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CHARLOTTE HAD JUST gotten the last screw of the last bookshelf put into place when her cell phone rang again. It was Shane, calling for the third time since she’d arrived back at O’Leery Snowboards. It was after four o’clock in the afternoon. She was thoroughly discouraged, but at least there was a light at the end of the tunnel; all she had left to do was to slide the shelves into place (hopefully they wouldn’t fall over and crush her) and fill them with the faux book backs, which she’d already unpacked. Once assembled, it was going to look like there were endless copies of Moby Dick, Pride and Prejudice, War and Peace, and A Farewell to Arms, over and over and over. But, hey, that wasn’t her problem. The pretend Turkish rug, plaid wingback chairs, electric fireplace, and globe that had Brazil and Bolivia labeled as each other were already in their places.
“Char! Are you back with your family? Having a nice little hot toddy and some turkey and gravy?”
“No, Mr. Letcher. I’m still at work.”
“You’re still at work? You’re joking!”
“I wish I was,” she said.
“What’s taking you so long?” he asked.
“I’m moving as quickly as I can.”
“This should have been a twenty-minute job.”
“Everything had to be unpacked,” said Charlotte, “and the shelves all had to be assembled.”
“Five minutes plus fifteen minutes, as I see it. Twenty minutes total.”
“Mmmm hmmm,” she said.
“Go home. See your family. You can finish up tomorrow.”
Charlotte wasn’t about to argue with him. “That sounds great. Thank you,” she said.
“You’re welcome,” he told her, and then shared a little snort of contempt before hanging up.
“Did I just say that being hours late to my family’s Thanksgiving dinner sounded great? Did I really just thank him?” Charlotte asked herself, as she tossed the screwdriver she was holding to the floor and threw on her coat. “I’ve clearly lost my mind.”
“Hello? What are you doing here?”
Charlotte spun around, gasping. “Aaaaargh!” she screamed, her hands instinctively going into karate chop pose from her semester of self-defense in college.
Ensar stood towering over her. He had his coat on and it was dusted with snow. He looked perplexed, but pleased. He scratched at the dark stubble on his face.
“You scared me,” Charlotte managed to say. “I didn’t think anyone else was here. I’m just finishing up some things.”
“Don’t you celebrate Thanksgiving today?”
“I would, but Shane called and told me to set up this room first.”
“Shane,” said Ensar. He nodded, and they both understood that there wasn’t much more that had to be said. Ensar looked around at the faux library. He shook his head. “You should be at home, not setting up this odd room.”
“I agree, and I’m just about to leave. What are you doing here?”
“I figured it was a good day to come into work, since the rest of the world is shut down. I thought I might as well come in here and get some things done. I don’t celebrate Thanksgiving,” he added. “As you probably assumed, I’m not from here.”
“Well, your accent kind of gives that away,” said Charlotte. “Where are you from?”
“Turkey.”
“Wow! Turkey! Istanbul?”
Ensar nodded. “That’s right. Good guess,” he said.
“I’ve always wanted to go there,” said Charlotte.
“It’s beautiful. You’d love it. I miss my country.”
“Then I’d think you’d love turkey day.”
“Huh?” asked Ensar.
“Sorry,” said Charlotte. “That was a terribly lame joke. I’m exhausted. Time for me to go home.”
“Okay. Nice seeing you,” said Ensar. He picked up a pile of plastic wrap that had come with the bookshelves Charlotte had just assembled.
“I’ve got that,” she said, reaching for it. Their hands touched. A tiny jolt of electricity shot up Charlotte’s fingertips, setting off a fluttery stir in her stomach.
“I’ve got it,” said Ensar. “Don’t worry about this. You go home and see your family.”
“Have you ever celebrated an American Thanksgiving?” Charlotte asked him.
“I haven’t,” he said, shaking his head.
“You’ve never had roasted turkey and mashed potatoes and green bean casserole?”
“No,” said Ensar.
“You’re missing out,” said Charlotte. She hesitated, wanting to invite him to join her, but unsure it was appropriate. Or if he’d be interested. For all she knew, he was married. Deciding she’d already behaved aggressively enough, she picked up her car keys.
“Have a good holiday,” said Ensar.
“Thanks,” said Charlotte. “See you here tomorrow.”
Ensar nodded, somewhat sadly, Charlotte couldn’t help thinking. “Have a good night, Charlotte,” he told her.
“You too, Ensar.”