In the window there was a conglomeration of old toys: wind-up toys, match box cars, a wooden train, and in back he could see an old Lionel electric tr...in. He stood there for some time looking at the toys. They were the kinds of toys he’d played with as a boy at his grandparent’s house. He wondered how a place like this could stay in business in the days of electronic games, of Wal-Mart and the chain stores. There was a little sign next to the door that said: ‘Michael F. Christy, proprietor.’. ’ — Arabella entered quietly through the kitchen and carefully turned the corner, only to almost collide with one of the maids. ‘Molly!’ she gasped quietly. ‘Miss Arabella.’ Molly gave her a sly look, her eyes trailing over her from head to toe. ‘Someone smells like they’ve had a good fucking.’ Arabella returned her sly grin at Molly’s dishevelled appearance. ‘Perhaps you’re just smelling yourself.’ Molly hid her laugh by biting down on her lower lip and Arabella leaned in closer. ‘Molly, a. More

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