2. Chapter Two
Chapter Two
Evalina
The settlement reached stamped in red across the top of today’s mail glares at me.
After nearly a year in litigation, the property owner of the seven-store strip where my business is located has finally reached a settlement with what can only be described as a vulture.
The Montgomery Company saw this little, outdated piece of Savannah history as a thorn in its side, an ugly one that disrupted the constructed beauty of their newest apartment complex.
Put simply, they didn’t want an ugly, old building gracing the eyes of their high-dollar residents.
Dustin gathers his cleats and other equipment in silence.
Even at eight years old, he knows something is wrong.
Keeping it from him has been difficult, but there’s nothing I can do now.
They’re going to demolish the building where I built my business, and since I can’t afford rent at any of the newer, fancy buildings, I fear my only source of income has also been wiped off the map.
“I’m ready, Mom.” His sweet voice wavers.
“Hey, come here and give your mom a hug.” I drop the mail on the desk and open my arms wide.
He scrunches his nose but relents and falls into my embrace, his arms tight around my waist. Like this, he’s still my baby boy.
He’s still the kid who, despite never having met his father, keeps up hope that one day he’ll change.
One day, he’ll realize what he left behind. One day…he’ll love him.
“Is it going to be okay?” Dustin peers up at me with watery eyes, but he sniffles and, as he puts it, sucks it up like a man.
Guilt tickles my throat. I swallow it down, force it back into my chest where it will build into more anxiety than I can handle some days.
“Absolutely.”
“Camden said they’re going to tear down the building where you work. He said his dad told him it was a shame history was getting torn down left and right.”
I chuckle, working to keep it as lighthearted as I can despite the growing worry in my heart.
“I agree with him, and I’m sure glad he and others fought for the building, but we can’t stop change, sweetheart.
I’ll find another place for the shop. Now, don’t forget your helmet. We’re late for practice.”
When Dustin runs off to gather the last of his equipment, I snatch the letter from the desk and rip it open. I can’t wait until after his baseball practice to see how long I have to find new work.
Thirty days. Thirty whole days to pack up a lifetime of blood, sweat, and tears, stuff it into a box, and move it to…where?
The television blares in the background, but it isn’t until Dustin gasps that I pay any real attention to the constantly dismal news broadcasts and increasingly useless television programs. My gaze flutters up to the screen, and a familiar man’s face catches my attention.
I know just about all there is to know about said man, considering Dustin prattles on about him nonstop.
“What’s going on?” I crumple the letter and toss it in my bag.
“They’re saying Mr. Keaton’s dad is a crook!
They’re saying his whole family is!” Dustin’s tears slip out now, fully unchecked by his “be a man” mentality.
Good. He’s a kid. He needs to feel his emotions, understand them, process them, not hold them in and fight through it all alone.
However, the cause for his emotional breakdown is almost more than I can handle.
“I’m sure it’s all a mistake, honey.” Brushing his dark hair from his face, I dry his cheeks and smile. “Mr. Keaton is a good guy, right? You’re the one who tells me so all the time.”
Dustin rolls his eyes. “I said he’s good at baseball, Mom. I don’t know anything else about him.”
“Well, it’s thanks to him you got the scholarship to play baseball, right? Without his program for youth, we wouldn’t be able to afford all of this stinky sports gear you leave lying around the house.”
“I guess,” he mumbles. “Camden’s mom said she can drop me off at Sparkly’s after practice.”
“Okay, tell her thank you and there will be a dozen donuts waiting for her when she gets there.” I make a mental note to time things just right so they’re hot for her.
Heaven knows, without Camden’s parents, Peter and Fiona, I’d be running around like a maniac trying to keep it all together.
The Hughes family has been nothing short of a blessing for my little family.
On the way out the door, I ask God for some guidance.
How am I supposed to keep my business going, raise a boy on my own, and pay the bills while still being present in his life?
I need direction, the sort of divine intervention that changes people’s lives, because as my poor, human mind sees it, I’m out of options.
After embarrassing Dustin with a cheek kiss in the baseball practice drop-off line, I head to my shop for the afternoon rush.
Hiring two teenagers to run the place while I’m gone was a horrible idea, but as luck would have it, adding another employee to the mix was a grand idea.
Especially since the extra employee has the patience of Job but the mouth of a drill sergeant.
It takes a lot to get her frustrated, but once she’s there, she divides up tasks and runs the place like a well-oiled machine.
Too bad I’m going to have to let them all go.
“Good afternoon, Evalina,” Annie calls from the back room. How she knows it’s me and not a customer, I’ll never know, but when I push through the kitchen door, she hands me a latte and a cinnamon sugar donut.
“Thank you, Annie. Where are Kimmy and Ben?” Glancing around, not spotting two teens, sends another wave of worry through me. Did she murder them and hide them in the freezer?
“I sent them out to scrub a dumpster. It’s been a little slow, and I’m sick of smelling rancid food out back.
” Annie shrugs and swipes a stray tendril of graying hair into her hairnet.
Her lips spread wide into a toothy grin.
“I heard the news, honey. I don’t want you to worry about a thing, okay? We’ll figure this out.”
“We?” I clench the latte tighter as wave after wave of nausea hits me, blurring my focus.
Annie pulls out a chair and urges me to sit at the prep counter while she continues forming donuts as if her fingers were made to do the work…
cut, roll, make a hole…cut, roll, make a hole.
It’s soothing in an odd way, how the monotony of the process helps clear the mind and heart of all the darkness it absorbs through the day. She pushes a wad of dough my way.
“We, as in you and me. You’re stuck with me, honey, and it’s time you accept that. We’ll find a new place for Sparkly’s, just you wait and see.”
“I wish I could be so confident, but this was the ultimate location. Good foot traffic, loyal customers, and low rent. With that monstrosity going up across the street, all of that is going away. Even if the building stayed, we’d lose so much walk-through traffic.”
I grumble as I peer out the window at the roundabouts under construction.
They tore up the sidewalks, shoved in impossible to navigate roads, and essentially forced this little pocket of the city into a driving-only disgrace.
So much history, gone in the name of progression.
The leisurely walks through town, gone in a weekend once the apartment broke ground.
Annie pats my hand. “Evalina, your faith isn’t strong enough. It’s there. Peeks out from time to time, but your follow-through is about as good as a toddler’s.”
I almost choke on a sip of latte and the scorching liquid inches down my tightened esophagus like a nasty snake, seeking something to destroy. Every inch of the way, I wince until it hits my stomach with a heavy plop. After a good throat clearing, I protest. “I pray! Every day, I pray that—”
“There’s a difference between praying and trusting, Lina. You pray, then you take the lead and expect God to do your bidding. That’s not how it works.”
I push away from the counter and sigh. “Nothing like getting scolded by your employee about your prayer life.” Slanting my eyes toward her, I reach for the soap to wash my hands and prep for the afternoon rush…or what’s left of it these days.
Two teens enter through the alley door, grumbling their displeasure.
They both smell like death warmed over. Restraining a gag, I send them home to shower and shoot Annie a glare.
We could have used the help today, but I suspect they were probably a little too annoying this shift, and sending them home is the better option.
The first customer of the rush enters, a longtime patron who always orders the same thing: a black coffee and one plain donut.
“Hey, Nick. How are you today?” I pour his coffee and glance over my shoulder. He’s a little older than me, maybe five or seven years, and always wears a smile.
“I’m good. How are you?” Adjusting his ball cap, he leans against the counter and waits patiently for his order.
“Surviving, honestly.” Admitting it to a customer isn’t a big deal, especially since it’s Nick.
He gets it. His motorcycle repair shop was recently relocated when a homeowner’s association complained it decreased the value of their homes to have it so close.
Close being half a mile away, mind you. Fortunately for him, he could afford to move since his customers would follow him anywhere.
Too bad donuts aren’t as important as motorcycle repair guys.
“I hear you. Speaking of drama, have you heard about that Sharks player?” I nod and slide his items across the counter. “Crazy, isn’t it.”
“Yeah, well, I guess you just never know about people, right?”
He offers a shrug and a five-dollar bill, winks at me, and slips back out the front door before a line of people head inside.
All afternoon, the only topic of conversation is the alleged money laundering operation the Keaton family has found themselves embroiled in, though I’m not so sure it’s any of my business.
As a rule, I tend to lean toward skepticism that anyone is truly good, but it seems that the Keaton family stood up for everything you’d expect a good, faithful family to stand for.
At least, Koa Keaton seems to. My son’s absolute favorite baseball player in the entire world doesn’t seem the type to lie, cheat, or steal.
“Don’t you know Andrew Rossi?” Annie asks. She drops a few plates into the deep sink, where I work to sort things into piles, and raises an eyebrow. She’s been bombarded by the news as well, probably in between condolences and sympathies for losing the building.
“I wouldn’t say I know him personally, but he and his wife are regulars. If you’re about to ask me to ask him what happened with the Keaton family, you can forget it, you little gossip. Weren’t you just telling me a few hours ago that I don’t pray right? Now you’re gossiping?”
Annie swats at me with a towel. “Oh, you hush. I only asked because I wondered if the news was inflated. Usually is, you know. Still, I wouldn’t want Dustin looking up to a man who steals from people, even if he does seem charitable on the outside.”
“Yeah,” I mumble, and commit to wiping the same place on the sticky countertop on auto-pilot, lost in my thoughts, which seem to swirl around only two things today: what am I going to do with Sparkly’s, and how will I break it to my son if the man he admires turns out to be truly awful?