A Chance Mistake Read Free

forgotten he had to pay.
    She took the currency, counted it, and handed him some coins. “So you’re a long way from home? What brings you to Wales?”
    “It’s complicated.” He hated the worn out phrase.
    “More complicated than your book?” She batted eyelashes at him. Oh, she was a spunky one.
    “Yes.”
    “Well, have a good day. Come again.”
    “I will.” He laughed at her light-hearted teasing attempt to shoo him away, since he gave no further information. “Oh, could you tell me where I can get a mountain bike?”
    “Surely. Next door at the antique shop. He sells bikes, too. Has some in the back, he does.” She sat on the stool. “Riding some trails while you’re here?”
    “I thought I would. That way I can take my time and see all the beauty that is Wales.” Watch it Kory. That was a bit on the sarcastic side. But what he’d seen so far was like a dream—a good one of a far way place with old-world buildings. And the princess was—
    “Do a lot of biking, do you?”
    He blew out air in a whooshing sound. What had happened to him? He’d turned into an old teapot. “Not since I was a kid.”
    “Think you still can?” She seemed to take inventory of his leg muscles.
    “I should. Since a person is able to remember doing it. Just like riding a bike.”
    “Some of the mountain trails are pretty tricky, I suspect. One wrong turn and vroom.” Her hand did a swan dive off the desk. “Why don’t you rent a car?”
    Oh, boy. “Er…um.” She was going to think he was nuts. “I haven’t driven a car in…about…ten years.”
    “What?”
    He’d enjoyed watching her eyes get bigger with each part of his sentence. “I live in New York City. No cause for a car there. I take the subway, a bus, or a taxi. Or I walk.”
    She frowned.
    “At any rate, I do have a driver’s license, but—”
    “Good, good. Well, I do hope you’ll be careful.” She tapped a pen. “Oh! Will you sign my book?” She slid The Unseen toward him and handed him the pen.
    “Sure. Your name?” He held the pen and clicked it a couple of times. The doorbell jingled. Two shadowy shapes moved from the front of the store to an aisle. He wanted to see more than his peripheral vision, but the goddess in front of him made it impossible.
    “Dafina. D-a-f-i-n-a.” She leaned close as she spelled her name. A fresh smell of flowers and mint wafted his way.
    He smiled as he wrote, glad to know her name, but he’d never see her again. The things that might have been, only to be dissuaded by circumstance. Why did his inner voice always have to sound like a narrator? He closed the book, set the pen on top of it, and slid it back to her.
    “Thank you, Mr. Slate. Enjoy your Agatha Christie, map, journal, and pens.”
    He shook his head.
    “You won’t enjoy your Ag—”
    “I will. But please, it’s Kory.”
    She wore a worried expression. “Thank you, Kory.”
    He held up the bag. “Thank you, Dafina.”
    “Be careful, now.”
    “I will. Bye.” He moved toward the door. Why was parting so sorrowful?
    “Bye.” She waved. “Come again.”
    “I will.” Now he must make sure to come again. Perhaps when he was ready to leave the country. He opened the door. It jingled. He turned back. She waved. He waved. That wasn’t awkward at all.
     
    Dafina picked up the phone and punched in numbers.
    “Hello?” Irritation came through along with the greeting.
    “Bobi. It’s me from next door. I have to make this quick because he’s heading right over.
    “Dafina? What do you mean? Who’s on their way over?”
    The bells on his door jingled through the phone. “Shhh. Keep your voice down and answer, so he won’t know that you’re talking to me.”
    “What?” The sound of Bobi’s hand covering the phone swished in her ear. “Just a minute sir, be right with you.”
    “Thank you.” Kory’s voice.
    “The man—in your store, he’s looking for a mountain bike, and he’s never ridden anything but a child’s