“That’s mighty high praise, Glenda,” he said, his voice quiet.
“I also have to be frank here. There were a couple places I don’t believe you communicated exactly what you were trying to say. And it is too long, at least for your intentions. I’ve marked a few paragraphs where you can trim it without losing any of the meaning or impact. But I think you’ll still need to shorten it, even after that.”
“Thank you, honey,” he said, standing and straightening his tall lanky body, stretching first one arm over his head, then the other. He retrieved the papers and headed back down the hall to his office where he remained until nearly 11. Even though an unnamed sense of urgency drove him, he wanted to get it right. He’d allow his mind a rest for the night, give it another read-through in the morning, let Glenda have one final shot at it, then get it to the post office.
Even before applause for the Happy Hookers began to wane, Katie noticed a hand shoot up in the front row. Fred Hornsby. He was glowering. Katie nodded, said she would answer all his questions—everyone’s questions—but quickly reminded him of the ground rules.
“It’s time,” she said, leaning slightly toward the audience and strengthening her voice, “to give you the specifics about the shops and put the rumors to rest.” A chuckle rose from the middle of the pack, which set off a brief wave of laughter throughout the room that momentarily silenced her. It hadn’t occurred to her that was a funny statement. “Well, I’ll at least put them to rest to the best of my ability and for this fleeting moment in time.
“You know, I was going to present Partonville Pleasantries stores from the top floor down to the lower level, give you a mental walk-through. But instead I think I’ll save that pleasure for your own eyes during our private premiere in a few weeks. Tonight I’m going to present them to you in the order—at least in part—of their immediate importance to the community.”
Dorothy, who was taking mental notes on the points where she thought Katie was the strongest (because Katie asked her to), had to keep from cheering out loud again.
“There are two stores I believe will not only help set Partonville apart but that will best showcase our unique talents, as well as complement the warmth of our community and the long-standing established businesses already on the square. The first is the Tea Cozy, owned and operated by Partonville’s own Theresa Brewton, who many of you know from Saint Augustine’s Church and her involvement with the community Thanksgiving dinner held at United Methodist. Theresa has a background in food service. When she caught wind of my desire for a tea room, she told me she’s always wanted to open her own venture and what better place to do so than right in her own backyard. Theresa, would you please stand so we can acknowledge you?” Theresa popped up, lifted her hand and gave a wave to a polite ripple of applause.
“Theresa tells me,” Katie said after Theresa sat down and the applause died out, “that she will be serving a variety of teas, a select group of specially ground coffees, plus daily featured finger sandwiches and desserts, some of the desserts made by our own May Belle Justice.” Katie nodded May Belle’s way but she didn’t ask her to rise, knowing her well enough to understand May Belle never invited public attention. Instead Dorothy stood and pointed down at the top of May Belle’s head, starting a quick round of applause.
May Belle put her hand over her mouth, wishing the gesture could make her disappear. “That’s enough, Dorothy,” she said behind her hand. “Please sit down, dear.”
Katie scanned her cards and continued. “I’m sure I don’t even need to tell you about Calico Corner Creations, our consignment shop, which is one of the stores the mall is most delighted to host. We have so many gifted and creative people in town and now they’ll have a place to showcase their wares year-round. After observing how quickly items moved at the craft booths during our Pumpkin Festival last fall, I have no doubt Calico Corner—and it is literally a corner store—will be among the highest trafficked stores since new and original items will arrive daily giving shoppers a reason to return again and again. From what manager Arlene Riford tells me, shelves are sure to be full on opening day since she’s already been cataloguing consignment items for two months and storing them in her basement, which she claims, and this is a direct quote, ‘is full to the rafters.’ Arlene, please stand up and take your bow.”
Katie glanced at Gladys. She wished she’d had more time to talk to her this week, do a bit more strategizing and coordinating on presentation points. Gladys had scooted in and out of church so quickly on Sunday Katie didn’t have time to nab her, and oddly, Gladys hadn’t returned her call yesterday, or the one from the day before. And now tonight, although Gladys looked at Katie, it appeared she didn’t really see her. Gladys’s eyes were sort of glazed over. I trusted you to be ready for this debate. Surely that wasn’t a mistake. Come on, Gladys! Pull yourself together! Katie tapped her stack of cards on the podium while drawing her attention back to the task at hand.
Although she looked at Katie, Gladys hadn’t really heard a word she’d said. Her heart was beating so fast that she felt dizzy and actually thought she might become ill a time or two.
Since shortly after the morning Lester sent her packing, she felt as though pieces of herself had been falling away. She’d been blindsided by Sam’s bid for mayor, his tenacious pursuit to outdo her every slogan and his unrelenting replay of every mayoral mistake she’d ever made— including that ill-fated time she tried to change the direction of traffic on the square causing the worst traffic jam in Partonville’s history. Even the Daily Courier, Hethrow’s syndicated newspaper, picked up on the calamity—both then and now. “ROUND-AND-ROUND SHE’LL TAKE US” appeared on one of Sam’s campaign buttons seemingly within moments of him dredging the incident up again, and the Courier ran a picture of the button along with a brief recap of the incident. Then she’d been kicked out of the grill. The mayor, kicked out of the grill, which Cora immediately spread around town in a souped-up version. She felt her confidence eroding by the second. As for tonight, the more security, eloquence and professionalism Katie projected, the less Gladys felt qualified to follow her. Who could follow that act? And here Gladys was supposed to be Katie’s equal, her partner in the revitalization projects.
Before she arrived for the debate this evening, Gladys had sat for a long while with her favorite picture of Jake, her deceased truck-driving husband, in her lap. He was standing next to his truck cab, one foot up on the running board, his forearms resting on his elevated thigh. They’d only been married three years then and at her encouragement he’d just taken a big financial risk and purchased his own shiny blue rig rather than drive for someone else. He was so swashbucklingly handsome, so grateful to her for pushing him to step out on his own. What had happened to her the last few weeks? Where was her fight? Where was he when she needed him?
She clutched the picture to herself and swore she could feel the vibration of his laughter rippling against her chest. You? Run out of fight? NEVER!, she heard him say. She imagined not a single person in town would believe it possible either. After all, she was “Gladys the Gladiator!” Since she was a child Gladys understood that she had a strong personality, one that could be off-putting, which is why kids had taken to calling her that terrible nickname. But since she’d become mayor she’d finally learned to claim her gladiator status. Serving as acting mayor of Partonville was the first time in her life she’d been afforded a mission in which to channel her God-given attributes in order to make a real difference.
And now, now here she sat in the front row of a packed room waiting her turn to take a stand for herself, for the whole of Partonville, and it was all she could do to breathe.
22
“I’m sure,” Katie said, looking directly at Sam Vitner, “you’ve all heard plenty about the antique store setting up shop in Partonville Pleasantries.” She paused to allow for an expected ripple of laughter. Although a couple people did chuckle, she was surprise
d by the weakness of their response since Sam had single-handedly started his campaign against her by talking about how she was going into direct competition with him. But she thought she’d nipped his rising anarchy in the bud at the Christmas party when she not only solicited his help with pricing (so as not to damage either of them), but even suggested they occasionally swap merchandise and therefore help to freshen and advertise both of their businesses. Yes, all seemed smoothed over—won over. What a surprise to learn his rumblings never disappeared, but instead festered into a full-blown attack and bid for mayor! But tonight, now that his hardheadedness had left her no choice but to move forward without his expected help, it was her turn to rally the troops. “Manager Wade O’Shea,” she said, nodding toward him, “would you please stand and unveil the antique store’s name for us?”
Wade, a large, stocky, brown-eyed, freckle-faced man in his fifties who’d lost his job in one of the mine layoffs, stood, removed his weathered and ever-present fedora hat and encouraged his wife, Margaret-Mary, to stand beside him. “New to You!” he said proudly. “I can’t take all the credit, though, since my wife here is obviously the clever one while I’m just the go-fer,” which he pronounced as two words. “But we make a whale of a tag-team operation,” he said, giving her a wink. “And we want to thank all of you,” he continued, first turning his head 180 degrees in one direction, then the other, “who might have shopped at Margaret-Mary’s booth over in the antique mall in Hethrow. That’s what gave us the confidence the two of us could expand on her idea and start our own place together, right here in our own town. And don’t forget, we’ll be accepting . . . what do you call those, sweetheart?”—he looked her way and she whispered something to him—“consignments, too, so start cleaning out those attics! If you need help with that, let me know since that’s what coal mining best trained me to do is to pick and dig for the right stuff!” He waited for chuckles to come and go after a fellow miner let out a big AMEN! “I’m also available for any handyman jobs too.”
“This isn’t the time or the place for our entire life story, Wade,” Margaret-Mary said, taking hold of her husband’s hand, encouraging him to sit down with her, causing another brief burst of laughter in the room.
Katie glanced at Gladys again while she rifled her cards waiting for the room to quiet down. She was stunned to notice Gladys looked like she was fighting back tears. What on earth? But no time to think about that now. “Another unique store I believe will draw customers from near and far is A Tisket A Basket, a supplier of made-to-order custom gift baskets, baskets filled with unique goodies from the store including an array of ‘Welcome to Pardon-Me-Ville’ souvenirs like coffee mugs and refrigerator magnets—and don’t forget to pick yourself one for half price the night of our private grand opening—but also with items customers can buy from throughout the mall, which will build an even greater internal synergy.” (Edward Showalter leaned over to Nellie Ruth and asked her what in the world synergy was, since it sounded like something a preacher ought to be preaching against.) “Jenna Olsen, a previous manager of Now and Again Resale in Yorktown, implemented a natural segue for her career with this choice. Our own Jessica Joy, who has her hands otherwise full right now, recommended I contact Jenna. Although Jessica won’t be working in the store, along with producing babies and her wonderful crafts in Calico Corner”—chuckles around— “she’ll also use her God-given gifts to occasionally consult with Jenna. It was a welcome basket that Jessica made up for the architect for Pleasantville Pleasantries that gave me the idea for a gift-basket shop, and as luck would have it, we found the perfect match! Jenna, Jessica, please take a bow.”
After a brief rundown of Baths, Boudoir and Babies gift wear, the Stitch-in’ Time yarn shop, Helping Hands massage therapy, and The Word Exchange, a used-book store, and an energized tidbit about Alotta Chocolatta anchoring the lower level (she didn’t linger on this because they’d been written about more than once), Katie finally got to the last store on her list. “Garden Goodies will sell everything from lawn decorations to hummingbird feeders, a small assortment of wild-bird foods and an amazing array of kites for kids and adults. They will also feature seasonal and holiday items. Store owners Matt and Melissa Dertinger will be new to Partonville, moving here the day after tomorrow from my old neighborhood in Chicago. I’ve kept them apprised of Partonvillers’ enthusiasm to put themselves back on the map.
“They’ve hired a manager to operate their well-established suburban location and this new expansion project offered the opportunity they’ve been looking for to move their children to a safe and quieter environment. They like everything I’ve told them so far. They’re sorry they couldn’t be here for tonight’s meeting, but between packing and ordering merchandise for their Partonville Pleasantries spot, they’re more than busy. The Dertingers’ two grammar-school children will be a welcome addition to our community, as will they. Their move to town—their faith in the success of our mall—has affirmed my vision for growth for us, as I hope it does for you.
“I want to thank you for your time, and patience,” Katie said, smiling and nodding at Fred Hornsby, who, since she’d declined to answer his question, avoided eye contact and exhibited an urgent need to find something in his pocket. “As you’ve heard, the opening of Partonville Pleasantries is a community effort. Shops are not only owned, operated, staffed and in many cases stocked with inventory by Partonvillers, but the mall will also help serve us as consumers.
“And now, I’d like to take a few moments to answer any questions. I know we’re all anxious to get to the debate, though,” she said, looking at Gladys who was as white as a sheet.
Before she was even done with her sentence, several hands shot up at the same time as a surprisingly hearty applause broke out. Shelby, clapping with gusto, leaned over to Josh, who’d sat remarkably still during his mother’s entire presentation. She had to holler over the mounting applause to be heard. “YOUR MOM IS SOOOOO SMART! YOU MUST BE SOOOOO PROUD OF HER! WHAT A GREAT THING SHE’S DOING FOR ALL OF US! SO MUCH WORK! I AM SO PROUD TO KNOW HER, TO BE DATING HER SON!” She planted a quick peck on his cheek. “EVEN IF YOU ARE GROUNDED!” she added, unfortunately just as the applause was dying down so nearly everyone in the room heard her.
“Yes, Sam,” Katie said, nodding her head at him. How could she not start with Sam?
“Please tell us, Ms. Durbin,” he said while rising, “who actually owns the mall, the coffee shop and the resale shop. Not the antique store that will be competing with me,” he said with emphasis to let her know he’d heard her every absurd word, “but that place with the crafts?”
“I’m assuming you’re referring to Calico Corner Creations and the Tea Cozy, right? The technical answer to your question is of course me.” Sam, who had not taken his seat, folded his arms across his chest, nodded and continued nodding while he turned to face the audience. “Which also means,” Katie continued, “that one hundred percent of the money invested in the purchase of the long-ago vacated and deteriorating building, the extensive rehabbing and remodeling project—from the asbestos removal to the wiring and new heating system to the exterior facelift and the addition of skylights in the roof to enhance the entire ambiance of the building—have come from my business funds.
“I am the sole owner of Calico Corner Creations. Just as any other shop in the mall, I pay rent. Arlene Riford is on my payroll as manager and I have given her complete control over any and all decisions. Of course profits from every single item sold in the store go to the consignees and the store makes a small commission, which goes into the business itself, not my pocket.
“The Tea Cozy is currently held in a joint ownership between Theresa Brewton and myself and every six months Theresa has an option to buy me out, a day which we’re both looking forward to. Theresa gave me permission to divulge that piece of information at this meeting if need be. Thank you, Theresa.” (“GREAT ONE re Theresa!” Dorothy wrote on her notepad. She added
a star to both ends of the statement.)
“Of course the financial specifics of my arrangement with Theresa are private, but if you’d like to see any broad-brush documentation regarding sales tax documents, licensing, building permits . . . I’d be happy to give your attorney contact information for the corporation. In fact, let me go ahead and make that easy for you or anyone else who might be interested. Jacob Wetstra, would you please stand and give us a nod?” (“SUPERB re my SON!” Dorothy scribbled in her biggest handwriting yet, just before she broke out in applause.) Jacob, who was blindsided by the mention of his name and was instantly none too happy that Katie had clearly used him to manipulate the audience toward her favor, worked the kink out of his back and did as he was told, giving a quick 360-degree nod before quickly sitting down. “Thank you, Attorney Wetstra.
“While I have the opportunity, let me also clarify any questions you might have, Sam, concerning ownership of New to You. While Wade and Margaret-Mary O’Shea are leasing space from the mall, they are sole owners of that business. If you will recall, during the Hookers’ Christmas party I talked to you about an occasional exchange of merchandise. If you’re still interested, the O’Sheas are excited about that opportunity too. They’ll be getting in touch with you soon, Sam. I’m glad you brought all of this up. Thank you! Do you have any other questions? If not, we’ll move on.”
Sam, who stood and faced the crowd again, said, “I just want to make it clear to everyone here tonight who, exactly, is making money on our square, and also make it perfectly clear when I point out that you’ve undoubtedly already been paid rent before any of the rest of . . .” and he stopped to draw air quotes . . . “‘us’ . . . have had a chance to find out if we’ll make a cent.”
Dearest Dorothy, If Not Now, When? Page 19
