My phone stayed silent. Knowing the anticipation would drive me crazy if I didn’t do something, I tried to take my mind off it by starting up my computer and running a report on the upcoming new book releases. I was about halfway through placing my weekly order when the door rang, announcing customers. Stocks greeted the elderly couple who came in, somehow managing to turn off his scary military biker persona with a welcoming smile. They asked for the non-fiction section and he looked to me.
“Right this way,” I said, stepping around the counter to lead them.
Once they were situated and browsing, I returned and checked my phone again. Still no new texts from Wesley.
The weekend was over, and I’d lose the payments from my trust fund. I was losing my only real means of financial support. What else did the diseased ass moth have in store for me? Forget it. Refusing to worry about Wesley’s devious plans, I opened a browser on my computer and started searching out ways to make money.
Maybe a night job?
I scanned other options, but the thought kept crossing my mind, sounding more and more appealing. Who needed sleep anyway? Not this girl. Not while I had coffee. Besides, I could nap while running the bookstore if I needed to. Especially with Stocks guarding the door.
More customers came in. A mom and her two young daughters. I left them in the children’s section and went back to my computer to search local help wanted ads. I could tend bar or wait tables. Of course, both jobs required certifications and that would take time and money to acquire. The food server certification looked simple, though. I could do that. Easy peasy. Now, I just needed a restaurant that would hire me with absolutely no serving experience.
Maybe serving the homeless would count as experience? I’d gotten a whopping five hours of volunteer work under my belt… I could prepare a résumé around that shit.
The bell over the door chimed again. Thinking we were unusually busy for a Monday morning, I looked up to find a courier holding an envelope.
“Julia Edwards?” he asked, approaching.
“Yes?”
Stocks stepped between us.
The courier looked from me to stocks, then back to me. “I have a certified letter for you.” He held it up. “Just need your signature.”
I circled the counter to stand beside Stocks.
Gaze remaining on Stocks, the courier held an electronic tablet out to me. “Sign here, please.”
I signed with my finger and he glanced at my signature before passing me the envelope with a quiet thanks. He turned and was out the door before I even had the chance to read the name of the sender.
“Is everything okay?” Stocks asked, eyeing the envelope cradled in my hands.
“I don’t know. It’s from my landlady.” I peeled away the easy-open strip as an uneasy feeling tightened around me. I knew in the pit of my stomach that this was what I’d been waiting for. The other shoe was dropping. I pulled out the pages and started reading. A two-page eviction notice. How could my world turn upside down with two pages? This wasn’t a shoe; it was a giant anvil that would crush me. My sweet little landlady, Mary Jeeters, had given me twenty days to vacate the premises.
“Julia?” Stocks asked, watching me.
“I have twenty days.” My voice sounded strange, as if someone else was speaking. Someone whose heart wasn’t breaking as she read over the notice details. Someone who wasn’t about to lose everything she loved. Twenty days to find a new lease and pay for a move? Impossible. Not even a night job could save me now.
“The building wasn’t for sale. Mary promised to tell me if she ever decided to sell.”
“Something must have changed,” Stocks said.
Yep, and I had a sinking feeling I knew just who that something was. Needing to confirm my suspicions, I called Mary directly.
“Oh, honey, isn’t it wonderful?” she gushed, making no sense whatsoever. “Such a sweet gesture. So romantic, I couldn’t say no. Especially not at the price he was offering.”
“What gesture?” I asked, rubbing my temples, trying to ease away the migraine that was building.
“He hasn’t told you yet? Oh, dear, I don’t want to ruin the surprise.”
“Surprise? I received your letter and I’m having a heart attack here, trying to figure out how I’m going to move in twenty days.”
“He was supposed to tell you this weekend.”
Frustrated, I asked, “Who? Tell me what?”
“Your fiancé bought the building as an engagement gift for you. He’s having you move out, so he can renovate your store and apartment. Make it trendier. He wrote it into the terms of the contract. Oh, I do hope I didn’t spoil the surprise, but he’s such a sweet young man I know he wouldn’t want you to worry. He obviously loves you dearly.”
