And he made her a lady of as much and/As she could ride in a long summer's day

She slumped heavily on her unmade bed, the last refrains of the ancient song reverberating in her ears. She sighed. Not for the first time, she felt certain she'd been born into the wrong time. Where in this day and age would she ever find a knight to come swooping in and take her away? What was she supposed to do? Wait for him to text her? Where is all the romance in the world?

She knew she had to shower, change and get to work. Couldn't be late again. God forbid there's no one there to ring in all those non-existent customers. But, what she'd much rather do is curl up on the bed and lose herself in another few chapters of her latest renaissance novel. Even though she knew what would happen next, she wanted to see Rennald lead his tattered band into battle and embrace blazing glory at last. She wanted to imagine him kneeling, bloodied and humble, before his king and all the court and hear his gallant words as he was offered the fair Isabelle's hand.

"Jezzie!" Her father's bellow startled her out of her daydream. "Let's get a move on. We'll both be late."

"Coming, Dad!" she called.  "Two minutes!"

She gave up on the shower and grabbed the pair of jeans she'd worn the day before. Looking in the mirror, she raked her fingers through her hair and found it wasn't terribly tangled. Have to do. She pulled her favorite grey sweater over the Buzzcocks t-shirt she'd slept in and slipped her feet in well-worn sandals. A quick brush of her teeth and she was down the stairs to find her father waiting with the car keys in one hand and a cup of coffee for her in the other.

"Thanks, Dad," she said, taking the cup, and followed him out the door.

"You'll have to find your own ride home tonight," he told her as she climbed into the front seat and shut the door behind her. "Late night, I'm afraid. Oh, and fend for yourself for dinner, too. You need money?"

"No," she sighed, "I'll get paid today. Why do you have to work late again? Don't they know you're a single parent of a rambunctious and entirely untrustworthy teenager? Imagine the trouble I could get into!"

He laughed a little and smirked at her sideways. "Lucky for me that's not something to worry about. I'm sorry, Jezzie. We'll do something this weekend. Promise."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. The car pulled into the shopping center parking lot.

"Dad, I'm not seven," she said. "Whatever."

He pulled up in front of Bradford's Books and stopped.

"Have a good day," he said, "and call when you get home."

"Yeah," she said as she closed the car door. "I will."

She watched him pull away and smiled. Would he never stop treating her like a little girl? No.

Another heavy sigh and then she walked through the doors of the tiny bookshop and watched as Dennis Bradford reliably checked the clock when he saw her come in.

"Right on time, Jezebelle," he said with a swift nod of his head. "Well done. You can start in the back room if you like. We just got another box of used paperbacks to sort through. Whatever you don't think will sell, out aside for the hospital as usual."

Jezzie walked back to the cluttered room, taking her iPod out of her pocket as she did so. She'd take her time with this, she thought, so she could listen through that latest batch of ballads and sea shanties she'd discovered.

Only six more hours and work is done, she thought.