“Reggie, what’s happening?” Maddy whispered to her favorite coworker — an enormous black boy with hands that could easily span the diameter of a basketball. His clothes were regulation DQ uniform, reminding Maddy she didn’t have hers, but on his giant feet were sneakers the neon green of a construction worker’s safety vest. It hurt Maddy’s eyes a little bit to look at them.
“Ohhh, it’s bad, Maddy. They done upset the apple cart big time. They’re shuttin’ the joint down.”
“What?!” Maddy’s eyes grew wide. She grabbed a new uniform shirt from the supply closet and slid it on over her tee shirt. She’d pay the manager for it later.
Reggie nodded dramatically, bugging out his own eyeballs. “They said this location don’t make enough money, so they’re closin’ it.”
“But what about all the employees?” Maddy’s heart rate began to rise, and she felt a rush of heat flood her face.
“They said we could apply to one of the other locations and our applications would be given ‘priority,’ whatever that means.”
“But the other locations are way across town! And they aren’t even guaranteeing us positions?”
Reggie pursed his lips and waved his head around like a ticked-off sister. “Tell me about it!” Reggie lived nearby and went to the community college, just like Maddy planned to do. That is, until her world came crashing down, one piece after another.
Maddy tried to remember how far away the other Dairy Queens were from the college. Maybe one of them was still within walking distance. Maybe she could even spend a little money and get a bicycle. That would help some.
She wanted to go talk to the assistant manager right away, but he was busy being harangued by other irate employees, so Maddy decided to wait till later. She tried to put her problems out of her mind temporarily, concentrating on nothing but good customer service and perfecting the swirl on top of her ice cream cones.
When her shift was almost over, Maddy decided to confront her boss about the situation. She rapped on the door to his office where he’d been hiding most of the afternoon, and he called out with a weak, “Who is it?”
“It’s Maddy, Mr. Sanders. Can I come in for a minute?” she asked, poking her head around the edge of the door.
He nodded dejectedly, his head barely visible above the messy piles of paper. “Come on in, Maddy. I assume you want to talk about transferring?”
“Yes, sir. I actually planned to talk to you today about working more hours, but that was before I got here and found out about…” She bit her lip and let the words trail off, unsaid.
Mr. Sanders sighed, running a hand through the sparse hairs of his comb-over. “You’re a good employee, Maddy. One of my best. But this decision didn’t come from me, and it’s out of my hands. It’ll be hard to find spots for everybody, especially this early in the year. I promise I’ll put in a good word for you wherever you want to go, but I doubt you’ll be able to get more hours; you’ll probably end up with less.”
Maddy’s heart squeezed her chest, blocking off the oxygen, and her limbs grew numb as she absorbed the reality of the situation. She was homeless, and she might soon be jobless.
But at least she wasn’t penniless, she consoled herself. Thank God she’d been diligent about saving every dollar. She decided to stop at the bank after work and check her account balance — see exactly how much she had to work with. Her paycheck was automatically deposited in it every payday, but she never took anything out of it, so she knew she had racked up a few thousand dollars. She hadn’t checked the balance in a few months, though, so she wasn’t sure exactly how much she had managed to sock away.
She didn’t want to commit to an apartment until she knew more about her job status, but she figured she could spend a few more nights in the library. She needed a shower, but she might have to make do with a sink bath.
The bank wasn’t on the way to the library, but it wasn’t too far out of the way, either, so Maddy trekked the mile or so, grateful that at least the temperature outside was pleasant. Indiana was temperamental in the spring — it could be 70 degrees or snowing, and sometimes it would give you both in the same week.
Her ATM card was back at Aunt Ricki’s house, but the bank was open, so she went inside and queued for a teller. Elevator music piped through the speakers above her, and a wide spectrum of society waited impatiently in line in front and behind her, anxious feet tapping and shuffling random melodies on the tile floors.
“Hi, I don’t have my ATM card, but I’d like to check my balance, please,” she told the grandmotherly lady in the gray pantsuit who called “next” when Maddy reached the front of the line. Maddy handed over her ID card and told the teller her account number.
“Here you go, darlin’,” the woman drawled as she handed Maddy a slip of paper.
Maddy said “thank you” and walked away before glancing at the paper. Once she did, she stopped dead in her tracks, causing the man behind her to crash into her. She didn’t even look up to accept his mumbled apology or offer one in return; she was too dumbstruck by the numbers.
“Excuse me,” she said as she whirled around and rushed back up to the counter, barging in front of another customer. “This isn’t right, this isn’t mine.” She pushed the paper across the counter towards the teller. The woman had made a mistake; that account only contained $5. The woman gave Maddy a patronizing look and took back the paper.
Maddy gave her the account number again, and the woman printed another slip, comparing it with the first one before handing it over. “Yes, it’s right, everything’s the same. This is your balance.”
“You don’t understand,” Maddy said through clenched teeth, trying her best to control her ire, but her blood pressure rose as her intuition warned her that she was in for another disaster. “My paychecks have been automatically deposited into this account for the last two years and I’ve never withdrawn anything. There should be thousands of dollars in there.”
The teller pursed her lips and stared at Maddy over her wire-rimmed reading glasses, the sparkly, beaded chain dangling from either side of them like she was a hypnotist trying to mesmerize. She tapped a few keys on her keyboard and ran a finger down a list on the screen. “I see regular deposits, but several large withdrawals were made in the last two months. This is a student account, so your parents have access to it. Perhaps they withdrew the money?”
The blood drained from Maddy’s face and pooled in her feet, turning them into dead weights. Steve had been living with them for the past three months, and Ricki had already entrusted him with her ATM card on more than one occasion. Had he figured out how to get into Maddy’s money? How could the bank let that happen?
“But, that’s my money!” Maddy shrieked with flailing hands, desperation threatening her rationality. “I earned it! They don’t have the right to take it from me!”
The teller spoke calmly and quietly, trying to get Maddy to settle down. “That may be true, honey, but since you’re a minor, your parents are on the account. Legally, they have every right to withdraw from it. Why don’t you go home and talk to them, figure this out together?” Her bland smile sent daggers through Maddy’s stomach.
Maddy grabbed the paper and wadded it up, her fingernails biting into her palms as she held back a scream with clenched teeth. She stomped off, tears spilling from her eyes, distorting her vision. She wiped her eyes with her fists and slammed through the door, not caring who was on the other side of it. As soon as she was outside, she slumped to the ground and buried her head in her hands. Her future was ruined, her life was over — everything she had worked for lay in piles of rubble around her. She didn’t know what else to do so she just sat there, paralyzed with grief, as the sun set and the world went on without her.
Chapter 3
Crackle, static, ear-piercing screech. “Uh, I need a price check on generic chunk light tuna for lane 6.”
Maddock Engel groaned and rolled his eyes as he glanced over at the new guy on register 6 who had just
enough experience as a cashier to know how to work the intercom (sort of), but not enough to know the prices on some of the most commonly purchased items in the store. This was his fourth price check in as many hours.
“It’s $1.68,” the girl buying the tuna muttered, tucking her messy hair behind her ear. It needed washing, but it still looked pretty — long, shiny, dark brown locks that hung straight except for the very ends which curled gently around the curve of her breasts. Maddock’s eyes trailed down to the ends and lingered for a moment before he forced them back up again, resisting temptation. Besides, the rest of her was pretty, too. Nice smile, cute figure — maybe a little too skinny.
Her clothes looked like she’d been wearing them since the last time she washed her hair — a few days at least. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, either, Maddock noticed. And all she was buying was a banana and one can of tuna. He’d spent enough time volunteering at the soup kitchen to recognize the signs. Teen runaway, he guessed.
The new cashier squinted his eyes at her, judging her honesty and finding her lacking. His line grew longer as he waited for a response to his price check, anxious customers sighing and shuffling.
“The tuna is $1.68, Brandon,” Maddock said, and the new kid turned to squint at him, pursing his lips and contemplating before turning back around and manually entering the price in the register. The girl gave Maddock a look of appreciation.
He grinned at her and was rewarded with a broad smile in return. She paid for her purchases and left the store, peeling the banana as she went and leaving Maddock with an odd sense of longing.
The next day she returned — another can of tuna, another banana. Same outfit. She avoided Brandon’s line, and her eyes skimmed the row of registers, searching. Maddock was stocking cans of corn instead of working the register, and for a moment he entertained the idea that she was looking for him. She didn’t notice him and settled for David in lane 7.
Maddock watched her count out her change and hand it over — $1.85 exactly. Her eyes gazed longingly at the candy bars displayed by the register, but she didn’t reach for one. A sharp pang of sympathy clenched Maddock’s heart as he watched her, and he wondered what her story was.
Everybody had a story. Maddock had learned from volunteering at the soup kitchen that you couldn’t judge a book by its cover. Some of the most pathetic-looking drifters had once been rich, powerful, or important people. Others who looked like they had it all together were actually crumbling internally. Maddock had a soft spot for all of them. He wished he could save them all, but instead he settled for helping a few of them. The ones God laid on his heart to reach out to.
That was the reason for his existence, after all. He was a Celestia Divisa — half human, half angel. Like all Celestia, he had a special gift that he used to help others. His was generosity. His mother always said he’d give you the shirt off his back if you’d let him, and he’d done just that on more than one occasion. He’d also given away shoes and coats and hats and mittens, along with half his paycheck. He just couldn’t see keeping something for himself when someone else really needed it.
If his parents weren’t paying for his college tuition he doubted he would be willing to spend so much money on it. He didn’t really see the need for it. He didn’t care about having an impressive career or making a lot of money; all he cared about was helping people. His parents encouraged him to get his degree so that he could eventually earn enough to help even more people, and that was the only reason he was wasting his time in a classroom.
Maddock worked at Hinkleman’s grocery store because Mr. Hinkleman gave him a discount, and Maddock frequently spent most of his paycheck buying food for the shelter. They were always low on donations, so Maddock made a habit of buying a cartful of whatever was on sale that week and donating it to the soup kitchen.
The chef noticed what he was doing, and eventually he asked Maddock to start helping him plan the menu based on the upcoming sale items. That left more money in the budget for luxury items, like bags of chocolate chips for cookies. The little kids at the shelter loved it when they had chocolate chip cookies, and Maddock loved being able to give them to them.
Sometimes, Mr. Hinkleman would donate goodies to the shelter, too — bags of leftover Halloween candy, Lunchables that were close to their expiration date, and sometimes perfectly salable things that Mr. Hinkleman had to stretch to make up good excuses for why he couldn’t sell them and wanted to donate them instead. Mr. Hinkleman had a pretty soft heart for people, too.
When the girl came in on the third day in a row, still in the same outfit, Maddock knew for sure she was living on the streets. He wondered if that fruit and tuna was the only thing she ate each day, or if she bought something else earlier. He usually worked the afternoon shift since he took classes during the day, so he hadn’t been around to see if she came in at lunch time.
His heart ached with compassion for her as he watched her join the shortest line. He wished he worked the express lane so she’d come to his lane, but he was the second-fastest cashier — next to 72-year-old Dorothy who’d been ringing up groceries for 54 years — so he always got put on the regular lanes because he could empty a full basket in less than five minutes.
He watched as she counted out her change carefully. When she lifted her chin, a pained look twisted her face. Did she not have enough money? They used to have Take a Penny/Leave a Penny trays at the registers, but since most people paid with plastic nowadays and parents let their bratty little kids steal the pennies for no reason Mr. Hinkleman had decided to remove them.
Maddock wanted to drop what he was doing and go help her, but his line was four-deep and he was way at the other end of the store. Instead, the girl handed the cashier the money she had and left with only the tuna. David set her abandoned banana aside, and Maddock wanted to punch him. Couldn’t David have spared the girl a few pennies?
Maddock longed to run after the girl and pay for her banana, the candy bars she lusted over, and anything else her heart desired, but the long line of impatient customers eager to purchase their groceries and go home to their families kept him behind his register where he furiously rang up purchases instead, as if his marathon price scanning would fill her empty belly.
Tomorrow the girl would have whatever she wanted, he decided. Somehow, he would find a way to help her. Maddock finished his shift in a daze, trying to figure out the best way to help the girl without turning her off. A lot of people didn’t appreciate handouts. He couldn’t tell yet whether or not she was one of them, but he had a hunch she was, otherwise she’d probably be getting her food from the soup kitchen.
Maybe she didn’t know about it, he wondered as he drove home that evening. She looked young — probably only 17 or 18. She didn’t look like she’d been on the streets for long, so maybe she had no idea what resources were available. It’s not like they had ads on the radio or billboards or anything.
Most homeless people were older, so they already knew about places like Grace & Mercy Soup Kitchen and Shelter, where Maddock volunteered. But maybe a teenage girl who ran away from home wouldn’t know where to go for help. That was something he’d have to talk to the shelter director about. Maybe they could do presentations at the local high schools — educate the kids about their services and even recruit some new volunteers.
Maddock’s face cracked in a cheesy grin at his own brilliance.
“What are you smiling about, you big dope?” Maddock’s mirror image, Cheydan, punched his brother in the shoulder as Maddock entered the kitchen.
Maddock slugged him back and grabbed the glass of soda from his hand, chugging it down in one gulp. “Just a great idea I had,” he said, belching in satisfaction.
“Hey, that was the last of my Cheerwine! I was saving that. You know I can’t buy that around here!” The nearest Cheerwine distributor was hundreds of miles from their home in Indianapolis.
Maddock shrugged and wiped off the red mustache his brother’s favorite soda had left on his upp
er lip. “You need to learn to be more generous, anyway, bro. Besides, I hid a case under my bed for just such an occasion.”
Cheydan’s face melted in a look of adoration. “You did? You’re the best brother ever. I forgive you for downing my soda, dude. I’ll even share my Cheetos with ya.”
Maddock grabbed a handful from the bag and dropped them into his wide open mouth.
“So what’s this great idea, anyway?”
Talking around a mouthful of Cheetos, Maddock told his brother about the girl in the grocery store and his idea for making a presentation to the local high schools.
“That’s a good idea, but what are you gonna do about the girl? She might be put off if you just go up to her and offer to buy her food and tell her about the soup kitchen.” Cheydan poured himself a glass of Coke and stole the Cheetos back from his brother.
“I know, that’s what I’m trying to figure out — how to be cool about it.”
“You know, you could always be patient and wait for the opportunity to present itself.”
Maddock rolled his eyes at his brother’s suggestion. As twins, they had a lot of things in common, but their special gift was definitely not one of them. Cheydan’s gift was patience, and he pretty much thought waiting was always the right answer. Maddock was more anxious, more driven, as he liked to call it. When it came to giving presents, there was no time like the present, he figured. It had just about killed him to keep that case of Cheerwine a secret.
“She’s already out of money. She might not eat again until I help her.” Maddock’s eyes grew wide with horror as he realized she might not come back to the store tomorrow if she didn’t have any money. What if he never saw her again?
“Relax, bro. If God put her on your heart, he’ll give you a chance to help her.” Cheydan threw a comforting arm around his brother’s shoulder.
Maddock agreed with the theory, but he wondered if he’d already blown it. He should’ve offered her help the first day, or even the second. Why hadn’t he gone after her? He said a little prayer that she would be okay tonight and that he’d get another chance to help her tomorrow. His mind started buzzing again with ideas of how to approach her.
Date with Destiny Collection: Angel Romance Series: Books 1 - 4 Page 27