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Chapter 18

Some kind of bells chimed as Denver tugged open the door of Moonbeams and Sweet Dreams. He glanced up automatically, noting the assortment of wind chimes suspended from a grid attached to the high, tin ceiling - glass, copper, bamboo, wood, other metals. Something for everyone. He shut the door and listened to the quiet tones of drums and flutes that floated out from speakers hidden around the room. Something dreamy and Celtic that suited the tone of the shop. The space was long and narrow, with wide-plank floors he suspected were original to the building. Displays made something of a maze of wares from the front to the back. It reminded him of the lone trip he'd taken to Ikea - herding you through the entire store before you got to the back and the register. Except this was clever, cozy, and warm, rather than a coldly calculated retail corral of gleaming fixtures, filled with a herd of shoppers. Homey instead of Hell on Earth. It helped that there was nobody else here.