I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you.
~2 Timothy 1:6, (NIV)~
1
Jami Mitchell dusted the last empty shelf in Nana’s Novel Notions and placed a set of devotionals on display. She stepped back to swipe beads of perspiration from her brow as she surveyed the bright and cheery shop. Books that were large, small and everything in between stood like diligent soldiers on gleaming shelves while glossy magazines splashed along a good part of the back wall. Large-paneled mirrors strategically placed behind the checkout counter and around one corner toward the information desk, added the illusion that the shop was double in size. If she ignored a small mountain of empty boxes that littered the floor of the cramped stock room— and air conditioning that was on the fritz—the bookstore was ready for opening day. Blue ink smeared across her left palm—letters scribbled in quick block print—reminded her to check on the local company that had promised to service the compressor ASAP. They’d better—the opening loomed less than a week away.
Jami glanced toward the sparkling front display window as a gust of air carried the fresh scent of pine through the propped entrance door. Beyond, the majestic Angelina Forest rose like a puckered green quilt to kiss a sky so clear and blue that it made Jami’s heart sing. She thought of Nana and the gift she’d left—enough cash for Jami to quit her day job as a marketing consultant in Dallas and return to Angel Falls to rent this perfect space and open the bookstore she’d always dreamed of. Though Jami missed Nana deeply, the generous inheritance allowed her memory to live on through Nana’s Novel Notions, just as she’d promised. Nana had loved books, and she’d passed her deep appreciation on to Jami. Now, Jami just had to grow the bookstore into a huge success. She refused to disgrace Nana’s memory with failure. The very thought turned her belly to a tangle of rubber bands.
Jami glanced up, squinting into the glare of overhead lights. Was that a cobweb dangling from the fixture above the paperback turn style? She frowned, grabbed a wad of paper towels from a shelf beneath the checkout counter, and launched herself toward the ceiling, hoping to reach the eight-legged menacing interloper while cringing at the thought of a fat, hairy spider raining down on her.
One giant leap, two, but it was no use. She needed a good two feet in height, and she’d left the broom in the stockroom. Groaning, Jami stepped back a moment to survey the situation. Without further hesitation she wiggled one sandal-clad foot onto the lowest shelf and shimmied her way along the books and toward the ceiling, wishing for a little—no, a lot—more height. Standing merely a hair’s breadth over five feet tall had been perfect for her cheerleading days, but as far as life after high school, being vertically challenged was a huge disadvantage.
“Jami?” The slow southern drawl startled her as she scaled the third shelf, hanging on by one clammy hand as the other attempted to pluck the web from the ceiling. She stumbled, slipped, and with a shriek toppled toward the floor.
Into strong, secure arms.
The scent of spearmint and pine swirled like a halo, and Jami felt the tickle of hair along her cheeks as the solid arms enfolded her. Shivers rippled, despite the oppressive heat.
“You OK?” That voice again…so familiar.
“Oh—my—goodness!” It took a moment for her heart to downshift from Mach speed to cruise. “You scared the life out of me.”
“Sorry, but you were scaling those shelves like a reckless spider monkey—”
“Reckless—a monkey!” It was more a shock than a question as her voice squeaked. She was, as sure as she breathed, never reckless. And a monkey…ugh!
“That’s right. And I was afraid you might fall…”
“I was managing just fine until you sneaked up on me.” She pressed a hand to his chest, attempting to wiggle from his
~2 Timothy 1:6, (NIV)~
1
Jami Mitchell dusted the last empty shelf in Nana’s Novel Notions and placed a set of devotionals on display. She stepped back to swipe beads of perspiration from her brow as she surveyed the bright and cheery shop. Books that were large, small and everything in between stood like diligent soldiers on gleaming shelves while glossy magazines splashed along a good part of the back wall. Large-paneled mirrors strategically placed behind the checkout counter and around one corner toward the information desk, added the illusion that the shop was double in size. If she ignored a small mountain of empty boxes that littered the floor of the cramped stock room— and air conditioning that was on the fritz—the bookstore was ready for opening day. Blue ink smeared across her left palm—letters scribbled in quick block print—reminded her to check on the local company that had promised to service the compressor ASAP. They’d better—the opening loomed less than a week away.
Jami glanced toward the sparkling front display window as a gust of air carried the fresh scent of pine through the propped entrance door. Beyond, the majestic Angelina Forest rose like a puckered green quilt to kiss a sky so clear and blue that it made Jami’s heart sing. She thought of Nana and the gift she’d left—enough cash for Jami to quit her day job as a marketing consultant in Dallas and return to Angel Falls to rent this perfect space and open the bookstore she’d always dreamed of. Though Jami missed Nana deeply, the generous inheritance allowed her memory to live on through Nana’s Novel Notions, just as she’d promised. Nana had loved books, and she’d passed her deep appreciation on to Jami. Now, Jami just had to grow the bookstore into a huge success. She refused to disgrace Nana’s memory with failure. The very thought turned her belly to a tangle of rubber bands.
Jami glanced up, squinting into the glare of overhead lights. Was that a cobweb dangling from the fixture above the paperback turn style? She frowned, grabbed a wad of paper towels from a shelf beneath the checkout counter, and launched herself toward the ceiling, hoping to reach the eight-legged menacing interloper while cringing at the thought of a fat, hairy spider raining down on her.
One giant leap, two, but it was no use. She needed a good two feet in height, and she’d left the broom in the stockroom. Groaning, Jami stepped back a moment to survey the situation. Without further hesitation she wiggled one sandal-clad foot onto the lowest shelf and shimmied her way along the books and toward the ceiling, wishing for a little—no, a lot—more height. Standing merely a hair’s breadth over five feet tall had been perfect for her cheerleading days, but as far as life after high school, being vertically challenged was a huge disadvantage.
“Jami?” The slow southern drawl startled her as she scaled the third shelf, hanging on by one clammy hand as the other attempted to pluck the web from the ceiling. She stumbled, slipped, and with a shriek toppled toward the floor.
Into strong, secure arms.
The scent of spearmint and pine swirled like a halo, and Jami felt the tickle of hair along her cheeks as the solid arms enfolded her. Shivers rippled, despite the oppressive heat.
“You OK?” That voice again…so familiar.
“Oh—my—goodness!” It took a moment for her heart to downshift from Mach speed to cruise. “You scared the life out of me.”
“Sorry, but you were scaling those shelves like a reckless spider monkey—”
“Reckless—a monkey!” It was more a shock than a question as her voice squeaked. She was, as sure as she breathed, never reckless. And a monkey…ugh!
“That’s right. And I was afraid you might fall…”
“I was managing just fine until you sneaked up on me.” She pressed a hand to his chest, attempting to wiggle from his
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