The Best Gift. Irene Hannon

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