01_The Best Gift (5 page)

“Good. I will check. And I will bring baklava. It is always good to eat when you are trying to think.” He pumped A.J.’s hand. “I knew the day you came down to introduce yourself that you would be a good neighbor, just like your aunt. I tell that to Sophia when you left. Now I know even more that it is true. I talk to you soon.”

A.J. watched George leave. His spirits seemed higher, now that they had a preliminary action plan. But A.J. wasn’t feeling so upbeat. Fighting city hall was never easy, especially when money was involved. But she didn’t want to lose Aunt Jo’s legacy before she even claimed it. So if a battle was brewing, she was more than willing to do her part.

She was still sitting in the office a few minutes later when Blake walked in carrying a bag from the deli. He took one look at her face and came to an abrupt halt. “What’s wrong?”

She sighed and propped her chin in her hand. “We have a problem.”

Slowly, Blake set the bag down on the desk, eyeing her warily. “Does this have anything to do with more changes in the shop?”

“Possibly. But not of my making.”

By the time she explained the situation, Blake was frowning, too. He pulled up a chair and sat across from her. “I don’t like the sound of this.”

“Neither do I. I told George we could have a meeting here Thursday, when the shop closes, to discuss our next step. He’s going to let the other merchants on the block know. You’ve been here longer than I have. Do you think they’ll be willing to close ranks and go to battle over this?”

Blake shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never exchanged more than a few words with any of them.”

A.J. looked at him in surprise. She’d made it a point within the first couple of weeks to visit each shop and introduce herself. Blake had been here three years and he still didn’t know his neighbors?

A flush crept up Blake’s neck. When he spoke, there was a defensive tone to his voice. “I don’t have time to socialize when I’m at work.”

“I didn’t say anything,” A.J. pointed out. “Well, I guess we’ll find out how they feel at the meeting. In the meantime, I need to do some research on this whole TIF thing. We better have all our facts in order before we take on a fight like this.”

“My next-door neighbor works at city hall. I can try to get some information from him, too,” Blake volunteered—with obvious reluctance.

“That would be good.” A.J. sat back in her chair and shook her head. “You know, when I came here I thought my biggest challenge would be learning the book business. I didn’t expect to have to fight city hall for my legacy.”

“Neither did I. And I have a feeling this could get pretty messy.”

A.J. studied Blake. He didn’t look any too thrilled with that idea. “I take it you prefer to stay out of messy fights?”

He shrugged stiffly. “I prefer to stay out of fights of any kind. It’s a lot easier when people can settle their differences quietly.”

“True. But that doesn’t always happen. And some things are worth fighting for.” When he didn’t respond, she stood and moved toward the door, but paused on the threshold to turn toward him. “So do you plan to come to the meeting on Thursday?”

Although his expression told her that he’d prefer to be almost anywhere else, he slowly nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be there. I’m no more eager to lose this shop than you are. But this isn’t my kind of thing.”

“I gathered that. Thank you for making the effort. Maybe we’ll come up with a way to settle this problem quietly, like you prefer.”

“Maybe.” But he had a gut feeling that wasn’t going to happen.

And he suspected A.J. did, too.

As the group began to gather on Thursday night, Blake stayed in the background, feeling out of place and awkward—unlike A.J., who was mingling effortlessly with the diverse group, he noted. In the short time she’d been at the shop, she was already on a first-name basis with all of her fellow merchants and seemed to know their life histories. A few minutes before, he’d overheard her asking Rose how her grandson was doing in graduate school. And now she was talking to Joe about his wife’s recent surgery. She had a knack for making friends and putting people at ease, something Blake had never mastered. Probably because he’d never been in one place long enough when he was growing up to learn those social skills, he thought.

They’d supplemented the seating area in the reading nook with folding chairs, and now A.J. moved to the front of the makeshift meeting room. “Okay, everyone, let’s get started. I know George and Sophia have to get back to the restaurant as soon as possible, and Carlos is getting ready for an opening at the gallery tomorrow. So we need to keep this as brief as possible. George has already filled all of you in on the background, so the meeting tonight is really just a discussion to see how everyone feels about this.”

“I think it stinks.” Everyone turned toward Alene, who ran the natural food store. “We’ve all been here for years. Long before this area was hot. We put our blood, sweat and tears into these businesses, and we didn’t get any help from city hall. If it wasn’t for people like us, this area would never have revived. I say we fight it.”

“I agree,” Steve concurred. “When I opened my jewelry store, I had a tough time getting insurance. And for years, my premiums were elevated because of the crime rate in this area. I almost left once. But Jo convinced me to stay. She said if we stuck it out, eventually people would rediscover this place. And she was right. I’m not about to let some developer with dollar signs in his eyes take advantage of the turnaround at my expense.”

Joe stood. “But what can we do? There are only a few of us. And if this means more money for Maplewood, the city won’t care about us. They’ll brush us aside.”

“Not if we get more people behind us,” Rose spoke up. Despite her gray hair and frail appearance, her clear blue eyes were steely. “The kind of development George described will ruin the neighborhood feel of this area. I don’t think the residents will like that. I’ve already been talking to people about this when they stop in for their morning coffee and bagels. I bet the residents will stand behind us.”

“I think we need to find out more,” George said. “Like, who is this developer? And what has he done so far?”

Blake cleared his throat, and A.J. glanced his way. “Blake?”

“I was able to get some information from a pretty good source that might answer a few questions,” he said. Seven pairs of eyes turned in his direction. “The developer is MacKenzie Properties. They’ve done this sort of thing in a number of municipalities in the area. They’re very quiet and very successful, and if there’s been any opposition, it’s been squelched at a pretty early stage. Stuart MacKenzie is the principal and has been the primary contact at this preliminary stage with the Maplewood city hall.”

“So what does he have in mind?” Alene asked.

Blake turned toward her. “George’s information about the development plans is correct. MacKenzie is looking at a combination residential and commercial development over this entire block that would consist of high-end condos, office space and small shops. In the past, he’s managed to get a TIF ruling, which means that existing residents are paid a predetermined sum for their businesses. In some cases, space is available in the new development for current merchants, but generally at a substantially higher cost. I believe most of us currently own our space. Under the new scenario, we’d have to lease space.”

“What’s the timing, Blake?” A.J. asked.

He looked her way. She seemed impressed by the information he’d relayed, which he’d only managed to gather this evening when he’d gone home for an early dinner and finally caught up with his neighbor. There was something in her eyes—warmth, gratitude…something—that made him feel proud of the little he’d done. “This is still in the very preliminary stages. MacKenzie will be presenting proposals to the city in mid-January, and there will be a public hearing in early February. It’s unlikely a final ruling will be made before March or April. And I’m told that public opinion will factor heavily into the decision.”

“It sounds like our work is cut out for us,” Steve said.

“We need petitions,” Alene added. “And press coverage.”

“My nephew works for Channel 2. I can call him,” Joe offered.

“Let’s start with the petitions,” A.J. said. “We can develop a form and ask our customers to begin signing them when they visit our businesses. We have almost six weeks until the public hearing in February, so we should be able to gather a lot of signatures. And maybe we can enlist local customers to circulate petitions in their neighborhoods, too.”

“I can draw a form up for everyone to review,” Steve volunteered.

“Thanks. That would be great. Let’s meet again in mid-January and see where we stand. Does that sound good?”

There was a rumble of agreement at A.J.’s suggestion.

“And now everyone must have some baklava,” George said. “It is just made today.”

As the shop owners moved toward the coffee and pastries, A.J. made her way over to Blake, who still hovered in the background. “Thanks for digging up that information.”

“It wasn’t hard.”

“So are you going to have some baklava? Or do you avoid sweets, too?”

He frowned at her. “What do you mean, ‘too’?”

She shrugged. “Well, you don’t mingle much. I found out recently that Carlos didn’t even know you.”

“I’m not into contemporary art.”

For a moment she looked as if she was going to say something more on the subject, then changed her mind. “I think it was a good meeting.”

He nodded. “But there’s a lot of work ahead.”

“Everyone seems willing to pitch in, though. And I’m sure Aunt Jo would have been leading the charge if she was here.”

Blake couldn’t argue with that. Jo had felt passionate about the shop and the neighborhood. So did the other merchants. And like it or not, he was in as deeply as everyone else. He still didn’t want to get into the middle of a fight, but he’d found out enough to know that’s probably where they were headed unless they rolled over and played dead. And much as he disliked confrontation, he wasn’t ready to do that.

Yet.

“H
i, A.J. Did you have a good time in North Carolina over Christmas?”

A.J. turned toward Rose with a smile as she recalled her visit with Clare. “Yes. It was wonderful.”

“Did your sister Morgan make it down?”

“Unfortunately, no. She couldn’t get away from work for more than a couple of days, so she went to Aunt Jo’s cottage in Maine instead. But we all talked by phone. How about you? Did that grandson of yours make it home?”

“He sure did. He’s still here, in fact. Goes back next week.” She held up a stack of papers. “I’ve got another batch of petitions.”

“That’s great! I’ll add them to the pile.”

“So how many signatures do we have so far?”

A.J. did a quick mental calculation. “About five hundred, I think.”

“Not bad. And I’ve been sending the form home with some of my patrons to circulate in their neighborhoods. Is our meeting still on for next Thursday?”

“Yes. Same time, same place.”

“Well, I’ll be here. I’m not going to let some fancy developer run me out of here.” Rose looked over A.J.’s shoulder. “Hi, Blake.”

“Hello, Rose.” He came up beside A.J. and glanced at the sheaf of papers in her hand. “Looks like you’ve been busy.”

“I figure it’s gonna take a lot of work from all of us if we want to win this fight. Now I gotta get back to the deli. See you both Thursday.”

They watched her leave, then A.J. turned to Blake with a grin. “I hope I have half her energy and spunk when I’m that age.”

“Why do I think that won’t be a problem?”

She tilted her head and looked at him warily. “I’m not quite sure how to take that remark.”

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Let’s just say you have energy and spunk to spare.”

“Why do I think that’s not necessarily a compliment?” she replied.

He shrugged. “There’s never a dull moment when you’re around, that’s for sure.”

She studied him. Considering that Blake liked things predictable and well-planned, she figured that his comment was not a compliment. Which bothered her for some reason. But she shrugged it off and turned toward the office, waving the petitions at him. “I’m going to file these with the rest. Watch the desk, okay?” Without waiting for a response, she disappeared into the back room.

Blake watched her go, trying to remember what it had been like before the human tornado named A.J. had swept into his life. It had been much quieter, no question about it. And more orderly. Not to mention organized.

In other words, he realized with a jolt, it had been dull.

And to his surprise, dull wasn’t nearly as appealing as it once had been.

“Okay, so we know the proposal has been presented by MacKenzie to the Board of Aldermen and the public hearing is scheduled for February 10. Is everyone planning to be there?” A.J. looked at her fellow merchants. Everyone was nodding assent. “Great. Now, let’s talk about our plan for the meeting.”

“I think we need a spokesperson for our group,” Joe said.

“Good idea,” Rose concurred. “I vote for you, A.J.”

A.J. looked at her in surprise. “But I’m the new kid on the block. It might be better if one of you represented the group.”

“But you’re Jo’s great niece, and she was the first one to come here. Now another generation is taking over. So you can speak for her and for yourself. I think you’re the perfect choice,” Steve replied.

“Steve is right,” George agreed. “Jo would be our leader if she was here. So you should speak for us.”

A.J. looked at the rest of the group. “How does everyone else feel about that? Carlos, Alene?”

“I’m fine with that,” Carlos said.

“Me, too,” chimed in Alene.

A.J. turned to Blake. He was still in the back, but at least he was sitting with the group this time. “Blake?”

“I agree with the consensus. I think you’d be great. And it would be a nice tribute to Jo.”

“Well, if you’re all sure…” A.J. looked down at her notes. “I think we need to have some residents speak, too.”

“I already spoke to Mark Sanders, one of my regulars,” Rose said. “He’s an attorney, lives a couple of blocks away. He said he’d speak on our behalf.”

“And I talked to Ellen Levine about it, too,” Steve offered. “She grew up here, and she feels passionately about preserving the character of the area. And she’s very grateful to people like us, who helped revitalize Maplewood. So she’s willing to speak.”

“A lot of people are planning to attend, too,” Alene offered.

“Great. It sounds like everything’s under control. If everyone will get me their petitions before the meeting, I’ll present them when I speak. Anything else?” No one spoke, and A.J. nodded. “Okay. T minus twenty-one days and counting. Keep your fingers crossed!”

“Excuse me, miss. Could you tell me if Liam is working today?”

A.J. glanced up from the cash register and smiled at the woman with cobalt-blue eyes who was standing on the other side of the counter. There was something familiar about her, but A.J. couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She appeared to be in her early-to-mid-fifties, and her long brown hair was pulled back into a single braid. A man with a nicely groomed salt-and-pepper beard stood behind her. It looked as if he could stand to lose a few pounds, but it was hard to tell because of their bulky winter coats.

“I’m sorry, there’s no one here by that name,” A.J. said. “Are you sure you have the right shop?”

“Jan, he doesn’t use that name anymore, remember?” the man said.

The woman looked sheepish. “I know. But I always think of him that way. It’s hard to…Liam!”

At the delighted look on her face, A.J. turned to follow her gaze. Blake stood in the doorway to the office. Shock was the only word to describe the expression on his face.

“How are you, son?”

Even after the man spoke, it took Blake a few moments to recover. “What are you doing here?”

“Paying you a surprise visit,” the woman said, her delight undiminished by Blake’s abrupt greeting and lack of enthusiasm.

“We’re on our way to a convention in Chicago and thought we’d make a little detour, stop in and see how you are,” the man spoke again.

Blake finally recovered enough to move forward, but he kept the counter between himself and his visitors. “You could have called first. I would have been more prepared.”

“Then it wouldn’t have been a surprise,” the woman replied brightly.

Though A.J. stood mere inches away from him, Blake seemed oblivious to her presence. And unsure how to proceed. So A.J. took charge. She stepped forward and held out her hand.

“Welcome to Turning Leaves. I’m A. J. Williams, Blake’s partner.”

The woman took her hand first. “I’m Jan Sullivan. This is my husband, Carl. We’re Liam’s…sorry, Blake’s…parents.”

“Nice to meet you,” Blake’s father said as he gave her hand a hearty squeeze. “You must be Jo’s great niece. We were sorry to hear of her passing. She was a wonderful lady.”

“Thank you.” Since Blake still wasn’t speaking, A.J. filled in the gap. “Did you just arrive?”

“Yes. We’d hoped to spend a couple of days in St. Louis, but we took an interesting detour or two on the way here that delayed us,” Carl said. “So we’ll need to leave tomorrow if we want to get to Chicago for the whole convention. But we couldn’t come this close and not stop in to see Blake.”

A.J. recalled that Blake had once told her his parents were from Oregon. She looked at Blake’s father in surprise. “Did you drive all the way from the West Coast?”

“Yes. We love road trips. But we haven’t had time to take many these past few years.”

“This sure brings back a lot memories, doesn’t it, Carl?” Blake’s mother was looking around the shop, a smile of recollection on her lips.

“Yes, it does. That was a good summer for us. I see you’ve made some changes.”

“When were you here last?” A.J. asked.

“Oh, it’s been several years. I love the reading area in the front. It’s so inviting,” Jan said.

Finally Blake spoke. “Do you need a place to stay tonight?” The question was clearly prompted only out of a sense of obligation. He hadn’t moved from behind the counter, and A.J. suspected that a whole lot more than a glass display case separated Blake and his parents.

“No, thank you, son. We already checked into a hotel.”

Blake’s relief was almost palpable. A.J. looked at him curiously—and with a certain degree of censure. His parents had obviously made a special trip to see him. Whatever their differences, surely he could afford to be hospitable for one night. And if he couldn’t, she could, she decided.

On impulse, she spoke. “I don’t want to impose on family time, but if you don’t have any other plans for the evening, I’d be happy to offer you a home-cooked meal.” She looked over at Blake. “You’re invited, too, of course.”

Blake stared at her as if she’d lost her mind.

“Why, thank you!” Jan replied. “But it’s such short notice…I’m afraid it would be too much trouble.”

“Not at all. Sometimes impromptu parties are the most fun.”

“We couldn’t agree more, right, Carl?”

“Absolutely.”

“Unless Blake has other ideas, I think that sounds lovely,” Jan said.

They all turned to Blake expectantly. It was clear he had no ideas at all.

“Blake, would you prefer to go out to dinner somewhere with just your mom and dad?” A.J. prompted when the silence lengthened.

If looks could kill, A.J. would be history. But she tilted her chin up and steadily returned his glare.

“Dinner at your place sounds fine.” Blake ground out the words through clenched teeth.

A.J. ignored Blake and turned back to his parents with a cheery smile. “Terrific. Let me write down the directions for you. I’m sure you’re tired, so we’ll make it early.”

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, A.J. stepped away to help a customer, leaving Blake alone with his parents. She glanced his way a couple of times, but he never moved from behind the counter. And even from a distance, his stiff posture spoke eloquently. Had she made a mistake by inviting them all to dinner? There was clearly no love lost on Blake’s side. Yet his parents obviously cared for him. She could see it in their eyes. So what was the story? Had she stepped into the middle of something she’d regret?

But it was too late for regrets. She’d told Blake once that she didn’t waste time on them. Which was true. Better to think about the dinner to come.

Then again, maybe not, she admitted as she glanced back at the three people standing at the counter. Considering the obviously strained relationship between parents and son, this could prove to be a very long evening.

A.J. put a match to the final wick, taking a moment to enjoy the soft, warm glow from the flickering candles placed throughout the living room. On a cold January evening like this, a fireplace would be perfect. But apartments like hers didn’t come with such amenities.

Still, she was pleased with what she’d been able to do with the small space. She’d supplemented the few things she’d brought from Chicago with garage-sale finds, and the overall effect was warm and inviting. A small dinette set stood in the eating alcove next to the galley-style kitchen, and she’d covered the table with a handmade woven blanket she’d brought back from the Middle East. More candles of various heights stood in the center.

The small couch in the living room was draped with a colorful throw, and she’d turned a small trunk with brass hinges into a coffee table. A bookcase displayed favorite volumes as well as small pieces of sculpture. The final touch had been a fresh coat of off-white paint, which had brightened the dingy tan walls considerably and offered a great backdrop for some of her native art.

With a satisfied nod, she went back to the kitchen to check on dinner. She hadn’t made this couscous-based dish in quite a while, but for some reason she had a feeling that Jan and Carl would appreciate it. She wasn’t so sure about Blake.

She frowned as she stirred brown rice into the pot. She wasn’t sure about him in a lot of ways, actually. He’d avoided her the rest of the afternoon, busying himself with customers in the shop or calling patrons whose orders had come in. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d backed out of her invitation. In fact, when she finally cornered him to tell him she was leaving a little early to get dinner started, she was fully prepared for him to say he wasn’t coming. But he didn’t. He just gave her a curt nod and turned away.

If she’d made a huge faux pas, she was sorry. But she had taken an immediate liking to Jan and Carl. And in the face of their son’s lack of hospitality, she’d felt compelled to step in and show some Christian charity. After all, they’d made a big detour to visit Blake. If he chose not to appreciate it, that was his issue. At least
she
could be friendly.

The doorbell rang, and A.J. put a lid on the pot, then wiped her hands on a towel. Let the games begin, she thought with a wry grin as she went to welcome her guests.

Despite Blake’s buttoned-up style and obsession with punctuality, she’d half expected him to show up late for dinner in an attempt to shave as many minutes as possible off the evening. But instead she found him waiting on the other side of the door.

At her surprised look, he glanced at his watch. “Am I early?”

“No. Come in,
Liam
.” She hoped her kidding tone would lighten the mood, but it had the opposite effect.

He didn’t move. “That’s not funny.”

The teasing light in her eyes faded. “Sorry. Guess I hit a nerve.”

“I don’t use that name.”

“Why not?”

“It’s…weird.”

“No, it isn’t. It’s very popular.”

“It wasn’t when I was a kid.”

She eyed him thoughtfully. “When I was a kid, there was a little girl in our class named Maude. She got teased a lot. Is that what happened to you?”

“Worse. Boys aren’t that nice.”

“Surely your friends stood up for you?”

He looked at her for a moment, as if silently debating how to respond, but in the end ignored her comment. “Blake is my mother’s maiden name—and my middle name. I’ve been using it since I was twelve. Now, do you think I could come in? It’s a little drafty out here.”