Brian and Jacquelyn weren’t at all impressed with Rhonda Kimmel. But if they had to go through her to get this property, so be it. It was more than a fair trade off.
“Rhonda, would you mind if Jacquelyn and I had a moment alone,” asked Brian.
“Sure, take all the time you need. If you need me, just call my cell phone.”
“Thanks,” Jacquelyn said softly.
Sensing their growing excitement, Kimmel left them alone inside the church pavilion and walked to the front gate. With so much money riding on this sale—to be divided among so many people—it was time to make some phone calls.
But Kimmel stood to receive a million-dollar bonus for making the sale herself. She was already spending the money inside her mind.
Brian and Jacquelyn sat on a bench and marveled. This place not only looked like a place of worship; it felt like one. Made entirely out of wood, it was solidly built; as solid as it could be without having permanent walls affixed to it.
Several twelve-foot wide, canvas roll up walls were mounted to the underbelly of the ceiling, which could be manually lowered and raised with ease. The underbelly of the roof was completely hollow, exposing wooden trusses 18 inches in diameter. Painted white, they crisscrossed in a fruitful attempt to hold the structure together.
The large trusses were used to mount lights and ceiling fans throughout the sanctuary. Four large speakers were bolted to the beams; two at the front of the pavilion and two at the midway point. They were covered in plastic to protect from the elements of winter.
Electric candles hung on diagonal support beams throughout the pavilion, three candles per sconce. The weight of the speakers, lights, ceiling fans and candles posed no challenge whatsoever to the solid wooden beams.
Brian’s eye followed a thick rope inching its way from the steeple in the center of the pavilion all the way up to the left side of the stage, where it was knotted off at the end. He walked over and gave it a good tug. Sure enough, a bell chimed.
The sound hung thick in the air giving off a clear, vibrant sound, until it finally gave way to a dull, distant thud. It was a sound reminiscent of a bygone era.
It was nice, but if they purchased this place, the bell would only be rung if they encountered danger. Nostalgic or not, near silence and total secrecy would be the order of the days spent here.
The pulpit itself was a three-foot high stage, with a podium smack dab in the middle of it. The stage was large enough to comfortably hold 100 people if needed, including a choir.
Behind the stage was the only solid wall inside the pavilion. A cross was mounted on it between two stained-glass windows. Bible quotations were hung wherever there was extra space.
Mulrooney counted the wooden benches in the sanctuary and surmised that 500 people could easily fit inside for each gathering.
Brian wondered who would do the preaching: Me? He pushed that thought out of his head for the time being.
For now, he liked that everything about this place was simple. It would need to be modernized a bit, to include a retractable movie screen behind the pulpit for internet and satellite conferencing with other locations. Other than that, they would keep it simple, especially knowing they’d be forced to live off grid at some point.
“I can see why whoever lived here lived here. It’s so quaint,” Jacquelyn said. “Your phrase ‘Pockets of Peace’ fits this place like a glove. This’ll make a great place of worship, especially in the summertime. Though it will be cold in the winter.”
Brian could no longer sit still. He started pacing the sanctuary, thinking a mile a minute. “We’ll need to build solid walls.”
“Wouldn’t building walls take away from the overall beauty of the place?”
“At this point in history, Jacquelyn, I’m not too concerned with that. Besides, building walls will give us the added security we’ll need.”
“You’re right,” She said. Good point.
“Well, whaddya think?” Rhonda Kimmel said, startling them. They could almost see dollar signs in her eyes. “Is it what you’re looking for?”
“Impressive,” Brian said. “How much?”
“Eighty-seven mil.”
“How much?!”
“You do know it’s part of a vast network of properties, right?”
“Yes, but eighty-seven million dollars? You’ve got to be kiddin’ me?”
“I’m afraid not.” Rhonda started sensing she wouldn’t make The Big Sale today after all. There goes my million-dollar bonus.
“How much for just this place?”
“One-point-seven-mil,” she said.
Brian whistled through his teeth. “You’re asking way too much. It needs a lot of work.”
“What do you plan to do with it if you decide to buy it?”
“We’re not sure we’re gonna buy it, Rhonda,” said Mulrooney, bluntly.
“I know. But let’s say you do, why would you want this place?” Kimmel countered studying her manicure, apparently pleased by it.
“Tell you what, Rhonda, why don’t you focus more on telling me your best price and less on why we wanna buy it, okay?” Brian regretted saying it. It sounded mean. “Sorry. Got away from me.”
Kimmel extended both arms forward, palms straight out, unbending smile on her face, fake as it was to begin with. “Please forgive me, Brian. I tend to be nosy at times. It’s none of my business why you may want this place.”
There was total silence except for a few birds chirping in the trees above. Finally, Brian said, “Here’s the deal—we are interested. But it’s not worth one-point-seven-mil. Our offer is one million dollars in cash. If you can do it, call or text me. We’ll be in Pennsylvania until tomorrow. We can consummate the deal over breakfast. If not, I won’t expect to hear from you.”
“Wow, Mister Mulrooney, what a tough negotiator you are! I like your style…” Kimmel lied, crackling gum inside her mouth.
Brian ignored her ranting and glanced at Jacquelyn. Apparently, she, too, was impressed with his negotiating prowess. Her eyebrows raised, and there was a radiant smile on her face.
But it wasn’t just that. She had the look of someone who was about to purchase land with the love of her life. Her eyes sparkled; enough to freeze Brian in his tracks. He was completely deaf to Rhonda Kimmel’s meaningless words.
“…supervisor,” Kimmel went on. “If he agrees, I’ll call you. How’s that sound?” She noticed them staring at each other totally love-struck. “Uh…Mister Mulrooney…are you still with me?”
“Uh…yeah, right,” Brian said, coming back down to Earth. “That’ll be fine, Rhonda.” He heard the important part. If she could do the deal, she would call him in the morning. That’s all he needed to know.
Leaving the property, Brian eyeballed the real estate broker: “If everything works out, how quickly can we move in?”
“You said it’d be a cash deal, right?”
“Yes,” Brian and Jacquelyn both said in unison.
“The fact that no one’s lived here for quite some time, I don’t see why you couldn’t move in almost immediately. At least within a coupla weeks. I’ll try to have an answer for you in the mornin’, okay?”
“Sounds good.”
They watched her drive off.
“Brian, I love it!” Jacquelyn said.
“Me too.”
“Do you think they’ll let us have it for a million?”
“Let’s hope so.”
“Can we go any higher?”
“Yes. Especially since it’s the place you saw in your dream. That’s the best bargaining chip we have so far. Let’s wait and see what happens tomorrow. For now, we need to place it in God’s hands, and inform those at the top of our discovery. If it’s meant to be, it’ll be. If God opens this door for us, who can close it, right?”
“Right.” Us? Jacquelyn liked the sound of it.
Brian was thinking the same thing...
33
BRIAN MULROONEY WOKE up to the sound of his c
ell phone ringing. “Hello?”
“Mister Mulrooney?” It was Rhonda Kimmel. There was no mistaking her whiny, nasally voice, or her strong Northeast accent.
Hailing from New York, Brian used to sound a lot like her. Attending college in the Midwest and living in Michigan had gradually softened his East Coast accent over the years. But there were certain words Mulrooney would utter that revealed his New York City upbringing.
“Good morning, Rhonda.”
“I have good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”
“The bad news.”
“No can do on the price you’re offering.”
“Well then, gee, what’s the good news?”
“The good news is you can purchase the property all by itself. If we can agree on a number, you can have it in your possession in no time. Isn’t that exciting?”
“And that number is…?”
“One-point-three-mil.” There was silence. “Even in this terrible market, my client won’t go a penny lower.”
“I don’t know, Rhonda, it’s a bit steep.”
“I’m sorry. I did my best to get the price you wanted. Believe me, I don’t wanna lose a sale. The market’s been terrible. But there’s nothing I can do.” Rhonda sounded sincere for a change. Perhaps she wasn’t such a bad person after all.
“Understood,” Brian said. “I appreciate the effort, Rhonda. I’ll get back to you if anything changes on my end.”
“Okay.”
The call ended, and Brian dropped to his knees; something he did with great frequency these days. “Well, Father, You heard it. Not that You didn’t already know. If You want us to have this property, please give me a sign or something. I ask this in Jesus’ precious name, Amen.”
Brian called Jacquelyn and asked her to join him in his room. After filling her in, he said, “What should we do?”
Jacquelyn sighed, “Why don’t we call Charles?”
“For one thing, he told me he’d be busy visiting a potential ETSM location in Florida before going to Georgia to look at a few more properties.” Brian scratched his chin, “But more importantly, I feel we need to take the bull by the horns and move forward on this deal, especially since it lines up with the dream you had.”
“I agree. Besides, we need to get on the map as soon as possible, which means we desperately need land, right? And fast!”
Brian nodded yes. “But talk about pressure!”
Jacquelyn went on, “It’s not like we don’t have the money. Travis said you can go as high as $1.5 million, right?”
Brian nodded yes again.
“Well then, I say we go for it. We’re two-hundred-thousand under budget. Once this one’s up and running, many will follow, Lord willing.”
“You got it all figured out, huh, Jacquelyn?” Mulrooney said, with a chuckle.
Jacquelyn bit her lower lip, “Not really, but I say we go for it anyway.”
Brian took Jacquelyn’s optimism as answered prayer. Besides, she was right. Time was of the essence. They needed to act quickly. “Guess you’re right. It’s time to step up and make a decision on behalf of the ETSM by myself. I’ll call Rhonda and tell her it’s a done deal. Then I’ll call Charles.”
Jacquelyn threw herself into Brian’s arms and basked in the warmth of his embrace. Was it the heat of the moment? Sheer loneliness? Desperation? Or because they were about to purchase real estate together? Well, sort of.
Whatever it was, it came out of Jacquelyn’s mouth, loud and clear: “I love you, Brian Mulrooney.”
Jacquelyn stood frozen in his arms, awaiting a response, her words hanging in the air for what seemed an eternity.
Brian was too blown away to speak. Jacquelyn couldn’t see it, but his pale blue eyes were wider than silver dollars.
Those three words. He wanted to say them to her on so many occasions, especially at the church pavilion the day before. Each time they embraced, something stirred deep inside Brian that he never felt before, not even from Renate. It felt amazing.
Finally, Brian said, “I love you too, Jacquelyn.”
Jacquelyn’s lips curled into an easy smile. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her mind told her it was too soon to fall in love again. But her heart told her what she felt for Brian Mulrooney was genuine and true.
Jacquelyn loved her late husband, Tom, and was always faithful to him, but compared to what she felt now, the love she shared with Tom was more of a worldly, fleshly love.
With Jesus as their Rock and Redeemer, Jacquelyn felt certain the love she and Brian had for each other would stand the test of time, because it was ordained by God Almighty Himself.
They held each other for the longest time. Both were too numb to move. But it was a good numb; the numb feeling of being in love. Finally, there was something to feel good about.
Brian was the first to snap out of it. He looked deep into Jacquelyn’s eyes and smiled. “Let’s call Rhonda.”
“Okay, sweetie.”
Sweetie...it had a nice ring to it.
Mulrooney called Charles Calloway, who, in turn, called Travis Hartings, to update him on the situation.
“Sounds promising,” Travis said. “Let me discuss it with Clayton. In the meantime, I’ll have Braxton conduct a thorough background check on this Rhonda Kimmel woman. Tell Brian if everything checks out, it will be his property to manage. After all, he discovered it.”
“I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to hear that, Travis. I’ll pass it along to him. What about Jacquelyn? She said it’s the same place she saw in her dream…”
“Have to get back to you on that...”
“Okay, Travis. Understood.”
When Mulrooney heard the news, he wept tears of joy.
The ball was finally moving.
Thank you, Jesus!
34
THE MORE TAMIKA MOSELEY heard her name broadcast in the news, the more frightened and paranoid she became. Even three weeks later, an all-talk radio station retold the story every 30 minutes, still labeling her a “monster”.
Hearing it so much on her mother’s car radio—her new residence for who knew how long—Tamika was starting to feel like the despicable person they made her out to be. True or not, the more something was repeated the more one tended to believe it.
It was the worst feeling knowing if anyone recognized her, she would be arrested and taken into custody. And for what?
It’s not like she’d committed a murder. And she certainly didn’t rob the cemetery, as charged. The only thing she was guilty of was opening her grandfather’s coffin. Nothing more.
But how in the world could she prove it to the police?
For the past three weeks, Tamika was on the lam in northern New Jersey. Her new routine in life was to park at one location for a day or two before moving on to another place and pray that authorities wouldn’t link her to her late mother’s vehicle.
So far so good!
Looking across the Hudson River, the world-famous Manhattan skyline Tamika loved so much and was proud to call home the past five years, now terrified her. She could almost feel the hatred toward her racing across the water like a tsunami ready to punch her in the face.
At least Cocoa was with her now. Tamika went back for him the night police came banging on her door. But first she returned the taxi she drove the past three years back to headquarters. She didn’t want to be on the run for a stolen taxicab as well.
She arrived at headquarters at 1:30 a.m., thankful the police weren’t there waiting for her, and that they didn’t track her down while en route using the GPS locator inside the vehicle.
Leaving the keys inside the ignition, Tamika walked the shadowy streets of the city looking for a payphone. It took a while, but she finally found one three blocks away from headquarters.
With trembling hands, Tamika called the late-night-shift supervisor. After making him confirm the cab was safely in his possession, she asked him to pass along to her boss that she was in trouble and needed time to sort thing
s out.
The late-night manager rolled his eyes. What was there to tell? Everyone in New York City knew she was a wanted woman!
Tamika replaced the phone knowing her days of taxicab driving were over.
After going back and forth inside her head for the longest time, she slid behind the wheel of her late mother’s Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme and drove back to her apartment complex. She parked the car two blocks away and walked ever so cautiously toward her apartment, still wearing the same Tina Turner disguise.
Tamika saw a lone squad car parked across the street. She was certain a second squad car was parked out back. A few feet from the front door, she pulled her broken cell phone from her pocket—a phone she’d since ditched so authorities wouldn’t track her down with it—and spoke to the night air again.
She once again felt the weight of their collective stares burning holes in her body. Yet, for whatever reason, the two men remained inside the squad car. Perhaps they thought she was a demented psychopath and left her alone.
Tamika didn’t care what they thought about her. All that mattered was that the disguise had worked again.
She hurried inside the building and took the elevator a few flights up before getting off and walking a few flights on foot, only to ride the elevator again. By the time she reached the twenty-ninth floor, she was soaked with sweat. Peeking down the corridor and seeing the coast was clear, she removed her high heels and dashed to her apartment as quickly as she could, key in hand.
In the darkness, Tamika found the backpack that belonged to her youngest son, Dante, and filled it with things she would need; cat food, a few toys for Cocoa, her wedding ring so she could pawn it, and a jar full of change amounting to nearly $77.
Lastly, she gathered a trembling Cocoa into her arms.
Locking the door behind her, Tamika had a strong premonition that she would never enter or leave that place again.
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