Ethereal ━ Newt Scamander

i. a twist of fate

01 | a twist in fate

ACCORDING TO DOROTHY, the bookshop on the corner of Blossom Boulevard was the best place to work. Old Les Livres de Belle, which had been established in America in 1882, was a quiet place that didn't get much business, but was a second home to Dorothy. Growing up with the quiet of her room, it reminded her of that time - but now she had freedom.

It had dust covered book shelves with stories dating back hundreds of years, and dimmed lite lamps with rose stained glass on all of the wooden tables. Papers scattered the desk at which Dorothy sat behind and collected dust because they were all ancient. The smell of fresh books and cigarette smoke filled the air, sometimes making it hard to breathe.

And then there was a photograph of the owner and his wife. It was old, taken at last a century back in France where the first of the bookshops originated. It was of a man in his twenties with his wife, standing in their backyard and holding an infant in their arms.

The story of the couple was tragic. Dorothy didn't know every detail herself, seeing as her boss was an old man whose memory didn't uphold the greatest. She did know that he was a tailor and his wife, named Belle, was a bookworm who collected them. When she died after giving birth to their second child (a boy named Bertram, she had learned that from Gideon one night when he had a little too much wine), he quit his job as a tailor and opened Les Livres de Belle in her memory.

It wasn't anything special. Nothing grand about it, unlike most of the new and upcoming businesses with their flashy lights and dancers. No, this was plain, traditional and a bit sad if you asked Dorothy's friend, Diana. "It's tragic in here, Dory," she once commented when she came to visit, picking Dorothy up from work. The wooden chairs often squeaked and the wooden floors, which had been placed when the business began, creaked and sent chills down Dorothy's spine when she was in the bookstore alone in the dark.

The bookshop was run by an old man by the name of Gideon Grinwell who had been a mere worker when the place first opened. But now that the first owner had retired, and died only one year ago, Gideon walked into the building with a hunched back and all his weight on his cane.

"I'm telling you, Doornail," he grumbled to Dorothy, "Taxi business ain't nothing here."

It was partially true. Half of the taxi drivers in New York were scam artists who would pay a little too much to end up on the wrong side of town, and the other half didn't understand English. But Dorothy knew when to spot a scam artist, telling them the wrong place so that she would end up near the right place, and she had learned other languages to better communicate with people. She liked asking strangers about random things while in the taxi, letting them vent while she soaked it all up, because Dorothy James did not rant or complain...that often, or often enough for it to spill into what she often received.

But to an old man like Gideon, they could easily scam him and add to his never-ending anger at the world. Dorothy often wondered how his wife, as sweet and caring as she was, could stand him - and stand him for more than fifty years. Dorothy always hoped she didn't end up with anyone like Gideon.

The strawberry blonde, though many would argue and say she was a redhead, laughed quietly to herself. "What happened this time? And my name is Dorothy."

"Whatever," he waved his bony hand, "they took me to the other side of the city! It's like they're deaf, I tell you!"

"Maybe you weren't speaking loud enough," she offered, making her way over to the old man to help him into his office. Dorothy liked people, and she didn't want to believe something wrong of them if she had not seen it herself. So, she defended the cab driver who had, supposedly, wronged Gideon because she liked looking on the bright side of things.