Cupid's Christmas (Serendipity #3)(8)

On Tuesday morning Lindsay went right back to what had become her routine—pick up a latte at Starbucks and walk to the Big Book Barn. She didn’t even glance at the faces of the males she passed because she was focused on the thought of finding an affordable apartment. She was in the midst of tallying up the price of new window shades when she pushed through the glass door and saw Sara McClusky dabbing her eyes with a balled up tissue. Lindsay bypassed the counter and walked over to Sara. “What’s wrong?”

Sara stopped wiping her eyes, pulled another tissue from her pocket and blew her nose. Instead of answering the question, she started sobbing again and waggled a finger toward Howard, the store manager. “Ask him,” she finally sniffled.

“I will,” Lindsay said, and turned toward the counter where Howard was standing. He didn’t appear any too happy either. “What’s up with Sara?” she asked.

Howard crooked the right side of his mouth the way he did when customers complained about a book costing less at some other store. “It’s not Sara, it’s everybody,” he grunted. “Pennington is closing the store.”

“Closing the store? Why…”

Howard shrugged, “He said the rent’s too high, so he didn’t renew the lease.”

“What about us? What about our jobs?”

Alfred Pennington owned five bookstores in the city. The Big Book Barn was the smallest and least profitable. “There are no jobs,” Howard said, “He’s closing the doors November thirtieth and giving everyone two weeks’ severance. That’s it.”

“You mean we’re all out of a job? Even you?”

Howard lowered his head and started to fumble with some invoices on the counter. “Well, not me,” he said, “Pennington found a spot for me at the Madison Avenue store.”

“You’re kidding? Sara and I have been with the store for almost two years, you’ve been here six months, what about seniority?”

Howard cleared his throat, “I discussed that with Pennington, but he needs a store manager and neither of you are qualified to—”

“Qualified! I know more about this store than you do!”

“The decision’s been made. November thirtieth is your last day.”

Lindsay felt the fire starting in her toes, running up her legs, spreading to her arms and eventually bubbling into her mouth where it shot out in a barrage of angry words. “So, you’re manager material, huh? Well then, try managing the store without us!” She grabbed the red-eyed Sara by the hand and started toward the door. “We quit!” she shouted back. Although Sara looked a bit doubtful, she tagged along saying nothing. With Sara trailing a full pace behind, Lindsay stomped across Second Avenue then slowed her pace.

“What now?” Sara asked timidly.

“Don’t worry, once Howard has a few hours of doing everything himself, he’ll be begging us to come back. He’ll insist Pennington find a spot for us in one of the other stores. Just wait.”

The two girls walked north to Twenty-Fifth Street then turned and started toward Broadway. As they went, Sara continued to express her doubt that Howard was going to change his mind. “Even if he does,” she said, “What makes you think he can convince Pennington to find a spot for us in another store?”

“Trust me,” Lindsay replied, and kept right on walking. It was not yet ten-thirty when she declared it time for lunch. As soon as they settled into the booth, she checked to make sure her cell phone was turned on. She was still confident Howard would be calling within the next two hours. “You’ll see,” she assured Sara. They ordered sandwiches and began to wait. After an hour had passed, Lindsay pulled the cell phone from her purse and laid it on the table. “I want to be sure to hear the ring,” she said, but, of course, there was no ring—not that hour or the hour that followed or the hour after that.

“Maybe we ought to go back,” Sara said. “If Howard really needs help, he might be willing to let us keep our jobs.”

“And then what?” Lindsay replied. “In two months, we’re out of a job again. Is it worth it to go groveling for a measly month or two?”

Sara hesitated for a moment, then stammered, “Well, maybe.”

“He’ll call. Just give it time.”

Two full days passed with no call from Howard. Sara then went back to the store and found two young men behind the counter. “You work here?” she asked. The taller one nodded.

“Since when?”

“Yesterday,” he answered. “Right now the job’s temporary, but I’m hoping it will become permanent.”

“It won’t,” Sara replied, then she turned and walked out. Moments later she telephoned Lindsay. “Howard’s not going to call,” she said. “He’s got two temps working at the store.”

“Impossible,” Lindsay gasped. “How could he…” the realization that she had no job and was about to lose her apartment settled in her stomach like cream that had soured. “I can’t believe it…” she moaned, “What are we going to do?”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line, and then Sara suggested she might go to Florida to stay with her sister. “I suppose I could get a job waitressing,” she said flatly.