Caught in the Middle

Chapter 20

The conversation still rattled me when Dane dropped me to work.  He remained silent as I exited the vehicle with my purse.  His face was expressionless.

"So... uh... I will see you after work," I said, my voice sounded uncertain.

"I'll see you when I find parking," he said while keeping his eyes on the road.

I nodded my head in understanding.  It was hard to find parking in New York City no matter what time of day.  The city streets were always busy.  That was why Manhattan was known as the city that never sleeps.

I closed the car door and made my way to Thorton's Bookstore.   Harold Thorton was my employer who owned the bookstore for over twenty years.  It started as a small shop, which later expanded by building a second floor.  Mr. Thorton's bookshop had loyal customers who kept coming in year after year to purchase books.  It was those same customers who requested books that gave Mr. Thorton ideas of what book genres to include in his book collection.  It had grown the past twenty years and continued to do so. 

As I walked into the bookstore, the bell above the door rang making Mr. Thorton raise his head from a book.  A friendly smile brightened his wrinkly face.  "Good morning, Tessa."

I returned his smile.  "Good morning, Mr. Thorton."

He frowned.  "How many times do I keep telling you to call me Harold?  You make me sound old when you call me Mr. Thorton."

I walked behind the desk to put away my purse in one of the empty drawers.  Mr. Thorton was a kind and considerate old man.  He still gave me a job at his bookshop when I was considered to be overqualified but at the time I desperately needed a job to pay rent.  He understood that I needed help and gave me a chance.  I hoped that I did a good job and since I lost my other job at the café, this job meant a lot to me.  This job was the only source of income. This job meant I wouldn't have to depend on Dane's money to get by.

Besides getting Dane's help, I didn't want to owe him more than I already do.

"Believe me when I say that's not the impression I want to leave behind," I told Mr. Thorton.  I closed the draw and settled behind the desk,  I eyed the book he put down on the counter, face-up.

"I know you mean to show me respect.  You're one of the remaining few youngsters left that shows elderly people respect."

I shook my head, my dark locks swayed with the movement.  "You give me too much credit."

"I'm only stating facts.  You know how many youngsters walk into my store cursing and throwing books around?  You're an angel compare to them," he said.  He was making his way around the desk.

"Then, thank you kindly for your comment."

"You see.  That is what I mean," he pointed out.  "You are courteous."

I looked down awkwardly at my hands that I folded on the desk.  "Thank you again."

"No need for thanks."  The old man waved his hand as he turned his back to me.  Mr. Thorton always dressed casually to come to work.  He wore khaki pants, black slip on shoes (since he complained not being able to bend down to tie his shoe laces like he used to), and a striped blue and white shirt.  His head was partially bald.  He had gray hair by his ears.  His face was chubby with small eyes a big nose, thin lips, and a beard.  "I talk the truth."

I didn't want to argue with him so I let his remark slide.  As he was about to go in the back of the bookstore where his office was located, I saw his book.  "Wait, Mr. Thorton, your book!"

"Don't worry about it!"  He waved his hand in the air.

When I come into work in the morning, he goes outside for his break. After his break, we work until noon. The store gets busy with people who are on lunchbreaks. I take my lunchbreak and after it we work until evening.  Usually, he closes the bookstore.  Sometimes if he's busy, I close it for him.  "I'll get it when I come back."