by Jan Thompson
“Are you calming down now?”
“I don’t think so. I left the store with over a pound of assorted fudge.”
Tina laughed over the phone.
“It’s only funny to you,” Martin said.
“I’m sorry. I’m sure the store felt better about you being a customer than someone whom Corinne didn’t want to see.”
Martin got up from the couch and went to the sliding glass door. He opened it. Immediately a whiff of hot air blew into his face. He closed the door and returned to his couch.
He turned on the speakerphone and stretched out on the couch. “How is it going over there?”
“Same thing every day. Church, family, work.”
Twice this week, Martin had already asked about her pottery studio in Atlanta. He wasn’t going to ask about it again unless Tina wanted to volunteer new information.
She didn’t.
“I better let you go in case your little one wants to take a nap,” Martin said.
“She already did. It was a very short nap, no more than an hour.”
“So I’m not taking up your time?”
“No, not at all. However, I suggest we pray about the situation and ask for God’s help,” Tina said. “I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t know whether you should go back to the shop tomorrow or send her a letter or what. However, God knows how to handle this. Pray and He will guide you.”
“I’ve already prayed and I will pray again, but will you pray for me?”
“Most certainly. How about now?”
“Now is good.” Martin loved hearing his sister’s prayers because she prayed with confidence and she always sprinkled her prayers with praises to God and thanksgiving for what He had done in their lives. Martin knew he needed to learn to pray like that.
Before he knew it, Tina had said amen.
“Call Dad when you have a minute, will you?” Tina asked.
“Is he back from his auto show?” Martin hadn’t called Dad since he left for Myrtle Beach to show off his latest muscle car acquisitions to curious onlookers.
“He’s on his way back. According to his texts, he was thrilled for the new clients he had snapped up. They all wanted souped-up this or that.”
That meant Dad needed Martin back in town to handle some of those accounts. Martin was glad that his days of working as a virtual assistant had worked out. “I’ll call him. See if he needs me to work remotely.”
“That can only mean one thing—you’re not sure when you’ll be back in town.”
“Busted.” Martin thought he might stay an extra week if he could talk to Corinne. “If Corinne won’t talk to me, I’ll be home sooner.”
“I don’t mean to add to your issues, but Dad has been hinting that he wants to retire.”
“He said that?” Martin sat up. “I’m not ready for him to retire.”
“He didn’t say it himself but I get the sense that he’s tired and wants to take it easy.”
“Oh.”
“I don’t want MacMuscles and I’m not moving back to Savannah any time soon,” Tina said. “Byron and I are raising our child here in metro Atlanta.”
MacMuscles Classic Car Restoration belonged to Martin and his father, not to Tina, so Martin did not expect Dad to just hand it over to anyone—even if Tina was a businesswoman herself.
“Pray about it so that you will be ready with an answer if he asks you,” Tina added.
“If?”
“You know how Dad is. He may not want to give it up just yet.”
“He doesn’t have to give up anything.” Martin thought that Dad was more of a control freak than Mom—who had passed away many years ago.
“Even if he retires, he wants to call the shots,” Tina reminded him.
“That, he does. Damaris will keep him in check though.” Their stepmother had a good head on her shoulders.
“However, we know that when he needs help, he wants it at the drop of a hat,” Tina added. “So don’t stay away too long. I’m not going to Savannah to cover for you.”
“I know.” Martin knew he had to tell Dad soon about his supposedly two-week road trip.
Martin wished he had told Dad right away that he was only driving as far as Key Largo. As far as Dad was concerned, Martin could have been multiple states away from Georgia, not only next door.
“Why is it that I have a feeling you didn’t tell him everything?” Tina asked.
“Well, I didn’t know myself what was going to happen when I arrived.” It was the truth.
His first encounter with Corinne had ended abruptly when she passed out right before his eyes without as much as a hello.
Would there be another encounter?
What if Corinne disappeared again?
Chapter Seven
“No, I didn’t get a chance. She was whisked away.” Martin turned up his phone volume so he could hear what Ming would say next. He placed the phone on his armrest. The dashboard was warming up, even with the air-conditioner blasting inside the car.
As he waited, he sipped iced coffee in a giant paper cup. Key Largo was warming up all around the car on this Friday morning, to the point that Martin wondered if the paper cup would hold up with all that condensation. The coffee shop he had gone to didn’t have plastic cups, and their giant-sized mugs were too expensive.
Martin might be the Vice President of MacMuscles, but it didn’t mean he was going to spend twenty dollars on a collector’s mug. Collector cars, maybe.
The road in front of Key Largo Chocolate Shop was busy today, with weekenders pouring into town for a break. Martin’s eyes were on the front door, but Corinne hadn’t come out at all.
“I’m not sure if it’s a good idea for you to sit there waiting for her to show up.” Ming’s voice came through fairly clearly on the phone.
Martin was going to use video, but his signal was weak in this part of town. He made a mental note to change carrier. If he drove another mile, his phone switched to roaming. Every little cost added up.
“Employees usually don’t use the same entrances as customers,” Ming added.
“I know. But it’s almost eleven o’clock, and maybe she’ll come outside for lunch again.” It was Martin’s excuse, and he wanted to stick by the story.
“If someone complains or says anything about stalking, it’s a lot of trouble for you.”
“I’m not stalking.”
Ming didn’t reply.
“Say something.” Martin shifted in his seat.
“I told you earlier, when you first called me and said you’re already in Key Largo.” Ming’s voice was emotionless. “I wish you had waited for me to get more information. Like I said, I’m waiting on someone to get back to me. Remember how I said I’d have something for you on Tuesday next week?”
Might as well confess. “I didn’t have the nerve to tell you where I am.”
“You felt guilty that you jumped the gun.”
“Now Corinne knows I’m in town.” Martin wasn’t sure how that might have changed the dynamics of their entire situation.
“Patience is a fruit of the Holy Spirit,” Ming reminded him.
“Well, to be fair to myself, Thursday was just this side of the weekend heading toward Tuesday.” Martin wasn’t sure whether his friend would buy that. “Today is Friday. Even closer to Tuesday.”
“No, Martin. Thursday was five days away from Tuesday. Today is four days from Tuesday. You just end up paying for extra hotel when you could have waited.”
“What were you planning to do?” Martin asked. He had asked Ming that before, but the latter wouldn’t say.
“I had to brainstorm some ideas with my associates in Florida. I didn’t want to tell you prematurely if it doesn’t work out.”
“If what doesn’t work out?”
“Stay away from Corinne for now. Why don’t you go back to your hotel room while I dig around a bit more about her situation?”
Now Ming was saying it again: wait.
“Okay.
”
Martin wondered how frail Corinne’s health was if she fainted at the first sight of him.
She didn’t look frail or skinny—the baggy clothes hid everything—and she didn’t look sickly either.
This morning, Martin went to the shop as soon as it opened at nine o’clock. He tried to find out when Corinne—Dinah—worked, but nobody would tell him. All they said was that she doesn’t work on Sundays, and even that was too much information.
That made Martin wonder. Why wouldn’t Corinne work on Sundays? She wasn’t a Christian, was she? In fact, some Christians worked on Sundays too.
Ming said he had to go. “Don’t do anything else I wouldn’t do.”
Martin didn’t want to second-guess his friend, but what could Ming find out for him all the way from Savannah when he, Martin, was already here. Boots on the ground.
Martin had an idea of what he wanted to do.
He wasn’t sure if it was something God would want him to do—or that God would approve—but it seemed to be a waste of his time if he went back to the hotel room and waited for hours for Ming to call again.
Technically, Ming was right.
Martin should have stayed in Savannah until Ming had more information.
Now that Corinne had seen him, she might run again.
And then Martin would be back to where he started: without her.
He said goodbye to Ming and hung up his phone. He drank the rest of the now-diluted iced coffee, glanced at the analog clock on the dashboard, and prayed for wisdom.
Chapter Eight
Another hour passed by, and Martin was still sitting in his car. He listened to the twelve o’clock local news, but turned it off at the first commercial.
His stomach rumbled, and he had to go to the bathroom.
Martin could not imagine what it would be like to run surveillance for real—what Ming and the Savannah River Investigations firm did all the time. Now, Helen Hu’s private investigation firm was more international, but Martin guessed the work was mostly mundane.
Sit in the vehicle and watch someone show up.
That’s not me.
He picked up his empty coffee cup and his phone, and climbed out of the car. He locked the doors, double-checking to make sure he really did, and then crossed the busy street.
The girl he had talked to earlier this morning wasn’t there. Just as well. Martin didn’t want to cause her any trouble with her manager.
He saw a familiar-looking guy at the checkout. He was the same person who had taken Corinne home the day before—or at least, given her a ride somewhere.
Martin wondered if he should talk to him.
Then he spotted the fifty-something woman who had helped Corinne the moment she hit the floor on Thursday afternoon. She seemed to be in charge.
Martin looked around the store, hoping to see a notice board. He swiped his phone and googled the store to see if there were any job openings.
None.
The crowd thinned out a bit. Martin stepped over to where the lady was.
“Excuse me,” he said.
“May I help you?” Upon closer look, she had lines on her face, but her eyes were bright and shiny. Her hair was salt-and-pepper and wiry.
“Yes, I’m hoping you can help me. I was here yesterday, but due to the commotion, I wasn’t able to talk to you.”
“I remember you. You’re a friend of Dinah’s?”
“Long ago, when we were young.” Not too young, but nobody asked for the exact time and date. “Anyway, I’m going to be in town for the rest of summer, and I was wondering if you have job openings.”
“All our positions are filled, but if you send in your resume, I’ll call you if anything opens up,” she said. “I’m Sandra Preston.”
“Owner?” Martina asked.
“Yes. What type of work are you looking for?”
“Anything part-time, if possible. I worked for years as a virtual assistant.” Martin was being truthful here. He had worked as a virtual assistant all the way through college and then some. After that, he became his sister’s personal assistant in her busy tri-city pottery studio.
After his last motorcycle accident, his dad showed up in town and hired him to do office work for him while he tried to build up his muscle car restoration business. Three years later, Dad promoted him to vice president and gave him a minority ownership of the business.
Martin knew that he wasn’t going to get an entry-level or minimum-wage job by touting his VP position.
“Virtual assistant? Like an office manager?” Sandra asked.
“It can be. Mostly I do scheduling, inventory, time management, social media updates, news briefs, blog posts. I can also do other office work, if needed.”
“Interesting. Wait here and I’ll get you a job application form,” she said.
“Okay. Thank you.” Martin prayed that he hadn’t made a mistake. He didn’t want to turn away—or turn off—Corinne.
Sandra came back quickly. The application form was wrinkled at one edge. “Fill that out and attach your resume.”
“I’ll get it back to you after lunch.”
“That soon?”
“Yeah. I’m here, and I could start work today. I’ll just need to find a place to print my resume.”
Sandra gave him a look.
Martin tried not to look desperate.
“Well, I’m too busy today, and it’s already Friday. We’re very busy on weekends. I won’t be able to get to your application until Monday,” Sandra said.
Next week?
Martin prayed quietly for God to give him patience to wait three days. “That’s fine.”
“You know, you might be able to use the printer at the library.” Sandra told him where it was located. “They’re usually open until six o’clock, except for a day or two. They’re closed on Sundays, so you have today and tomorrow to fill out your forms.”
“Good to know. Thanks for the information.” Martin smiled. “So when I’m done with it, how do I drop off my paperwork?”
“I’m here the rest of the day.” She seemed doubtful that Martin would return today. “I’m working for only half a day tomorrow, so if you get here before noon, you can drop it off with me. Otherwise it’ll have to be Monday. Or you can drop it off at the mailbox outside.”
Martin had no idea where the mailbox was. Sandra pointed in the general direction of the front door, which was open wide now with customers pouring in.
“When do you leave town?” Sandra asked.
“In a couple of months.”
“So you can only work here for two months?”
“Actually, as a virtual assistant, I could work remotely from anywhere. I’m not geography-dependent.”
“I see. Where are you from originally?”
“Savannah, Georgia.”
“Just passing through?” Her eyebrows rose.
“I’m taking a solo road trip, driving my dad’s car on the open road. I could keep going all the way until Key Largo if I want.”
“And telecommute?”
“Yep.” Although Martin was beginning to doubt if he could technically go back to his old virtual assistant job now that he was VP at MacMuscles.
That could be a problem if Dad wanted him home any time sooner. He figured he could talk Dad into letting him do work remotely. If he had to drive home to Savannah for the weekend, he could. It would be a little over five hundred and fifty miles. Or about eight hours of driving non-stop. He could do it.
All because he wanted to talk to Corinne again.
What on earth am I doing?
At the back of Martin’s mind, he wondered if asking for her forgiveness was the only thing he had come all the way to Key Largo for.
What if I want more?
Chapter Nine
Corinne got up before dawn on Saturday morning to read her Bible and pray. By the time she made coffee and carried her Bible to the back porch, the sun was rising.
She sat on the rickety ch
air that probably needed to be cleaned with bleach soon. The porch also needed sweeping.
Maybe she could do that before she went to work today.
The thought of work reminded her of who had walked into the Key Largo Chocolate Shop on Thursday afternoon.
Why did God allow Martin to find her in Key Largo?
That had to be the only reason he was in town.
Four years, and he still hadn’t forgotten her.
Oddly enough, she felt a sense of relief that he had found her. Two years ago, she wouldn’t have thought she’d survive to raise her daughter.
If something should happen to her…
She held back her tears.
Tropical birds chirped in the neighborhood trees. Corinne looked up to see leaves rustling in the morning wind.
Sparrows landed on a chain-link fence near a two-piece birdbath that Corinne had salvaged from someone’s trash and hauled five blocks home, one piece at a time. Dahlia enjoyed filling that birdbath with tap water, but it had been during one of her chore times that she stepped on an anthill.
All was well now, and Corinne had taken care of that anthill and all the ants in it. She felt sorry for the ants she had to kill, but sorrier for her daughter who was allergic to ants, it turned out.
The sparrows drank from the birdbath.
They reminded Corinne of verses from the New Testament. She looked them up in her Bible that someone at church had given to her when she was saved. She found the verses in Luke 12:6-7.
Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of them is forgotten before God? But even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not therefore: ye are of more value than many sparrows.
A stream of tears streaked down her red cheeks.
“I am more valuable than many sparrows. Thank You, Jesus.”
Corinne knew that trouble hadn’t left her, not even after she became a Christian. Trouble was only a door knock away.
Would God send help?
She lifted her eyes to the sky as another verse came to her mind. This time it was from Psalm 102:7, a verse Wanda had mentioned to her before.
I watch, and am as a sparrow alone upon the housetop.