Page 13 of The Sandy Page Bookshop

“That’s not a problem,” Luke reassured her.

“Custom woodwork happens to be my thing.” Leah brightened visibly, as he went on.

“For your purposes, what you need is heavy-duty shelving that’s secured to the walls so they can support all that weight and don’t tip over on anyone.

I’d measure for book heights and keep the design simple. Trim work is optional.”

The look on Leah’s face was pure relief. “Great! I have one condition. Can you build them by the end of this week?”

Luke coughed back a laugh. “ This week? No, I’m afraid it’s just not possible.” It was almost humorous, if it weren’t so outrageous.

“But I want to open in ten days. That’s my only condition.”

“Ten days! That’s your only condition?” This time he did laugh. She had no idea what she was asking.

Leah gestured to all the boxes of books piled in the corners. “How else do I display all my stock?”

“I was wondering the same thing.” He realized he sounded exasperated, but it was beginning to feel like Leah’s problems were becoming his. “I’m not in retail, but isn’t it customary to secure the display units before you purchase the merchandise?”

Her green eyes flashed in defiance. “I’m not an idiot.”

“And I’m not a miracle worker.”

Brad’s head swiveled between them. “We did place an order for shelves,” he rushed to explain, “but there was a problem with it.”

“That’s unfortunate, but I have a waiting list of clients,” Luke said. “Besides, even the simplest design takes time. You’ve got to measure, cut the support frame, drill each panel, and paint. That’s before attaching any of it. And that’s assuming the lumberyard has what you want.”

Leah held out her hands. “Please understand, I didn’t go into this without a plan, but I also didn’t realize the scope of the work. The Realtor assured me the house was sound. And the owner isn’t local; he’s not responding to my requests for repair help.”

Hearing this made Luke annoyed on her behalf. It was well-known locally that this place had been empty and in disrepair for years; he wondered who the Realtor was. “That’s not right. You should go back to the Realtor.”

“I have. In the meantime, we scoured and painted this place top to bottom. We bought furniture and books. I secured all the necessary permits. Now I need this store to open so I can make rent. And I need shelves to make that happen.”

Brad was nodding along like his life depended on it. “What she needs is a miracle.”

Luke looked between the two of them. Their expressions were an infuriating mix of desperation and determination. They had no idea what they were doing. How had their mess landed on his plate? He should never have agreed to Eudora’s request.

“Leah, we go way back. I love that you’re trying to resurrect this old house and turn it into something for the community. And I would love to help you do that. But your timeline is downright unrealistic.”

“Okay.” He watched her gaze fall to the floor, and something inside him dropped, too.

Okay? After all the backstory and pleading and demands, she was going to give up that easily? “If you could work with me on timing, then maybe…”

“No.” She shook her head adamantly. “I wish I could, but I can’t. Too much is riding on this. I’ll figure something else out, don’t worry.”

He wasn’t worried. Not really. “There aren’t enough days for what you want to do.”

“Like you said.” She was saying the words, but she didn’t believe them. Here he was, stopping by to offer help, and it wasn’t enough.

“It’s unicorns and rainbows,” Luke added. “And I don’t have a magic wand.” He waited but Leah said nothing.

Luke went to one of the windows and looked across the way where the deep blue of Chatham Harbor flickered earnestly against the sky.

It was a shame; he could see the amount of work she’d done, and he knew it couldn’t have been easy.

The place was so old. Still, there was something special about it.

There was an undeniable energy humming within the walls.

He wasn’t sure if the energy emanated from Leah and her crazy ideas or the Harding family ghosts.

Whatever it was, it rooted him there in the paint fumes and the dust and the disappointment on Leah Powell’s pretty face.

“I really wish I could help you.”

She blinked. “I don’t recall asking you for help, Luke.”

God, she was bold. And stubborn. But it was also the truth. And he knew in that very moment there was no way he was walking away.

“I’ll get my measuring tape.”

“What?” She followed him outside, Brad trailing closely, too.

“Don’t question the man!” Brad hissed. “I think he’s helping.”

“Really?” Leah brightened. “Luke, I can’t thank you enough!” She hurried after him. “We can start first thing tomorrow morning.”

Annoyed and invigorated, Luke ignored them both and went to his truck. Scout barked happily from the front seat, and Luke opened the truck door and let him out.

“Wait. You have a dog?” Leah stood at the top of the steps, a funny look on her face as she eyed Scout who was wagging and wiggling about.

“His name is Scout. He comes to work with me. That’s my condition.”

“Oh.”

“Leah loves dogs,” Brad chirped, but Luke could tell from the look on her face that this was not the case. It didn’t matter. She had her conditions, and he had his.

Luke lowered the tailgate of his truck with a bang and grabbed his toolbox. “You may want to place a dinner order at the Squire.”

“Why?” Leah asked, keeping a wary watch on Scout.

“Because we’re not starting tomorrow,” he said. “We’re starting right now.”