A Time for Faith

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A Time for Faith Page 8

by Busboom, Leah


  The repairs are tedious but we’re making good progress. A small hand tugs on my pantleg and I look down to see Sofie. She tugged on both Noah and my legs, so we both respond at the same time. “What do you need, Sofie?”

  “I want a puppy,” she says loudly, as if that’s the most important thing right now. Noah and I exchange an amused look. “Angela’s getting a puppy for Christmas. It’s a Doodle, and I want one too.” There’s a touch of grumpiness in Sofie’s voice, so I get the feeling that Noah and she have already discussed this. She stares at me with a small pout on her face.

  “Now’s not a good time to talk about this, Sofie. We’re busy,” Noah explains.

  She screws up her face, stomps her foot, and wails. The noise echoes around the sanctuary. June saves the day as she says, “Sofie, can you help me get everyone’s lunch order? You and I can go get food in a little bit.”

  Sofie stops mid-cry. June instructs her to ask each person what they want while June writes down the order. Forgetting about the puppy, Sofie goes around the table getting the orders. June winks at Noah and he mouths “thank you.” When Sofie gets to Frank, he bends down and says, “What’s on the menu?”

  A puzzled expression crosses Sofie’s face. “Hamburgers, Mr. Frank,” she replies. The group chuckles.

  “Okay, I want mustard, ketchup, and pickles on mine.”

  Sofie leans in and whispers to him, “I don’t like pickles.” She then takes another tack, hoping for a new ally. “Do you think I can get a puppy?”

  Frank looks like he swallowed his tongue but recovers quickly. “That’s something for your dad to decide.” Sofie nods sadly at the realization that she doesn’t have an ally in Frank either.

  Noah hands June the keys to his SUV since Sofie’s still required to sit in a car seat. “Do you need my help getting her into the seat?”

  “No, I do it all the time with my granddaughter.” June extends her hand to Sofie. “Okay, Miss Sofie. Let’s go get lunch for this hungry crew.” She helps Sofie get her coat on and they leave.

  After they’re gone, Frank turns to Noah. “One of my dogs just had puppies. They aren’t a fancy breed, but the mom is real nice and the puppies are cute. If you want to bring Sofie out to the farm and pick one out, you can.”

  Noah’s eyes widen. “That’s a generous offer, Frank.”

  He shrugs. “Every kid needs a dog. Teaches them responsibility and gives them a built-in buddy.”

  “You’re a wise man, Frank,” I say.

  “Let me make sure my rental allows pets and I might take you up on the offer,” Noah adds.

  Frank smiles and gets back to work. There’s a softie hiding behind that gruff exterior.

  ~*~

  It’s 8:00 p.m. and we just completed the second window. I stretch, trying to get the kinks out of my back while Noah and Frank reinstall the sections. June just left because of a previous commitment. Sofie had the woman wound around her little finger by the time they returned with lunch. June bought her two kiddie meals so Sofie could get both toys. It was fortunate that Ellie picked up Sofie about four hours ago because Sofie had run out of games and was getting cranky.

  All our heads turn when the front doors whoosh open and Pastor Tim strides in. “Saw the lights were still on, so I just had to come and check on things.” He stops beside me as we watch the final section going back up.

  “The windows look amazing,” he says with pride and awe in his voice.

  “I agree. It was worth all the effort. Now the members can enjoy them for years to come,” I say.

  He nods and quietly admires the gorgeous restored window. Noah and Frank put the ladder away and then stand beside us as we all marvel at the sight.

  “I’m planning a special service for Christmas Eve and want you all to attend,” the pastor says.

  We nod affirmatively, because who could turn down Pastor Tim?

  As we’re leaving, I hear Noah arrange with Frank a time to look at the puppies. I grin, knowing that will make Sofie an incredibly happy girl.

  “You’re a good man, Noah,” I say as he lugs my supply box to the car. I stop and turn to him. “When I first met you, I thought you were a terrible dad. Sofie had been in my class for almost two months and I’d never seen you drop her off or pick her up one time.” He tries to say something, but I hold up my hand. “I know getting fired was difficult, but I’d say it was a blessing in disguise. God had a better plan for you.”

  Noah’s eyes crinkle at the corner as he smiles. “He did, and I thank Him every day for putting me on the right path.” He pauses and gazes into my eyes as if trying to read my inner thoughts. “I also thank Him for putting you in my path, Miss Dailey.”

  My heart does a little flip in my chest at not only Noah’s words but also the intense look he gives me.

  “May 23,” I mutter under my breath as I get into my car and drive away.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Noah

  DING! DONG!

  As I’m getting ready to visit my potential new client, the doorbell rings. It’s before 9:00 a.m. and I’m not expecting anyone. When I see who’s standing at the door, my brows draw together, and my heart rate increases. This can’t be good news.

  Opening the door just wide enough for me to peer out, I say, “Mr. Robertson, I wasn’t expecting you.”

  The CEO of Robertson Industries smiles and nods, then says in a friendly voice, “You’re a tough one to keep up with, Noah! I went to your last known address and the lady there said you’d moved. Luckily, she knew your new address. May I come in?”

  When you get fired from your job, you can’t afford the big fancy house anymore. I bite my lip so I don’t vocalize those thoughts.

  “Sure, please come in.” I step aside and motion for him to take a seat in the living room. His eyes widen at the messy room, but I won’t apologize for it. As surreptitiously as possible I remove the fuzzy pink bunny slippers from the coffee table, setting them on the floor underneath. Sofie’s stuffed elephant and a doll lay on one of the end tables. My house looks lived in.

  Bob sits on the couch and I sit across from him on the loveseat. “How may I help you, Mr. Robertson?”

  He chuckles. “Oh, please call me Bob! Looks like you’re ready for Christmas,” he says as he nods towards the overly decorated tree. Sofie and I didn’t know when to stop. The branches droop from all the ornaments. The angel leans sideways. Even though I’ve straightened the topper several times, it refuses to stand upright like the ones in those Hallmark movies. He stares at the two stockings hanging beside the window but doesn’t comment. A Daddy stocking has joined Sofie’s stocking because she was worried Santa would forget me.

  Clearing his throat, Bob says, “I won’t beat around the bush, Noah. Our internal investigation into the embezzled money has concluded. David was siphoning off money and hiding it in other accounts only he had access to. He was fired last month, so I’m looking for another CFO, and your name popped to the top of the list.”

  My eyes widen and my mouth hangs open for a couple of seconds. This is the last thing I expected Bob to say. I’m rooted to the spot and speechless. An annoyed feeling also enters my thoughts. The investigation was completed over a month ago, and no one from Robertson Industries had the courtesy to tell me I was found innocent? When my brain sputters back into gear, I say, “But you fired me, Bob. Surely that doesn’t look good on my record.”

  He waves his hand in a dismissive fashion. “Technically we laid you off, Noah. And I’m here because we want you back . . . You’ll report directly to me this time.”

  He now wants to call it a layoff? He’s taking a lot of leeway with semantics. Expelling a loud breath through my nose at his phony claim, I choose to ignore the inaccuracy of his words. “I’ve started my own business and it’s doing well. I don’t see myself returning to the corporate world.” The firm commitment to my fledgling business surprises even me, because just a few months ago I would have jumped at Bob’s offer.

  Bob
steeples his fingers under his chin, a serious expression on his face. “Let me sweeten the pot, Noah. We’ll pay you for all the months you missed, and you’ll get a raise on day one.”

  My mind spins with dollar signs and starts to calculate the three months’ backpay. That would be a substantial amount. When I don’t respond, Bob adds, “For good measure, I’ll make it six months’ backpay. That’s a nice round number.” He sinks back into the sofa cushions, folds his hands in his lap, and waits for my answer. The confident expression on his face indicates that he’s certain money will lure me back.

  I wasn’t kidding when I said I don’t see myself back in the corporate world. When we moved, I gave away most of my button-down shirts and suits to the church. Pastor Tim runs an organization that helps unemployed men prepare for interviews, including getting them the right clothes, so my suits went to a good cause. I rub the stubble on my face as I ponder this surprising and lucrative offer.

  Bob nods towards my chin, “Your new look would have to go. We still have the no beards policy.” He then laughs as if he told a joke.

  I nod, knowing that the beard is not a deal breaker in this case—but my clients are. Mrs. McCallister’s smiling face bursts into my head. She’s so grateful for my help with her business finances that she’s stopped by a couple of times with Christmas cookies. The elaborately decorated gingerbread cutouts were delicious and delighted Sofie and me. Truth is, all my clients need me, and my expertise frees them from grappling with the financial aspects of their business that none of them excel at. This new venture has already rewarded me in so many non-monetary ways.

  When I was struggling to make ends meet, did Robertson Industries reach out to check on me or to help me? I know I didn’t make any effort to make friends when I worked there, but do I want to work for a cutthroat company that fires you like a disposable piece of equipment then begs you to come back only when it’s beneficial for them?

  I’m doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing. A warm, contented feeling of satisfaction flows through my body once I arrive at my decision. Leaning forward on the loveseat, I look Bob directly in the eyes. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m happy doing what I’m doing now. I won’t be returning to Robertson Industries.”

  The look on Bob’s face is priceless, as if I’m the first person to ever turn him down. “But are you making as much money with your little business as I’m offering you?”

  His innuendo that my “little business” is trivial and pointless sets my teeth on edge. Granted I’m not making as much money as I did before, but my life is so much more fulfilling. My decision is made.

  Before I can speak, Bob rushes on. “Why don’t you think about it for a couple days Noah? Don’t make a rash decision.”

  Feeling completely at peace, I say, “I’m not making a rash decision, Bob. I’ve worked long and hard these past months to build my business from the ground up, and my clients all need my help. It’s extremely gratifying.”

  He shakes his head in disappointment and unfolds his tall frame from the couch. “Sorry you won’t be coming back. If you ever change your mind, give me a call.”

  I stand and walk with him to the door. As he turns to leave, I say, “Bob, when you fired me, it was one of the lowest points of my life. In the three months since, you never reached out one time. All this time I lived in fear that David would pin the crime on me and you’d have me arrested.”

  He grimaces at my blunt words. “Firing you was not my finest moment. And we probably owed you an update that you were found to not be involved.” He clears his throat. “But I hope we can move on from that. Even if you don’t return to the company, I’d like to know that there’s no bad feelings between us.”

  I shake his hand. “I’ve forgiven you, Bob. God showed me the kindness of so many people in my time of need. I hope He guides you to do the same for someone in need.”

  The tall white-haired gentlemen nods and walks to his car. I can only hope that my words made an impact.

  ~*~

  Evans Auto Body and Repair is hopping when I arrive for my appointment with the owner. The receptionist points me to Logan Evans, who’s busy conferring with someone about their car—a souped up Corvette with shiny red paint. My teenage-self eyes the car with longing. Standing off to the side, I wait for the conversation to end.

  “You must be Noah? I’m Logan,” the owner says. He’s a strapping guy sporting a bushy beard who’s at least a head taller than my six feet. He looks like a mountain man, and his booming voice reminds me of Pastor Tim. We shake hands, then he motions to the right. “Follow me to my office.”

  We wind our way around different vehicles in various stages of being serviced and end up in a small cubbyhole in the back corner of the garage. The cramped space barely qualifies as an office. Logan squeezes behind the desk while I take the straight-backed chair shoehorned in front of it. My eyes widen as I take in the disarray. Papers are stacked everywhere.

  Logan chuckles at my shocked expression. “I never get around to organizing anything.” His Captain Obvious comment amuses me. He stretches his arm to a bookcase beside the desk and pulls out a box stuffed full of more papers. “These are the important papers,” Logan says with a grin.

  “What are these other papers?” I ask waving towards the stacks on the desk.

  He shrugs. “Service orders that have been completed. But I have receipts for every payment in the box,” he says proudly, as if that’s quite an accomplishment.

  Letting out a small sigh, I say, “Do you have any of these papers entered into your bookkeeping software?”

  “Yeah, all of them from last year. My cousin’s wife did those last December. Haven’t had anyone to enter these yet.”

  My eyes widen further. So, the box represents almost twelve months of receipts and invoices? “How are you paying invoices for expenses that are due?”

  Logan shrugs. “I write a check when the bill comes in and note it in the checkbook log.” He flips open the checkbox resting on top of the papers in the box and shows me the scribbled log.

  Wonder how many invoices are paid late or never paid? This job is going to be a challenge. At least my other clients had accounting software and were trying to use it.

  I must not be hiding my feelings very well because Logan’s eyebrows draw together in a worried frown. “Noah, as you can tell, I need your help. Working on cars is what I love and what I’m good at.” He points to the box. “This stuff, not so much.”

  I pull out the flyer with my service fees, but he waves me off. “I don’t care what you charge. You’ll end up saving me money in the long run, I’m sure.”

  We discuss payroll and how he pays his employees. He isn’t keeping up with payroll taxes, so I need to get those paid as soon as possible. I describe my accounting software and how I can write checks or pay online via the software, with his approval.

  Our discussion lasts about fifteen minutes. Logan isn’t a dummy, he’s just not knowledgeable about or interested in the financial side of his business. As I told Bob Robertson, this is why I started my company—to help guys like Logan.

  He stands when someone yells for him from one of the service bays. “Sorry, but I need to get back to work. Do you need anything else?” He hands me the box.

  “I’ll email you a contract; please sign it as soon as possible and I’ll get started.”

  “You’re a lifesaver, Noah. I’m so grateful Darryl mentioned you to me.” He smiles and starts to walk away. “Hey, if your vehicle ever needs service, it’s on the house,” he adds and strides away.

  I pick up the box, knowing that it’s going to take me several days to dig through all this and get everything organized. Chuckling, I think back to the weeks right after I got fired. It would be nice to have a little of that free time back again, but I wouldn’t change how things worked out for the world.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Raelynn

  I NEED ONE LAST CHRISTMAS gift for Mom. She mentioned a few month
s ago that she would like an authentic Red Wing crock for her front porch to put flowers in. So, I’m at Twice Again to see if they have one.

  Twice Again is a fascinating store. Filled to the brim with eclectic secondhand items, you can find almost anything for anyone. In autumn, I noticed that the store was packed with tourists, so I avoided coming here until now.

  A tall slender lady is working behind the checkout counter. I glance around looking for Noah’s sister, Ellie, but she’s nowhere in sight. Although Noah promised to more formally introduce me to his sister, between the holidays and his new business, he’s been so busy that I haven’t bugged him about doing so. I thought this little shopping trip would be a perfect opportunity to get to know Ellie better, so I’m disappointed when she’s absent.

  “May I help you?” the lady asks when I get within a few steps of the counter. She doesn’t address me in an overly exuberant voice much like some salespeople do. In fact, I’d say her manner is somewhat standoffish.

  “Is Ellie around?” This prickly young woman is giving off a vibe that says, “leave me alone.” I’m surprised Margaret hired someone with this personality.

  “She’s at lunch,” she says in a huffy voice. The woman glares at me as if I’m an inconvenience.

  I notice her nametag reads Riley, so I try a friendlier approach. “Riley, I’m looking for a Red Wing crock for my mom. Do you have any?”

  Her demeanor immediately goes from sour to sweet. “Yeah, we do. Follow me.” We walk to the back of the store, where there’s all different sizes of the white crocks.

  “What are you going to do with it?” Riley asks.

  “Mom wants to put it on her front porch and fill it with flowers.”

  Riley nods and digs through the stack, pulling out two crocks and holding them up for my inspection. “This is an antique one; you can see that it’s a little weathered and there’s a chip along the rim.” She rotates the crock, around showing me the chip. “But the distinctive Red Wing mark on the front is still in good shape.”

 

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