Page 28 of The Sandy Page Bookshop

Leah

It was strange how a change of tone between two people could change the way you felt about other significant things, including yourself.

When Luke came into the Sandy Page just before opening the next morning, he appeared friendly as usual.

Not even Brad could tell the difference, and that was saying something.

But Leah could. From the moment he stepped inside her senses bristled to attention.

“I’ve got the paint sample for the supply units, if you want to take a quick look,” he said as he breezed in.

“I can’t wait to see it,” she said trying to catch his gaze, decipher any hurt feelings or strange new awkwardness. But there was no chance. Luke strode ahead of her to the back.

“Coral Reef, Ben Moore, correct?” He held out the paint can, label up, for her confirmation.

“Correct,” she said, glumly. The fresh formality to their exchange stung, but what did she expect?

She watched as he pried the lid off the can.

Even unmixed, the color was beautiful, the exact coral-red pop she’d wanted for the otherwise white workspace.

She watched the paint swirl together with the stirrer in Luke’s hand, imagining the rousing of her own mixed emotions.

He painted a section of scrap wood and held it up. “What do you think?” he asked, turning it to and fro in the light.

She had to stand close to him to inspect the color. When he turned to gauge her reaction, there was no evidence of hurt or hard feelings in his expression, but gone was the playful twinkle in his eye.

She forced her gaze to the coral paint. “It’s perfect for the cubbies. Thank you.”

“Alright then.” She stood to the side as he resealed the can and tidied up.

“Luke—”

“I’ll get the units painted and let you know when I’ll be back to install,” he interjected.

So that was it. No mention of the night before.

“Did you happen to bring an updated bill?” she asked.

All along their working relationship had drawn from their friendship, easy, fluid.

To the point she’d had to press him for bills.

If he had brought one this morning, would that confirm that it was pure business between them now?

He shook his head. “No, but I can drop one off later.”

“Thanks. I’d like to get you another payment, especially since this is a new project.”

This time he did not object. “Sure thing.” Then, with a quick wave he was out the door again.

“So you’ve got the poor man working weekends again,” Brad mused when she made her way back out to the storefront.

“He must really love books.” He was reorganizing the front table to make room for new releases.

That week everyone was anticipating a new book from a favorite author, creating a fun buzz among the staff: Brad for John Green, Leah for Sarah Addison Allen, and Lucy for Sarah J.

Maas. Leah watched him fuss over the display, but her head was elsewhere.

“Hello?” Brad waved. “You missed my dig.”

“Sorry.” Leah went to help herself to a cup of coffee.

“Didn’t sleep well.” When Luke had dropped her off after their beach picnic last night, she’d gone home freshly depressed in a way she hadn’t felt since she first came home.

After this morning’s interaction, she felt even worse.

“How did the date with the lobster sweater go?” she asked.

She needed a change of subject before Brad began asking questions.

“You mean Ethan.” Brad glanced up from the beach reads table looking like he might blush, which was so unlike him. “Thankfully he did not wear the lobster sweater. He did, however, exceed expectations.”

The news boosted her spirits. Like hers, Brad’s life that summer seemed to revolve around the shop. At least one of them needed a personal life. “I’m happy to hear that! So… What’s his story?”

He set down the Steven Rowley title he was holding. “Just because we’re in a bookshop doesn’t mean everything is a story .”

“Maybe you just don’t want to tell it yet.” Lucy wandered past. “Has anyone seen my tea party hat? The kids will be here soon. Kids always show up early.” Leah realized Lucy was looking about as happy as she felt.

“Check the back closet,” she suggested, wondering if Lucy was just nervous. It was hard to tell with her. “And don’t worry, we’ll hold them off until you’re ready.” She looked pointedly at Brad. “Back to you. Spill the tea.”

“Didn’t you store that hat behind the register?” Brad wondered aloud. She followed him to the counter where he crouched down and feigned looking for the hat.

“Stop switching the subject.”

Despite the put-upon face he made, she could sense he was secretly dying to dish on his date. “Fine, dinner was elegant. Conversation flowed.” He paused. “I swear I saw you put the hat somewhere back here.”

“Details?” she pressed. She was not going to let Brad get out of it so easily. He would never do the same for her.

“Ethan’s two years older than me and works as an urban designer. Belongs to a cycling club.” He looked up from his search to roll his eyes. “I loathe biking. But at least he’s fit.”

Leah leaned on the counter, listening. “Gainfully employed and socially functional. Where from?”

Brad disappeared behind the counter and the rummaging continued. “As predicted he’s a tourist, but it turns out he lives outside Boston. Works for city hall.”

“You live in Boston.”

“Please, he’s here for a week. We aren’t even dating.”

“I hear potential.” She stretched all the way across the counter so she could peer into his face. “And the chemistry?”

Brad looked up. “Don’t jinx it.”

“So there was chemistry.”

Brad popped up, holding the tea hat. “Lucy!”

Lucy appeared like a spirit. “You found it!” Then, “Did you kiss?”

The girl was good. And from the look on Brad’s face, right on the nail. Leah gasped. “ Did you?”

“Story time is over.” Brad plunked the tea hat on Lucy’s head and veered toward the front door to let the kids in.

A gaggle of children with mothers, fathers, and even grandparents in tow paraded into the children’s section.

There was a rush to grab extra chairs and pillows to sit on, but the overflow happily cemented Leah’s plans for a studio space in the old parlor.

“Perhaps your knitting lab isn’t such a bad idea,” Brad muttered.

“Studio,” Leah corrected him.

It took all three of them to get everyone gathered, settled, and served.

Lemonade was poured (and spilled), cookies were passed, and Lucy got story time going as Brad stood nearby with a mop as soggy as the expression on his face.

With the teddy bear tea party successfully underway, Leah took her now-cold coffee back to her office stopping to peek in at the supplies Luke had left in the parlor.

Looking at the tidy stacks of materials he’d tucked in a corner made her sad.

He was as meticulous as he was talented.

And a good kisser, she thought gloomily.

There was nothing like a good first kiss.

Even though there was little chance of that happening again.

When the tea party ended, there was a rush of picture book sales, and then the store settled into a satisfying lull. “I need a nap,” Lucy said.

“You deserve one. Great job today,” Leah told her.

Willet Smith came in to drop off more vegetables from his garden. “You’re spoiling us,” Leah said.

“Heirlooms today,” Willet said, thrusting a misshapen yellow tomato across the counter. “Golden Queens. Try them with a little salt and olive oil.”

“I’ll try one now.” Ugly as it was, she could smell that just-off-the-vine sun-filled scent of a summer tomato. Leah sank her teeth into its flesh, groaning with pleasure. Juice running down her chin, Willet was halfway out the door before she could thank him.

Happily, she set the basket of tomatoes on the counter and made a sign out of an index card: Willet’s Queens, $1.00 . Then she selected another and brought it to Brad, who was still hiding out in her office. “You up for our sales meeting?”

Brad, who’d been appalled at the detritus and commotion of the kids, had only somewhat recovered. “Let’s get it done,” he said. “Then I’m taking lunch break.”

“Try this,” she said, handing him Willet’s heirloom.

“If this isn’t the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“But delicious!”

Brad rolled his eyes. “Let me guess. He still has not bought a book.”

“He brings us vegetables.”

“Fruit,” Brad corrected. “If I may remind you, you’re in the book business.” He flipped his laptop open. “The man should buy a book. If it kills me, I’m going to sell him one.”

The sales figures were decent, if not huge. As a start-up, Leah knew that she would be lucky to come in a little behind the first month. Breaking even would be considered a success. They were just shy of doing that.

“You should be proud,” Brad told her, after they’d reviewed his spreadsheets. “These are solid numbers for a brand-new small business.”

Her biggest expense, however, was her hires. “As much as it behooves me to say it, I don’t really see where you can shave off payroll. As it is, you already stagger Lucy and me with only a little overlap. But I suppose you could rotate us.”

Leah couldn’t do that to him; she’d promised him full-time work. And especially not after all Brad’s help. Lucy was just a kid, and Leah only employed her part-time. It reminded her of Eudora.

“Did I tell you that Mrs. Shipman rejected me?”

“That nice old lady you were so keen on rejected you?”

“First of all, I don’t think you should keep referring to her as ‘that old lady,’ and second, after she rejected me she hung up on me.”

To her consternation Brad started to laugh. “Suddenly I like her a lot more. Turns out your Mrs. Shipman’s got pluck.”

“Well, she’s not mine anymore. It makes no sense. I hope she’s alright.”