The Best Gift. Irene Hannon

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СКАЧАТЬ Thanks.”

      She hesitated at the doorway. “Is everything okay?”

      Blake heard the trepidation in her voice, and nodded. “I’m sure everything will be fine.”

      As a divorced mother with two part-time jobs, Nancy worked hard to provide for herself and her ten-year-old daughter. She’d been unsettled ever since Jo’s death, clearly unsure about the future of Turning Leaves. Blake had tried to be reassuring, but he couldn’t offer much encouragement since he felt the same way.

      Blake looked back at the flashing light. Too bad he hadn’t hung around long enough after Jo’s memorial service to meet her nieces—and get a few insights about his new partner. He took a deep breath, picked up the receiver and punched the flashing button.

      “Blake Sullivan.”

      “Mr. Sullivan, this is A. J. Williams, Jo Warren’s great-niece. I believe you’ve heard from Seth Mitchell about my aunt’s bequest of Turning Leaves?”

      The voice was a bit breathless, but bright and friendly. His was cautious and curt. “Yes.”

      There was a hesitation, as if she expected him to say more. When he didn’t, she continued. “Well, I’m getting ready to make travel plans to St. Louis and wanted to talk with you about the timing of my arrival.”

      Deep inside Blake had harbored a dim hope that A.J. would pass on her inheritance. From the little he’d heard about her through the years, a bookshop didn’t seem like the kind of thing she’d be interested in. Now that hope flickered and died. “There’s no rush from my end.”

      His less-than-friendly reply was met with a moment of silence. Okay, maybe his comment wasn’t exactly warm and fuzzy. But it was the truth.

      “Well, according to Seth Mitchell, the clock starts ticking on December 1. But I see no reason to wait until then. I can wrap things up here pretty quickly.”

      Now it was his turn to hesitate. But only briefly, because he wanted an answer to his next question. “May I ask you something, Ms. Williams?”

      “Yes.” Her reply was immediate, but cautious.

      “How much interest do you have in Turning Leaves?”

      “What do you mean?”

      “Is this a lark for you, or do you have a serious interest in the business?”

      There was a moment of silence. “Maybe a little of both,” she finally said. “I’m ready for a change, and the business sounds interesting. I don’t really have any long-term plans.”

      “Then let me make you a proposition. I happen to care about Turning Leaves. And I do have long-term plans, which revolve around this business. So my proposal is this—I’ll work with you for six months so you can claim your inheritance. At that point, you give me the option to buy your half of the business at a mutually agreeable price. That lets us keep Jo’s legacy alive, and frees you to pursue your next…lark.”

      On the other end of the line, A.J. felt the stirrings of her Irish temper. This man was treating her like some irresponsible airhead who flitted from one distraction to another. She hardly considered her years in Afghanistan, nor the past two working in Good Samaritan, Inc. headquarters, a “lark.” Nor the rigorous years of training that went into earning her M.B.A. She didn’t like his inference one bit. In fact, she didn’t think she liked Blake Sullivan. But she didn’t have to, she reminded herself. She just had to work with him for six months. And she’d had plenty of experience working under difficult conditions with difficult people. Maybe Mr. Sullivan would even discover that she wasn’t quite as capricious and flighty as he seemed to think. Starting right now. Because she wasn’t about to make any promises for anything six months down the road. That was a lifetime. And a lot of things could happen between now and then.

      When she spoke again, her voice was brisk and businesslike. “I’ll tell you what, Mr. Sullivan. I’ll agree to consider your proposal when the time comes. But I can’t make any promises. I might decide to stay on at Turning Leaves. However, if I do decide to sell, I would certainly give you first consideration.”

      Blake frowned at the unexpected response. Her tone had cooled considerably, and he couldn’t blame her. He hadn’t exactly been friendly. And he couldn’t argue with her counterproposal. He would have offered the same thing. So it appeared he was stuck with Jo’s niece for the next six months. Unless he just walked away. But he couldn’t do that. Not after pouring himself into the business for the past three years. Yet could he stand by and watch it potentially falter in the hands of an inexperienced and seemingly strong-willed partner? For once in his life he wished he was a praying man, because he sure could use some guidance.

      While Blake considered her counteroffer, A.J. did pray. Because she needed the bookshop. And she needed Blake, with his years of experience, to help her run it. Though she loved her work at Good Samaritan, the spartan pay in a high cost of living city like Chicago made it more and more difficult for her to keep up with daily expenses. She had known for several months that she’d have to make a change. The options were simple: Stay in Chicago and find a better-paying job, or move on to something—and someplace—entirely new. After praying, she’d been leaning toward the latter option. So when Jo’s legacy had fallen in her lap, she had seen it almost as divine intervention, a reaffirmation of her decision to pack up and move on. And even if she decided to sell after six months, the legacy would give her a financial cushion to fund whatever direction her life took.

      “All right, Ms. Williams. I’ll accept your terms. If you could put them in a letter to me, I’d appreciate it.”

      “You have my word.”

      “In the business world, it’s better to have things in writing.”

      He could hear anger nipping at the edges of her voice when she spoke. “Fine. I’ll put something in the mail today. Would you like it notarized as well?”

      He ignored the touch of sarcasm in her tone. “That won’t be necessary. When are you planning to come down?”

      “I have to close up my apartment and give notice at my job. In a couple of weeks, probably. I’ll call ahead to let you know my plans. And feel free to call me in the interim if you need anything.”

      “I think we’ll be just fine.”

      Without you.

      The words were unspoken. But the implication came through loud and clear.

      Three hours.

      A.J. was three hours late.

      Blake glanced at his watch for the umpteenth time and shook his head in exasperation.

      “I’m sure she’ll be here soon,” Nancy said as she passed by with a stack of books to restock a display. “It’s such a nasty day out…maybe the weather delayed her.”

      As if to reinforce her comment, a crash of thunder shook the building.

      Blake wasn’t buying it. “For three hours? Hardly likely. She probably forgot what time she said she was going to arrive.”

      Nancy looked at him curiously as she arranged the books. “Boy, you sure formed a strong impression of her from a couple of phone conversations. СКАЧАТЬ