There was Jack Munroe with a vase of white rosebuds cradled in his hands.
“These are for you, to say thank you. I owe you an apology,” Jack said.
“Please, don’t worry. It was understandable given the circumstances.”
Katherine had to move closer to accept the bouquet, close enough to notice he didn’t wear a wedding ring. Not that she should be noticing. Not that she wanted to.
“You’re generous to say that. Needless to say, I don’t take criticism of my daughter very well.”
“I wasn’t criticizing her. Just trying to make things right. Everyone makes mistakes, especially teenagers.”
How could he have gotten it so wrong? The woman wasn’t high and mighty, she wasn’t righteous and judgmental. She was amazing. And if he stood here one second longer and kept this conversation going, then he was going to make a huge mistake.
JILLIAN HART
makes her home in Washington State, where she has lived most of her life. When Jillian is not hard at work on her next story, she loves to read, go to lunch with her friends and spend quiet evenings with her family.
Precious Blessings
Jillian Hart
But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.
—Galatians 5:22-23
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Letter to Reader
Questions for Discussion
Chapter One
“Go on, do it.” The barely audible whisper skimmed over the tall aisle of displayed greeting cards on the other side of the store.
Ordinarily, there was too much noise in the Corner Christian Book Store to hear a low, private conversation. But with the heavy February snowfall tumbling just outside the Spring Is Coming front window display and the fact that most of the customers had hurried through their shopping and left for home when the snow began falling in earnest, the whispering was almost too loud in the quiet, nearly empty store.
Katherine McKaslin didn’t stop her work straightening and restocking the greeting-card display, but she did look around. The last time she’d heard those words whispered in the store, someone had been shoplifting.
Two teenage girls stage right, between the crystals case and the humorous greeting cards. They giggled softly, their heads bobbing together to tell secrets. All Katherine could see of them over the chin-high displays were the tops of their heads. One had a tuft-like hairdo of orange spikes, and her friend had blond hair streaked with blueberry strands.
Ah, teenage rebellion. It was a stage she’d missed entirely, which was probably why she was thirty-two and still single. She’d always been stuck in the same rut. There was comfort in the familiar.
Whenever she got an impulse to color her hair—not orange or blue—and maybe add a few highlights to her plain blond locks or wear shoes with more than a sensible one-inch heel, it was short-lived. What would her family think? How would she explain it?
They’d probably say, that’s not like you, Katherine, what’s gotten into you? And so here she was, thirty-two and working in her parents’ store, wearing sensible low-heeled shoes and a black blazer, blouse and skirt that suited a conservative businesswoman. Ever since she’d been a teenager, she’d been afraid of making mistakes.
“I’ll be back,” Spence, her brother, called as he shrugged into his nicest coat. “Send prayers and positive thoughts.”
“Already done.”
With a chime of the overhead bell, the door swished shut behind Spence and she was alone on the floor. She swung her gaze back to her work, pressing down serious worries over the store’s worsening financial situation. Her stomach tightened with dread, but before she could send a prayer on Spence’s behalf, a blur of movement caught her eye.
There, in the corner security mirror, she had a perfect view of the blue-haired girl slipping something inside her oversized purple book bag.
Oh, no. You aren’t shoplifting, right? Katherine waited, pulse thumping, hoping against hope the teen was reaching for her cell phone. Or maybe the girl was checking where she’d left her keys. Customers did that all the time.
But even as she searched for other possibilities, Katherine knew gut-level that it was serious. One look in the mirror showed the empty spaces in the crystals case right in front of the door. The door that should have been locked. Sure enough, the blue-haired teenager had just made a colossal mistake.
Go on, kid, put the figurines back. That would be the best outcome for everyone involved, she thought as she crossed the floor calmly to the counter. Give the girls the chance to do the right thing.
It had happened before in situations like this and it could happen again. She stared hard at the top of the girls’ heads and wasn’t surprised when the blue-haired girl looked up. Katherine couldn’t tell the girl’s exact expression beneath the layers of mascara, thick black eyeliner and shadow, but she thought she saw a flash of fear before a brittle hardness settled into a cold-eyed stare.
Okay, maybe not the nicest girl on the planet, but she didn’t look like the worst, either. And that brief flash of genuine emotion was telling. The girl wasn’t well practiced at stealing. Maybe she wasn’t a hardened criminal just yet.
“Put them back, please.” Maybe the please had been a little too polite. That was another one of her problems. “Return the figurines or I’ll call the police.”
Those hard eyes widened in horror. In a split second both girls dashed around the display case, and raced toward the door.
Big mistake. This was not what she wanted. Katherine took off after them, heart heavy, as the detectors went off. The girls flew out onto the sidewalk. Another few seconds and they’d be lost in the thickly falling snow.
Kelly slung open the break room door. “What’s wrong?”
“Shoplifters. Call the cops.”
Trusting her best employee to make the call, Katherine hurried out into the storm. The blast of the cold January snowstorm struck her like a brick wall. She swiped the wind-driven snow from her face. Which way had they gone?
North, into the storm and in the direction of the high school, judging by the fresh sets of boot prints. The veil of snow thickened, and they were gone from her sight. Right along with about two hundred and fifty dollars in merchandise she suspected.
Great.