Authors: Carrie Turansky
Ross did his best to hold back a grin, but his lips twitched with the effort. Adrie’s declaration against dating had been delivered with so much gusto he couldn’t help it. Too bad he hadn’t heard the story that prompted it, because it must’ve been a good one.
Her cheeks flushed a pretty hot pink. She seemed to melt a little as she rubbed her forehead, shielding her eyes from him.
Marian cleared her throat and placed her hand on Ross’s shoulder. “Well, ladies, I’d like you to meet the new manager-in-training of Bayside Books.”
“Congratulations!” Irene gave him a hug. Hannah patted him on the shoulder, and Barb nodded her approval. But Adrie leaned back against the counter and studied him through cloudy, gray-blue eyes.
“Oh, this is going to be wonderful.” Irene beamed at Marian. “Now you can cut back your hours and have fun with us, and Adrie can spend more time on her music.”
Marian nodded. “I’m sure with Ross here, we’re all going to be very happy.”
His gaze traveled around the group of women, then settled on Adrie. Her apprehensive expression made him doubt she agreed with her grandmother on that point.
Marian snapped her fingers. “Oh, I forgot the keys. I’ll be right back.” She headed to the office.
Marian’s offer of free rent on one of the apartments above the bookstore was an unexpected perk. Of course he hadn’t seen it yet, but her description made it sound better than his current place. And living upstairs would certainly make it an easy commute.
A few seconds later, Marian returned with the keys. “Let’s go upstairs, and you can take a look.”
Adrie’s eyes widened, and the color drained from her face. “You’re showing him the apartment?”
Marian turned around. “Yes. Won’t it be great to have him right here in the building, especially if there are any emergencies? I haven’t been happy about you being up there all by yourself.”
Ross’s steps slowed. Adrie lived upstairs? Marian had failed to mention there were two apartments above the store. Well, he supposed being neighbors wouldn’t be too bad. It might even give him an opportunity to convince her he wasn’t the enemy.
Chapter Three
R
oss shoved the cardboard box across the bare hardwood floor of his new apartment and added it to the growing pile in the corner of his bedroom. Stashing all his photography studio equipment here felt like swallowing a bitter pill, but he couldn’t afford to pay for a storage unit. Unfortunately, that meant he’d see it each morning when he woke up and every evening when he went to bed—a stark reminder his business had failed.
His father’s words ran through his mind again.
You need a dependable career, not some fly-by-night artistic thing. I paid a lot of money to put you through college. You shouldn’t be wasting your time selling books.
He sighed heavily, and rubbed the back of his neck. When would he be able to set up his studio again? Six months? A year? Or would his dream die while he spent most of his time working at the bookstore just so he could pay his bills?
Why is this happening, God? I thought getting to know You meant my life was going to get easier, not harder.
Shaking his head, he pushed those questions away.
This was not time for stinkin’ thinkin’, as his friend Cam would say. Negative thoughts and self-doubt would just pull him down. He had to hang on to the truth or he would sink under all these difficulties. Closing his eyes, he breathed in deeply and focused his thoughts. God was in control. He had a plan. His responsibility was to pray, listen for God’s direction, and trust Him for the future.
Things would get better. The economy would pick up. He would get back on his feet. His time at the bookstore would not be wasted. As long as he stayed connected to God and paid attention to where He was leading, he would be okay.
Give me the courage to believe that. Help me trust You.
Slowly, a sense of peace eased away the strain of the day. It gave him a new surge of energy to get moving again.
Returning to the living room, he surveyed the six large cartons by the front door. Several more were piled on the couch and chairs. A heap of shirts and pants, still on their hangers, lay draped over the coffee table. Bags of groceries and boxes of kitchen items sat on the floor in the small kitchen. What a mess. He hoped to sort things out this afternoon, because tomorrow morning at nine he started working at the bookstore.
He left to bring in the last load from the car. As he passed Adrienne’s apartment, flute music floated into the hall.
His steps slowed. How often did she play? Would she keep him up at night with her practice sessions? His flash of irritation faded as he listened to the series of notes that rose and fell like water pouring from a fountain. He leaned closer, waiting. After a short pause, she started again, repeating the same notes with more strength. Even though the door separated them, he could feel the emotion in her music.
She was good, very good. He stared at the door, waiting for the next part of the haunting melody to reach his ears. Suddenly, he stopped and looked around. What if she caught him lurking by her door, eavesdropping? That would certainly seal her negative opinion of him. He shook his head and hustled down the hall, then took the steps two at a time. With a mocking laugh at himself, he pushed open the door leading to the back parking lot.
Lifting his gaze to Adrienne’s window, he listened, but he couldn’t hear her flute anymore, and he missed the music.
Adrie lifted the flute to her lips and pulled in a deep breath. Focusing on the key signature, she ticked off the beat and launched into Bach’s Partita. With her eyes closed, she let the notes ebb and flow, the music pouring from her soul.
A crash in the hallway startled her.
What in the world?
Lowering her flute, she hurried to the door and pulled it open.
Ross Peterson lay sprawled on the hall floor, hundreds of old-fashioned photography slides scattered around him like piles of leaves on a late fall day.
She leaned out the door. “Are you okay?”
He looked up, his dark eyes wide. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
“What happened?”
He rose to his knees. “I tripped.”
She wasn’t thrilled about having him as a neighbor, but she couldn’t very well close the door and let him clean up the mess by himself. With a resigned sigh, she carefully laid aside her flute and joined him on the hallway floor.
“You’ve got quite a collection here.”
“Yep.” He scooped up a stack of slides and shoved them in a small cardboard box.
“You don’t see many of these anymore.”
“Nope.” His face looked flushed as he focused on filling the box rather than looking at her.
His embarrassment was sort of cute. She suppressed a smile as she lifted up a slide to the hall light, but she couldn’t see the image clearly. “So is this how you keep all your photos?”
“Oh, these aren’t mine. They’re my grandfather’s.”
“He’s a photographer, too?”
“He had a studio in Tacoma for over forty years. He even had some of his photos published.” Ross stopped for a moment. “When I was twelve, he gave me my first camera and taught me how to use it. I probably never would’ve gotten into photography if it wasn’t for him.” Warmth filled his voice, and his embarrassment seemed to fade.
“Sounds like you two are pretty close.”
“We were.” His smile faded. “He passed away last April.”
She bit her lip. “I’m sorry. My grandpa died not too long ago. I can relate.”
“Marian’s husband?”
“Yes. He passed away a year ago last May.”
“Marian mentioned him a couple times today.”
She nodded. “They were very close. I know she still misses him. Me, too.”
Ross cocked his head. “What was he like?”
She sat back on her heels. “He loved playing backgammon, watching baseball and going fishing. He loved to read, too. He and my grandma were married for forty-eight years. They started the bookstore together when I was just a baby.”
“So you grew up hanging around here?”
“Only for the first few years, then our family…moved away.” She didn’t often tell people she’d spent most of her life in Kenya. It required too much explanation and usually left her feeling like an oddball. But for some reason she wanted to see Ross’s reaction to that news. “Actually, I grew up in Kenya. My parents are still missionaries there.”
He nodded, as though that wasn’t unusual at all. “Sounds interesting.”
Was he just making conversation or was he truly interested? She couldn’t tell, so she kept quiet and picked up a few more slides.
He watched her, his gaze steady. “That must have been quite an adventure growing up in Africa. I’d like to hear more about it sometime.”
She ducked her head and smiled. “Most people fade out as soon as I say the words
missionaries
or
Kenya.
”
“Not me. I’ve always dreamed of going to Africa. When I was a kid I read every copy of my grandpa’s
National Geographic
cover to cover.” He grinned, his dark eyes glowing. “I’d love to go on a safari someday. Maybe track down some lions and cheetahs or follow a herd of elephants.” His enthusiasm for the place she loved stirred her heart.
“If you ever do plan a trip, let me know. I could tell you about the different game parks and give you some suggestions.”
He nodded, his smile warm and confident. “Thanks. That would be great. It’s just a dream right now, but I’ll make it there someday.”
She couldn’t help returning his smile. “I think you will.”
Ross shot a longing look toward the bookstore’s café area as he and Adrie walked past. Maybe a second cup of coffee would help him remember all the details she was giving him as they toured the bookstore. His mouth watered as they passed the glass display case of tempting bakery treats. One of those apple walnut muffins would really hit the spot.
“This is the Christian living section,” Adrie said, drawing his attention back to the bookshelves. “Here you have books about the Holy Spirit, discipleship, charismatic interest and general topics.” She lifted her eyebrows, silently asking him if he had any questions.
He wasn’t exactly sure what charismatic interests might be, but if he asked her now, that would extend the tour and delay his coffee break. He’d figure it out later.
She motioned toward the next shelf. “This is our prayer, devotional and gift book section.”
“Okay.” At least he knew what that meant.
“And over here we have the Bible studies and reference tools, like commentaries, concordances and Bible dictionaries.”
He scanned the titles and pulled a large, heavy book off the shelf. “Wow, Strong’s Concordance.” He chuckled and raised it like he was pumping weights. “Just toting this around would make you
strong
even if you never cracked open the cover.” Grinning, he waited for her reaction, but her serious expression didn’t change. He sighed and replaced the book.
Ever since they’d started working together this morning, he’d been trying to get her to smile or at least relax a little, but none of his usual methods seemed to work.
“This is our fiction section,” she continued. “We have a wide range of novels for men, women and teens—everything from suspense and legal thrillers to gentle Amish stories, along with a lot of historical, women’s fiction and romance.”
“Ah, now there’s a topic I need to read up on.” He winked and sent her a teasing grin.
Her cheeks flushed, and she led him around the corner, bringing them closer to the café again. The scent of something freshly baked floated past.
He rubbed his rumbling stomach. “Would you mind if we took a break for a few minutes?”
She frowned slightly and checked her watch. “All right, but we open in ten minutes.”
“This won’t take long.” He rounded the café counter. “Would you like some coffee?”
“I don’t drink coffee.” She followed him into the café prep area.
He lifted his eyes to the ceiling and sighed. He should’ve known. “What do you drink?”
“I prefer tea.” Her voice carried a hint of a challenge.
“I can make tea.”
“I don’t think so. Not for me.”
Why did she have to be so difficult? Couldn’t she just try to get along? He turned to face her. “What’s so hard about pouring hot water in a cup and adding a tea bag? I may be a newbie at the bookstore business, but I think I know how to make a cup of tea.” He took a deep breath, trying to calm his thundering pulse. Why was he getting so upset?
A slight smile tipped up one corner of her mouth. “I’m sure you do, just not the way I like it.”
Determined not to let her get the best of him, he said, “Well, then why don’t you teach me?” He pointed toward the bookshelves. “You have to train me in every other facet of bookstore management, you might as well show me how to make the perfect cup of tea.”
A dimple appeared in her left cheek as she smiled. “Okay. If you really want to know, I’ll show you how I learned to make tea in Kenya.”
“Fine.” He crossed his arms and studied her as she took a pan from the cabinet and set it on the small stovetop. His irritation dissolved as he watched her fluid, graceful movements. The overhead lights made her long wavy hair glow with golden threads of fire. He frowned and glanced away. Appreciating her beauty was one thing, staring at her for an extended time was only going to get him into more trouble.
“First thing you need to know is that we call it
chai.
”
He’d heard of chai, but he thought it was Indian not African.
“You pour in a cup of milk, and then add a cup of water. Next you add two teaspoons of tea leaves.” From a small metal tin, she scooped out two spoonfuls, and dumped them right into the pan.
“Yikes! You drink the leaves?” He leaned forward to take a look.
She laughed softly. “No, you strain them out. But you’re getting ahead of me.” She popped the lid off the sugar container. “Next you add some sugar.” She poured two heaping spoonfuls into the pan and stirred. “Now you let it simmer for a few minutes.”
He stepped closer and looked over her shoulder as she swirled the tea leaves in the milky liquid. The steam from the tea rose, bringing with it a distinctive scent, but another fragrance teased his nose. He quietly sniffed and realized the light flowery fragrance must be coming from Adrie’s hair.
“So what do you think?” She glanced over her shoulder at him, her eyes like shimmering pools of lavender light.
He swallowed and broke his gaze. “It looks…interesting.”
“That seems to be one of your favorite words.”
“What?”
“
Interesting.
You use it all the time.”
He felt his face heating up. “Okay. I’ll make a note of it.”
She chuckled as she took two mugs from the shelf over the sink.
“What’s so funny?”
“You are.” She smiled at him, her eyes dancing with amusement.
Now his face felt like it was on fire. This girl was maddening. Totally maddening! The only time she would smile or laugh was when he felt so embarrassed and frustrated he was ready to pop a cork.