was currently so well liked at that establishment that there was talk of his being made head of the English department by next semester. Meanwhile, Hope worked in the bookshop, mostly behind this counter, watching the world of Random Point go by and catching the cream of the tourists in her sugar spun web of mocha lattes, hot mulled cider, double espressos, drinking chocolate and spiced teas. One of her greatest marketing innovations at the bookshop was enabling the cozy visitor to make a meal of it while perusing their purchases, with various breads, bars, cakes, buns and muffins, along with rustic sandwiches sent over by the Inn. With her ravishing looks and an equally compelling menu, it was not surprising that Hope Spencer Lawrence took a significant amount of business away from all the other tea rooms and taverns in a three block radius, but even the other cafe owners forgave her, constantly drank her coffee and always brought her gossip tidbits first.
“She’s good looking,” Laura whispered across the coffee bar.
“I know!” Hope concurred.
“I’m surprised he doesn’t want to put her in the magazine.”
“Good idea. Maybe you can get her over to the shop and pay her for a photoset. Just some bend over shots. Might give her some face.”
“She looks like she’d photograph very well,” Laura mused. “I wonder why Hugo wants to brush her off so fast.”
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