The Light of Asteria Read Online Free PDF Page A

dusk.
    “Thanks, you’re a doll.” He went to the small
stock room, and I started working on the insufferably boring task
of sorting nails.
    “I’ll be back before five,” he yelled, as he
headed out the door.
    “I’ll be here,” ridiculously bored out of my
mind. Really, couldn’t we just close up shop? No one ever came in
on Saturday afternoons.
    Rakes beautifully displayed in the storefront
window and all the shelves straightened, I ran out of things to do
and decided to start on English homework.
    Getting a fresh cup of coffee, I pulled out a
tattered copy of Shakespeare’s greatest works. I couldn’t help but
grin. In high school, Shakespeare was frustrating and difficult to
understand. But now, the gentle cadence of his iambic pentameter
flowed through my mind, and I understood the complexities of the
Elizabethan verbiage. The cowbell over the door signaled I had a
customer. My stomach flipped.
    “Can I help you?” I asked, quickly trying to
dog-ear the page I was on.
    “Do you have tack hammers?” asked a rich
baritone voice. The stool tipped as I jumped to my feet. I lunged
for the seat; the book flew across the counter crashing into the
mug. Dark liquid streamed across my notebook, dripping into a small
pool on the other side.
    “Hammers are on the back wall.” I muttered,
searching below the counter for paper towels.
    Gavin chuckled and went to the back of the
store, mercifully giving me a minute to compose myself. I finally
found some blue shop towels by the stairs. Sopping up the mess, I
noticed a dark headed man standing next to a tall brunette outside
the storefront window. He glanced at me and they briskly walked
away.
    Gavin came up to the now slightly sticky
counter with a hammer and some nails in hand. The ancient cash
register’s bell rang.
    “That’ll be $27.42,” I said, focusing on the
register. A credit card found its way to the counter, and I copied
the information on the carbon receipt that was so popular in the
seventies. I could feel his gaze as I put the hammer and nails in a
brown paper bag, carefully folding the top.
    “Gavin, what are you doing here?” My pulse
skipped a beat when I said his name.
    “You said if I was near Lake Junaluska I
would see you then.” He smiled, and I melted. Volatile emotions
made my legs a little weak, and I thankfully sat down on the old
wooden stool.
    “How did you know I worked here?” Immediately
there was defensiveness in the room. He faced the front door and
sighed.
    “You told your friends you worked on
Saturdays for Mr. Vernor at a hardware store. It didn’t take long
to put two and two together,” he finally admitted.
    That was sweet … his eyes warmed. The unknown
overpowered every other emotion, and I blushed.
    “This is an interesting place to work. Why
did you choose this establishment?”
    “Mr. Vernor was kind enough to hire me when I
was fourteen. He schedules work around my classes.” I noticed my
hands were trembling, and I quickly grabbed a towel and started
circling the counter again.
    “Hardware supplies aren’t very popular with
the eighteen year old crowd these days,” he chuckled.
    “The farm is old and I can order anything we
need at cost. Working here has saved Edna a ton of money.” I looked
down; the silence stretched.
    “Am I keeping you from your
responsibilities?”
    I shook my head. “No. I just have to mind the
store.” I realized Edna was the only person I had spoken to this
week. “I’m glad to have someone to talk to, though. I can’t stand
to be alone,” I confessed, the honesty shocking me a little.
    “Don’t you have many friends here?”
    I looked up from wiping the counter. So lost
in the green, I blurted out the truth again.
    “My only friends are over an hour away. I
have no interest in parties, football games, or stupidity, and so I
guess the answer would be no.”
    I grimaced. That sounded pathetic, even to
me. He found the nearest stool for sale and sat down on the