by Naomi Niles
I put her on speakerphone.
“Hey, Marshall, what have you been up to?” In the background, I could hear what sounded like a can opener whirring. Dad must have been helping her make lunch.
“I just got back from the library where, you’ll be pleased to hear, I checked out a couple books.”
“That’s wonderful.” A note of suspicion crept into her voice. “What’s gotten into you? Are you seeing a girl?”
It wasn’t a question I could answer with any certainty. “Maybe? I went out on a date Saturday, but she went home early.”
I could hear Mom sighing on the other end of the line. “Marshall, you have to stop scaring girls away. We’ve talked about this.” She added in a tone of concern, “What have you been eating lately? Something other than fast food, I hope.”
“Mama, you don’t give me enough credit. I cook most of my meals. Sean cooks the rest. In fact, I’ve only been to Wendy’s once in the last month, and it was a nugget emergency.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that. Your dad and I have been having some trouble with the barn. It was already old, and the recent floods weren’t exactly good to it. Curtis and Darren were out there looking at it a couple days ago. They said the flooding really compromised its structural integrity, and it needs to be torn down and rebuilt before it collapses.”
“Yikes! That’s gonna cost you some money.” I raised a hand to Old Joe, who was just passing by on his Harley.
“I know, which we can’t really afford at the moment. We already shelled out quite a bit of money tearing out and replacing the carpet in the house after the flood. Somehow, the tiny house didn’t get even an inch of water. We’d have been better off staying in there during the storm.”
“Well, the grass in the back pasture probably absorbed some of the moisture.” As I pulled into my driveway, a thought occurred to me. “I know you and Dad are strapped for cash right now. If you want, and if he doesn’t have any objections, I could send you the money to replace the barn.”
Mom sounded simultaneously thrilled and alarmed. “Do you have any idea how much money we’re talking about? It’s going to be upwards of fifty thousand dollars.”
“I can afford it. With the amount of money I’ve been bringing in lately, it’s not a problem. It’s gotten to the point where I can sit down and make ten, twenty-five thousand dollars in an hour without breaking a sweat, and there’s an invitational coming up in a few weeks where I ought to make even more than that.”
“That’s good to hear. I don’t like the thought of you going hungry because you sent me and your dad all your money. The barn is important, but I want you to look after yourself.”
By now, the rain was drumming lightly against the top of the car. I told Mom I would send her the money within a few days; I was eager to get back inside and make lunch.
“Well, it was nice hearing from you,” said Mom. “Darren’s been busy, and the only one of you I see with any regularity is Curtis. I’ll have the two of them pick up the equipment we need to finish restoring the barn, but I want you to promise me one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“That when they fix it, you’ll fly out here and help.”
“Promise.”
She told me she loved me and hung up. I sat there for a moment watching the rain lap against the windshield. Sending them fifty thousand was going to set me back quite a bit, but I was doing it for myself as much as for them. Ever since discovering poker in college, there had been complaints in the family that I didn’t have a “real job” and had never worked a day in my life. This in spite of the fact that I could make more money in a weekend than any of my brothers made in a year. Giving them the money was a way of reminding them that I worked, that I made money, and that I would always be willing to help out when they needed it.
My fridge and cupboard were almost empty, but I made a stir-fry with what was left of the sausage and a bag of Asian-style vegetables I found in the back of the freezer. It would have been better with soy sauce, but I had used the last of that on the Kung Pao chicken I had made the week before. I poured myself a frothy glass of root beer and sat down at the island in the center of the kitchen, leafing through the books I had checked out.
Visiting the library had been my only real plan for the day, and now I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with the rest of my afternoon. I could run by the lumberyard, but I was getting tired of Sean and his grandfather’s antics. The rain made my eyes heavy, and it was tempting to climb back into bed, but I was already sensitive to accusations that I spent all day lying around without actually working. Of course, no one would know if I took a nap in the middle of the day, but I would know, and I would feel bad about it.
What I hated even more was the lack of resolution that had lingered over my date with Lori since I left the bakery on Saturday night. We hadn’t exactly ended the date on the best note, and I had spent the last couple days wondering what I might have done to upset her. The dating guides I had checked out didn’t offer many clues, apart from some advice about not having sex on the first date. As much as I hated to admit it, I was beginning to think maybe I had come on too strong.
In the end, I decided to visit the bakery and find out. Gulping down the last of my root beer, I set my plate in the sink, grabbed a coat, and stalked back out into the rain.
The dining area was mostly empty when I arrived. Three girls were having a Bible study in the back corner; they probably wouldn’t have been pleased to learn what Lori and I had been doing there just two nights before. There was only one person in front of me in line, a middle-aged woman with hot pink nails and bracelets that jangled when she walked.
Lori was turned around preparing a cup of coffee and froze when she saw me. The customer in front of me studied her curiously, as though worried about her.
“Hey, Marshall,” said Lori. “Be right with you.”
It was impossible to tell from the tone of her voice whether she was pleased to see me. I waited until the bracelet lady had shuffled off with her soy latte before approaching the counter.
“Hey.” I wanted to ask her about Saturday, but I remembered the warning from the book I had been reading about coming on too strong. “You doing okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just—it’s been a week.” Lori brushed her hair back out of her face, looking flustered. “But at least we’re not hurting for money, and I’m really proud of the new bookshelf. Don’t you love it?”
“I do,” I said without hesitation. “You’re going to encourage so much more reading by putting that up. You’ve already gotten me to start reading more.”
“Oh?” There was a note of surprise in her voice. I told her about how I had run by the library that morning, but I didn’t mention the type of books I had checked out, and she didn’t ask.
“Well,” she said with a laugh, “if that’s all I ever manage to accomplish in your life, I’ll be satisfied. Everyone deserves the joy of reading—fiction and non-fiction.”
I made a mental note to check out a novel or two the next time I was at the library. “What books do you recommend?”
“Oh man, that’s about the hardest question you can ask a bookworm,” said Lori, “right up there with asking me to list a favorite book. Man, do you even know what you’re asking?” She launched into a short list of books she had read in the last year, which included a spooky novel about the circus and a young adult novel about two boys who fall in love. I nodded along quietly, relieved that she hadn’t immediately shunted me out of the store and that she didn’t seem to be upset about Saturday night. Whatever had happened between us that night, I could ask her later. In the meantime, it was a pleasure to hear her rave about books.
She was just launching into an excited rant about Norse mythology when the front door opened, and a man wearing a pair of pressed slacks, a suit jacket, and sunglasses stepped into the room. With purposeful stride, he walked up to the counter and set a leather briefcase down on the counter.
Someth
ing in the way he looked at Lori filled me with a sense of foreboding. Lori must have felt the same way, for she studied him nervously.
“Ms. Hurst?” he asked. “Lori Hurst?”
“Speaking,” said Lori.
“Good.” He opened his briefcase with a snap and peered over it at her. “Is your sister here? I’d like to speak with her, too. This is something you’re both going to want to be present for, and it might help if we were sitting down.”
Chapter Twenty
Lori
I found Sam cleaning the mini-fridge in the back office.
“Hey, what’s up?” She set down her dirty dishrag and turned to look at me, mopping her face with one arm. “I saw Marshall pulling up; is everything okay?”
“Yeah, he’s great. It’s not him; it’s someone else.”
She stared at me blankly. I told her about the man in the suit and the official-looking papers he had shown me. “His name is Harry Wolfhard. From the moment he walked into the store, I had a terrible feeling. He says he needs to see both of us. He says it’s important.”
“I’m sure it’s fine,” said Sam, though I could tell she was just trying to keep me from panicking. She tossed me a lemonade from the fridge. “Here, drink this, and you’ll feel better.”
“What do you want me to tell the guy?”
“You’d better send him in.”
I returned to the dining area, where I found Marshall and Mr. Wolfhard standing at the counter talking about designer shoes. “Marshall, this is probably going to take a few minutes,” I told him as I closed the register. “You don’t have to stick around if you’ve got other things you need to be doing.”
“It’s okay; I’ll go have a look at your bookshelf.” He wandered off in the direction of the back corner where we had nearly slept together a few nights ago. The girls from church had just finished their Bible study and were now holding hands, praying.
I turned to the stranger. “My sister is in the back room.” He grabbed his suitcase off the counter and followed me down the narrow hallway.
“I realize this may come as an unwelcome surprise,” he said when we were all seated. “Last week, South Carolina House of Prayer bought out this entire strip center, and within a few weeks, they’ll be making renovations to the site of the old Food Court. Their intention is to create what they call a ‘global headquarters’ for their prayer and worship movement.”
Sam and I glanced nervously at one another. SCHOP had a reputation, even among the more mainstream churches of Summerville, for being extremist and cultish. “Aren’t they the fanatics who think there’s going to be a third world war involving nuclear weapons?” I asked.
“I remember their pastor prophesying that two-thirds of the people in America were going to die.” Sam shuddered. “It freaked me out.”
“I’m not interested in the details of SCHOP’s religious beliefs,” said Mr. Wolfhard. “We’re not here to judge whether those beliefs are right or wrong. I’ve been asked to inform you that under the terms of their management, you’ll need to pay a certain sum by the end of the month or else relocate. Unfortunately, the terms of your lease don’t protect you.”
“How much do you want?” I asked, not wanting to know the answer. I felt a terrible tightening in my stomach as he reached for a napkin and wrote out a sum.
When he passed it over to us, I nearly yelled. “Seventy thousand dollars? By the end of April? Are they out of their minds?”
“Even if we could afford it,” said Sam, her face pale, “there’s no way I’m giving that man a dime of my hard-earned money. I’ve seen his rallies on TV. They terrified me. His followers are all brainwashed, and if he ordered them to kill someone, they would do it without hesitation. I’m not supporting his ministry just so I can continue to stay in this location. How is this even legal?”
“It’s perfectly legal,” said Mr. Wolfhard, opening his briefcase and pulling out a small stack of papers. “I’ll leave these here for the two of you to look over, along with my number in case you want to call me. My client will need to know within the next week or so whether you’re planning on staying.”
Judging from the look on Sam’s face, she thought his client could go stuff it. “We will look this over and get back to you,” she said through gritted teeth. “Just so you know in advance, we probably won’t be able to come up the money in the next couple weeks. So unless a miracle happens—” She caught her breath, gripping the papers tightly in both hands. “We’ll let you know.”
“See that you do,” said Mr. Wolfhard. Closing his suitcase, he rose and left.
Sam waited until he had gone before slamming her fist down on the table.
“Those idiots!” she shouted. “This isn’t even a subtle attempt to get money out of us. It’s bad enough that he treats his own followers like an ATM. If it were up to me, his ministry would have been shut down the day before yesterday. But if he can continue to extort money out of small-business owners, he can go preaching and terrorizing the community indefinitely.”
“It’s quite a racket,” I said angrily. “What choice do we have but to relocate?”
“Given that there’s no possibility of our being able to cough up the money before the end of the month, I don’t see that there is one. It might even be cheaper to relocate.”
“Which we had been talking about doing anyway,” I pointed out. “I just don’t like being forced into it. I don’t like that a pastor who’s gotten rich off of telling lies and stirring up hatred in his congregation and come in here and drive us out within a few weeks.”
“No, and I’ve done quite a bit of research on him and his teachings,” said Sam. “SCHOP is classified as a hate group by the Southern Poverty Law Center. Apparently, he tells his followers there’s going to be a violent revolution in which they kill all nonbelievers and take over the leadership of the earth.”
The thought of that stirred up a feeling of dread in my stomach—and not just because it reminded me of my mom. “Honestly, I think I’d rather move than have to live next door to those maniacs,” I replied. “You know, we’ll be able to hear their music blasting through the walls day and night. And they’ll be coming in here ordering drinks and starting fights with our customers.”
“God, I can already see it,” said Sam, running her hands through her hair. “Why don’t they just build their own coffee shop and leave us alone?”
I found Marshall sitting at the back of the coffee shop at the table that had just been vacated by the girls’ Bible study.
“Hey, what’s up?” he asked with a look of concern. “I saw that guy storming out of here looking none too happy.”
“Apparently, our strip mall is under ‘new management,’” I explained, bile rising in my throat. I recounted our conversation in the back room and the amount that they wanted us to pay.
Marshall’s eyes widened in horror when I named the sum. “Can they do that?”
“That’s what I want to know,” said Sam. “Something tells me they don’t have the right. Just because they have money and a lawyer, they think they can push us around.”
“Not to mention a significant portion of the town would be on their side. I know the pastor is a sleaze, but a lot of people here really respect him. They’re not the kind of folks you want to piss off.”
“Great.” Sam threw up her hands in the air. “Just the sort of people I want to see coming into my store every day.”
I laid a hand on her shoulder. “For all we know, the law could be on our side. If what they’re doing is illegal, I’m not going to let them get away with it. There are ways of fighting this.”
“How, Lori?” Sam demanded, her voice rising. “We can’t afford a lawyer. We might as well just accept the fact that they’ve won and move on. I don’t see that we have any other choice.”
“Maybe not,” said Marshall slowly. We both turned toward him. “As it happens, my best friend has a degree in law. He was three years ahead of me at Clemson and went straight in
to law school after graduation. I could ask him to look over these papers and assess their legality.”
“Could you do that?” I asked, feeling a sudden surge of gratitude for Marshall and his friend.
“I was planning on going over there tonight anyway. I would say, don’t worry about this until we’ve had a chance to look over it. I’ll be back first thing in the morning to let you know what he said. But I’m fairly confident that it’s not as bad as it looks.”
I had a feeling he was just trying to keep us from utter despair, but at the moment I didn’t mind so much. “Thanks, Marshall,” said Sam. “If you can get that sorted out for us, drinks are on the house for the rest of the month.”
“It’s no trouble,” he said. “Y’all have both been kind to me, and I like doing favors for friends. Sometimes I don’t know how else to show my appreciation.”
“Well, you’re doing a fine job,” I assured him. I could sense he was trying to atone for the way our date had ended on Saturday. “I hope you know you’re always welcome in this store—regardless of where we end up having to move.”
Marshall beamed, looking quietly pleased.
Chapter Twenty-One
Marshall
I left the bakery feeling a renewed surge of hope. Lori and Sam weren’t going to pay the money the church was demanding; Sean would see to that. I’d never heard of a situation where a small-business owner had to pay tens of thousands of dollars just to stay in the same place. The pastor and his lawyer were counting on our ignorance of the law to confuse and frustrate us. They didn’t realize we had a friend who was well-versed in legal matters.
As I sped down the Ash River Road toward the lumberyard, even the rain couldn’t dampen my spirits. Lori didn’t seem to be harboring any lingering animosity toward me as a result of our date on Saturday. Whatever shyness she had been feeling when I came into the room quickly subsided as we began talking. Best of all, now I had a real chance to help her out. It was the sort of opportunity that doesn’t come around often, and I was determined to use it.