by Chris Fabry
“I’m trying to keep my job,” Tony said.
“Let me give you some advice,” Gary said. “A client kept is gold.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“I’m sure you do, but knowing it and achieving it are different things. Spend your energy trying to keep an account rather than trying to generate ten more.”
“There’s no hope. They’ve made their decision.”
“Are you sure?” Gary leaned closer. “Show some humility. Show them you’re willing to do whatever it takes.”
“You mean beg? Crawl in there on my hands and knees?”
“Tony, you can walk away from a client when you know you’ve done nothing wrong. Tell yourself they don’t appreciate you. Another client will treat you better. But the truth is, the client you have now, with all their faults and hang-ups, is the one you need to work on. Bring them back.”
Tony pulled into the garage and turned off the car, remembering that Gary had called the company—it had been his own account long before. He’d put in a good word for Tony and asked for another chance, and the company had somehow agreed. Tony took Gary’s advice and showed them he was willing to work hard to keep their business. That was simply being a good salesman.
He wasn’t sure why that memory surfaced as he returned, but as he pushed the garage door button on the wall, he took a deep breath and prepared for another fight.
When he walked in, Elizabeth and Danielle were fixing sandwiches and talking about some new journal Elizabeth had ordered for Danielle. Tony put down his satchel and draped his jacket on the counter.
“Hey, Daddy,” Danielle said.
“Hey, Danielle,” Tony said.
“I didn’t think you were coming home until tonight,” Elizabeth said.
“Yeah. I finished up everything pretty early.” He looked at the food she was preparing and his stomach growled. He hadn’t been able to eat much in the past two days, but his appetite was suddenly back. “You got enough for me?”
“Sure. Jennifer’s mom is picking Danielle up in a few minutes, but you and I can eat.”
No argument. No yelling or shouting or shaming. Just an invitation.
“All right. I’ll take my stuff to our room,” Tony said.
He tossed his suitcase on the bed and threw his jacket on the ottoman. Elizabeth had made the bed, like she always did. Everything was neat and tidy—but there was something different. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something in the room had changed.
Elizabeth’s cell phone dinged on the dresser. From the living room came the ring of the doorbell and Danielle ran to get it. Who was picking her up? One of her friends from jump rope—started with a J.
He took off his tie and dropped it on the bed. Then his curiosity got the best of him and he walked to the dresser. From the living room came the sounds of Elizabeth and the mom of Danielle’s friend. What was her name? He picked up Elizabeth’s phone and stared at the message on the screen. It was from someone named Missy . . . the name sounded vaguely familiar to him. Someone from college, maybe? The first message in the thread was from two nights earlier.
Liz, this is Missy. I’m in Raleigh. Just saw Tony in a restaurant with a woman I didn’t recognize. Somebody you know?
His heart sank and he felt his stomach clench.
Elizabeth had responded: Are you serious?
Missy: I wouldn’t lie to you.
Elizabeth: I’m sure it’s just a client.
Missy: Looked pretty friendly.
Elizabeth: I can only hope it’s nothing.
Missy: I’ll keep you posted.
Elizabeth: Thanks, girlfriend!
Tony scrolled down and saw the message that had just arrived.
Liz, did you find out about the woman Tony was with in Raleigh?
It felt like a punch to his gut and he wondered if he’d repeat the episode in the restaurant bathroom. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Elizabeth knew about Veronica. Though she probably didn’t know her name, she knew he’d had dinner with some female. But she hadn’t called, hadn’t texted, hadn’t asked about it. What was up with that? Did she really think it was just a business meeting or was she waiting to pounce on him? He’d heard horror stories about wives who did terrible things to husbands. Maybe she was waiting to confirm things so she could put a plan in place for revenge.
Maybe she already had a plan.
The front door closed and he casually walked into the kitchen. Pretended he knew nothing about what she knew. Elizabeth was finishing fixing his meal.
“So what’s been going on here?”
“Well, I sold another house yesterday. And I already told you about getting held up, so . . .”
Here it came. She was going to hold that over him—he was sure about it. “Yeah, look, about that. It’s not that I didn’t care. I was just busy, so when I knew you were all right . . .”
“I understand,” she said, putting the plates on the table. “I’m sorry for getting so worked up about it.”
Tony couldn’t believe what he was hearing. She had apologized to him when he was the one who had been insensitive. And the part about being “busy” . . . that was because of Veronica.
“You’re sorry?” Tony said.
“Yeah, I knew you were at work. Probably in a meeting. I should have just waited till later to bring it up.” She turned to pour some tea for them.
This was not right. Something was definitely off. Tony took her plate and switched it with his own.
“My mind was just racing, and I took it out on you. But you know what? I think it was really good for Danielle. I think it helped her realize how important it is to be aware of who’s around you.”
She came to the table and put the tea glasses down. He tried to smile at her, but his own mind was racing. Had some alien taken over his wife’s body? Was she pretending everything was okay until he was comfortable? She had conveniently gotten Danielle out of the house.
“Hot sauce?” Elizabeth said.
He checked the counter and saw all the knives were still in place. “Yeah, that’s fine.”
“You want mild or Wrath of God?” she said.
“I don’t want Wrath of God. Let me have the other one.”
Elizabeth returned and sat, spreading a napkin in her lap. It was clear now what she was doing. She was baiting him. Acting all nice and pleasant and getting him food and pretending everything was fine. Even apologizing. He was on to her game and ready for the stab.
Finally he shook his head. “What do you want, Liz?”
She pretended to not understand. She had gotten good at it. He almost believed her response.
“You mean, right now?” she said.
“Yeah.”
She thought a moment. “Well, I would kill for a hot fudge sundae. Just fudge everywhere.” She waved a hand in a circular motion. “And two scoops of ice cream, cookies and cream. Just mounds of whipped cream on top. And one cherry.”
He stared at her, not believing what he was hearing. She was going on about a sundae when he knew she was planning something horrific for him.
“And my feet are killing me,” she continued. “Man, I would love a foot rub.” She stared at the table as if imagining what that would be like.
Tony shook his head. “Liz, I’m not rubbing your feet.”
“Okay,” she said matter-of-factly. “Well, you want to pray?”
Pray? he thought. They hadn’t prayed before a meal since . . . he couldn’t remember when. But he would roll with the charade. He bowed his head and awkwardly said, “God, we thank You for this food and for taking care of our family. Amen.”
He looked up, waiting for Elizabeth to bare her teeth or brandish some weapon or scream at him about Veronica. Instead she picked up her sandwich and dug in.
“I’m starving,” she said.
Tony watched her a second before picking up his own sandwich and gingerly trying a bite. He guessed it was safe, unless she had assumed he would swi
tch plates. No, that was crazy.
“What’s the journal thing you and Danielle were talking about?”
Elizabeth smiled. “It’s so cute. I’ve started a prayer journal with the help of one of my clients—Miss Clara. Tony, you have to meet her. Anyway, Danielle saw it and started asking questions and one thing led to another and we had this spiritual conversation about God and whether He answers prayer. I ordered a journal for her so she could write in her requests and favorite verses. She was as excited about it as some expensive birthday present.”
“Is that so?”
She wiped her mouth with a napkin, the look on her face like sunshine coming over the mountains. “I’m beginning to see who she’s going to be, who she’s becoming. You know? I always thought of her as our little girl, that she’s going to stay that way forever, and I know out there in the future she’s going to grow up and have a family of her own. But that has felt so far away. Having that conversation with her made me realize it’s not. It’s coming soon.”
“I’ve heard they grow up fast.”
“It’s going to be like a rocket lifting off. And I’m so grateful we have her. And for the way you provide for us. I know I haven’t said that in a long time.”
Tony stared at Elizabeth. There had to be a hidden microphone—she was going to trap him into saying something and use the audio in court during the divorce hearing. Or maybe there was a sniper outside on the back deck who was waiting for the signal to pull the trigger.
“Tony, you okay?” Elizabeth said.
He picked up his sandwich again. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Tony watched her eat, trying to figure out what had happened to his wife.
Miss Clara
Clara didn’t want to say anything to Elizabeth that would discourage her. It was clear she was flying high with victory about her daughter and her own spiritual progress. But when the two of them were sitting at that table with hands clasped and Elizabeth began to pray for her husband, Clara had gotten the distinct impression that God was about to do something, and she could never predict what hard thing He was going to do.
Clara didn’t live on feelings because they ebbed and flowed. She had decided to keep the train of her life on the parallel tracks of faith in God and loving others. The enemy tried to push her off the tracks every day and it was her job to trust God, to believe He was good and was working, and then to act on that belief by loving others.
If she’d said it once, she’d said it a thousand times. “People let their feelings push them away from God or away from believing that their life makes a difference. They think that because they don’t see God working the way they think He should work, He’s not there. Or they think He doesn’t care and they get discouraged.”
When Elizabeth left that day, Clara had climbed the steps that led to her war room. She felt every year with every step and couldn’t wait to have a war room on the same floor as her kitchen. But as she climbed, the impression she’d gotten about Elizabeth and Tony grew into a rock-ribbed belief that God was working for their ultimate good. She hit her knees and flew down those twin tracks with her prayers, asking God to change hearts.
CHAPTER 11
Tony had settled in for a leisurely morning without any sales calls or driving. He would go into work in the afternoon and do some paperwork, and he had a weekly department meeting to attend, which he hated, but it was going to be an easy morning. He would make an omelet with cheese and veggies for a late breakfast and watch a recap of last night’s games.
Danielle sat at the table writing furiously with her pencil as he chopped onions and peppers.
“What are you doing?” he said.
“Writing in my journal,” she said without looking up. She was focused on the page, like some ancient scribe who wanted to get every stroke perfect.
“Mom told me about that. Can I see it?”
She closed the journal and shook her head. “No, this is private. I write stuff in here that only me and God see.”
Tony smiled and cracked four eggs in a bowl. “Well, can I at least see the front of it?”
She frowned, then handed it over. “But don’t look inside.”
He washed and dried his hands and took it. It was leather-bound and weighty. It felt like a Bible and had an interesting design on the front. “This is really great, Danielle. So what kind of things are you writing in here?”
She took the journal back. “Just verses and prayer requests and stuff like that.”
He leaned down with his elbows on the table, right next to her. “And what’s your number one prayer request right now?”
She looked at him and opened her mouth like she was going to say something, then closed it quickly. “I can’t tell you.”
“Of course you can. I won’t laugh or anything. Is that why you won’t tell me?”
“No, it’s just that it’s between me and God.”
Connecting with his daughter was going to be more difficult than he thought. Tony retreated to the stove and turned on a burner. He was formulating his next question when his phone rang with a number from the office. He answered and found his district manager, Rick, on the line.
“Hey, Rick, what can I do for you?”
“I was wondering if you could come to the office. Something’s come up we need to discuss.”
“Well, I was taking the morning off after the trip. I’ll be in for the meeting this afternoon. Can we meet right before then?”
“I don’t think this can wait, Tony. I need you to get here as soon as you can, okay?”
He didn’t like the sound of Rick’s voice, but it was clear the only reaction was simple obedience. “Yeah, Rick, sure thing. I’ve got Danielle—I’ll figure it out and see you in a few.”
“I appreciate it,” Rick said.
Tony put his phone away and turned off the burner. Breakfast would have to wait. He called Elizabeth but her voice mail answered. He clicked off the phone angrily.
Then he got an idea. “Do you think I could drop you off at your friend’s house? Jeanette or Jeanie . . . ?”
“Jennifer,” Danielle said.
“Yeah, Jennifer. Could you call her?”
He retreated to his bedroom and showered and dressed. When he came out, Danielle had her jump rope and was ready. “Her mom said it would be fine. Where are you going?”
“Rick called me to a meeting—my boss. And when the boss says, ‘Jump,’ you learn to ask, ‘How high?’ Where did your mom go this morning? To work?”
“Yeah, then to Miss Clara’s house.”
They drove to the end of the street and Tony realized he had no idea where the girl lived.
“Turn here,” Danielle said. “Her house is down that way.”
He pulled into the driveway and walked up with his daughter. Jennifer opened the door and the two were off into the house. The girl’s mother came to the door and introduced herself.
“I’m really sorry about this,” Tony said.
“Oh, don’t be.”
“My boss called and I need to get to work. I’ll have Elizabeth pick her up on her way home, if that’s okay.”
“It’s no problem at all,” the woman said. “Danielle can stay all day if she wants. Or I can drop her off at the house when Elizabeth gets home from work.”
“That would be great,” Tony said. “Thank you.”
Tony called Elizabeth on his way to the office but the call went straight to her voice mail again. He left a quick message, telling her that Jennifer’s mom would drop Danielle off at home later, then hung up, steaming that he couldn’t speak with her.
When he got to the office, Sharon, Rick’s secretary, saw him and quickly picked up the phone. She wasn’t her usual bubbly self but Tony felt there was probably something going on in her life. Maybe a marriage problem. Or maybe he was projecting his problems onto her.
Rick opened the door and ushered Tony in. Also in the room was Tom Bennett, the vice president Tony didn’t care for. Plus Clinton Withers, head of the human
resources department. Strange. Clinton only attended meetings where there were hirings and firings.
Rick shook hands with Tony and motioned for him to sit. Suddenly he felt like he’d walked into an ambush.
“Tony, there’s no easy way to say this,” Rick said, his eyes on his laptop. “I had a conversation with Greg yesterday.”
“I know Greg,” Tony said, his stomach curling into a tight ball. “He’s an inventory rep.” He tried to look innocent like he was unsure of what Rick was talking about. Tom and Clinton just stared at him.
“Greg says your numbers are off. And it’s not a onetime thing. He saw the same thing last week after your trip to Asheville. He says there’s a pattern.”
Tom leaned forward. “He’s padding, Rick.” He said it with a sneer like he enjoyed the accusation. “It’s clear what’s going on.”
“Wait,” Tony said, not sure how to defend himself.
Rick turned the screen around and spoke with some regret. “Numbers don’t lie, Tony. Greg double-checked. This is the fifth time he’s noticed. And it makes me wonder if this hasn’t been going on for a while.”
“I’m sure there’s just a mix-up,” Tony said, trying to sound confident. His palms were sweating and he had a hard time swallowing. He needed something to drink. He needed a trapdoor. “Let me go get my samples and count again. . . .”
“That won’t be necessary, Tony,” Clinton said. “In cases like this where there’s a clear breach, termination is the only option. It’s spelled out in your contract.”
“Termination?” Tony said.
“You’re gone, Tony,” Tom said. There was a little glee in his voice.
“You mean that’s it?” Tony said. And the switch flipped inside. The competitor, the person who had to be right, to win the argument. “I’m your best sales guy. I spoke with Coleman the other day. I’ve got a bonus coming because of the Holcomb contract. You’d let me go just because some numbers don’t match up?”
