Odd One Out by Monica McInerney Read Free Book Online Page B

a book on geography, listing dozens of terms for measuring distances. Furlongs. Roods. Perch. Miles. Yards. She wrote them down. Australian rivers? Darling. Torrens. Swan. Fitzroy. Franklin. Yarra. Margaret.
Margaret
. The author’s first name? She underlined it.
    She consulted dictionaries, thesauruses, atlases and guidebooks. When he wasn’t serving customers and unpacking boxes, Max kept her supplied with coffee. He refused any money. “It’s all on Sebastian’s tab. Whatever you want. He insisted.”
    She listed words for glittering and vocation. Shining. Bright. Brilliant. Clear. Glossy. Luminous. Silver. Radiant. Job. Occupation. Career. Vocation. Duty. Position. Trade. Work.
    Nothing. Just a swirl of words in her brain. She decided to distract herself with a quick walk and some fresh air and hope her subconscious would take over. It often worked when she was doing cryptic crosswords.
    Max was at the counter, serving a customer. She mouthed that she’d be back in a moment and got a nod and smile in reply.
    She was barely six shops away, just beyond the Italian restaurant, when it came to her.
Glittering vocation. Old-fashioned kilometers. Ancient river
. She ran back to the bookshop and threw open the door.
    “
My Brilliant Career
by Miles Franklin,” she shouted.
    The man at the counter looked up in surprise. Not Max, but Donald. “Sylvie, how nice to see you again.”

Chapter Five
    “So if I decided on the spur of the moment to hold a conference for five hundred people in four different languages and needed a fleet of secretaries, I could call you and you’d organize and manage the whole thing for me? Take shorthand? Work the computers? Organize everything?”
    “Blindfolded,” Sylvie said, laughing. “Arms tied behind my back.”
    “That might make typing tricky, but never mind. You’re not a secretary, you’re Supertemp. Mental note, Max. If in need of multilingual conference, call Sylvie immediately.”
    They’d been in the bar together for the past hour. Five doors down from the bookshop, it was small and Spanish-themed, with tapas on offer, flamenco music playing quietly in the background, and brightly colored walls and dim lamps creating an intimate atmosphere. She noticed his empty glass. “It’s your turn to answer questions. As soon as I get you another glass of wine.”
    “My life is an open book. Very dull.” He stood up. “And I got off early from work because of you, so the drinks are on me. Same again?”
    She nodded. It had been Donald’s idea for the two of them to go for a drink. He’d been very amused after she’d launched herself through the door of his shop, startling not only him but also his customers. Max had emerged laughing from behind the nonfiction shelves.
    Donald waved away her apologies. “It’s nice to see someone so enthusiastic about their reading matter. Let me see, if my highly tuned intuition as a bookseller is right, you’re quite interested in taking a look at
My Brilliant Career
by Miles Franklin? Now, where would that be, I wonder? Max, have you seen it?”
    “I think we sold the last copy,” Max said. “Just after Sylvie went for her walk.”
    “Never mind. We could put an order in. An Australian classic like that, let me think, I could have it in within the week?”
    “You’re tormenting me now,” Sylvie said. “I’m calling Consumer Affairs.”
    “Sebastian was right about her, wasn’t he, Donald?” Max said. “How was it he described her to us? A bright-eyed cutie?”
    “That was it. But he certainly didn’t mention her habit of shouting book titles at the top of her voice. They obviously have different shopping habits in Sydney. Max, loyal assistant, could you please show this bright-eyed young lady to our classics section?”
    The Fs were on the second row from the top. Max reached up easily and took down the only copy. “Shall I wrap that for you, madam? Or will you be ripping straight into the pages here and now?”
    “Right