by Terrie Todd
After she’d entered through the back door of Schneiders’ Corner Store, she hung her coat and placed her purse in her “locker”—a simple wooden crate nailed to the wall. Inside lay a card-size lavender envelope with her name on it. How nice, she thought, tucking it into her purse for later. She stepped into the storefront where her employers, Brian and Pamela, were preparing for their lunch break.
“Benita.” Pamela’s warm hug touched a wounded spot in Benita’s heart, and she swallowed hard. “We’re so sorry about your grandmother. I know you two were close. How are you? How are Ken and the kids?”
“We’re fine. Thank you for the time off; it felt good to help Mom with the arrangements. And thanks for the card . . . I’ll open it later, when I don’t need to worry about smudging mascara with tears. Been busy this morning?”
“About normal.” Pamela returned to business. “Brian and I have errands to run. There’s a shipment coming in at three o’clock, so we’ll definitely be back by then.”
“Sounds good. Anything else I need to know?”
“Mrs. Krause’s order will be picked up around one. It’s all packed in that box right there, plus a clearly marked bag in the cooler. We didn’t receive any oranges this week, so if anyone’s asking for oranges, tell them sorry, but it’ll be next week at the earliest.”
“Okay. Um—Pamela?” Benita said.
“Yeah?”
“I just wondered . . . if there’s any chance you could use me for a few more hours, I’d be happy to take them. Ken’s home now, so I can pretty much work anytime—evenings, weekends, whatever you need.”
“Aw, honey, I know. But nothing’s really changed since we had this conversation a few weeks ago. It’s getting nearly impossible to compete with the big grocery stores, and our only customers are senior citizens, dying off like flies. I thought you understood.”
“I do. I just thought I’d check. It’s okay.”
As Benita stepped behind the counter, Pamela and Brian walked out the front door. Brian, who had remained silent since Benita’s arrival, spoke before the door shut behind them.
“She doesn’t understand we wouldn’t keep her on at all if we didn’t feel so sorry for her.”
“Sh-h-h!” Pamela glanced back over her shoulder as the door closed with a clang of its overhead bell.
Benita froze as Brian’s words sunk in. I will not cry, I will not cry, she told herself. Easier to be angry. Customers dying off like flies, eh? Well, whose fault is that? Maybe if they’d fix this place up, offer what the younger people wanted, and get with the times, they could gain a whole new clientele. Maybe if they’d split up for half an hour to run their stupid errands instead of insisting on being together twenty-four-seven. How ridiculously inefficient.
In her heart, though, Benita knew that if Brian and Pamela were more efficient businesspeople, they wouldn’t need her. One of them could mind the store while the other ran errands. Their codependency, if that’s what it was, worked in Benita’s favor. As long as they didn’t go bankrupt.
The bell over the door clanged again, and Benita was glad for the diversion. But it was only the paperboy. After he left, she spread the Winnipeg Free Press out on the counter and went straight for the job ads. Surely someplace in this city could provide more job security. An insurance company needed an administrative assistant. Why hadn’t she finished those community college courses? The Free Press wanted freelance reporters. She liked to write, but couldn’t imagine asking questions of perfect strangers and then writing about what they told her, at least not in a way anyone would want to read, let alone pay for. Every health-care facility in town needed nurses. No kidding. Benita could feel the cynicism rising from her heart to her brain. Maybe better health care could have saved Gram.
Benita wrote her own fantasy ad in her mind. “Wanted: a mildly depressed mother of two with little education or experience, to redecorate homes for clients we will find for you. Name your salary. Unemployed husband preferred. Vehicle provided.”
“Now that, I’d apply for,” she muttered as a customer walked in. She folded the paper and slid it under the counter.
For the rest of the afternoon, Benita kept busy serving customers, and stocking and dusting shelves. When the delivery truck arrived, she allowed the driver to unload everything, signed his papers, and then ran to answer the phone. Expecting it to be Brian or Pamela calling to explain their delay, she was surprised to hear Ken’s voice on the line instead.
“Hi, honey. How’s it going?” He sounded cheerful.
“Well, a bit crazy at the moment. For some reason Brian and Pamela didn’t come back in time for the delivery guy, and I’ve got all these boxes sitting here waiting to be unpacked . . . and the after-school crowd arrives shortly.”
“Want me to pick up the kids?”
“Yes, please. I’m not sure how long I’ll be here, but every extra minute I can stay helps, even if this job pays only minimum wage.”
Ken’s silence told Benita she’d hurt his feelings again. He would take her words as another dig about him not providing for the family. But darn it! I can’t walk on eggshells all the time, she thought. Why did he have to be so sensitive? Besides, if the shoe fits . . .
“Please have James and Katie-Lynn bring the laundry in off the line,” she said. “Give the jeans and towels a quick fluff in the dryer, but make sure it’s set on ‘air fluff.’ I’ll call you later.”
The next two hours passed in a blur as Benita sold candy, chips, and comic books to children who, in her opinion, possessed more money than brains. Between customers, she unpacked tins of beans, boxes of macaroni, and cartons of cigarettes. At least none of the stuff was perishable. After breaking down the last box and adding it to the recycling pile, she looked at the clock and was shocked to see that it read nearly six. Closing time. Where are they and why haven’t they called? Panic was setting in when the phone rang again. Thank God.
“Schneiders’ Corner Store, Benita speaking.”
Ken again. “Hey. You still at it?”
“Ken, I’m really getting worried. Brian and Pamela said they’d return by three, and I haven’t heard from them. It’s closing time.”
“Have you tried their cell phone?”
“Yes, several times. It just keeps giving me a message. I don’t know what to do.” She looked out the big storefront windows.
Ken sighed. “Well, for now I think you should probably close the store and—”
“Oh my gosh, two police officers just walked in the door. Something’s happened, Ken.”
“I’m coming. Be there in a minute.” And the line went dead.
CHAPTER 14
Benita waited behind the counter while the two police officers entered the store. The first was a blonde woman with a tight knot of hair at the back of her neck, below her hat. A black male officer followed her in.
“Good afternoon, ma’am,” the female officer said. “Are you on duty alone today?”
Still exhausted from the loss of Gram, Benita thought she must be hallucinating. Too many sleepless nights were taking their toll. “Yes.”
“Any customers in the store right now?”
“N-no,” Benita glanced from one officer to the other. “What’s happened?”
“It’s almost closing time, right?” the male asked. Benita nodded. “Mind if I go ahead and lock this?” He proceeded to lock the door, and Benita didn’t bother to respond.
“This store belongs to Brian and Pamela Schneider, correct?” the female officer asked, notebook in hand. “They live upstairs?”
“Yes! Please tell me what’s going on.”
Benita stared at the officers as they exchanged a sad glance. “Ma’am, I hate to have to tell you this, but your employers were in a horrible car accident this afternoon. Can you help us contact their next of kin? Do you know the family?”
Benita swallow
ed. “Rod and Stacey are the Schneiders’ adult children. They both live in other cities,” she said. “Are they—badly hurt?”
The two looked at each other. The male nodded. “They were both pronounced dead on arrival at the hospital,” the female officer said. “I’m so sorry.”
Benita sank to the stool behind the counter. Brian and Pamela, dead? Somehow, she found the presence of mind to guide the police to a notebook beside the phone, which included a handwritten list of important phone numbers.
Benita watched absently as the male officer wrote down the phone numbers of Brian and Pamela’s children.
“Thanks for your help, ma’am,” he said. “And again—I’m sorry. Please don’t say anything about this until we’ve had a chance to contact the Schneiders’ family. They’ll be visited in person by officers in their own cities.”
Ken arrived at the store just as the police left. Benita let him in and promptly collapsed in his arms, sobbing as she told him the story. It was too much.
“What’s going to happen, Ken? The store will close. I’m going to be unemployed, too. What are we going to do?”
Ken said nothing. He held Benita and let her cry, stroking her hair. When she stopped, he simply said, “Let’s lock the place up. Show me what all needs to be done.”
Together, they closed the store for the night, Benita wondering whether it might be for good.
CHAPTER 15
“Hi, sweetheart, it’s Mom,” Grace Gladstone’s voice rang out over the phone.
Today was the day they’d planned to sort through Gram’s things, and Benita felt no reason not to follow through, in spite of the additional drama going on in her world.
“I’ll meet you there in an hour, Mom.” There would be plenty of time to tell the story while they worked. Besides, if she explained now, her mother would most likely insist that they call off the day’s plans. But Benita welcomed the diversion. She quickly showered, dressed, and headed out the door.
When she arrived at Gram’s house, her mother was waiting on the front step.
“I couldn’t go in by myself,” Grace said. “It’s just too hard.”
Benita put an arm around her mother and they went in together. The familiar apple-cinnamon smell instantly overwhelmed them both, and they sank to the hardwood floor and cried. Grace pulled a packet of tissues from her purse, and together they created an ugly pile of used tissues that grew so big, Benita’s tears finally gave way to a soft chuckle at the sight of it. She reached out and nudged the foot of a cast-iron doorstop that looked like a silly butler holding out a tray. His paint was badly chipped, and both tips of his handlebar mustache had broken off. Gram had used the doorstop as a catchall for mail, keys, and purses for as long as Benita could remember.
“Whatever should we do with this hideous thing?”
Her mother grinned. “I have no idea! You want it?”
Benita dissolved into giggles, and her mother joined her until their laughter turned back into crying. Once their tears were finally spent, the two of them wiped their eyes and looked at each other.
“I’ll go make us some coffee.” Grace got to her feet. “Then we really do need to get busy.”
Over coffee, Benita told her mother of the previous day’s events.
“Oh, you poor thing. I can’t believe it.” Grace covered Benita’s hand with her own. “When it rains, it pours! What will you do? Are you out of work?”
“I don’t know, Mom. Wait and see, I guess. Look for a new job in the meantime.”
“Does Ken have any leads on a new job?”
“Not really. I don’t think he’s trying hard enough, Mom.” Benita wrapped her hands around her mug. “I think he’d be perfectly content to let me bring home the bacon. And everything else. Only now I might not be bringing home anything.”
“Well, I didn’t have a man bringing home any bacon, and we made it through just fine, you and me.” Grace carried her mug over to the sink and rinsed it.
“I really can’t think about it right now.” Benita sighed. “So, what shall we tackle first?”
They spent the rest of the day sorting and packing. Gram had been downsizing for a while. Most of her remaining belongings were destined for the local Goodwill; a few choice items were set aside for sentimental reasons. The two of them tended to think alike and had little trouble coming to quick decisions. By five o’clock, they’d reduced every room in the house to its furniture pieces and stacks of clearly labeled boxes. Grace had discovered her mother’s Bible, and she placed it lovingly on the seat of her car to take home.
“I am way too pooped to start on the attic, honey. Can we schedule another day?” Benita’s mother brushed dust from her jeans and sweatshirt. “After we haul all this away, we’ll need to spend time cleaning, too. Probably even painting, if we decide to sell.”
“What about tomorrow? Rod told me the store was to stay closed till further notice, and his parents’ funeral isn’t until Friday.”
They agreed to meet again the next morning. Benita’s mother helped her load her car with food items from Gram’s pantry and some of the special things Benita had chosen as keepsakes for herself and her children.
“I’ll sure sleep well tonight,” Benita muttered with a yawn on the drive home. She arrived to find Ken and the children finishing a meal of canned soup and toast.
“Just enough left for you.” Ken ladled soup into a bowl and dropped two slices of fresh bread into the toaster for Benita as she sank gratefully into a kitchen chair. Ken put the children to work hauling in the groceries and putting them away.
Sometimes he can be such a good man, she mused. It was easy to love and respect him when he was kind and sweet.
Why did those moments have to be so few and far between?
CHAPTER 16
Benita was attending her second funeral within a single week. While Gram’s had been difficult because of her grief, this one felt difficult because of both grief and fear for her future. Ken had suggested that he attend with her.
“Why? You barely knew them,” she’d said.
“I know. It just seems like the respectful thing to do.”
“If you respect your family, then you’ll spend that time looking for another job.” She had closed the door behind her without saying good-bye, and now sat in the service regretting her words. Why was it so hard for her to contain her anger? All her badgering didn’t motivate Ken one bit. If anything, it worked against her. She tried to focus on the two flower-covered caskets at the front of the church and listen to the tribute Rod and Stacey were giving their parents.
“Most of you know we grew up living over a store,” Stacey began. “As a young couple, Mom and Dad took a huge risk in buying that place and making a go of it. I have such admiration for them, for the courage and determination they showed.”
Benita recalled the last thing she had heard Brian say, about how they kept her on staff only out of sympathy. Did Stacey and Rod have any idea how challenging it had been in recent months for their parents to keep the business afloat?
Rod spoke now, reading from his notes. “It may come as a surprise to many of you that Mom and Dad were also working hard on their marriage. They celebrated their twenty-fifth anniversary three years ago and began seeing a counselor around the same time.”
Benita looked up in surprise. A marriage counselor?
“Yes, it was costly, in lots of ways. But it helped them a great deal, and they shared freely with us about why they’d sought help. They knew it was important to Stacey and me that they not only stay together, but set an example of what a good marriage can look like. We sensed the atmosphere in their home change, and saw more relaxed and loving expressions on their faces whenever we were around them. I’ll always be grateful to them for this.
“My sister and I agreed to share this with you today because it’s important. Life is too short to give u
p on relationships. Although this is a sad day for Stacey and me, it would be far sadder if Mom and Dad had given up on each other. Instead, they left this earth with no regrets, even though they weren’t given the chance to tell us good-bye. Stacey and I have a legacy we can be proud of. When we find ourselves hitting the inevitable bumps in the road of life, we’ll seek outside help because our parents taught us that that’s what you do. I hope you’ll remember their example. Thank you so much for coming today. It means a lot.”
He tucked the note card into his pocket and quietly left the platform with one hand on his sister’s shoulder. Benita felt sure there was not a dry eye in the place. She wondered what troubles had led her employers to seek counsel. She and Ken had never before experienced the kind of tension they’d felt in their own marriage this year. The ongoing unemployment situation was enough to drive anybody a little nutty. Add to that the loss of Gram, which Benita knew she had barely begun to grieve. And now this. It probably would be helpful to talk with a professional, but how on earth could she pay for something like that now?
The pastor closed in prayer. With tear-stained faces, Brian and Pamela’s family members followed the two caskets up the aisle and out the door. Benita found it too painful to keep looking at their hurting faces. Instead, she focused on a stained glass window and tried to pick out the words of the song being sung, which struck her as an unusual choice:
All the way, my Savior leads me, what have I to ask beside?
Can I doubt his tender mercy, who through life has been my guide?
Heavenly peace, divinest comfort, here by faith in Him to dwell
For I know, whate’er befall me, Jesus doeth all things well.
All the way my Savior leads me, O the fullness of His love
Perfect rest to me is promised in my Father’s house above.
When my spirit, clothed immortal, wings its flight to realms of day,