"I won't be long, I promise," Margie told her husband. "Why don't you go find a bookstore, buy a newspaper or magazine to read while I shop?"

Dover rolled his eyes, silently wishing he were anywhere but here. "You know how much I hate shopping malls."

"I know, honey," his wife said, clutching Dover's arm and leading him to the mall directory. "But you need to get out into the world now and then. You're too young to work as much as you do. Remember: All work and no play..."

"Shopping is not my idea of 'play.'"

Margie let go of him and crossed her arms over ample breasts. She gave him that impatient look that always made him feel like a child. "It's the dinner and a movie afterward that I'm talking about."

"Oh." Dover felt too distracted to enjoy a movie. What he really wanted to do was go home and finish balancing the books for one of his firm's biggest clients. He'd barely made a dent in the ledger files and a full report was due Monday morning.

Margie made a show of checking her watch. She pointed at it and said, "Give me one hour. All I need is a pair of shoes and matching purse to go with the dress I bought last week."

Dover pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Only an hour?"

His wife nodded and stepped back from the directory, squinting as she read over the list of stores. She pointed to a blue square on the map. "I'll be right here."

"Then I'll wait for you..." Dover turned in a circle and spotted a bench flanked by two potted palms. Behind it was a small fountain that spewed plumes of water in regular intervals. It looked like a pleasant enough spot. "I'll wait for you there."

His wife frowned. "Isn't there at least something you want to shop for? You could use a new pair of shoes, or how about that book on World War II you've been wanting to read?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I'd rather just stay here." And take a nap, he thought. Maybe then he wouldn't fall asleep during the movie.

"No you wouldn't." She glanced at the directory again. "Look here. There's a Borders right upstairs from where we're standing."

Not wanting to argue, Dover said, "Fine." He headed for the escalator.

"Did you forget something?" Margie asked sweetly.

He planted a quick, dry kiss on her cheek.

She patted his face and grinned, her eyes dancing with the excitement of having a full hour to ogle shoes and purses at her favorite department store. "Have fun, Dover. And don't buy out the bookstore!" She blew him a kiss before trotting down a lane of brightly lit shops and neon store signs, her round little bottom bouncing with each click of her spike-heeled shoes.

Dover noticed several men turn their heads to watch her walk by. "I wish she wouldn't wear such tight jeans," he mumbled to himself. He felt a twinge of jealousy, but nothing strong enough to send him running after her. The torture of sharing her shopping experience was more than he was willing to suffer in the name of chivalry.

He started for the escalator, then paused. Did he really want to meander through the crowded, overstocked aisles of a mall bookstore? He gazed longingly at the bench by the waterfall, but he was too keyed up for a nap. Maybe he'd just wander around for an hour, check out one of those novelty stores that sold high tech gizmos like automatic dog washers and supersonic back scratchers. It was second best to a bookstore, but it would do.

For a Saturday afternoon, the mall wasn't nearly as crowded as he thought it would be. He passed an arcade, where a dozen teenagers hung around blinking machines that dinged and rattled with every point scored. The music pouring from the open doorway rumbled with a base so deep he could feel it through his shoes. Next door was a popcorn vendor called the Snack Shack that also sold soft pretzels. The aroma of popped corn and yeasty, hot pretzels made his mouth water, but he must save his appetite for his dinner with Margie.
Around the corner from the Snack Shack was a shallow alcove that held a luggage shop and an upscale jewelry store with barred display windows. Between them stood an interesting little retailer with a bedraggled sign that read Ish Kabibble's Books.

"Aha!" Dover said aloud. "Just the place I was looking for."

He approached the store eagerly, but slowed once he neared the storefront. The walls looked aged, as if made from that old barn wood that was so popular with decorators these days. The cobwebs shrouding the display window gave it an eerie authenticity; he wondered if this was a leftover from last week's Halloween decorations. The store itself could have come straight from a remote village street out of sixteenth century Europe. Dover was no historian, but he recognized the old English typeface used to print the yellowed posters mounted on the cloudy glass. "Adventures for the mind sold here," one of them said. "Experience the world without leaving home," said another.

He wondered what kinds of books were sold here. Travel books? He wasn't much of a traveler, the extent of his journeys taking him no farther than the Bahamas, where he and Margie had spent their honeymoon three years ago. Perhaps this wasn't the store for him after all. It looked closed anyway.

As Dover turned to leave, he heard the creak of stubborn hinges followed by the jingle of a bell. He looked over his shoulder, noticing the door was now ajar and that warm, yellow light shone through the narrow opening. An OPEN sign hung from the rusty doorknob. He was certain the sign hadn't been there a moment ago.

He shrugged and walked into the shop.



continued . . .