Of what?" "Of what happens next."

The words give me the creeps.

I say, "I'm not signing anything," and put the paper back down. "You already did."

My chest tightens. "What?" "Months ago," he says. "When you agreed to terms that you didn't read all of."

"That's not—" "It is."

His voice doesn't grow any louder.

No need to. "People always think they have more time than they do."

I swallow hard.This store isn't going anywhere.

"It is." "No." "Yes."

There is a long time when we don't talk to each other.

I don't like how sure he sounds.

This is already done.

"Why are you really here?" I wonder. "It seems like my opinion doesn't matter.""I know enough." "To make sure you get it."

"Do you?"

His eyes become a little sharper.

"Because from where I stand, you're still acting like this will turn out well."

My mouth gets stiff. "I'm not pretending anything."

"Okay."

He nods.

Then he reaches back into his coat.

This time, he pulls out something smaller.

A photo.

He puts it next to the paper and says, "Then explain this."

I see it.

At first, it didn't make sense.

Then it does.

I can't get enough air.

It's the store for books.

But not for a while.

More grown-up.

This is new paint.

The sign is still easy to read.

And standing in front of it—

My mum.

Smiling.

Next to a man I've never met before.

Very high.

Dressed nicely.

His face changed a little.

But still easy to see.

Famous.

Too well-known.

I've met him previously.

I know I have.Who's that? I ask, my voice now softer.

The man watches me closely. "You tell me."

I shake my head.I don't know him.

"Look again."

I force myself to look at the picture.

The angle.

How you stand.

The sharp sharpness of his chin.

It works after that.

My stomach drops. "No..."

I gaze up at him.That's not possible.

Still, the man merely smiles again.

That same polite, bland expression. "Oh, it is."

"My chest hurts a lot." "Why do you have this?" "You need to start asking the right questions."

"What are those?"

He turns around and heads back to the door.

"The kind that saves lives."

My heart rate rises. "What does that mean?"

He stops at the door.

A little bit of a turn.

"Miss Cole, make sure your doors are locked tonight."

I feel a chill. "Why?" He looks at me one last time.

And this time, there is no grin.

"Next time," he says softly, "it won't be me knocking."