The daytime came quickly to Nadia and she made sure everything was in place. The pastries and goods were staying warm, the tables were set and clean, and most importantly, the blades were as sharp as ever. She had slipped on a dress that held her curves loosely so she could move about the shop. It was light cotton and was a beautiful shade of sapphire with black piping. Her small shoes clicked as she strode rapidly through the front door and flipped the open sign. She had decided that she would primarily run the bakery, but when someone requested a shave, she would temporarily close it. And so there she stood, behind the counter, waiting for her first customer. Soon one man came in, then another, then a woman and her family. By and by many people made a visit and offered the finest praise to her work. No one seemed interested in a shave, though. After about four hours of work, finally a man requested a shave. Luckily there was no one coming to purchase anything at present, so she simply brought out a tiny "closed" sign before leading the man up to the shop.
"This a beautiful shop miss. A lot prettier than it used to be…"
At this statement Nadia became excessively attentive to every word coming from the man.
"Well sir, how by chance would you know that?"
"A long time ago, I came to London after a spending a great amount time on a ship. I rescued a man struggling to stay stable at sea. He was by no means weak, quite the contrary, he was very strong indeed. He was just tired. Anyway, here is where he got off, we were friends. This shop used to be his."
Nadia was dumbfounded. This man had known her father. He had been in almost continuous contact, so it seemed, with the parent who never knew she existed. She was also grateful that he viewed her father with an eye of admiration and respect.
"Sir, would it be to forward of me to ask you your name?" She said while preparing him for his shave.
"Ah miss, please forgive me. I have lost my manners. I am Anthony Hope. I live with my wife, Johanna, in the former Judge Turpin's residence."
She had begun to run the blade along his face, delivering the most flawless shave one had ever known, unless they had known Sweeney Todd. She was almost in a trancelike state while performing this feat. She had never felt closer to her father in all of her life. The razor in her hand seemed to move on its own accord, as if his very hand was guiding her to the perfection of the completed shave. After the shave was refined, Anthony thanked her and headed to the door, but had not set one foot outside before she spoke to him.
"Mr. Hope?"
"Yes miss?"
"Were you ever in close connection with the baker downstairs?"
"Mrs. Lovett?" He said closing the door and returning with a smirk, "I thought you'd never ask. Yes. Mr. Todd never knew it, but I frequently came to Eleanor, or Nellie as she preferred. I would ask her about how to further romanticize my dear Johanna. We trusted each other deeply. And that is how I already know your name…Nadia Todd, and what you are surely planning to do."
Her eyes grew as wide as the plates down in the shop and her face as pale as the flour. A shaky hand was brought to her mouth to stifle the gasp. Could he possibly know of her sinister plot for Tobias? Did he know Tobias too? Was he about to turn her in? Suddenly a wave of calm fell upon her. He was still in the room and she still had a razor in her hand.
"Well then," She said, placing herself in front of the door, "What, pray tell. Is my plan, and if you are correct, give me one good reason not to do as my father, and run a blade into your throat."
"You are so much of both of your parents. Cunning and smooth like your mother, dark and powerful as your father. You must have a reason for returning. Since everyone knows of the 'demon child', you are quite the subject of town gossip. There is no way you would be here if there wasn't anything to be done. Being your father's daughter you must be here to seek revenge. Since no one has wronged you, it must be someone who wronged the parents you never knew, and since one parent disposed of the other, it must be the one who wronged the surviving one: Tobias Ragg. Fear not, I have neither intention of turning you in nor of helping Toby. I never cared too much for the boy myself. If you ever need any help, know that you have a friend in me. I must say though, blood makes my stomach uneasy, so leave me out of that, and don't get any crimson spots on that impeccable dress."
And with that, he left.