Saturday Morning

by Lauraine Snelling

  Since then, Martin had never been late. Nor early either. He’d always been right on time.

  They sat around an old-fashioned farm table—a solid piece of oak two inches thick. It had come from a tree near the front of the property, struck down by lightning over eighty years ago. The table had been the center of family life for three generations, and now was Alice’s one prized possession.

  Over coffee and Alice’s famed apple crisp, Walt asked about Martin’s heart attack.

  Martin gave them the details as he knew them. “I guess I’m lucky to have survived.” He turned toward Andy. “I shouldn’t have kept my condition from you. I’m sorry. I was wrong not to have told you.”

  His admission took Andy by surprise. His gaze met hers across the table. “You saved my life. I don’t have the words to tell you how grateful I am.”

  Andy couldn’t have forced words past the lump in her throat if she’d tried. So she nodded and sniffed. Thank you, Jesus. Praise be to God—I mean You, Big Dad.

  Walt cleared his throat. “Ya darn fool. You shoulda told her.”

  “Walter!” Alice scolded. “You hush now. It’s none of your business. You didn’t tell me when you fell in the creek and hurt your back.”

  He ducked his chin and studied the coffee left in his cup. “That’s different.”

  Alice shook her head. “No, it isn’t.”

  Andy interrupted before her parents could take their bantering to the next level. “The doctor put Martin on an exercise regimen and told him he’ll have to make some lifestyle changes.”

  “What kind of changes?” Walt wanted to know.

  Andy was all ears. She wanted to know too, because whatever he did usually affected her.

  “Some of the changes were made for me. I won’t be traveling any more, and—”

  Andy cut in. “I thought you still had some training to do.”

  He shook his head. “Not anymore. When I had the heart attack, they put someone else on it.”

  Andy started to open her mouth and say something about not being indispensable, but she stopped herself. If she was reading his expression right, he already knew. A miracle, Lord. Thank You, thank You, thank You.

  “So what’s this new job of yours all about? Andy tells me you have a big fancy office and a secretary … ”

  Andy thought Martin looked almost embarrassed. Didn’t he know she talked to her parents about him and his job? Didn’t he know she was proud of his accomplishments?

  “They made me senior vice president of national sales. I have twelve men under me, doing what I’ve been doing all these years—traveling from city to city, from company to company.” He looked down at his plate. “If my boss has his way, I’ll have twelve more by the middle of February.”

  Andy’s jaw dropped. “Honey, you didn’t tell me that.”

  “I didn’t know until the other day when Brad came to the house.”

  She eyed him with concern. “That’s twice as much responsibility as you have now. Will you have an assistant to share the load?”

  “No.” He took a bite of his dessert. “This is great. Just what the doctor ordered.”

  The conversation veered away from Martin to Andy. She told her parents about J House and the Girl Squad. “I have to be back in San Francisco on the fourteenth for the auction.”

  “Oh, that reminds me,” Martin said, stopping the conversation. He turned to Andy. “That day Brad was at the house, I told him about J House.” At Andy’s perplexed expression, he added, “AES is looking to diversify its holdings. Brad told me he’d take a look at the place and see if it had any potential.”

  Today was one surprise after another with Martin. What would he tell her next?

  “I saw Brad and two other men the other day when I went to J House. I was waiting to make the turn, and he passed me in a black Lincoln. I recognized him and waved, but either he didn’t see me or he was ignoring me.”

  “They were probably scoping out the place.”

  “What would they do with it if they bought it?”

  “Condos, maybe. I’m not involved in that facet of the company.”

  “Will they be at the auction?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just the messenger.”

  Andy sat back in her chair and nodded, but all the while her thoughts went reeling off in various directions. Martin is only the messenger. Something, she wasn’t sure what, was happening here. What are we doing Lord? What are You trying to tell me?

  Later that afternoon, while Martin was checking with his secretary, Andy and her parents walked over to Mr. McCauley’s farm and got a quick tour of the house and the more recently built detached garage.

  “If you decide to take it,” Mr. McCauley said, “then part of the deal is that you don’t tear down the house. The house has history, know what I mean? Your grandfather and the people who built it were probably friends. Or enemies. Who knows?” He turned and pointed to the front porch. “They don’t make fretwork like that anymore. It’s a lost art.”

  Andy agreed. “It’s a beautiful house,” she said, looking at it and thinking how cute it would look painted in shades of lavender, the fretwork white. She could just see a cottage-style sign out front near the road that said “Lavender Meadows.”

  While her parents and the McCauleys talked, Andy walked over to the small garden next to the house. Remnants of spring and summer vegetables lay forgotten. She bent down and scooped up a handful of dirt and rubbed it between her thumb and her fingers. Then she brought it close and smelled it. There was nothing like the smell of good, rich soil.

  Later that afternoon, Andy, her parents, and Shari met in the office. Shari said she was willing to work thirty hours a week and that she had a niece with bookkeeping experience who was looking to work part-time while her son was in school. Shari pointed out that between the two of them, with Alice, Walt, and Andy, they should be able to take Lavender Meadows into the next year and beyond without any problems.

  They were well into their discussion when Martin walked in. “Don’t let me interrupt you,” he said, sitting down at the worktable.

  Andy felt a little uncomfortable with him there but didn’t dare ask him to leave. This was the part she’d been working up to—buying the McCauley farm. The trip here and the property were the two things she had gone to the Girl Squad for help with. “We were just talking about the future of Lavender Meadows,” she said. “Based on Shari’s sales report, the business is growing at such a rate that if we don’t plant more lavender fields this spring, we’ll have to turn away orders and limit our growth.”

  “Well, what’s the problem? You’ve still got a few acres left to plant.”

  Walt stood up, walked over to the window, and rattled off how many rows could be planted times how many plants times how much yield. “We’ll be good for another year, and that’s without any more large contracts.” He turned around and looked at Andy. “We could buy harvested lavender from another grower. ’Course it might not be as good as ours, and … ”

  “And it will cut down on the profit margin,” Shari pointed out. “I’ve already looked into it.” She smiled.

  “Wow. Aren’t you the one?” Andy teased.

  “Yeah. I took a few business courses in college.”

  “A few?”

  “Well, it was my major, but … you know.”

  “You never told me that,” Andy said.

  “You never asked.”

  They continued their discussion, switching to the new accounts, the online catalog, the classes, and the from-home sales. Though they hadn’t finished the Christmas season, Shari had estimated sales based on what had already come in, calculated the expenses, and guesstimated the year’s profit at $130,000.

  Andy blinked. “Are you sure that isn’t the gross?”

  Shari gave her a long-suffering look. “I’m very sure. Business is booming around here. You’ve just been so busy doing other things, you haven’t noticed. We’ve been pushed to the limit to keep up
with the orders.”

  Martin got up. “May I see this guess-timate of yours?”

  Shari handed it to him, then looked at Andy with a question in her eyes.

  Andy held her breath while he perused it. Her heart had taken up a new position in her throat when she said, “So what do you think, honey?” Those were the magic words the Girl Squad had suggested. Give the problem to him, had been Julia’s suggestion. And now she was. “We could use some input from a disinterested party.”

  “I’m not disinterested.” Martin shook his head. “Shari, don’t you think this sales guess-timate is too high?”

  “I’d say it’s on the conservative side.” Shari picked up a stack of Internet orders. “These just came in today. Thirty-five hundred dollars’ worth. It’s just a darn good thing Andy took the profit from the first Nordstrom order and put in right back into stock.”

  Martin’s wrinkled forehead cleared. “It looks to me like you need to expand your operation here. Can you buy or lease some acreage somewhere?”

  Andy blinked and nodded, but inside she was dancing and singing. Thank you, Girl Squad. Thank You, God, far … everything.

  “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  “Not the baby. Hope, are you all right?” Roger stopped in the midst of pulling on his pants and turned to her.

  “Just this auction today. I know I’m supposed to be letting God do the whole thing, but He’s been so silent. What if … ?” It was hard to believe it was already December 15. She rubbed her forehead and sighed loud enough to make Adolph come to the bed and stare at her. His tail wagged, and he whined, low in his throat. One black paw came up on the bed. “Sorry.” She stroked his soft head and the paw.

  “Huh-uh, don’t go there. We agreed to leave this in His hands, and there is nothing we can do about it anyway, so leave it there.”

  “Sometimes that is easier said than done.”

  “I know. You want your coffee in here?”

  “No, I’ll get my shower and dressed for the day. This should be a power suit day, but my power suit no longer fits around my middle.”

  “Might there be something in those clothes from Macy’s?”

  “Good suggestion, mon. I’ll ask Celia to look.”

  “I’ll ask her, and you get in the shower.”

  When Hope returned to the bedroom, three black skirts of various sizes and lengths lay on her bed. The note said, Wear your tan blazer and that black turtleneck. You don’t button the jacket anyway. Hope smiled. No matter how outrageously Celia dressed herself, she had excellent taste for others when it came to clothes.

  Two hours later they stopped at the door to Peter’s office. “Big Dad, please.”

  “Lord, You know our needs, and this is Your gig. Show ’em who You are.” Roger hugged his wife one more time and pushed open the door.

  Four hours later, the door closed behind the bidders. Peter stared from the papers in his hand to Hope and Roger. “Do you feel as shell-shocked as I do?”

  They nodded. Hope looked around the board room, half expecting it to be destroyed by the whirlwind that had gone through. Chairs should be turned over, papers scattered, and windows broken, but instead the lights reflected peacefully in the long, polished-to-glass table. The chairs were all pushed back in. The cart with ice water, coffee, and tea had been trundled out by one of the assistants.

  “This hardly seems possible.” Peter shook his head again.

  “Sure beats the apartment house in the Tenderloin.” Hope blew out a breath. “Thank You again, Big Dad. We all saw You in action today, that was for sure.”

  “And the warehouse in South SanFran. Although it’s true, either of those could have worked too.” Roger took a swig from his glass of ice water. “Here I came all prepared to do battle. … ”

  “Me too.”

  “And God took care of the whole thing. Even to the inspection report on our new house.”

  “Something.” Hope screwed her face in thought. “AES, the name sounds familiar.”

  “You saw it on the papers, dear.”

  “No, from somewhere else. Hmm. It’ll come to me. What a party we can have when we tell everyone the decisions are all made. All their prayers are answered.” She sat down and fanned herself with a paper from the table. “I still wish we could stay where we are, but since God engineered this, He has a purpose. Two houses, eh.” She threw her hands in the air. “Shout to the Lord, all the earth, let us sing!”

  “I’ll have all the papers ready for signing by Friday. The title to the house is already researched and clear. You could start fixing that house up next week.”

  “I’ll put out the word. We need volunteers big time. Wall strippers, painters, carpenters, anyone can find something to do there. Since AES is taking care of the new roof, electrical, and plumbing, we can’t do much until they are done.” Roger looked directly at Peter. “Send us your bill.”

  “Can’t. God stamped it Paid in Full.”

  “Peter, you … ”

  “Can if I want. This is my business. Bye.” He ushered them out the door.

  Hope gave Peter a hug and took her husband by the arm. “Let’s go tell the others. The Girl Squad has been praying all this time.”

  “Good news,” Hope said into her cell phone. “Turn the prayers to praise.” She clicked off the phone before Celia could do more than scream.

  A short time later, Hope stood in the common room at J House, her nonstop grin making the others giggle and cheer. “J House has been sold to a company called AES, right here in the city.” She swapped an incandescent smile with Roger.

  Andy nearly jumped out of her chair. “Hey, that’s Martin’s company. He told them about J House.”

  “Give him a big thank-you.”

  “How much did we get?” one of the others called.

  Roger looked to his wife and wiggled an eyebrow. “One-point-five million dollars.”

  “But that’s ridiculous.” Andy’s chair took a backward leap. “This property is worth much more than that, two, three times at least.”

  “That’s highway robbery … ” Clarice sat back and crossed her arms. “I hate people getting fleeced.”

  “Roger, quit teasing them.” She waved her arms to get quiet again. “Wait a minute here. We are also getting a huge Victorian house out in the Western Addition, along with the vacant lot next to it. There is an empty house next door that we can purchase at a greatly reduced price. AES will provide the new roof, rewiring, and plumbing.”

  “What about the Saturday Market?”

  “We’ll use the vacant lot and most likely close off the side street for a few hours. We’ll be able to expand and include new vendors because of the extra space.”

  “When do we have to move?”

  “Tomorrow, if they had their way, but most likely by the first of January, if they can get those repairs done by then. We cannot inhabit the house until it meets codes, and they understand that.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “Well, who would have thought what we have going now would ever be possible?” Roger looked from face to face. “Let’s go look at our new home.”

  “Put the phone on answering machine, ’cause we’re going to see our new home.” Hope shook her head when the others peppered her with questions. “Who’s here in case of emergency?”

  They left Alphi’s mother in charge and headed out the door to pile into the van.

  Hope read the directions to the area called the Western Addition, where old Victorian houses in various stages of restoration and disrepair lined the streets. Roger finally stopped the van in front of a three-story building with a two-story addition on the back, and a garage on the back corner of the lot. The house next door wasn’t as large but looked to be in a little better shape. The vacant lot needed major cleanup.

  “That’s ours, that’s really ours?” Celia leaped out of the van and ran up the cracked concrete walk. “Hey, it even has a basement. Three stories tall and a basement. And lo
ok at all the room for my garden, and a real play area for the little ones.”

  “Lotta work to be done.” Andy waited on the sidewalk for the rest of them to get out of the van. “But the inspector says it is sound?”

  “Have the paper right here.” Hope walked up the sidewalk to the other house. “You know, if Clarice wants to live in the main house, we could take over one floor here for our home. What do you think?”

  “I think we need to go ahead with an offer on this one, too, and put that money God is sending us right back into the hopper.”

  Julia stared from house to house. “I am really having a hard time believing this. My attorney side is warring with my faith side, like this is too good to be true.” She held up a hand, traffic-cop style. “I know, I read the papers, but … ”

  “It turned out the way I hoped, a win-win deal for everyone. Brad Grandolay said the rent on those condos they’ll build in our building would be four thousand or so a month. Can you believe that?”

  “I can. Remember, I was in the housing market recently. Mrs. Getz gave us a gift, or we wouldn’t have our house.” Andy stepped around a hole in the stairs and crossed the front porch to look in a window. “I can’t wait to see this all cleaned up. Count me in.”

  “Me too.” Julia joined her. “I always dreamed of fixing up an old house like this.”

  “Painting these in true Victorian style will make them lovely, refurbished dowagers.”

  “What kinda word is that?” Celia turned from looking in the other window. “When can we get keys to go inside?”

  “We’re meeting them here tomorrow, but final keys won’t be available until all the papers are filed.”

  “Weeks?”

  “No, Brad said hopefully one week. He wants us out of Casa de Jesús as fast as we want out.”

  Andy shook her head. “If I hadn’t seen this happen, I would never trust that tide could go through that fast. But then ours did, in less than two weeks, so … ”

  “So God has been at work.”