“You’re okay? No shooting pain down your legs? No sore elbows or anything?” Her eyes turned plum-colored when worried. She had such expressive eyes, the sweet thing. And to be so concerned…
But then, she always had been. Which was just one of the reasons listed on the Heavenly Checks and Balances Accounting Sheet that confirmed the need for his intervention.
“I’m fine,” Jonathan answered.
“That’s a relief.”
He doffed his hat. He’d always liked that word. Seemed so elegant and genteel. Something a Guardian should do when meeting his Charge for the first time in the flesh. So to speak. “Thank you, my dear.”
“Thank me? For what? Running you down?” She pointed to her shopping cart where a bright yellow something was caught beneath one of the wheels. “I wasn’t paying as much attention as I should’ve been. I tend to lose myself in the spice section.”
“Well, there’s no harm done. And thank you for helping an old man.” Jonathan looked around. Baking Goods. Yes, that made sense. “An interesting place to lose yourself in.”
Her cheeks flushed and it just made her all the prettier. It was true what they said about goodness shining through.
“I know it might sound silly, but I just love Italian grocery stores’ spice aisle.” She swept her hand around them. “Spices are like the national food of Italy. You can’t make good sauce without the right amount of fresh spices. Oh, and sugar.” She hefted a five-pound bag of just that off the shelf next to her and headed to her cart. “Of course, that’s a trade secret I don’t usually share, but if you put a pinch in the sauce with a big onion… yum!”
Jonathan couldn’t help but smile. Jolie was exuberance personified, always throwing herself into every venture with such hope and determination. It was up to him to make sure this all worked out for her. The way it should, and the way she deserved.
Yes, there was to be no more heartache for this Charge. Jolie was about to get her Happily-Ever-After, no matter what he had to do to ensure it.
***
She was blabbering. No surprise there.
Jolie couldn’t believe she’d run the old guy down. Shame on her. Mooning about her boss and she injured someone. That was just one reason why thinking about Mr. Best in any terms other than professional was a bad idea. She needed to remember that. This poor man was so gracious about the accident, but she felt awful.
Jolie set the sugar into the cart next to her purse and wrenched her kicky yellow flat out from beneath the asphalt-covered wheel. She deserved to have it ruined, but what a pity. They were a really comfortable pair of shoes and went with about half her wardrobe. How was she supposed to pass the remainder of her first day shoeless?
Was it too much to ask that she’d get through the day with her shoes intact? All she wanted to do was help out Mr. Best, earn her paycheck, and keep her life on track.
She looked up at the fluorescent lighting, hoping the roof would somehow open and heavenly wisdom would be imparted. Or that her shoe would magically float down, fully restored. Really, she wasn’t picky.
“But how are you feeling, my dear?” The little guy adjusted his glasses as he approached her cart.
Ha. He did not want to know how she was feeling.
“I really want to know.”
??
“You have a funny little twirl to your mouth, as if there are a million thoughts running through your mind. What’s got you so worked up?” He patted her hand.
What was it with men in this town today? She hadn’t been patted this much since Mama’s fifth—or was it sixth?—boyfriend decided she was cuter than her passed-out mother. Her imagination had saved her then (though it was a good thing the guy wasn’t too well-read or the bubonic plague she threatened him with wouldn’t have worked).
This patting was different though, but she still didn’t need anyone comforting her. She could take care of herself. She’d gotten pretty good at it.
Jolie stepped away and shook her head. “Nothing’s getting me all worked up. I’m just relieved that you’re okay. But now I’ve got to finish my shopping and figure out how to save my shoe.”
The guy snapped to attention, reached into his suit pocket, and removed a business card. He flipped it over to her between his first two fingers.
“Well, I can’t help with your shopping, but the shoe’s no problem.” He wiggled the card.
She took it. “Heavenly Shoes.” The address was just down the street. How was that for serendipity?
“My shop,” he said. “Stop down when you’re finished and I’ll fix the shoe quick as a wink.” He accompanied that statement with a wink.
Temptation floated before her, but, really, she ran over him. She should do something nice for him, not the other way around. Of course, if he had to hand out cards to drum up business, maybe he could use her money.
“All right. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Besides, now she had an excuse for the grocery delivery thing. She certainly couldn’t go running around town with one shoe, now, could she? And she doubted Mr. Best, make that, Todd, would want to run over to her apartment so she could find another pair of shoes to wear to dinner tonight. She might as well do some efficient time management and take this guy up on his offer.
“Oh, I’m Jolie Gardener, by the way.”
He nodded as if he already knew. But that wasn’t possible since they’d never met. Which was odd, considering how long she’d been in town—
“Jonathan Griff, at your service.” He tipped his hat to her. His poor, dented felt hat—yet another casualty.
“Are you new to town, Mr. Griff?”
“Oh no. I’ve been gone for a bit with other business, but I’m back now.” He quarter-turned, then looked back. “Be sure to stop by, okay?”
“I will.” She waved and he turned all the way with a little bow, then practically skipped through the check-out lanes without buying anything.
So what was he doing in the grocery store? Not like it was an interesting place to hang out. But then, she was the one who spent her time trying to make happily-ever-afters happen with imaginary people, so who was she to judge?
Chapter Five
A church bell chimed when Jolie entered Heavenly Shoes. Lovely bluish-white carpet covered the floor, making it feel as if she were walking on clouds.
Okay, so technically she’d fall through a cloud since a cloud was basically just water vapor, but she was sticking with the whole cottony, springy imagery.
Bright, sunshine-yellow walls led to a ceiling so covered in sparkling lights she could hardly see the tiles. It was one of those old-fashioned shoe stores with rows of seats and slanted bench thingies so Salesperson Prince Charmings could help Customer Cinderellas with their shoe selections.
A large glass case at the back was filled with an array of not-your-run-of-the-mill footwear. Shimmering ruby red slippers, cream-colored Victorian ankle boots complete with hook and eye lacings, a pair of pumps that looked like they were made of glass... Some really outlandish shoes in that case.
The girl behind the counter smiled at her. “Hi. I’m Dawn. Can I help you?”
“Hi.” Jolie held up her beleaguered shoe. “Mr. Griff said he’d take care of this for me. It’s definitely seen better days.”
Dawn commiserated, then took the shoe and disappeared into the stock room. Not a minute passed before she was out again. “It shouldn’t be long. Would you like to have a seat?”
“Actually, could I see these?” Jolie pointed to the clear pumps in the case.
Dawn smiled. “We get a lot of requests for those.” She took a key from her chain and opened the cabinet.
“I know. A friend of mine wore them in her wedding.”
Dawn smiled. “Mr. Griff does like to lend them out. Especially to brides.” She set the shoes on the counter. “Want to try them on?”
Jolie had to touch them. The temptation was too great. “What size are they? I wouldn’t want to crack them by trying to shove my foot in
something too small.”
“You know, I don’t know.” Dawn looked puzzled, then shrugged. “But don’t worry about cracking them. They’re made of Lucite, not glass.”
“Okay.” Jolie was just about to slip the little suckers on when, lo and behold, out popped Mr. Griff from the back, her mangled shoe looking completely new. Completely. There weren’t even any smudge marks on the inside.
And he had a book with him.
It was pathetic really how Jolie’s heart sped at the sight of a book. She would’ve thought since she could now afford her own books (and she bought them, thankyouverymuch) that the old hunger for the printed word wouldn’t plague her any more. But nope. She saw that paperback in his hand and it was all she could do not to salivate.
“Here you go, my dear.” He was practically kicking up his serviceable black-clad heels. “All fixed and fit as a fiddle.” He handed her the shoe and she had to tear herself away from the book.
“And I thought you might like to have this. To get my new business off the ground, so to speak.” He held out the paperback.
Was he kidding? The guy must read minds. She wanted to grab it, stopping only when she saw the shaking of her hand. For Pete’s sake, it was just a book.
Yeah, and Todd’s abs were just another six-pack.
Not going there.
“Your new business?” she asked because she was interested; it had nothing whatsoever to do with Todd’s abs.
Really.
Mr. Griff went to tip his hat, but nodded instead, being that he was unable to remove his hat since it had gotten crushed in their—okay, her—little mishap. She really hoped he could get it back into shape as fast as he had her shoe which looked brand spankin’ yellow again.
She slipped it on to hide her unbridled curiosity at the book he was offering. “What new business is that?”
“I’m opening Heavenly Books next door. That way, people heading down to the river can pick up some reading material. It’s a nice way to pass the time on a pleasant day.”
He pushed the book toward her on the counter, right past those Lucite shoes she’d suddenly lost interest in.
All of the happy memories of her childhood were wrapped up in books. Adventure, escape, freedom, family… it was all there, so she simply couldn’t refuse the book—as long as it wasn’t charity. She didn’t do charity. Period, end of story.
“Take this book and mention me to all your friends. Word of mouth is the best advertising.”
“Oh, I most definitely will. Thank you so very much, Mr. Griff.” She took out her wallet and the little man patted her hand again.
“Now, now, you must call me Jonathan and put that away. These are my gift to you. Have a good day and come back when you need another story or a new pair of shoes.”
He was so earnest she couldn’t argue with him. And he was right anyway; she’d definitely mention him to her friends. Minus the running over part, of course.
She thanked him and departed with her treasures into a beautiful, if a bit on the hot side, summer day. Luckily, a nice breeze wafted from the river a block away. She loved this neighborhood. It was one of those old-fashioned ones where people took pride in, and care of, their storefronts and sidewalks. Window boxes overflowed with portulaca and geraniums dotted the second floor apartments above the brick storefronts. Nicely pruned trees lining the sidewalks held little twinkling lights during the Christmas season, making it real festive. Just like today with all the people heading to the river, tons of kids and baby carriages in tow.
Halfway down the street she finally gave in to temptation to see the book he’d given her.
It was a Regency. How did he know that, out of every kind of romance novel there was, Regencies were her favorite? There was something about the women in those books. Their society wanted them to be pretty little brainless ornaments, concerned with nothing but the latest fashion and on-dit, but those heroines wouldn’t stand for it. They worked within their mores to assert their independence and make their own way in the world.
She so admired that. It was what she’d always aspired to: to lose the case managers and social workers and make her own decisions. To be responsible for her own life. But no, what kid ever got that kind of autonomy? Especially one in the system?
That had to be why she was drawn to those books. They’d validated her desire to make a better life for herself during all those years when she’d needed the affirmation.
The breeze kicked up again, ruffling her hair, flouncing the hem of her gauzy shirt, whispering over her skin like the soft brush of a feather, and a songbird warbled in one of the trees as Jolie passed an old-fashioned, wrought-iron bench by Arena’s.
She’d love to park her tushy down and read a few chapters, but it probably wouldn’t look so hot when Todd pulled up and she’d sent the groceries home, only to be caught reading on the job.
The job. Right. Work first. Hard Work and Persistence, those were the mantras of her life, with a little Hope and Wait thrown in for good measure.
To that end, she hiked her purse strap farther up her shoulder, tucked the book under her arm, decided to bypass her friend Bella’s restaurant around the next corner, and headed over to Todd’s office—okay, his brother’s office.
Yeah, like that was the truth.
Jolie crossed Market, waving to Signore Girondi at his newsstand, then came to a stop a third of the way down the next block in front of the mirrored building.
Best Enterprises.
An entire building. An enterprise. He was that good. Or he would be if he’d just pick up a brush. Good thing demand was still high for his prints so he could afford his big ol’ empty house.
Tall glass doors swooshed open as she approached, and a blast of Freon-coated air rushed by, flipping the hem of her blouse, tickling her tummy like that tickle she got when a good-looking guy stared at her but she didn’t want to let him know she’d noticed, but she also didn’t want him to think she wasn’t interested so she’d shoot him eensy-weensy glances out of the corner of her eye, all the while little flips and twinges danced through her stomach. That kind of tickle.
A guy in rent-a-cop gray with a flashy gold emblem on his shirtsleeve stood up behind a desk when she headed over.
“Hi,” she said, putting enough chipper in her voice to merit a smile. “I’m here to see Mr. Best.”
“Which one?” The man didn’t crack a smile. Not even a little insincere twitch of the lips. Nothing.
She couldn’t have that. She’d asked a simple question, not the combination to Fort Knox, for Pete’s sake. “Um…Todd?”
He scanned her from head to toe. Now, if Joe Schmoe on the street were to do that she’d be highly insulted—or highly flattered depending where Mr. Schmoe fell on People Magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive list. But Sour-Puss made her feel as if she was in a doctor’s office. Or a police line-up. Honestly, did the guy think she was packing a gun in this outfit?
So just for kicks and giggles, she did a “ta-da” twirl on her repaired shoe, turning back to face him just in time to see him roll his eyes.
And the faintest glimmer of a smile. Bingo.
She only got the glimmer, but it was enough. He tucked his chin onto his security-guard-special collar and lifted a large leather book from somewhere below the chest-high marble security desk. “Sign this.”
Nice manners, buddy. She gave him that eyebrow-raising trick.
“Please,” he conceded, his smile getting a little bigger.
Now that wasn’t so bad, was it? “Sure, okay.” She scribbled her name in her best USA-Today-Best-Selling-Author autograph (yes, she’d been practicing; it never hurt to be prepared), and headed to the shiny silver elevator bank.
“Miss? Just a moment, please.”
Wow. He’d progressed from two words to five. She did tend to grow on people.
She turned around. “Yes?”
“Mr. Best’s office is on the tenth floor, but there’s a retirement party on the eighth, so you might
want to stop there first.”
“Gotcha. Thanks for the info.” She tapped the UP button on the elevators. Retirement party? She doubted Todd was in party mode. Not “today.”
She’d take her chances in Mike’s office.
With a soft little ding, the doors opened to a nice, chi-chi elevator, all mirrors and muted lighting. And paintings. His paintings. Just like in the lobby.
A soft whir and before she knew it: Top Floor. Of course his office would be on top. Okay, his brother’s office. Yeah, she was getting tired of making that distinction. It was his office—his brother was just borrowing it. Or keeping it dust-free for him. Whatever.
She took a few steps into the empty elevator foyer. Where was everyone? At the retirement party? Hmm, maybe Todd had gone.
No, that just didn’t ring true. Not with his mood “today.” She’d take a look around.
Steel gray carpet, very plush and sound-absorbing, swallowed her footsteps. Pale gray walls, what few there were, stood as the perfect backdrop for Todd’s vivid landscapes. Banks of windows let in almost a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the town. Traffic on the street was light today. Probably because of all the people hanging out at the park on the riverbank. A rainbow of shirts of all sizes and shapes ringed the fountain there. A couple of paddleboats lazed around on the river with a pair of speedboats rippling past them.
She hung a right at the water cooler and headed toward the offices. Probably where the big guns handled all the sales that got Todd’s pictures into every prestigious building in the country. From the looks of the furnishings and décor, they did their jobs extremely well.
A huge expanse of cherry wood double doors loomed at the far end of the hall. It must be his office. His brother’s—oh, whatever.
A matched set of his paintings graced the doorway. She read the plaques beneath them. Riverwalk South and Riverwalk North.
Beauty and The Best (Once-Upon-A-Time Romance) Page 4
