by Naomi Niles
Sean glared down at me as if he hadn’t seen me until that moment. “What’s gotten into you this morning? Can’t a man have a bit of fun?”
“Get down from there and dry off. I’ve got something serious we need to talk about.”
With a reluctant groan, Sean climbed down off the log and followed me into the office, knocking over his grandfather’s chess board in the process.
“How are things with the girl?” he asked me, once their argument had subsided. “Did you ever figure out what was wrong?”
“No, but it’s not important at the moment. Her business is in some financial and possibly legal trouble, and we need you to straighten it out.”
Sean looked perplexed, as if no one had ever looked to him for help before and he wasn’t sure he was up to the challenge. Briefly, I brought him up to speed on Lori’s meeting with the lawyer and the church’s demand for $70,000 by the end of the month. “They’re not happy about it. Even if they could pay the fee, which they can’t, they’re not interested in giving money to a man who once called Barack Obama ‘the forerunner of the Antichrist.’”
“I can’t imagine why not,” said Sean sarcastically. “Did you bring the papers?”
“Yeah, here.” I reached into my back pocket and handed them over.
Sean pulled out his glasses and scanned the top page. “It’s going to take me at least a couple hours to look over this. If you’re up for grabbing dinner tonight, we can talk about it at Montreux…”
“Sure, no problem. I’ll pay.” I texted Lori to let her know we would have an answer by the next day. I asked her if she and her sister wanted to meet for dinner on the following night. Under the circumstances, I didn’t think she would mind.
She texted back within a few minutes: Yeah, we’d love that! :)
I stared hard at the text for a moment, wondering whether the emphasis was on the “we” and if she was trying to signal that this wasn’t a date. I thought about texting and clarifying, but decided in the end that that would only make things more awkward.
Sean’s grandfather, meanwhile, was fuming about SCHOP.
“I never did like those guys,” he said. “They’re always coming in asking for favors and then trying to get out of paying. I’ve never had that problem with members of any other churches, just theirs. I can always tell a SCHOPper because they have a dead-eyed, zombie look and because they try to stiff me.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard nothing but complaints about them,” said Sean. “I heard they believe there’s going to be a second civil war in America, and only a ‘righteous remnant’ are going to survive it. Their pastor looks like Moses in blue jeans and is one of those annoying patriot types who are always screaming about their Second Amendment rights. He claims to have visited heaven on three different occasions and been handed a shotgun by Paul the Apostle.”
“How can anyone follow somebody like that?” I asked in a tone of distaste. “Obviously none of that is true.”
“I don’t know, man. There’s no idea so ridiculous that it can’t find followers. Anyway, I’m sure if we really thought about it we’d realize that we’ve believed some pretty dumb things in our time.”
“Sure, when we were kids. But you grow up and come out of it eventually. Hopefully.”
I sank down into a swivel chair, still puzzling over Lori’s text and the folly of man. Sensing my unease, Sean repeated his first question. “I take it you and Lori made up? Perhaps even… made out?”
“We didn’t go that far, but we’re doing better.” Reaching down, I picked up a rook off the floor and set it in its place on the chess board. “I don’t think I realized how worried I was until I went in there to see her. It feels like I’ve been holding my breath all weekend and I’ve only now let it out. You want to hear something crazy?”
“Always,” said Sean, his eyes bright.
“I actually went by the library this morning.”
“Are you kidding me?” He looked simultaneously pleased and horrified. “Did you actually check out a book?”
“Yes, I checked out several. Got myself a library card and everything. I liked the atmosphere of the place. It was quiet, and it felt strangely comforting to be surrounded by all those books, all that knowledge. I can almost see what it is Lori loves about them.”
Sean shook his head, aghast. “I don’t know if I like the effect this girl is having on you—but it’s clear she’s having an effect!”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lori
“This is all my fault,” I told Sam. “If I hadn’t bought all the new furniture over the weekend, we might have enough money to cover the expense.”
Sam had been graciously listening to a version of this argument for much of the previous day. It was Tuesday morning, and we were both failing badly at looking cheerful as we served the handful of customers who had braved the rain to visit the bakery for breakfast.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Sam, sliding a lemon bar across the counter toward Cheryl. “Even if you add up the cost of the bookcase and the coffee table, that’s about $700. If we were able to take them back and get a refund, it wouldn’t begin to cover our new expenses.”
“Well,” I said shyly, “there’s also the new sofa.”
Sam leaned over the counter, bewildered. “What new sofa?”
Right as she said this, the front door opened and two men in grey uniforms came stumbling in carrying a brown leather sofa in both arms. It wouldn’t fit all the way in when they lifted it horizontally, so they were obliged to turn it over on its side. “Where you want this to go?” asked the man bringing up the rear.
I motioned toward the back, hot flashes of shame heating my insides. They carried the sofa toward the back while Sam looked on, speechless.
“See, I really shouldn’t have done that,” I said. “Do you think if I just went and talked to them—?”
“No, Lori,” said Sam. “What’s done is done. And unless that sofa cost upwards of $70,000, taking it back to the store isn’t going to help us much, either.”
I shook my head firmly. In my year co-managing the bakery, I had made some pretty egregious mistakes, but I never would have been dumb enough to shell out almost a hundred thousand for a sofa. I wasn’t even sure a sofa could cost that much.
“Don’t trouble yourself too much about it,” said Cheryl, who had been listening attentively to our discussion as she cut up her lemon bar into tiny squares with a fork. “The universe has a way of providing money for those who are in most need of it.”
“I wish that were true,” said Sam.
Cheryl wasn’t discouraged by her skepticism. “Famous in England is the tale of John Chapman, a peddler whose shop was about to be confiscated. In despair, because his wife was pregnant and he had no way of providing for them, he dreamt that if he stood in the middle of London Bridge, a man would appear and tell him how to become rich. For hours, he stood there, waiting and feeling stupid. Finally, he fell into conversation with a shopkeeper who also happened to be standing on the bridge. The shopkeeper said he had had a dream the night before in which he found treasure buried in the yard of a man named John Chapman. So, of course, Chapman went home and dug in the yard, where he found a chest containing enough jewels to save his business and family.”
She crossed her fork over her plate and sat back with a triumphant air. “That is quite a story, Cheryl,” said Sam, incredulous.
“I know,” I said sadly. “If only we could find treasure as easily as they did back in the old days when all you had to do was venture into the woods at dusk and offer your bread to the old homeless man sitting by the roadside, who inevitably proved to be a prince in disguise.”
Cheryl studied us suspiciously, as though certain she was being made fun of but not entirely sure how. “English lore is full of fascinating stories like that. I’m fond of the one about the baker’s daughter who refused to serve a slab of bread to a homeless man. Of course, the homeless man turned out to be Jesus, and he turned her int
o a giant owl.”
“Wow, that seems… awfully vindictive, for Jesus,” said Sam.
“I wish we could turn people into giant owls,” I muttered. “It might solve some of our current problems.”
“I think that would cause more problems than it solved,” said Sam.
Just then one of the movers came striding up to the counter. “Bad news about the sofa,” he said, mopping the sweat off his face with a paper towel, “It doesn’t quite fit. You’re going to have to move one of the small tables in the back.”
I left Sam standing at the counter and followed them toward the back. The sight of the sofa gave me a queasy feeling. I didn’t like being reminded of my extraneous purchase, nor of the happier times in which we thought we could afford it. I shoved the table a few feet forward, and the sofa slotted in perfectly. “Not that it really matters,” I told him. “We’ll probably be moving again in a few weeks.”
“Well, this should do for now.” He ran a bottle of ice water over his sweat-soaked shirt. “When we were pulling up, we saw some guys moving equipment into that abandoned store next door—speakers, sound booth, electrical supplies. It’s like a rock band is taking over the strip center.”
“If only that were the case,” I said under my breath.
Once the movers were gone, I sat down on the couch. For some reason, it didn’t feel nearly as comfortable as it had in the store. Sitting up made my back and neck hurt, and lying down wasn’t much of an improvement.
“Do you think we’ll ever be happy?” I asked Sam that night as we drove back to La Hacienda. “I mean really happy?”
“Why wouldn’t we be?”
“I don’t know. I guess because it took us so long to get the store just how we wanted it. I spent all those months thinking, ‘Once we can get the bookcase and some new furniture installed, this place is really going to feel like a home!’ And now that it’s happened, it just feels disappointing.”
“Well, the circumstances probably don’t help much,” she pointed out. “I’m sure you’d be a lot happier if you weren’t wracked with anxiety about having to move.”
“Perhaps not. That and the people moving in next door.” Toward the end of the day, we had gotten a few customers from SCHOP. Although they were affable, they left me with an uneasy feeling. I didn’t like the way they looked at the store, like they were already planning what they were going to do with it once they had gotten rid of us. I wondered if that was how they felt about the world in general, like they were just biding their time until the rest of us were gone and they took over.
“Maybe we ought to take them some lemon bars,” said Sam. Before I could object, she added, “I get the feeling they don’t trust other people much. It might help to lower the tensions between us.”
“I thought you were dead-set against helping them,” I pointed out.
“I was, but I’m thinking strategically here. Sometimes kindness is the way to a person’s heart. It might not help us out of our financial debacle, but at least they won’t think of us as their enemies.”
I shook my head skeptically. The last thing I wanted was for the members of that church to think of us as their friends. I had a sudden unhappy vision of the two of us standing at the counter struggling to smile while a group of them invited us to church. If we stayed in our current location, that was more likely to happen than not.
“Sitting on the couch earlier,” I told Sam, “I remember thinking, ‘This is it. This is what we wanted: for the store to feel like a home.’ And now it finally did, and I couldn’t enjoy it, thinking about how soon it was all going to be taken away from us. It’s like I can’t even sit still for a moment and enjoy something before life throws another obstacle in my path.”
“Well, I’m sure we’ll get it sorted,” said Sam. We pulled into the parking lot of La Hacienda and parked in an empty space next to Marshall’s car. “It’s fortunate that Marshall’s best friend is a lawyer. He’ll be able to make sense of it.”
But when we entered the restaurant and met Marshall and Sean, I wasn’t exactly filled with confidence.
Sean looked like he had been hiking in the woods until approximately two minutes before we came through the door. He was wearing a pair of denim overalls and a red flannel shirt covered in leaves and twigs. There was a fresh cut on his lower left arm, and he smelled faintly of swamp water.
“Well, shall we get down to business?” he asked, motioning for us to take a seat.
Sam and I stared nervously at one another. “Yeah, we’d better get this out of the way,” she said with a reluctant sigh and sat down next to Marshall.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Marshall
Sean leaned forward in the booth with a business-like air. A glass of lemon-water sat on the table in front of him. Every few minutes, he would take a sip before resuming his speech.
Removing his glasses from the pocket of his shirt, he said, “I suppose we should start with the bad news. Last night I combed every word of this contract, and it’s airtight. I can’t help but feel grudgingly impressed with whoever wrote it because it’s legal in all points.”
“What does that mean?” asked Sam, reaching for Lori’s hand.
“It means that as the new owners of the strip mall, they are entitled to that money,” said Sean. “If you don’t want to be evicted from the premises, I’m afraid you don’t have any choice but to pay them.”
Lori stared down at the table, looking dazed, while Sam smoldered with indignation. “I’m not paying them the money,” she said again and again. “I’m just not.”
“Do you know how much we could do with that money?” asked Lori. “We could buy a small house.”
“There are so many other things we could do with the money, besides giving it to that creepy church,” said Sam. “Not that it matters, because we don’t have it.”
“Do you have any way of getting the money?” asked Sean. There was a newly serious tone in his voice. “Maybe applying for a government loan? They love to help out small businesses.”
“We need the money by the end of this week!” Sam shouted. Under the circumstances, no one at the table seemed upset that she was raising her voice, though a woman sitting behind us glared in disapproval. “I’m sorry, but there’s no way we could raise that money in four weeks, let alone one. Barring a miracle, it looks like we’ll need to start seeking out new accommodations.”
“And you know,” said Lori, “maybe that’s not the worst thing.”
“Given who’s moving in next door, maybe not. But it’s a major hassle, and like you said, it feels like we only just started getting settled in. Now, whenever the bakery starts to prosper, I’m going to worry that we’re about to be booted from the premises and have to pitch tent elsewhere.”
“Especially given that SCHOP seems to be taking over more and more of the town,” said Lori.
Sean nodded. “She’s right about that: I did some research last night, and it seems they’ve recently bought the old warehouse on Fifth Street with the intention of turning it into a ‘university’ for their college-aged members. Unaccredited, natch. And a second strip mall on the west end of town where they’re setting up what they call their ‘children’s training facilities.’”
“Are they raising up like a child army?” asked Sam, looking horrified. “You ought to research the legality of that. There has to be some kind of law against turning half the town into their private religious compound.”
At the word compound, Lori shuddered and turned pale.
“Unfortunately,” said Sean, “I can’t see that anything they’ve done is against the law. All their purchases and land acquisitions have been made legally, and the First Amendment protects the right of minority religious movements to practice their faith. Trying to shut the church down would be a massive violation of their constitutional rights. In the case of the Branch-Davidians, the government didn’t object to their beliefs as such but to the fact that they were stockpiling weapons, ostensibly fo
r the purpose of launching a violent revolution.”
“I remember my parents telling me about that,” I said quietly. “Just up the road from where we lived, and it was all anybody could talk about. It was chaos.”
“Despite the rhetoric,” said Sean, “I don’t see any evidence that SCHOP is planning on overthrowing the U. S. government. They talk about leading a revolution, but it’s just talk. Or, if you press them about it, they’ll say it’s a spiritual revolution.”
“That’s not what they mean.” Sam shook her head in disgust. “I’ve seen him on TV talking about it. Everyone who’s not a part of his church is going to die.”
No one was feeling particularly hungry by the time our waiter came around to take our orders. I ordered a La Hacienda sampler of nachos, taquitos, and quesadillas, which I split with Lori, while Sean bought a ten-piece plate of Buffalo wings and Sam bought a Mr. Pibb.
“You sure you don’t want to eat anything?” asked Lori in a concerned tone. “I’m probably not going to finish eating all my taquitos if you want them.”
“I’m fine,” said Sam with a shake of her head. “I might make myself some quinoa when I get home.”
“I was just thinking,” said Lori, dipping a chip into the queso, “do you remember those Frank Peretti books we used to read when we were kids? This Present Darkness and Piercing the Darkness?”
“God, I haven’t thought about those books in forever! I used to think they were so good. Though, to be fair, the only other books I had read in that genre were Left Behind.”
“They were much better than Left Behind. Frank Peretti actually writes instead of just typing. I was just thinking this whole situation is starting to remind me of a Peretti book.”
“You mean how a weird cult is slowly taking over an entire town?” Sam replied. “And only two or three people seem to be paying attention, and everyone else is oblivious?”