Chapter 2 – Kingston (Part 6)

Bryant unfolded his arms and placed one hand to his mouth. Stroking his lower lip and chin was a habit when concentrating. He needed to find it. Another path to reach his goal. While thinking of some viable alternatives, he thought of the woman.  

“You don’t want to go abroad, and you don’t want a publication celebration either.”  

How can I make her move according to my will? I need to make her trust me. How can I make her trust me? I must win her heart first. 

Bryant visualized the process in his mind.  

Favor brings about affection. As affection develops into intimacy, vigilance crumbles. Nothing is easier to open than the heart of a woman who is not on guard, and once the heart is open, gaining trust is a natural progression. People don’t give their hearts because the other is trustworthy; they trust because they’ve already given their hearts.

So what is the first thing to do? Win her favor. Based on his experience, that wasn’t a particularly difficult task.  

Having finished his thoughts, Bryant stood up. He took the coat hanging on the rack and opened the desk drawer. Inside were a black fountain pen case, a white envelope, and a red box. He glanced at the white envelope made of high-quality paper. An invitation to the Royal Theater. He had received it but had almost forgotten about it since he had no intention of attending.  

Passing by the stiff white envelope, he took out the red box. It was ink he had bought in advance, about the size of a fist and quite heavy. There’s no better gift for a writer. Especially for a novelist whose ink on the desk is nearly empty.  

With a satisfied expression, Bryant closed the drawer and strode out of the office with wide steps.  

*  

At dusk, Kingston’s main road becomes packed with carriages. Since one must pass through Wellington Street and the central square to reach uptown, Bryant’s car had no choice but to endure the congestion on the main road. It would take about 20 minutes to reach the boarding house where the woman lived, even at its own pace.  

“Look at this traffic. They need to widen the roads soon, don’t they? What’s the point of having cars if they can’t even run?”  

Driver Ellen grumbled. Bryant, who was reading a book in the back seat, lifted his head.  

“Can’t you put in a petition to the city hall, Mr. Clifton?”  

“I’m sure that a petition from me or from you would make little difference to the city officials.”  

“Oh, that’s excessive modesty. You know Mayor Gastrell, don’t you?”  

“If you think knowing someone means they’re close enough to widen roads for you, you’re using that phrase entirely wrong.”  

Oh, let’s not talk about it. 

Ellen held his tongue while holding the steering wheel. Watching the back of his head, Bryant silently laughed.  

“There’s no need to rush. We haven’t set a specific appointment time.”  

He spoke calmly, turning his head to look out the window. It was a season with short days, and the bluish dusk was already settling. Gas lamps were brightly lit on the street and inside the shops. Bryant’s car was parked close to the sidewalk. It was a situation where “parked” was an appropriate term, as it couldn’t budge.  

He watched the pedestrians on the sidewalk. The downtown area was bustling with people at quitting time. The men’s attire was similar, with winter coats, silk hats, and leather gloves. The women’s tastes were much more varied, occasionally catching the eye.  

Bryant placed the book he was reading on his lap and admired the city’s evening. Police officers cracking down on carriages parked in prohibited areas. Newspaper boys shouting headlines of the evening papers. Shopkeepers attending to customers inside stores. While observing the lively scene, Bryant inadvertently noticed a woman coming out of a shop he had been looking at.  

It was Evelyn Dale.  

How did she catch his eye so perfectly? Bryant couldn’t understand. The woman was moving busily, her dark gray coat almost blending with the surroundings, and above all, she didn’t have a noticeable stature. Seeing her like that, he thought she was quite petite. He watched the woman mingling with the pedestrians. The woman walking briskly seemed so small that she might vanish into the crowd if he lost sight of her for even a moment.  

Bryant followed her diminishing figure to the end. Only after she completely disappeared from view did he take a deep breath. It was then he realized he had been holding his breath.  

The car that was parked on the road moved slightly forward. It managed to inch forward about ten steps before stopping again.  

He turned his gaze back to the shop the woman had exited. It was a store selling stationery items like ink, fountain pens, and notebooks. Bryant reached into his coat pocket and took out the box. He looked at the new ink wrapped in red paper and placed it on the seat beside him. Then he glanced around at the surrounding carriages that couldn’t move. It would take about 10 minutes to reach the next alley.  

Having thought that far, he rose from his seat.  

“Turn right at the next alley. I’ll see you there.”  

“Pardon?”

Ellen turned his head with a puzzled look. Bryant tapped his shoulder a couple of times and opened the car door. Cold air rushed in. Having gotten out of the car, he crossed the sidewalk and entered the stationery store.

“Welcome.”  

The inside of the store was warm with steam heating. The faint scent of paper and ink typical of stationery stores lingered. It was a fairly large store, but there was only one person attending to it. The white-haired owner standing inside the fountain pen display case spoke to the customer. He was an old man with a monocle.  

“Is there something you’re looking for?”  

“The woman who just left.”  

Bryant met the old man’s eyes. He seemed unsure of what he meant, so Bryant added an explanation.  

“The lady with brown hair, small stature, about this tall.”  

He held his right hand horizontally at the level of his lips and chin. The old man blinked once and then,  

“Ah, you mean Miss Evelyn.”  

“You know her.”  

“But for what reason?”  

He still seemed unsure of what Bryant meant as he asked.  

“I want to know what she bought.”  

“Miss Evelyn, you say?”  

“Yes.”  

As he answered, Bryant thought. First, the woman was a regular at this store. Second, the old man considered him a strange man. And rightly so. Acknowledging it willingly, he tried to put on the most gentlemanly expression. After scrutinizing his face and attire, the old man finally spoke.

“She came to buy ink. The item she was looking for was out of stock, so she paid in advance and left. We agreed to send it to her home as soon as it arrives.”  

“I see.”  

Bryant nodded, hiding his satisfaction. She hadn’t been able to buy ink. In that case, his gift would make a deeper impression on her. It was a fortunate turn of events.  

“Thank you for telling me.”  

“Glad to be of help.”  

“It was very helpful.”  

After expressing his thanks with a bright expression, he felt awkward. It seemed somewhat rude to just turn and leave in a shop. So he belatedly lowered his gaze to the nearest display case as if choosing an item. Notebooks of various sizes and materials. While carelessly scanning them, he thought. 

What am I doing here right now?  

While flipping through any notebook, he thought. 

Why am I here? Why did I get out of the car? What made me so curious about whether she bought ink or not?  

It was an almost reflexive action, carried out faster than an impulse. 

Did I really want to win her favor so desperately? 

Bryant found himself incredulous, jumping out of the car and aimlessly flipping through notebooks. It was both amusing and somewhat pitiful. So this is what it feels like to be flustered by a popular author.  

Truly, running a business is not an easy task.  

“That lady enjoys using medium-weight paper.”  

Bryant lifted his head. The old man’s blue eyes were smiling beyond the monocle.  

“Is that so?”  

“She seems to mostly use size 3. I’ve never seen her buy anything larger.”  

“……Is that so?”  

“Notebooks are nice, but for a writer, a fountain pen is the best gift, don’t you think?”  

Bryant finally put down the notebook he had been flipping through. He was rather relieved to overcome the awkwardness. It wouldn’t be bad to fall for the old man’s sales tactics. After all, he was also a businessman. Running a shop like this wouldn’t be easy either.  

“Do you have any recommendations? I use products from Hermann, but if there’s something better, please show me.”

“Herman! You know your stuff. A fountain pen is best when it’s a Hermann.”

The old man enthusiastically opened the display case. There was no hesitation in his hand as he picked out one of the neatly laid fountain pens. He carefully placed the pen on the velvet cloth and gestured for the customer standing nearby to try it.  

“This young lady was made to commemorate the 200th anniversary of Tatiana I’s birth. It’s modeled after the cover of the book Her Majesty loved the most. There couldn’t be a more perfect companion for a writer than this young lady.”  

It was an introduction that appealed to him. Tatiana I. A pen for the Queen who ruled the golden age of literature. Bryant picked up the pen with a careful hand. A chocolate-colored body with platinum accents. When he opened the cap, the gold nib gleamed. It was a beautiful pen.  

“It’s a wonderful pen.”  

“It’s an incredibly wonderful item.”  

“I’ll take it.”  

“Your discernment is excellent.”  

With a face as if he would clap his hands, the old man took out a case. As he meticulously polished it with a soft cloth, he turned the pen around as if admiring its form one last time. His gaze was filled with affection and admiration.  

“The size should be just right. I’ve ground the nib for that young lady before. It was a fountain pen that had been used for a very long time. Once a pen becomes accustomed to one’s hand, it’s hard to change.”  

The old man spoke as he took out wrapping paper and ribbons. Bryant watched his skilled hands in silence.  

“But once you get a new pen, you’ll get used to it quickly. At first, it might feel unfamiliar and awkward, but overcoming unfamiliarity is the way to sweetness in anything.”  

“That’s true.”  

Nodding in agreement, the old man smiled broadly.  

“So don’t worry. Women are better at recognizing good things.”  

It was a meaningful statement. Bryant responded with a slight smile. He seemed to understand what the old man was thinking, but instead of explaining, he simply said what needed to be said.  

“I’ll pay with a store check.”  

“No problem.”  

The old man, who had been tying the ribbon with great care, handed him a checkbook.  

Bryant hesitated momentarily about whether to write the publishing house address but ended up writing his home address. Then he finally remembered the poor driver. 

Where could he have gone? Was he waiting in the alley? 

After completing the check and order form, he turned his head to look beyond the showcase. Of course, the car was nowhere to be seen.  

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep it a secret from the lady.”  

The old man laughed as he held up the wrapped item. 

What does this person keep telling me not to worry about?

Instead of explaining that he had neither worried nor had any reason to, Bryant once again responded with an ambiguous smile.