¶1The bell above the door jangled, and a girl came in out of the rain, dripping from her hood to her shoes.

¶2“Mind the step,” said Mr. Whitlock, without looking up from his ledger. “And the umbrella stand. And the cat. People are forever tripping over the cat and blaming me.”

¶3He pushed a cup of tea across the counter toward her, then a plate with the last two ginger cookies. “Sit there,” he said, pointing to the stool by the radiator. “And don't drip on the maps.”