01_The Best Gift

by Irene Hannon

  He folded his arms across his chest. “We won’t get back the customers we lose.”

  “Maybe we’ll pick up some new ones.”

  Blake supposed he could fight A.J. on this. But she had taken his concerns into consideration and was willing to discuss it if things didn’t work out. He supposed he could at least give her the time she had requested to test the waters. “Okay. Let’s try it for a few weeks. You don’t mind if I funnel any questions about this your way, do you?”

  “No. It was my decision. I’ll defend it.”

  And that’s exactly what she had to do a few days later when a customer asked Blake about one of the books A.J. had canceled. A.J. overheard the question and, true to her word, quickly stepped in. She glanced down at the signature line on the credit card slip the woman had just signed.

  “Mrs. Renner, I’m A. J. Williams, one of the owners of Turning Leaves. I wanted to let you know that we’re not going to be carrying that title. As you can see, we’re a small shop, so we have to be very selective of our inventory. Quite honestly, not all bestselling books have content that’s worthy of our limited space. I’ve reviewed an advance copy of that book, and I’m afraid it just didn’t make the cut.”

  The woman looked surprised. “That sounds like the philosophy at the Christian bookstore I go to. I didn’t realize secular bookstores were so diligent.”

  “I don’t think most are. But we’re small enough that we can be a little more careful.”

  “Well, that’s good to know. I have to admit, some of the novels I’ve read have shocked me. But you never know until you’ve already bought the book. It’s nice to think that a secular store has some standards, too.”

  Not all patrons were so understanding, of course. But Blake had to admit that A.J. handled all the comments—and complaints—with grace and honesty.

  Blake doubted that he and A.J. would ever see eye-to-eye on how to run the business. But, by and large, her decisions had been good ones. He glanced toward the reading nook. In its former location, it was rare for more than one chair to be occupied. Now patrons vied for the seats. Since they’d added the play area for children, young mothers and grandparents lingered longer in the shop. And they’d had to restock the glass display case regularly to keep up with the demand for the craft items, which had more than compensated for the sales lost by closing on Sunday.

  Blake still didn’t think this latest decision would be as good for business. But it was consistent. A.J. might be a go-with-the-flow kind of woman, but in one thing she was very predictable. She stuck to her convictions.

  He glanced toward her as she helped a patron select a book on gardening. Her head was bent as she listened intently to the older woman, and the late-afternoon light from the window gave her skin a golden glow. He watched as she turned to scan the selection of garden books, a slight frown on her brow, her lithe form silhouetted by the light. A moment later she reached up to select a thin volume. He was struck once again by her slender, graceful hands, recalling the night she’d arrived and his surprise when he’d reached for her hand in greeting. Because of her height, he’d been taken aback by its delicacy. And maybe he was just getting used to her funky clothes, but he was suddenly able to look past her attire and recognize that A.J. was, in fact, a lovely woman.

  With a will of iron.

  “A.J., do you have a minute?”

  A.J. turned to find George from the Greek restaurant down the block standing at the end of the aisle. He looked agitated, and she frowned. “Sure. What’s up?”

  “Can I speak with you, someplace private?”

  “The office is about as private as it gets around here.” She headed toward the front desk. “Trish, I’ll be in the back with Mr. Pashos. Stay at the desk, okay? Blake should be back from lunch any minute.”

  “Sure thing.” The girl happily climbed on a stool behind the counter and proceeded to inspect her nails.

  A.J. led the way toward the office, and motioned George to a seat. “Is everything okay?”

  He sat, but leaned forward intently and shook his head. “Nothing is okay. Do you know about this thing called TIF?”

  “No. What is it?”

  “It stands for tax increment financing. The government can use it to help develop areas where—how do you say?—the economic potential isn’t being maximized.”

  A.J. frowned. “Okay. So why is this upsetting you?”

  George stood and began to pace. “There is a developer who wants to buy this block and put in a retail and residential development. He has already started the process.”

  Twin furrows appeared on A.J.’s brow. “But what if we don’t want to sell?”

  “That is where TIF comes in. If he can convince the city that his development will generate more revenue for Maplewood, we could all be shut down.”

  “But that’s wrong!”

  “Of course it is wrong! Your aunt, she would fight this! She was the first one to open a shop here, more than twenty years ago, when this area was not so good and businesses were closing, not opening. She believed in this area. And she persuaded others to follow. Your aunt, she was good at that. After we became friends and she found out that Sophia and I wanted to start our own restaurant, she helped us. We would not have our restaurant if it was not for her generosity and kindness, may the Lord be with her. And then others followed. Joe at the bakery, and Alene at the natural food store. Rose at the deli has been here for many years, and so has Steve. Carlos at the art gallery is the newest, but he has been here for ten years, too. We were the pioneers. We took a chance and invested in this area. And now that it is hot and trendy, what do we get? They want to throw us out! It is not right! The whole character of the neighborhood, it will change!” George’s accent grew thicker as he spoke, and his agitation increased.

  “There must be a way to stop this,” A.J. reasoned. “Have you talked to any of the others?”

  “No, not yet. I come to you first. You and Jo, you seem the same in many ways. Kind and caring. I did not think you would want your aunt’s legacy to be sacrificed just so more money could be made by a rich developer. I think maybe you might have an idea.”

  A.J. tapped a pencil against the desk, frowning thoughtfully. “Well, I certainly believe there’s strength in numbers. I guess the first thing we need to do is tell all the merchants on this block what’s going on, and then have a meeting. If we all put our heads together, I’m sure we can come up with something.”

  “A meeting. Yes, that is a good way to start. But soon, A.J. We cannot waste time.”

  “I agree. Why don’t we see if everyone is available Thursday night? We can have the meeting here, after the shop closes.”

  “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 a
t 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.

  Chapter Four

  “Hi, 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.”