This time of day, light caught on the baubles hanging in the shop's bay window and spattered rainbows across one cream-white wall. Leona secretly loved it; she would never have admitted it to Paul, but she'd hung the baubles there precisely to catch that light.

            "How about this one?" Leona unearthed a hand-thrown clay lamp base from a shelving unit along the wall and straightened back up, blinking rainbows from her eyes.

"It's beautiful." Her favorite customer, Mrs. Jacobs, leaned forward to admire the intricacies of the glazing. "It's perfect, Leona. You always know just what to pick out."

"Always a pleasure to help. Let me wrap it up for you. You said you wanted the set?"

"Yes, please, dear. I know she'll love them. She loves everything you help me find."

Leona had never met Mrs. J.'s erstwhile granddaughter, but she'd heard a lot about her over the years. Mrs. Jacobs had been coming to Grenton Fine Crafts since it had opened twenty years ago. She, like Leona, was a creature of routines.

Back at the counter, she wrapped the lamps thoroughly in tissue paper, placed them in the shop's signature teal-blue bags, and handed them across the counter to the older woman, who beamed at her. "Anything special planned for the holidays, my dear?"

            "You're looking at it, Mrs. J." Being in the shop was special to her. There was nowhere else she'd rather be, even if she was surrounded by constant reminders of her least favorite holiday-her least favorite day, if she had to choose just one.

            Mrs. J. frowned, glancing at the door leading into the back room, where Leona's boss, Paul Bouchard, was unpacking a new shipment with their only other full-timer, Margie. "Surely Paul is giving you time off? Paul, you're not making poor Leona work too hard, are you?"

Paul poked his head out through the doorframe, grinning and running a hand through his short gray curls. "Are you kidding? You try getting this girl to take a day off."

            "I'm very hard to get rid of," Leona agreed. "Like a fungus. Anyway, I had yesterday off."

            Paul still scheduled her off every other Saturday, whether she asked for it or not. Leona and her best friend, Iris, had started their tradition of Saturday runs when Iris had still lived in the States and had been, theoretically, working a nine-to-five job as an administrative assistant. The routine had hiccupped periodically, when Iris had changed jobs or travelled, but they'd always come back to it. 

After Iris went to Europe six months ago, Leona was left to carry the tradition on her own. And she had, because that was how she was-until yesterday.

She hadn't been able to help herself; she'd been drawn into the strangeness of seeing Simon Labelle sitting alone on that bench, in a wool hat pulled low enough to brush the line of his jaw and a navy fleece that had hugged his muscular back. She almost hadn't recognized him like that-out of uniform, alone, clearly lost in his thoughts. And when she'd sat down next to him, she'd seen something in his pale blue eyes she'd never seen there before. Sadness, perhaps. The sight had unsettled her more than she cared to admit. She'd never imagined Simon feeling anything other than a sort of official annoyance.

            The idea that there could be a little more depth to him fascinated her. He'd always been good-looking, in his clean-shaven, buttoned-up way, but that hint of vulnerability had shaded his good looks into something else. Something so...tantalizing.

The door to her shop opened, bringing in a cool breeze that soothed her flushed cheeks.

Simon Labelle walked inside. He took in the entire shop in a matter of seconds, then fixed his gaze on her, his eyes intense and serious. Whatever she had seen in his expression yesterday was gone today, but her memory of it had steeped into her blood, warming her from within.

Deliberately ignoring him while she collected her thoughts, Leona said a protracted good-bye to Mrs. Jacobs. Simon prowled around a display of blown glass Christmas ornaments, his gaze never leaving her.

            After Mrs. J. left, Leona made a show of looking around, searching for anyone else who might need her help. The shop usually did steady business, especially around the holidays, but it was now completely empty apart from Simon. He walked up to her counter and stood in front of it with his big arms folded across his chest. He was in uniform today, with a gun at his belt. His sensual mouth flattened into its usual annoyed line.

            "Yes?" She smiled toothily at him. "May I interest you in a wooden box carved in the shape of a frog? It's the perfect size for holding matches, if sir is a smoker?" She could go on like this all day. "Or, for a lady friend, might I recommend a hand-quilted handbag? We have a very nice selection of colors, just in from-"

            "Leona." His handsome jaw clenched. "I do not want a handbag."

            He said it with such perfect seriousness that she dissolved into laughter at her counter and had to lean on the cash register to collect herself.

            "I actually just wanted to thank you. For yesterday," he continued, with stubborn, if irritated, determination. "And apologize. I might have been kind of a dick."

She caught herself before she could show her surprise. "Are you allowed to say 'dick' on duty?"

"My shift hasn't started-and also yes, obviously. For the love of God, Leona Chaisty, I'm trying to ask if I can buy you dinner."

This time, she couldn't manage to suppress her astonishment. Why would Simon Labelle want to buy her dinner? Whatever wormhole had merged their separate universes yesterday had surely vanished back into the ether by now. He had no reason to talk to her; they could not have been more different. They had always been impossibly different.

She met his eyes for a moment, wishing she understood, and glanced away at the Christmas decorations artfully arranged all across the shop.

People did sometimes get weird around her during the holidays, if they suspected she spent them by herself. She wouldn't put it past Simon to make up some excuse to take her out in a horribly misguided attempt at Christmas charity.

"Is this, like...a pity date?" she said finally.

            "What? No. Why would it be?" He sighed. "Doesn't have to be a date at all. Just dinner. Up to you."

            Leona tapped her fingernails on the counter, her pulse a little restless.

Dinner with Simon did have a certain appeal. He was beautiful, she was curious about him, and she was...well.

The truth was that since her best friend had moved away, the last few fragments of Leona's life outside of work had crumbled, too. Saturday runs, by herself, were all she had left-just the merest memory of friendship. She didn't care at all about being alone on Christmas, but she was tired of being friendless.

"When would you want to go?" she asked.

            "I don't know...tomorrow night?"

            "All right. I'll drive." She grinned. "Pick you up at seven?"

            "What?" He rolled his eyes. "All right. Fine. You know where I live."

            "Yup." Her grin widened. He turned away, and she watched him leave her shop, all austere, masculine authority. He made regulation polyester look damn good.

******

It's a date! Sort of.

Thank you so much for reading! Chapter two will be up over the next week or so, probably split into two parts for length. I hope you're enjoying this story so far! If you get a chance, let me know what you think!

xoxo

London