The Best Gift

Blake sighed. It was going to be a long six months.

“I’d like to start closing the shop on Sundays.”

Blake stared at A.J. as if she’d lost her mind. Their first week as partners had been remarkably smooth. She was an eager learner, and Blake was beginning to think that maybe this arrangement would work out after all. Until she’d dropped this bombshell.

“Excuse me?”

She looked up from the catalog of new releases she was perusing. “I’d like to close the shop on Sundays.”

“Why? We’re always busy on Sunday.”

“I’ve studied the traffic and sales data. We do have a lot of window-shoppers on Sunday. But it’s not one of our bigger sales days. And we’re only open for five hours, anyway. I don’t think we’ll notice much impact on our bottom line.”

This was exactly the kind of impetuous action that Blake had been afraid of. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Nancy observing the exchange, and he took a deep breath before responding.

“I don’t think changing the hours is a good idea. Everyone else on the street is open on Sunday. Our customers will be disappointed.”

“We can change our phone message and have a sign with our new hours made for the window. People will adjust.”

He raked his fingers through his hair. “Why is this such a big deal? Sunday hours are convenient for our customers and we always have enough sales to justify being open.”

A.J. closed the catalog and looked at him steadily. “My main reason for wanting to close has nothing to do with sales or with customers. Sunday is the Lord’s day. A day of rest. A day to keep holy. A store like ours that sells nonessential items doesn’t need to be open.”

Blake stared at her. “You’re kidding.”

Her gaze didn’t waver. “Do I look like I’m kidding?”

He tried a different approach. “Jo was very religious. And she was open on Sunday.”

“When did she start opening on Sunday?”

“A couple of years ago.”

About the time he took over the day-to-day management of the shop. Neither voiced that thought, but it hung in the air.

“Did she work in the shop that day?” A.J. asked.

“No.”

“Who did?”

“Nancy and I alternated.”

A.J. glanced over at Nancy. She didn’t know the part-time worker very well yet, but she’d learned enough to know that the divorced mother had a tough life, that she juggled two part-time jobs just to make ends meet, and that she was a churchgoing woman with a quiet, deep faith.

“How do you feel about it, Nancy?” A.J. asked.

Nancy looked uncertainly from A.J. to Blake, then back again. “I need the job, A.J. I’ll be happy to work whatever hours you and Blake give me.”

A.J. smiled. “I already know that, Nancy. That’s not what I’m asking. How do you feel about working on Sundays?”

“Well, the money is nice.” She hesitated. “But it’s always a rush to get here after church, and then I have to leave Eileen with Mrs. Cook all afternoon. I guess, if I had a choice, I’d prefer to have Sundays off so I could spend a little more time at church and with my daughter. Six days of work ought to be enough for anyone. Even God rested on the seventh day.”

Blake stared at Nancy. “You never said anything to me about not wanting to work on Sundays.”

“I didn’t think it was an option.”

He expelled a frustrated breath. “Okay, fine. I don’t mind working. We can surely find someone to fill in every other weekend for those few hours.”

“I’m sure we can, Blake,” A.J. replied calmly. “But that’s not the point. I’m talking about principles here. And if you’re worried about losing sales, I’m sure we can find a way to make up the difference.”

“Such as?”

“I’m working on it.”

He looked at her, and the determination in her eyes told him that she was dead set on this. He didn’t agree, but he wasn’t sure it was worth waging a major battle over. Yes, they’d lose some sales. But she was right. The decision wouldn’t make or break the shop. Besides, he suspected there would be bigger battles to fight down the road. Maybe the best strategy was to let her win this one.

“Okay. If that’s what you want. I just hope you don’t regret it,” he capitulated.

“I don’t waste my time on regrets, Blake. They’re all about the past. I try to focus on today and make the best decisions I can.”

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt to think a little bit about tomorrow, too.”

A shadow crossed her eyes, so fleeting that he thought perhaps it was just the play of light as she turned her head. “Tomorrow has a way of surprising us, no matter what we plan,” she said quietly.

Blake didn’t know what to make of that comment. So he simply turned away and headed back to the office.

Nancy watched him go, then moved to the counter beside A.J. “I applaud your position.”

A.J. turned to her with a rueful smile. “I’m glad someone does.”

“Don’t mind Blake. It’s been a hard transition for him. He and Jo went way back, and he took her death pretty hard. Plus, he’s more or less run the shop for the past couple of years, so having a partner is a big adjustment for him. But he’s a great guy when you get to know him. He’s really conscientious, and you won’t ever meet a kinder, more considerate person. He even came over to my apartment one night last winter at three in the morning when I was worried about Eileen, and then drove us to the emergency room.”

A.J. frowned. Were they talking about the same Blake? She didn’t doubt the conscientious part, but kind and considerate? She hadn’t seen much evidence of those qualities.

When A.J. didn’t immediately respond, Nancy smiled knowingly. “You’ll find out after you get to know him. But what I really wanted to ask was if you’d like to join me for church on Sunday. After your comments about closing, I figured you must be in the habit of attending church, and since you’re new in town I wasn’t sure if you’d had a chance yet to find a place to worship. We have a great congregation, and our minister is wonderful. You’d be welcomed warmly.”

In fact, A.J. was in the habit of weekly worship, but so far she’d been too busy settling in to have a chance to seek out a new church. Nancy’s invitation was perfectly timed. “Thank you. That would be great.”

Blake came out from the office, but on his way back to the front counter, he was waylaid by a customer. Nancy glanced his way.

“I’ve invited Blake a few times, too, but so far I haven’t had any luck,” she offered, lowering her voice.

A.J. thought about his comments to her when she’d mentioned God. “He doesn’t strike me as a religious man.”

“I think he believes in God. But he wasn’t raised in a religious environment. It’s hard to convince someone who is so self-reliant that the plans we make for our life don’t always match God’s. Blake’s kind of a loner, and he’s so used to relying only on himself that I just don’t think he’s willing to put his life in anyone else’s hands. Even God’s.”

A.J. looked over at the tall, dark-haired man deep in conversation with a customer. He was angled slightly away from her, and she had a good view of his profile— strong chin, well-shaped nose, nicely formed lips. Self-reliance was a good thing in moderation. A.J. knew that from personal experience. But she couldn’t imagine taking it to such an extreme that she shut other people out of her life. Especially God. It would be a very empty existence.

Suddenly Blake glanced at her, almost as if he knew she was watching him. Their gazes met, and whatever he saw in hers—curiosity, sympathy, or a combination of both—brought a frown to his face. She responded with a smile. And even though he didn’t physically move, she felt almost as if he’d taken a step back. And posted a sign saying Private. No Trespassing.

A.J. didn’t really care if he kept his distance. Their relationship was destined to be short-lived, anyway. But she wasn’t used to having her gestures of friendship so openly rebuffed. She turned back to find Nancy watching the exchange.

“Blake doesn’t let too many people get close,” Nancy noted. “Even I don’t know much about his background, and we’ve worked together for almost two years.”

A.J. shrugged. “I respect people’s privacy. If he wants to shut people out, it doesn’t matter to me.”

But as she headed to the back room to check the new inventory, she realized that her answer hadn’t been quite honest. Because in that brief, unguarded moment, before his barriers had slipped back into place, she’d glimpsed in Blake’s eyes a stark loneliness that had touched her deep inside.

And even though they were practically strangers, even though he clearly resented her presence at Turning Leaves, even though he disapproved of almost everything she did, that loneliness troubled her. More than she cared to admit.

And she had no idea why.

“So…what do you think?”

Blake had only been gone from the shop for four days. Just a quick trip to Cincinnati to compete in a triathlon over Thanksgiving weekend. But if he’d been gone three weeks, the shop couldn’t have changed more dramatically.

He stood rooted just inside the door of the office, trying to absorb the changes that had been wrought in his absence. Gone was the table of featured books and the greeting card rack that had been just inside the display window on the left. Now the four chairs from the reading nook were arranged there, and a low, square table that he didn’t recognize was placed in front of them, with a small pot of copper-colored chrysanthemums in the center. Two chairs were on one side of the table, facing the window, with the others at right angles on the adjacent two sides. A couple of the chairs were occupied, and one of the patrons was helping himself to a cup of coffee from the coffee and tea maker that had also been moved to the front of the shop. Blake recognized him as a regular, though not someone who usually bought much.

“Well?” A.J. prompted.

Slowly, Blake turned to his partner. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement, but he could also sense some trepidation. She knew him well enough even after only a couple of weeks to realize that he didn’t like sudden, unplanned changes.

“What happened to the display table? And the cards?”

“The table’s in the back room. I moved the cards closer to the checkout counter.” She gestured over her shoulder.

He planted his fists on his hips and studied the new arrangement. It was attractive enough. But it changed the dynamics of the shop entirely. And it definitely cut down on display space.

“What did you do with the old reading nook?”

“Come see.”

She led him to the back corner, which had been transformed into a small enclosure complete with blocks, vinyl books and an assortment of toys. He frowned and looked at her questioningly. “What’s this?”

“A play area. A lot of people come in here with toddlers and young children, and it’s pretty difficult to look through books when you’re juggling a little one. Now they can safely leave their children here to play while they make their selections.”

He grunted in response.

“Several mothers have already commented on how much they like this.” There was a slight defensive note in her voice.

“And what about the area in front? You’ve lost a lot of display space. That sells books.”

“So does atmosphere. When people walk by and see patrons relaxing and enjoying themselves through the window, they might be more inclined to come in and look around. Besides, the other reading nook wasn’t being used much. The light wasn’t very good, and it was so tucked away a lot of people missed it. But it makes a perfect play spot.”

Before he could respond, the bell on the front counter rang. The regular patron Blake had noticed in the new sitting area was waiting to purchase a large coffee-table book.

“Morning, folks,” he said cheerily as they joined him.

“Good morning.” A.J. reached for the book and started to ring up the sale while Blake retrieved a bag from under the counter.

The older man took a sip of his coffee. “By the way, my compliments on the new reading area. Never did like that one stuck back in the corner. Not enough light for these old eyes. This one is real cheerful and bright.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Blake saw A.J. give him a sidelong glance, but he kept his gaze averted. “Thank you. We hope you’ll come back soon.”

“You can count on it. Thanks again.”

They watched as the man exited, the bell jangling as the door closed behind him. Blake knew A.J. was looking at him. Waiting for him to compliment her on what she’d done, especially in light of the customer’s unsolicited approval. But he didn’t want to encourage her. Change was fine, as long as it was planned. And carefully thought out. And discussed. But he had a real issue with spur-of-the-moment changes. Because in his experience, most of the time they weren’t good ones.

“I saw some new inventory in the back when I got here. I’ll log it in,” he said.

He turned to go, but her voice stopped him. “Did you have a nice Thanksgiving?”

He’d been expecting a comment on the new layout, so it took him a moment to switch gears…and formulate an answer. He’d spent most of Thanksgiving Day training for the triathlon, then he’d eaten a frozen turkey dinner at home. He’d been on the road early the next morning for Cincinnati, spent Saturday competing, then drove home Sunday. His parents had invited him to visit for the holiday, of course. They always did. And, as always, he’d refused. But A.J. didn’t need to know any of that. “Yes,” he replied briefly. “How about you?”

She smiled. “I had a great Thanksgiving. I don’t know anyone here, so I joined a group from Nancy’s church to help feed the homeless downtown. And we got a great turkey dinner in the bargain.”

He frowned. Dishing up food for a bunch of down-and-out strangers didn’t sound like a great holiday to him. It hit too close to home. His parents had never resorted to a homeless shelter, but they’d come close a few times. “Don’t you have family?” Hadn’t Jo mentioned several great-nieces? But he couldn’t recall any details.

“My parents are both gone. But I have two sisters. They’re too far away to visit for such a short holiday. We’ll make up for it at Christmas, I hope.” She’d talked to them both, of course. Morgan had actually gone to work in the morning, then out to dinner with friends. And Clare had somehow managed to wrangle a holiday dinner invitation to the same place Dr. Wright and his daughter were going. There was no stopping Clare when she set her mind to something, A.J. thought with a grin. “What about you, Blake? Any family?”

Slowly he shook his head. “No brothers or sisters. My parents live in Oregon.”

“Also too far away for Thanksgiving. Maybe you can see them at Christmas.”

Not likely, Blake thought. But she didn’t need to know that. He started to turn away, but suddenly found himself speaking. “By the way, I like what you did with the shop.”

A.J. looked as surprised by the comment as he was. He had no idea where those words had come from. He’d certainly had no intention of complimenting her. But she rewarded him with a dazzling smile. “Thank you.”

Suddenly Blake felt as if he’d just hit the proverbial runner’s wall. It was a familiar experience that squeezed the breath out of his lungs and left him feeling limp when it occurred at about the twenty-one mile mark of a marathon.

But the only thing racing right now was his heart.

Which made no sense.

And it made him want to run as fast as he could away from this red-haired source of disruption in his life.

Chapter Three

“I think I figured out a way to make up the Sunday sales.”

Blake’s stomach clenched. Barely a week had passed since A.J. had rearranged the shop, and now she was on to something else. Which meant more upheaval. Change seemed to be this woman’s middle name. Warily he looked up from the computer screen.

A.J. shifted a large box in her arms and smiled. “Chill out, Blake. Maybe you’ll like my idea.”

He doubted it, and his skeptical expression told her so.

“Maybe not,” she amended. “But here it is anyway.” She placed the box on a chair and began pulling out a variety of items, which she lined up on the desk. “It occurred to me that people who are shopping for books are often shopping for gifts. Now, there are plenty of gift shops around. But not many that carry items like these, handmade in third-world countries. Good Samaritan, where I used to work, is starting a craft program, and a portion of the profits from the sales will benefit the artists. A lot of people in those countries are in desperate need of income, and a program like this is a godsend for them. Plus, I think it will drive traffic to our shop and more than make up for any sales we’ve lost by closing on Sunday. It’s a win-win situation all around, don’t you think?”

Blake looked at the array of items now displayed on his desk. Wood carvings, metalwork, woven placemats, pottery. Some were crude folk art. Others reflected great skill and artistry. None seemed appropriate for the bookshop. Nor was there room to display them without sacrificing space for their primary product.

A.J. spoke before he could offer his opinion. “Lots of bookstores carry small gift items,” she pointed out. “And space isn’t really a problem. I thought we’d intersperse a few items in the display window among the books. They’ll add some visual interest. And I found out the jewelry store next door is getting new display cases. I asked Steve about buying one of his old ones to replace our sales counter, and when he found out what I was going to use it for, he offered to donate it. So we’ll be able to display a lot of these items without taking any space away from the books. Isn’t that great?”

Blake stared at A.J. After three years, he knew Steve Winchell, the owner of the jewelry store, well enough to say hello when they met in the parking lot. But that was about it. In less than a month, A.J. was on a first-name basis with all of their neighbors.

“Earth to Blake.”

He caught her teasing tone and frowned. “This might dilute book sales.”

“I don’t think so. In fact, I think these items will draw new customers into the shop, and they might end up buying books as well. Plus, I bet some of our regular book customers will also buy these items as gifts. We can monitor it, though. If I’m wrong, I’m certainly willing to reconsider.”

But she wasn’t wrong. Within the first week, that was obvious. Blake told himself that part of the success of the new merchandise was due to the approaching holidays. It was just a gift-buying season. He suspected sales would taper off after Christmas. But even if they did, even if they only generated a modest return, it was all incremental. Because, thanks to A.J.’s creativity, the new offerings hadn’t taken one iota of space away from books. Exchanging their old checkout counter for the display case had been an ingenious solution. But Blake hadn’t told A.J. that. She didn’t need encouragement. And he didn’t need more disruptions.

But he had a feeling they were coming, anyway.

“Blake, could I speak with you when you have a minute?”

He looked toward A.J. while he waited for a customer to sign a credit card slip. She stood in the door of the office, and there was something in her eyes that made his stomach clench.

Here we go again, he thought, steeling himself for whatever brainstorm A.J. had just had.

“Sure. I’ll be right with you.” He finished the sale, then glanced toward the young woman restocking the cookbook section. “Trish, can you watch the front desk for a few minutes?”

“Sure, Mr. Sullivan.” The perky teen who helped out a few days a week after school made her way over to the counter. She smiled brightly. “Take your time.”

She’d love that, Blake thought. Trish wasn’t the hardest worker they’d ever had. But front desk duty suited her to a T. She was sweet and friendly, which counted for something, he supposed.

When he entered the office, A.J. was studying a recent order, a frown marring her usually smooth brow. She looked up when he walked in.

“What’s up?” he asked, willing himself to remain cool.

“I’d like to cancel a couple of the selections we’ve ordered.”

Now it was his turn to frown. “Which ones?” When she named them, his frown deepened. “Those are sure to be bestsellers. Our customers will expect us to stock them.”

“Have you read the ARCs?”

“No.” He rarely had time to read the advance copies sent out by publishers.

“I took them home over the weekend. I didn’t read them thoroughly, but skimmed through enough to know trash when I see it.”

“Those authors are extremely popular. A lot of people must not agree with you.”

“A lot of people read trash.”

He folded his arms across his chest and struggled to keep his temper in check. “So you’re trying to impose your values on everyone else.”

She’d wrestled with that very dilemma all weekend. How to reconcile personal values with bottom-line business decisions. It was the same conflict she’d grappled with in graduate school. And had worried about facing in the business world when she graduated. As it turned out, she’d never had to deal with it. Until now.

Blake sensed her uncertainty and pressed his advantage. “It sounds a little like censorship to me.”

A.J. sighed and distractedly brushed some wayward tendrils off her forehead. “I know. But I’ve given it a lot of thought. I don’t see how, in good conscience, we can carry books that are so blatantly sensational. I’m fine with books that deal with gritty themes or realistically portray bad situations, but in these novels all of the gore and sex and violence is just for effect. There’s absolutely no redeeming social value.”

“In your opinion.”

“And God’s. I talked with my pastor about this. I think this is the right thing to do, Blake. Our shop isn’t that big. We can’t carry every book. So I think we should focus on carrying good books.”

Blake didn’t agree with her position. But he couldn’t help admiring her. She had principles. And she didn’t compromise them. That was a rare trait in today’s world. Jo had been like that, too. And so were his parents, he admitted grudgingly. Maybe he didn’t like their principles, either. But they’d stuck with them.

“We’re going to have some unhappy customers,” he pointed out.

“I realize that. We’ll just have to explain our position and hope they understand.”

“Our position?”

“Okay, my position.”

“We’ll also lose sales. People who want those books will go somewhere else. There’s an impact on the bottom line here.”

“I know. And I realize that affects both of us, since we each own half of the business. But I feel very strongly about this, Blake. So I’d at least like to give it a try. If we take a huge hit, I’m willing to discuss it again and consider other alternatives. But I’d like to try it for a month or two. Can you live with that?”

He folded his arms across his chest. “We won’t get back the customers we lose.”

“Maybe we’ll pick up some new ones.”

Blake supposed he could fight A.J. on this. But she had taken his concerns into consideration and was willing to discuss it if things didn’t work out. He supposed he could at least give her the time she had requested to test the waters. “Okay. Let’s try it for a few weeks. You don’t mind if I funnel any questions about this your way, do you?”

“No. It was my decision. I’ll defend it.”

And that’s exactly what she had to do a few days later when a customer asked Blake about one of the books A.J. had canceled. A.J. overheard the question and, true to her word, quickly stepped in. She glanced down at the signature line on the credit card slip the woman had just signed.

“Mrs. Renner, I’m A. J. Williams, one of the owners of Turning Leaves. I wanted to let you know that we’re not going to be carrying that title. As you can see, we’re a small shop, so we have to be very selective of our inventory. Quite honestly, not all bestselling books have content that’s worthy of our limited space. I’ve reviewed an advance copy of that book, and I’m afraid it just didn’t make the cut.”