>>Presently Flandre said, "I went back to M. Constantin's shop again, but it was
>>locked and there was no one inside. I asked in the butcher's shop next door if
>>anyone had seen him..." She looked up, making eye contact with her sister, and
>>went on in a small voice, "... and they said that he had died."
>>Frowning, Remilia took Flandre's nearer hand, squeezing it, and said gently,
>>"I'm so sorry to hear that."
>>"I just saw him yesterday," Flandre said.
>>Remilia nodded. "I know. But... that's the way of things with humans sometimes,
>>I'm afraid. Didn't you tell me he was quite an elderly man?"
>>Flandre shook her head. "No. I mean yes, he was, but you don't understand. They
>>told me he died three years ago. In Britannia. During the occupation."

This bit of the story hit me with so many 'this shop isn't actually here' markers that I figured this was a restless spirit trying to do restless spirit things when Flandre talked with M. Constantin about learning how to make stuffed animals. The 'proud craftsman desperately wanting to pass on their skills to a worthy heir' angle was clear when he handed off his tools to Flandre.

It's a well crafted bit of story, properly foreshadowed between the proprietor's physical age, his implied birthdate (somewhere in the 1850's, or 90 years before the story takes place) and his apparent lack of care for material compensation.