Page 12 of The Sandy Page Bookshop

As he waited in traffic, he tried to focus on work stuff instead of the growing butterflies in his stomach.

It was silly. He hadn’t seen Leah Powell since high school, since he was friends with her younger brother, James, and used to go by the Powell house to hang out after soccer practice.

She’d paid very little attention to him, though he couldn’t quite blame her.

Back then he was an awkward, skinny teen who got tongue-tied around attractive girls.

Last he’d heard, she’d stayed in Boston after college.

James had at least come home a few times over the years for the odd high school reunion or to visit in summer, but not Leah.

He hadn’t seen her in more than a decade.

Beside him on the seat, Scout had his nose pressed against the window. “Almost there,” Luke said. Scout was too intent watching other dogs on the sidewalk to bother flicking an ear in his direction.

It was a surprise to find a parking spot along the street outside the house.

Luke cut the truck engine and glanced at the building.

From there it looked a bit unloved; the paint was peeling and one shutter hung crooked.

Eudora wasn’t wrong about the front steps buckling; that would certainly need to be addressed before customers could tromp up and down them.

But the house had good bones, as did most of the historic gems in town, and so far this one seemed no different.

He rolled the windows down lower, and a salty breeze blew in from the channel across the way. “Stay,” he told Scout. “I’ll be quick.”

The front doors were glass paneled, so Luke could easily see inside. The place looked empty for a store about to host a grand opening—no real furniture, no books. There was also no sign of Leah. There was, however, a young man unpacking boxes. Luke rapped on the door before poking his head in.

“I’m sorry, but we’re not quite open yet,” the man said. He seemed flustered, and Luke noticed stacks of boxes lined behind the ones he was working on. “We’ll be posting an opening date soon!” he added, but his expression didn’t match the forced cheer in his voice.

“Sorry for dropping in,” Luke said. “My name is Luke Nickerson. I’m looking for Leah Powell?”

The young man gave him a more thorough once-over, hands on hips. “Brad,” he said, coming over and extending a hand. “Is she expecting you?”

It was unclear what Brad’s relationship was in terms of Leah or the bookstore, but Luke had to smile at the protectiveness in his demeanor.

“No, I can’t imagine she is. I’m an old friend,” he added for good measure.

And just like that Leah appeared in the doorway that led to the back rooms. She was talking on the phone, looking more exasperated than Brad. “No, I’m sorry but that does not work at all. We need these shelves immediately.”

She did not seem to notice Brad or Luke and instead paced back and forth through a narrow path between stacks of boxes as the phone call continued.

“She’s a little… preoccupied,” Brad said, watching her with concern. When the phone call and pacing continued, Brad turned to him. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Luke looked around. “That’s actually why I’m here. A friend said you had a lot of work left to do and suggested I come by and offer my services. I’m a contractor.”

Brad’s doubtful expression washed clean like an Etch A Sketch screen.

“A contractor? You don’t say.” He smiled like this was the best news he’d ever heard, and to Luke’s shock he slipped an arm in his.

“It’s not up to me, of course,” he said, lowering his voice and leading Luke away from Leah and her pacing, “but we do, in fact, need help. Like, a lot.”

Luke was still out on the porch with Brad inspecting the steps when the front door swung open. Both men looked up. “What’s going on?” Leah asked, eyes glancing briefly off Luke and landing on the steps.

“Good news!” Brad began, but Leah cut him off.

“Are you an inspector?”

For the first time her eyes locked on his, and Luke felt a familiar ripple go through him.

Despite the years that had passed, remnants of the teenage girl he remembered were still very much in front of him and easy to piece together, her green eyes just as inquisitive.

“Because no one from town hall gave me any warning. We aren’t ready for an inspection yet. ”

Luke raised himself to full height and laughed. She had no idea who he was. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m not the inspector.”

“Wait.” She stared at him, eyes tracing his face before giving him a full once-over. “Do I know you?”

“Once upon a time you did.” He smiled, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Wondering if he really did look that much different, and hoping that it was a good thing if he did.

Brad’s head swiveled between them as if watching a tennis match. “Leah, this is…”

“Lucas Nickerson?” she cried. A familiar laugh escaped her. “Wow! Hi. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you at first. You look so different!” Her whole demeanor softened. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you.”

“Actually, it’s Luke. And I think it was your high school graduation party,” he offered.

But that wasn’t true. The last time he’d seen Leah Powell he’d sat in the church pew behind her, at her mother’s funeral.

She was with her boyfriend, and Luke had spent the better part of the service staring at the elegant line of the back of her neck.

Afterward, at the reception, he’d paid his respects to James and Mr. Powell but hadn’t been able to find her in the crowd.

The last he saw was of her walking out of the church, hand in hand with the boyfriend. He doubted she even knew he had come.

Her reaction now confirmed as much. “Graduation. That was ages ago! And you go by Luke now.” She smiled. “I guess I’ll always think of you as Lucas.”

He didn’t have the heart to tell her that no one had ever really called him that, except her and his mother. Which was just another reminder of how little attention she’d paid him when they were kids.

“So, you still live in the area?”

“Never left,” Luke said, realizing how provincial that sounded. “I went to college but came home to start my own business.”

“Guess what he does?” Brad interrupted enthusiastically. “Luke is a carpenter .”

Leah nodded. “That’s great.”

“Isn’t it? He came by to offer us his help.”

“Oh.” As if a switch had flipped, Leah crossed her arms. “That’s very kind, Luke but we don’t need any help.”

“We don’t?” Brad said flatly.

“We don’t,” Leah confirmed. She looked around uneasily. “There are a few things left to do, but we’re getting to them.”

“The steps ,” Brad reminded her.

“Sure, the steps are kind of wonky.”

“Rotten,” Luke said, gently. “Rotten right through, in some spots.” He pressed the toe of his work boot against a board. They all watched the corner of it crumple like dirt.

“True,” Leah admitted, “but that’s a quick fix with a new board.”

She ignored Brad’s look of disbelief.

“And the railing,” Luke added, wiggling it gently. The whole thing rocked back and forth before separating. The three of them watched a spindle drop off and roll into the sidewalk.

“Like I said,” Leah said, “there are still some things I need to get to.”

“What about the soffit?” Luke asked, pointing to the ceiling overhead.

All three heads turned skyward. “What about it?” Leah said grimly.

“It’s coming away from the siding, see that?” Luke gestured to a section of wood that appeared water-stained. “The good news is it looks superficial. Wouldn’t know for sure though, until I looked beneath it.”

“Right.” Leah jammed her hands in her pockets. “I’ll add that to the list.”

Luke held her gaze. She looked good. And she looked just as stubborn as he remembered her, like when she’d argue with James about sharing the car or refuse to let them tag along at a beach bonfire party.

Aside from swapping out her high school ponytail, Leah Powell had not changed one bit.

And she did not want his help, no matter how badly she seemed to need it.

“Well, as long as you’ve got a list, I guess you’ve got it under control,” he said, finally.

“Good to see you,” she said. There was that smile again. “Maybe we’ll bump into each other.”

“Maybe.” Luke shook Brad’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Brad. Leah, good luck with the store. I’ll have to come by when it opens.”

He was halfway to his truck when Brad cried out in exasperation. “Oh come on!” When he turned, Brad was pleading with Leah. “There is no way we can fix these steps. Or that railing. Or that soffit thing!”

“But…”

“But nothing!” Brad went on. “This is your old friend. Who showed up out of the blue. Who just happens to be a builder . This is what we call serendipity.”

Luke held his breath, eyes on Leah. It was her call.

“I don’t have much left in the budget,” she admitted. Her voice was small, but he knew the admission was not. So that was the problem.

“I’m sure we can work something out,” Luke said. It was a terrible idea. But there it was.

“There’s more,” she added, turning glumly toward the door. Luke had the sense she wanted him to follow, so he did. “Even worse than the rotten entryway.” When they stepped inside the house she looked about ready to cry.

“Actually, it’s not so bad in here,” Luke said, strolling through the room. He ran a hand along the doorframes, looked beneath the paper on the floorboards, checked the window seals. “It’s an old house, but the interior seems remarkably tight.”

“This is the problem,” she said, gesturing to the walls on one side of the room and then the other. They seemed freshly painted; not perfect but not horrible.

Her lip trembled, but she didn’t cry. “I can’t sell books without shelves.”