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payment for Robbie’s schooling would be due in a few weeks. Shortly after that, she’d need to hand over the rents. Dread coiled inside of her, but she refused to let it show. Instead, she reached into her basket and pulled out her latest creation. “The hair is blond. It’s long, and it’s got the loveliest curls. I’ve fixed the hair up, but I can redo the style.” She held it out to him. “Some vain, elderly lady will want to reclaim her youth with this.”
    Jeremy didn’t reach for the wig. “I…well, there’s no way to say this. Old Blazer is talking about getting rid of the wigs altogether. If they’re not going to sell, he says there’s no point in giving them valuable room in the store.”
    “They’ll sell,” Miranda said airily, even though her breath jarred from her. Smile, and make it look easy . “And what’s more, they sell the hats. I should charge you a commission on the hats your customers purchase—they’re so much more appealing atop a head of hair, don’t you think? The instant a woman walks in the shop, she can imagine what the hat will look like on. Once you have a customer thinking of what she’ll look like in an article of clothing, you’re that much closer to a sale.”
    “That’s true.”
    Miranda stifled a sigh. Old Blazer would never have admitted that. He’d have bargained to the end.
    “I’ll just set this one up, then, next to the others.”
    Jeremy didn’t object to this piece of importunity, and so she arranged the wig—her third unsold wig. Her arrangement with Old Blazer paid her a percentage of each sale. Well enough in good months—more than she’d get selling her wares directly to shopkeepers. But in bad times… She had enough sewing work that they wouldn’t starve. And Robbie made a few pennies—that would pay for coal.
    But they were looking at lean weeks ahead. Lean weeks, with winter coming on. If her luck didn’t turn, they might get down to thinning out the gruel until it was more water than sustenance.
    In response to that, her stomach growled.
    Behind her, Jeremy cleared his throat. “It’s been weeks since your last sale. You…you don’t need money, do you?”
    She set a bonnet atop the golden hair. “You’re a shopkeeper, Jeremy, not a moneylender.”
    “I wasn’t offering to lend you anything.” He swallowed. “We…we’re doing quite well, and—”
    “I’m not comfortable with anything else. I don’t need a loan.”
    “Miranda.” Jeremy set his hand over hers. “Listen to me. I don’t care if you need a loan.” He sighed. “George was supposed to be released today, did you know that?”
    “Oh?” That should have been good news, but by the set of his jaw, it was not.
    “I went to the gaol to inquire, but he wasn’t on the list of men who were set free.”
    Miranda stared at Jeremy. “I can’t imagine George making trouble, getting additional time.”
    “It’s worse. I made them check—he wasn’t inside the gaol, either. He’s gone.”
    No wonder Jeremy looked so serious. Miranda shook her head in confusion. “How is that possible?”
    “It’s this place.” Jeremy looked straight ahead. “It eats good people and spits out monsters. George didn’t even do anything, and he was tossed in prison. Now he’s disappeared. Mother—”
    He stopped himself, shook his head, and looked up at Miranda. His pale eyes pierced her. And maybe they were done being shopkeeper and supplier, now, and were ready to move back to being friends. She closed her hand around his.
    “Shh,” she said softly. She couldn’t bring herself to say that all would be well. Chances were, it wouldn’t.
    “I’m losing everything I care about,” he said thickly. “I just want a normal life. Is that so much to ask?”
    “Shh,” she repeated.
    He pulled his hand away from hers and pushed her coin across the table. “Take it.” His face was stony. “And promise me that you’ll come to me if you need anything else. I can’t lose you,