Lena's Property

I was locking the front door of Bellwether Books when Theo Mercer said, "I'm in love with you." The key stopped halfway around. Rain tapped the awning above me. Behind the glass, the bookstore looked warm and orderly, though I knew the truth: the radiator hissed without heating the back room, the ceiling over the local-history shelf had a brown water stain, and my bank account had just lost another month of patience. Theo stood on the sidewalk with a paper cup in one hand and a leather portfolio tucked beneath his arm. He wore the same navy coat he'd had in college, the one I used to borrow when I forgot a scarf. That old familiarity made his words land harder. I pulled the key free. "You can't say that while I'm holding a lock." "I can wait." "You've had years to wait." His expression shifted. I couldn't tell whether I'd hurt him or only surprised him. I'd spent nine years pretending not to notice the way my attention followed him across crowded rooms. It had been a private habit, like saving him the corner piece of a pie or remembering how he took his coffee. "I know," he said. "I should've told you before now." The portfolio slid slightly beneath his arm. A white sheet poked out, stamped with the blue-and-gray logo of Mercer Development. I looked at it, then back at him. "Why are you here?" He set his coffee on the brick ledge. "I wanted to tell you before the meeting tomorrow." "What meeting?" His pause answered before his mouth did. I held out my hand. "Show me." Theo opened the portfolio. The top page was a rendering of the waterfront block where my grandmother had opened Bellwether Books forty-one years earlier. The picture showed pale stone, broad windows, and a glass-covered walkway leading toward the harbor. The bookstore's name appeared in small lettering near the corner, as if the people who'd drawn it had already decided I would stay. Under the rendering sat a letter of intent addressed to me. Mercer Development offered to purchase my building for an amount large enough to pay off its mortgage and leave me with money to spare. "The project is still under review," Theo said. "Nothing's final." "But you came to tell me you're in love with me the night before your company asks me to sell." "I came because the board approved the offer this afternoon. I didn't want you hearing it from someone else." "That's not what I asked." He glanced down at the rendering. I saw my whole block through his company's eyes: square footage, access, frontage, projected value. The old fish market next door, the apartments upstairs from the florist, the narrow side entrance where my grandmother had once written my name in chalk. "Both things are true," he said. That was worse than a denial. At least a denial would have given me something clean to reject. I folded the letter back into the portfolio without reading the number twice. "You should've told me about the project before the board approved an offer." "I couldn't. I was under a confidentiality agreement." "Then you should've waited to tell me this." His mouth tightened. "I didn't want to wait another year." I wanted to ask whether he'd chosen tonight because he feared losing the deal or because he feared losing me. I hated that either answer could hurt. "Take the offer back to your board," I said. "I'm not signing anything tomorrow." "All right." "And don't use this." I tapped the portfolio. "Not the old friendship, not whatever you just told me, not the fact that my roof leaks." "I wouldn't." "Your company drew my store into its development plan before asking me. You may not think that's using me, but that's what it looks like from here." Theo lifted his coffee again, then set it down untouched. "I understand." I wasn't sure he did. I wasn't sure I did either. He walked with me to the narrow side door of the building. I unlocked it and went inside. The smell of paper, dust, and the lemon oil my grandmother had used on the counters met me at once. Theo remained on the step. "I meant what I said," he told me. I held the door open just long enough to answer. "I know. That's why I can't pretend I didn't hear it." Then I shut the door between us. *****