Wishing for Wonderful (Serendipity #3)(10)

Howard shrugged. “Supposedly 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: three in Manhattan, one in Brooklyn and another in the Bronx. 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. 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. “Pennington and I discussed that, but the problem is he needs a store manager and neither of you are qualified to—”

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

Not ready to argue that claim, Howard turned back to the invoices he’d been checking. “The decision’s been made. November thirtieth is your last day.”

Lindsay felt an angry ball of fire starting in her toes, running up her legs, spreading to her arms and eventually bubbling up 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. With one foot already outside, she turned back and shouted, “We quit!”

Although Sara looked a bit doubtful, she tagged along saying nothing. Lindsay angrily stomped across Second Avenue with Sara trailing a full pace behind and kept going until they crossed Twenty-First Street. She then slowed her pace.

“What now?” Sara asked timidly.

“Don’t worry,” Lindsay replied, “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 would 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?”

“Just trust me,” Lindsay answered and kept right on walking.

It was barely ten-thirty when Lindsay suggested they stop for lunch. “We might as well take advantage of the few hours we have off,” she said with a laugh.

Confident Howard would be calling before long, Lindsay checked to make sure her cell phone was turned on. Seeing the look of doubt on Sara’s face, she again assured her.

“You’ll see,” she said, “he’ll be begging us to come back. Why, I bet we won’t even have time for dessert.”

They settled into a booth, 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.

“When we’re chatting I might not hear the phone if it’s in my purse,” she explained.

They ordered another round of Cokes and the cell phone sat there, silent as a graveyard. There was no ring, not that hour or the hour that followed. In time small groups of people wandered in, ate lunch and left. Still the phone did not ring.

“Maybe we should go ahead and splurge on a decadent dessert,” Lindsay suggested feebly.

“Maybe we just ought to go back and say we’re sorry,” Sara replied. “If Howard needs help, he might be willing to let us keep our jobs.”

“And then what?” Lindsay said. “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, “Yeah, I think maybe it is.”

“He’ll call. Just give him time.”





Two full days passed with no call from Howard. Sara eventually 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 in the bubbly voice of an energetic new employee. “Right now the job’s temporary, but I’m hoping it’ll become permanent.”

“It won’t,” Sara said sadly; 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 said. “How did he find replacements so quick?”

The realization that she had no job and was about to lose her apartment settled in her stomach like a lead weight. “I can’t believe this. Now what are we going to do?”

“I have no idea,” Sara answered.

Sara was a girl who left high school in her junior year, a girl who’d come to New York hoping to find work in the theatre. Instead she’d found nothing but rejection. When even the opportunity for auditions dwindled and disappeared the Big Book Barn had been the only place that would hire her, and they did so only because she was willing to take a pittance for pay. With little or no options she gave a long heartfelt sigh.