A Wish and a Prayer (3 page)

She turned back to her desktop but froze when she heard, “Morning, Bernie.”

Leo.

She eyed him coolly. “What do you want?”

He was dressed as impeccably as always, in a dark green summer-weight silk suit.

“Just stopped in to say good-bye. Your lawyers have been kicking my company's ass so thoroughly, we've decided to cut our losses and not throw any more money down the toilet. You win, Bernadine. We're pulling up stakes, and you can rest easy, knowing you've saved your hick farmers from the evil empire.”

“Good. Are you saying good-bye to Marie, too?”

When he first came to town two years ago, he'd wanted them to reconcile, but when Bernadine told him to kick rocks, he began seeing Marie Jefferson.

“Ah, the little schoolmarm. Another item to cross off the balance sheet.”

He'd dropped Marie when she refused to sell him her land. Bernadine wondered if she could beat him to death with something on her desk—maybe the stapler—and plead temporary insanity. “Why would you treat her that way?”

“How's that old seventies tune go? If you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with.”

He was truly disgusting.

“Still love you, Bernie—probably always will. Going to salve my broken heart with a little honey I met last week in Santa Barbara. Wish me luck?”

“Get out,” she snarled softly.

“I'm going, but just a word of advice. Not everybody's happy with your court victory. Some of those farmers were counting on that money we were going to give them, so I'd watch my back if I were you. Ciao, beautiful. I'll see you around.”

He winked and made his exit, leaving behind the lingering scent of his expensive cologne.

Bernadine fumed, then gave his parting salvo some thought. Until that moment, it hadn't occurred to her that providing the lawyers for the farmers' suit might result in enemies, but thinking on it now, she admitted that Leo could be right. The rising economy was slowly making its way across the nation, but few farmers were feeling any relief. The escalating cost of fuel and equipment, coupled with the backbreaking debts many agricultural families continued to carry, probably made the money Leo's company promised seem like a godsend. Now, thanks to the lawsuit, her lawyers, and the state agencies that threw in on their side because of the oil company's abysmal environmental record, it was gone.

However she'd not heard anything from Bing or his friends about anyone being mad at her, so she put the thoughts aside and chalked it up to Leo just being himself and trying to stir her up.

Bernadine's next visitor was Austin Wiggins, the new mayor of Franklin. The old mayor had resigned after a prank played on him and his wife by some of the Oklahoma Julys during their visit last Thanksgiving, which resulted in him breaking his arm and divorcing his wife of twenty-five years.

Wiggins wasn't someone she liked. She assumed the feeling was mutual, but he pretended otherwise. Since meeting her over the winter, he'd made a point of pestering her to let him in on whatever she had planned for Henry Adams's future. He was an elected official, he reasoned, born and raised in the county, and knew much more about what the two communities needed to make the region viable again than she.

He entered wearing his plastic smile and a black suit shiny from too many trips to the dry cleaner. The too-short jacket matched the flood-length pants, but nothing in nature, living or dead, matched the jet-black toupee on his head. He saw himself as suave and handsome; everyone else saw him for the pudgy, bad-toupee-wearing know-nothing that he was in reality.

“Ms. Brown,” he called cheerily. “How are you, hon?”

She hated being called “hon,” and had politely pointed this out on more than a few occasions. He'd either chosen to ignore it, or was suffering from amnesia. Her bet was on the former. “What can I do for you?”

Because she hadn't offered him a chair, he stood, seemingly caught between taking a seat anyway and waiting for her to make the offer. She didn't move.

“Um.” He finally sat, and the plastic smile returned. “I was checking out all the construction going on. You folks are busy as bees over here.”

“We're pleased with the progress.”

“I hear you're going to be opening a health clinic soon.”

“Yes.”

“The two docs in Franklin have been talking about building a clinic for years.”

“I hope they do well with theirs.”

“Economically, there's no reason to have two such facilities in the area.”

“Have you told them that?”

His lips thinned, letting her know that wasn't the response he'd been after. Why he thought she'd abandon a clinic scheduled to open next week to allow two doctors in Franklin to continue to
talk
about building one was beyond her. Then again, she was dealing with a man wearing an imitation black squirrel on his head.

“Mayor Wiggins, I have a very tight schedule today. Is there anything else?”

“Yes. We have the opportunity to have a Big Box built in Franklin.”

“Congratulations. How soon will you break ground?”

“Soon as we can get good-faith funds from all the nearby communities.”

She studied him silently for a moment. “Good-faith funds?”

“Yes. If we help subsidize the store's building costs, the parent company promises to bring jobs and low prices.”

“And if we don't?”

“They move elsewhere.”

She wanted to wave bye-bye, but decided that would be rude. “And how much are they asking?”

“From Franklin and Henry Adams, two-point-six million.”

“Is that all?”

“I knew that wouldn't be a problem for you,” he declared, grinning widely.

“I was being sarcastic.”

“Oh.”

Inwardly, she shook her head. “Henry Adams will have to pass on Big Box's wonderful offer, Mayor Wiggins. We have other priorities at the moment.”

“But this is Big Box, hon. They're one of the biggest corporations in the good old U.S. of A.”

“I'm aware of that, but we have other priorities,
hon
.”

He turned cranberry red.

“Is there anything else?” She wanted him gone.

“Why are you turning down this opportunity?”

“We plan to build our own supermarket right here in town.” It was a lie, but it came to her that a grocery was needed, so she decided, Why not? Local residents were having to drive hither, thither, and yon to stock their refrigerators and pantries. Better to spend that money at home.

“But you can't,” he protested.

“Sure I can. It's one of those other priorities I just mentioned. Hope to have it up and running before the fall.”

“But if the Big Box gets built, they aren't going to want competition.”

“Not my problem.”

“You won't be able to match their prices,” he countered, with distress in his voice and face. “They'll crush you.”

“Maybe, but this is the good old U.S. of A., and if I want to try something, I'm allowed.”

He hadn't like the idea of a Henry Adams health clinic, and by the look on his pumpkin-round face, he disliked the grocer idea even less. Too bad.

He got to his feet and tried one last time. “Ms. Brown, I'd appreciate it if you'd give the Big Box proposal more thought. Maybe talk it over with Mayor July. I'm sure he'll be able to see the benefits of throwing in on this.”

“Even if I don't?”

“Mayor July was born here. You weren't.”

“Get out of my office.”

He puffed up as if planning to confront her, but she wasn't having any, especially not from a little jerk with a squirrel on his head.

“And to save you the trouble of thinking I may change my mind. My answer on Big Box is no, now and forever.”

She swung her chair around to face her laptop. The slamming of her office door signaled his exit.

Lily entered a few seconds later. She had on her construction boots and carried a yellow hard hat in her hand. “On my way to walk the sites with Trent and Mr. Kelly. What did Mayor Piggly Wiggly want?”

“Two-point-six million dollars.”

“For what?”

Bernadine explained.

Lily shook her head. “Big Box's nothing but a dollar store with groceries.”

“Which is why I declined his offer. Thought maybe we'd build our own store instead.”

“You know, that's not a bad idea.”

“Think you can pull together a feasibility plan and get it to me in a few days?”

“To have a place to shop in town—oh, yes, ma'am. Folks around here will build a statue in your honor if we can make this happen.”

“I'm telling you now, I know absolutely nothing about starting a grocery store.”

“You didn't know anything about building a town, either, and look how that turned out.”

They shared a smile, and Bernadine asked, “Have I told you lately what a blessing you are in my life?”

“No, but the feeling's mutual. I'll talk to Kelly and Trent and see what we can come up with.”

“Didn't Gary Clark sell cars at one time?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I think I'll appoint him the manager.”

“Yet another great Bernadine Brown idea. He's really struggling economically, and a job will help a lot. Let me know what he says.”

“Will do.”

“Okay, let me get going before Trent calls, wanting to know where I am.”

She exited, crowing, “A grocery store! Hallelujah!”

Pleased, Bernadine returned to her computer and Googled “How to open a grocery store.” To her delight, a number of links popped up right away.

An hour later, armed with a rudimentary knowledge of the subject, she pushed her chair back from the desk and called Gary Clark.

Chapter 4

B
ernadine didn't tell Gary what she wanted, only that she needed to speak with him about something. He sounded a bit taken aback by her request—they'd never spoken on the phone before—but he arrived at her office a short time later.

“Have a seat, please, Gary.”

“Why do I feel like I've been called to the principal's office?”

She liked his sense of humor. “Sorry I was so vague over the phone, but I wanted to speak with you in person. There's a job opening in town.”

He went still.

“I've decided we need a grocery store, and I think you should manage it.”

He appeared a bit stunned. “I don't know anything about groceries. I sold cars.”

“Think you can learn?”

“Well, yeah, sure, but—”

She waited.

“Are you serious?”

“No, Gary. I really want Zoey and Devon to run the store. I'm just practicing my spiel on you. Of course I'm serious.”

He dropped his head, and when he raised it again, he whispered emotionally, “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

“You've no idea how much this means. Worrying about finding a job and how I'm going to provide for my girls in the meantime has been keeping me awake at night.”

“Now you can sleep.”

He was silent for a moment, and then met her eyes. “Now I can sleep. Thank you, again.”

“No problem. First order of business is for you to start the learning process. I found out the basics of starting a store online, so begin there if you like, and if you run across any classes or seminars or conferences you think you need to attend, bring me a list.”

“When's the store scheduled to open?”

“Soon as it can be built, so you'll need to get up to speed quickly.”

“Okay. We'll probably make a few mistakes at first, but as long as we don't make the same mistakes, we should be okay.”

“I agree. So, get on out of here and get busy. I want to make an announcement about the store at the town meeting tonight.”

He stood and told her in a sincere voice, “You've no idea how much I've been praying.”

“You were heard.”

“Thanks, Ms. Brown.”

“Bernadine.”

“Bernadine,” he echoed, and departed.

Before she could blink, the opening bars of “Smooth Operator” by Sade sang on her phone. Smiling because she hadn't talked to the person the ringtone was assigned to yet that day, she picked up. “Hey, Mal.”

“Hey, sweet thing. How goes the turning of the world?”

She grinned. “Hasn't fallen off its axis yet. How are you?”

Next she knew, he was walking into her office, still holding his phone against his cheek and ear.

“Doing pretty good, as you can see.”

Loving him for always making her days fun, she ended the call. “You are so special.”

The mustache lifted with amusement. “Always have been. Came to take you on a lunch picnic.”

“I've a meeting this afternoon.”

“Then we'll have to eat fast.”

Bernadine absolutely adored Mal July, and the idea of running away with him was way too tempting, but she needed to go over the reports on the farmers' lawsuit before the legal eagle flew in at two.

Mal must've read her mind. “I know you have a ton of stuff to do, but sometimes you need to stop and smell the roses on the way to world domination—especially on a Monday—and the weather's perfect.”

“Is that from the Tao of Malachi?”

“Matter of fact, it is.”

“Are we picnicking in your truck again?”

Because it had been too dark and cold to sit on the grass the first time he took her on a picnic, they'd had it inside his classic Ford pickup. Now they used the cab for that purpose on a regular basis.

“No,” he answered. “Real picnic this time. Basket, blanket, and everything.”

“I'm not dressed for sitting on the ground.”

“Did I mention the blanket?”

She dropped her head to hide her amusement. Looking back up at him now, all the good times they'd had together, be it kite flying or just sitting on her deck enjoying the sunset, rose up and made her realize what a true blessing he'd become. After having her heart smashed to pieces by Leo, she'd had no intentions of opening herself to anyone again, but Mal changed that, along with her life. “Okay. I give. Let me send Lily a text letting her know where I am.”

And once that was done, she stepped out into the sunshine with the only man capable of making her leave her desk and not care about the day's to-do list still resting on top.

He drove them to the bank of the creek that ran on the edge of Tamar's land and parked. Her ears were instantly filled with the silence unique to the plains, and the busy morning melted away as if by magic.

“Thank you for kidnapping me. I didn't realize how full the morning's been until now.”

“Let's get out, and you can tell me all about it.”

He spread the blanket on the grass, and they sat and ate salads and she told him about her morning, beginning with Leo.

She asked him seriously, “Are some farmers going to be upset about not getting the oil money?”

“People being people, probably. Some of them are on their last legs, and Leo's money would've helped. Doesn't mean you did the wrong thing by heading him off at the pass, though. Claiming eminent domain and basically stealing land would've made a lot more people mad. And what if there'd been some kind of environmental catastrophe? Didn't Trent say at the last meeting that Leo and his boys are known for not cleaning up after themselves?”

“Yes.”

“Another reason to run them out of the county. And you can't please everybody all the time, anyway—that's life.”

“I'm starting to feel bad, though.”

“Understandable—you got the whole world in your hands.”

She grinned.

“But sometimes not even you can make the world a fair place, so I wouldn't worry about it.”

Bernadine knew she would, however, and he probably knew that, too, so the discussion moved on to Henry Adams Idol.

“What kind of prizes?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Planning's just beginning.”

“Maybe Clay and I will dust off our old Temptation moves. Bet I can talk Trent and Gary into signing on. Or we can be Tammi and Marvin?” he said excitedly.

Bernadine choked on the water she was sipping.

“No?” he asked.

Wiping her mouth with a napkin, she shook her head and croaked, “No.”

“But I can sing,” he said, coming to his own defense.

“I can't.”

“What do you mean, you can't? Aren't you from Detroit? Everybody from Motown can sing.”

She found that amusing. “Says who?”

“Every person I've ever met from Detroit.”

“They lied then, because I can't sing a note.”

He looked skeptical.

“Have you ever heard me sing anything in the three years we've been together, besides the hymns at church service?”

When he didn't respond, she said, “I rest my case.”

“Okay,” he grumbled mockingly. “Guess we can't be Tammi and Marvin.”

She shook her head. “You're a mess.”

“But I'm your mess.” And he leaned over and kissed her softly.

When the world stopped spinning, she whispered, “Yes, you are.”

P
reston had a list of reasons why he enjoyed life in Henry Adams, and at the top was school. Back in Milwaukee, he'd been dissed and bullied for being smart. Kids laughed at him, flung taunts his way, and accused him of trying to act White. That reasoning made him wonder what it meant to be Black, but he hadn't had the nerve to ask because he didn't want to be answered with more kicks and poundings. The routine daily thumpings had been enough.

In Kansas, however, his big brain was celebrated. His peers and the adults always offered encouragement and thought his dream of being an astrophysicist like his idol, Dr. Neil de Grasse Tyson, both attainable and special.

Another reason Preston enjoyed school in Henry Adams was being allowed to eat lunch outside. He never got to do that in Milwaukee. Because of the winter weather, he and the other students had only been allowed to eat outside occasionally, but now that spring had finally shown up, they were using picnic tables for lunch again on a regular basis.

There were nine students enrolled at the Marie Jefferson Academy. Preston's best friend Amari was at another table, teaching his little brother Devon how to play chess. His other bestie was Leah Clark. She loved physics just as much, and he sort of had a crush on her. At the moment she was across the yard with Crystal and Eli and the two new girls from Franklin: Megan Tripp and Samantha Dickens, nicknamed Crue and Ella by Amari. They didn't like the Henry Adams kids, and the feeling was mutual.

Two students were absent: Leah's younger sister Tiffany Adele, home with a cold, and Zoey Garland. Zoey and her dad were in Paris, touring Europe with her famous Grammy-winning mom, Roni Moore, in support of her new platinum CD. Reverend Paula had been invited on the trip, too. The Rev, Zoey, and Dr. Reg were due back later in the week, but Ms. Roni would be staying overseas and heading for Australia next.

Preston looked up at the cardinal singing from the school's roof. Another bonus of being in Henry Adams was the fresh air. He hadn't had an asthma attack in over a year. Dr. Reg said it was likely due to relocating to the plains. Many inner city kids had asthma because of all the junk in the air from car exhaust, cockroach feces, and cigarette smoke, all of which had been present in most of Preston's foster homes. Kansas's clean air, in tandem with all the bike riding with Amari, hadn't only helped his lungs; he'd shed fifteen pounds and grown three inches taller since being away from Milwaukee. Instead of the overweight unhappy kid he used to face in the mirror each morning, he now smiled at his reflection.

He saw Leah walking his way. His heart began to beat so hard and loudly, he was scared she'd hear it. When she sat down across from him, he forced himself to act calm. “What's going on over there?”

“Dumb and Dumber said Crystal was lying about going to Spain with Ms. Bernadine last year. They don't believe Ms. Bernadine has a jet either.”

Crystal had given a report on Spanish architecture that morning. “So what did Crys tell them?”

“That she doesn't talk to plants.”

Preston laughed.

“Which of course made them madder. Samantha's not so bad. I mean, she's uber smart, but it's like she doesn't want to show it because Megan really is a plant. That dandelion growing over there is smarter than she is. Think I might try and turn Samantha away from the dark side and bring her into the light with us.”

“Good luck.”

She quieted for a minute, then said, “My parents' divorce is final today.”

Preston didn't know how to respond. Leah loved her mom, but her mom hadn't wanted custody of Leah or her sister Tiffany and was now living somewhere on the East Coast.

She added, “Maybe now Tiff will finally believe Mom and Daddy aren't getting back together. Reason number seventeen I'm never getting married. Too much drama.”

On numerous occasions, Leah had recited the reasons why she wasn't going to marry, the main one being that once she got her Ph.D. and went to work for NASA, she wouldn't have time.

“Have you opened the e-mail yet?” she asked him pointedly.

“No.” He thought she had the prettiest brown eyes, even with the glasses.

“You really ought to, you know.”

“I know. Tonight.”

“Text me if you want to talk after.”

“I will.”

She left the table, and he was so focused on her, he almost didn't see Mr. James signaling that lunch was over. Preston quickly disposed of his trash and hurried to join the other kids going back inside.

After school, Preston saw the note on the kitchen table addressed to him and read that the colonel was in the basement lifting weights. Walking to the top of the steps, he called down. “I'm home.”

“Okay. Be done in just a bit.”

He remembered Mrs. Payne saying something that morning about meeting with Tamar this afternoon, but he'd been in the middle of a text to Amari and admittedly hadn't been paying her much attention, so he had no idea when she'd be home. After dumping his backpack on a chair, he washed his hands, grabbed a snack and something to drink, picked up the backpack again, and went up to his room.

Now he was ready. Having fortified himself with his snack, he sat down with his laptop. After it booted up, he clicked on the e-mail that had been haunting him since its arrival. When it opened, he read, “Dear Preston. My name is Lenore Crenshaw. I am your biological maternal grandmother. I'd like to meet you. Unless I hear otherwise, I will be in Henry Adams on . . .”

His jaw dropped. Over the pounding of his heart, he took a quick look at the calendar. Horror gripped him. Oh, he'd really messed up. Quickly clicking the message closed, he ran to find Mrs. Payne, only to remember she hadn't come home yet.

The only other person in the house was the colonel. Preston found him still in the basement, lying on his back, lifting weights. In spite of their on-again, off-again relationship, Preston always found the sight impressive. As a budding physicist, he appreciated the rhythm and symmetry of the bar going up and down and the almost effortless way the colonel controlled it. Of course it wasn't effortless. Sweat beaded the colonel's face, and the strain in his arms, face, and neck testified how heavy the bar really was.

When the colonel glanced over and saw Preston standing in the doorway, he didn't stop pumping, but asked, “What can I do for you?”

“Don't mean to bother you, but do you know when Mrs. Payne's coming home?”

The colonel set the bar on the bench above and sat up. He picked up the blue towel lying beside him and wiped his face. “I'm probably the last person you should be asking that question.”