on your luck? Hard up enough to wear hand-me-downs?” Joshua sat back down on the stool behind the counter and leaned his back against the wall, his arms crossed.
He could actually see her temper slip its restraints. “Not having faced tough times financially isn’t a crime. I’m not used to shopping like this. So shoot me! I need some clothes and these are all that’s available. I can roll with the punches as good as the next guy.” Her hand came up to squeeze her forehead. “I’m sorry. Could we start over?” She returned to the counter and reached her hand out to him. “I’m Cassidy Jamison.”
Joshua felt his annoyance give way to compassion. She was as much a fish out of water in the small thrift shop he and Henry had put together to serve their small congregation as he would be in the city she probably came from. She couldn’t change the life she’d obviously been born into any more than he could change the circumstances of his life. His own clothes had once been as expensive as hers. A suit that reminded him of the past still hung, cleaned and pressed, in his closet. Besides, she really didn’t look well.
He smiled, hoping to put her at ease, and shook her hand. But it wasn’t like shaking Earl’s hand or any of his father’s parishioners. He frowned at the feeling that zinged through him. “Joshua Daniels,” he said, hearing a bewildered husky tone in his own voice.
“Irma Tallinger sent me to see her son.”
“That would be me,” he explained. “Suppose I play shopkeeper.” He shrugged. “That’s what I am today, after all.”
Her tentative return smile was surprisingly shy and sweet but still didn’t overshadow the sorrow in her eyes. “Tell me,” she asked, “what are stylishly dressed stranded motorists wearing in Mountain View this season?”
He pulled out a pair of jeans and a T-shirt in her size eight, and a flannel shirt in a men’s small from the men’s section. “Here you go, pretty lady—the ultimate in hiking chic.”
She blinked, appearing to be surprised by something, then she looked away nervously. What had he said? Joshua wondered, concerned. But then she reached out and touched the jeans, and he forgot his worry. There was something akin to wonder in her eyes now.
Then she shook her head and looked down at her feet. “I don’t think that outfit would go very well with my shoes.”
Joshua followed her gaze and shook his head. “There’s only one thing high heels are going to get you in Mountain View—broken ankles. But if you prefer to walk around for the next few days on eggshells, over here we have a section of dresses, skirts and the like.”
She looked longingly at the things in his hand. “They do look comfortable.”
He could hear the disappointment and resignation in her voice and see it in her blue-eyed gaze as she continued to stare at the clothes he held. “Jeans and shirts would really be your best bet,” he added, hoping to encourage her. It was as if some invisible force held her back.
Then an idea struck. One that might give her the push she needed. He snapped his fingers. “What shoe size do you wear?”
When she told him her size, Joshua smiled and breathed a little sigh. He didn’t believe in coincidence. The Lord provides, and she really wanted those jeans. “You’re in luck. You’re the same shoe size as Ma. She has a brand-spanking-new pair of tennis shoes that I seriously doubt she’ll ever break down and wear.”
“Oh, I couldn’t.”
“The only reason they aren’t already out here in the shop is because I bought them for her. Knowing Ma, she doesn’t want to hurt my feelings. You’d be doing her a favor if you took them off her hands.”
“They were a gift and—”
He grimaced. “What they were was a bad idea. It’s like I was buying them for someone else.” Not for the first time he wondered who. “House dresses and sensible shoes. That’s our Irma. Not tennis shoes. I must have lost my head as well as my sense in that store, but Mother’s Day loomed and I’d run out of ideas.”
She looked at him with a serious expression, then down at the rack near where she stood. “Oh, this is wonderful!” She grabbed a red-and-white snowflake sweater. Her blue eyes sparkled a little and even that small hint of joy did something to him. Her beauty took Joshua’s breath away. “I had one like this when I was a child. I guess some styles never go out of fashion.”
Joshua just stopped himself from telling her that the sweater could very well be older than she was. Instead he tried to tempt her to take the tennis shoes. “But you can’t wear that with a dress. Just won’t do.”
Her chin firmed. “It would be fine with a skirt,” she argued.
“But then there is that broken ankle to worry about,” he teased. “You could wind up the woman who came to dinner.”
She put a sassy hand on her hip. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re stubborn?”
Joshua smiled. In the hospital they’d all told him he was too stubborn to die. He guessed that counted. “Yep, sure have. I’m told it’s part of my charm. Now about those tennis shoes…”
She made a face that spoke of exasperation. “Oh, all right. But I insist on paying you what they cost.”
“Not necessary,” he told her, shaking his head.
She arched a delicate eyebrow, then looked around the shop. “Where did you say those skirts are?”
Joshua rolled his eyes and laughed. “And you call me stubborn. I’ll tell you what—you can pay, but only half. I’ll put the money in the till here at the shop. Like I said, the only reason she hasn’t put them in the shop already is that she’s worried about hurting my feelings.”
The bell over the door tinkled again, and Joshua turned to see Irma entering the shop, overburdened with a bundle. “Ma, what on earth possesses you?” he scolded as he rushed to her side. “Why didn’t you call me? I’d have run down to pick this up.” He took the bundle from her and dropped it on the wide counter.
Irma smacked him playfully on the arm. “Will you stop coddling me? It was more cumbersome than heavy, which you know by now since you snatched it from me! Miss Maria sent them down. There’s only a fluffy bedspread and a few dresses she’s worn to her shows in there. She promised there wasn’t a speck of paint on any of them. Maybe Miss—” Irma turned toward her latest stray “—I’m sorry, I never got a name.”
“Cassidy Jamison,” she said, and put out her hand to shake Irma’s. “I appreciate all your help, Irma.”
Irma reached out hesitantly and shook Cassidy Jamison’s hand, looking as if she’d just encountered an alien. Joshua grinned. Irma would have been more comfortable dispensing a bear hug. Most of the ladies of Mountain View hadn’t really caught up with the times. He knew that businesswomen always shook hands these days, but he doubted many of the residents around there were used to the gesture.
He frowned. This was the one thing he hated about outsiders coming to town. They always brought their way of doing things with them, and he understood those little social nuances without knowing how.
“Josh, are you okay?”
He
