by Paula Mowery
“I’m sorry you feel that way. I can’t hide my disappointment. My father established this company on Christian principles and made it his goal to produce books that would speak to readers’ hearts for the sake of God. I still believe in that.”
Ms. Rader shrugged. “Then, I guess we’re done.” She stood, spun on her heels, and left the office with a slam of his door.
It was only moments before Carol entered. “You okay?”
“Not really.” He rolled his eyes. “I want to be angry, but I’m more saddened by the fact that these authors can just turn their backs on their Christian convictions so easily.”
“I know. It’s disturbing. This would have broken your father’s heart.” She patted her chest.
“Don’t you know it. I wish he were here at times like this to help me.”
“Chase, you know what he would do, even if it meant losing lots of money. He ran this place by his founding principles. That’s why I’m still here.” Carol straightened her shoulders.
“You’re right.” He gave an emphatic nod. “Pull the books.”
“We’ll have to give a statement.” Carol scribbled notes onto her notepad.
“I know. Can we stall for a couple of days on that? I need to pray for the right words, you know?”
“Yes, I know. It will take a few days to get the books pulled. That should give you a little bit of time before a statement is required.”
“Thanks.” Chase tried to muster a smile for his faithful assistant.
“It’ll be okay. You just keep doing right. You’ll win in the end.”
“Sounds like Proverbs.”
“Yep, I was just reading that this morning. God’s timing is perfect.” She exited.
Suddenly Chase craved the sound of Alex’s voice. He pulled out his phone and punched the button.
“Hey!” Her voice warmed him.
“Hello. What are you doing?”
“What’s wrong, Chase? You sound down.”
How had she learned so quickly to read him over the phone?
“I am down. Trouble with an author.”
“Want to tell me about it? Might make you feel better.”
Just hearing her voice boosted his doldrums, but he proceeded to tell her about Stephanie Radar.
“Wow, it amazes me what greed will make people do. I mean, it can make you turn your back on everything you’ve ever stood for. I won’t say that could never happen to me because that would be arrogant, but I just wasn’t raised that way.”
“Me either. Enough of that. What have you been up to?” He leaned back in his chair.
“Well, I’ve turned into a regular Nancy Drew.”
“What?”
“I found some of Granny’s personal journals. It seems she was still haunted by the fact that her husband was murdered, but the perpetrators got away with it. I’ve been doing my own investigating.”
“So, what have you found?” He rubbed at the tension in his neck.
“Not much more than we knew before, but hopefully a trip to the archives tomorrow will shed more light into this mystery.”
“Now about the mystery of whether you are going to come to New York?”
“I might be talked into it, if you still want me there.”
His heart skipped a beat. “If I still want you here? Yes, I want you here. I…miss you.”
There was a long silence on the other end. “Alex?”
“Yeah?”
“I...I guess I’d better go. I’ll be in touch. Don’t doubt that I want you to come. I don’t know how to convince you, but I’ll find a way.”
“That sounds mysterious.” She giggled, and the sound warmed Chase to the core.
After saying goodbye, Chase propped his elbows on his desk. His mood was totally altered. Alex had lifted his spirits. His feelings for her ran deep, but could he tell her? The right words escaped him. If he could just get her here, he could look into her eyes and get a sense if she had feelings for him as well. He began to devise a plan to get Alex to New York.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I was in the archive room early the next morning. After an hour of learning the so-called system of organization, I finally located the group of newspapers I had been longing to see. I started reading before the date of my grandfather’s death. Several articles alluded to the success of Lyndon and Cook. I had no idea Hayward and his associates had been some of the first developers of downtown Knoxville.
Then I stumbled upon an eye-opener. The newspaper reporter had uncovered a disagreement between the partners. The article described a specific area of lucrative land with an old church and a small cemetery. Mr. Cook was ready to get rid of the run down church and develop the property into a surefire moneymaker. Mr. Lyndon, on the other hand, didn’t want to remove the church. He suggested alternative sites as well as drew up plans to utilize the adjacent site without demolishing the church. My grandfather was quoted as basically saying that destroying God’s house was unacceptable. He would have no part in doing that. He had a healthy fear of God. Sounded a lot like Granny Olivia. They must have made quite a godly couple!
I continued reading. Just two weeks later, Hayward Lyndon’s death was reported. The newspaper story explained the discovery of a prescription bottle of pain medication located on the Mr. Lyndon’s desk right next to his lifeless form. Only one pill remained in the bottle. I contemplated the ramifications. A prescription from a doctor would have been required, but Granny had written and Millie had corroborated that he never went to a physician. He also would never have taken any medication. Of course, if Millie was right, Mr. Cook had been connected with many people.
As I was thinking this through, I continued to flip through the newspaper until a photo caught my eye. The man in the photograph looked like the picture of Mr. Cook I had seen in the last article. I studied the picture more closely, willing something to jump out at me. The man was pictured in an advertisement for a pharmacy. The name under the photograph made me gasp—Mr. Cook. He must have been a brother or something. That would explain how the medication could have been obtained. I started to fold up the exhibits and leave, but I felt compelled to keep looking. The headlines of the newspaper one week later after my grandfather’s death read, “Giant Sinkhole Ruins Cook’s Plans.”
Upon reading the rest of the story, I discovered that one day after removing the old church, a giant sinkhole appeared. Mr. Cook should have paid attention to my grandfather’s instincts. God surely didn’t let the Cooks win or gain from their wrongdoing. I replaced all of the archives, planning to head straight home, but when I spotted the office of Cook’s Developing across the street, the car seemed to have a mind of its own.
After parking the car, I sat there trying to decide what I could say after all of these years. This was the place to lay everything to rest. I slid out of the car and squared my shoulders. “This is for you, Granny,” I whispered under my breath.
Entering the office, a bright-eyed receptionist greeted me.
“I would like to see Mr. Cook, please.”
“Is he expecting you?” The woman gazed at me expectantly.
“Not exactly.”
“Well, I’m not sure...” Her eyes darted.
“Just tell him Olivia Lyndon’s granddaughter is here.” My voice had a firmness I didn’t recognize.
“Okay.” She stood slowly and motioned for me to stay put.
Within a few minutes a distinguished man emerged from a narrow hallway. He extended his hand to me. “Ms. Lyndon?”
“Yes, Alex Lyndon.”
“I’m Kelvin Cook, Jr. Please, come to my office.”
I followed him, and he offered me a chair and then plopped into the chair next to me instead of sitting behind his desk.
I turned toward him and made eye contact. “Mr. Cook, I don’t want to intrude, but I’m in need of clearing up some things for my Granny Olivia’s sake.”
“You’re not intruding. I always wondered if this day would come.”
His words shocked me. “What are you talking about?”
“A day of confession and of possible forgiveness.” He hung his head.
“Go on.”
“My father was your grandfather’s partner. Everything was fine until my father became greedy.” He paused for a moment to regain his composure.
This admission seemed to be taking quite a toll on him. “By your demeanor, I suppose my grandmother was correct in saying her husband didn’t die from an accidental overdose.”
He shook his head. “No, he didn’t. It was an overdose, but Mr. Lyndon ingested the medication unknowingly. My uncle obtained the pills.”
“He was the pharmacist I saw pictured in the newspaper.”
“Yes, my father told me the whole sordid story on his deathbed.” Mr. Cook leaned toward me with pleading eyes. “You have to know he was truly repentant.”
“Was the true story never told?”
“No, I suppose that’s selfish on my part. A story like that could ruin my business, even though I had no part in the crime. I’ve just kept it to myself all these years. I guess I was afraid. I have a family to support.” He looked me in the eyes, and his voice held a desperate tone.
“I know telling the story now would do nothing for anyone. My granny is gone now.”
“I know. I’m sorry for your loss. She deserved more.” Mr. Cook rubbed the back of his neck.
“Mr. Cook, the only reason I wanted to know the whole truth was for Granny Olivia. I know it sounds strange, but she still wanted to solve this mystery even right before her own death. Now it can be laid to rest.”
“I do feel ashamed of my father’s actions. I believe the Lord is true to His Word when He talks about sin affecting later generations. The business was never the same after...”
“Would you mind if I told the story in a book I’m writing about Granny’s life? I would change names, of course. Granny had her own secrets.”
Mr. Cook gave me a quizzical look and then nodded. “You tell the story if you need to.” His shoulders slumped as though a boulder was weighing on his back.
I placed my hand on his arm. “Mr. Cook, I hold no malice. Don’t carry your father’s burden. Let it go.”
“Thank you, Ms. Lyndon.” He let out a heavy sigh. “The knowledge of this has been like a ticking bomb all these years. I’m glad to finally admit this. If there is anything I can ever do for you, please let me know. I can’t make up for what’s been done or bring anyone back, but restitution is Biblical.”
“Thank you.” I held out my hand to him, this time as an act of friendship. He took it with both hands and squeezed.
As I left the office, both of us looked lighter.
“Well, Granny, you were right, and those involved paid dearly for their greed. Guilt is a prison all its own. I know you would have extended the hand of forgiveness, so I did it on your behalf.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Chase shuffled through some papers on his desk when his assistant buzzed in to announce a call from Mr. Moore. Chase smiled at the mention of the man’s name. He and Chase’s father had been close friends for years, which was an amazing feat since they were technically rivals. Mr. Moore was also a Christian publisher who began about the same time as the Carson Publishing Company. The two never seemed to have a cross word with one another. They could always be heard encouraging each other. They saw themselves as being on the same team. Trying to make a difference for Jesus Christ.
“Mr. Moore, how are you? “
“Chase, my boy, I am ecstatic!” His baritone echoed through the phone.
“Really? And why is that?” He chuckled.
“I just heard about your dropping Stephanie Radar. I am so proud of you. And, your father would be, too. Trust me, I know.”
“Thank you, sir. Those words mean a lot to me. You have no idea. It was difficult to do. I must admit, Satan certainly tempted me with that one. But, I could hear my father’s wisdom ringing in my ears. I knew exactly what he would do. Since I still run this business by the Biblical principles he founded it upon, there really was no decision to make.”
“Good for you! I’ve been there. I know what you’re going through. I’ve lost two of my best authors in the last week myself. But, in my opinion, they aren’t the best anymore. The principles your father and I established from the beginning still stand. If I can’t honor God and uphold His principles, then I’ll find another line of work.”
“No wonder you and my dad were such good friends. You sound just like him.”
Mr. Moore laughed heartily. “Guilty. I miss him so much, but he left his business in good hands. You have proven that this week. Keep it up.”
“Mr. Moore, sir, can I ask you a question?”
“Of course, son, anything.”
“How do you keep it up? I mean, you have a family, right?”
“Sure do. Just married off the second of three daughters. My baby starts college soon.” Pride radiated in his tone. “God has truly blessed me.” His voice broke, and he cleared his throat. “Honestly, Chase, there’s been crazy times, but you keep your priorities straight and God will honor that.”
“Yes, sir.”
“God first, then family, then the work He calls you to do. Not always easy, but the Good Lord will lead you.”
“How did you know...that your wife was...the one?”
Mr. Moore chuckled. “I couldn’t think of anything else after the first time I met her at our church youth group.”
“Yeah, I’m there.”
“You’ll know, son.”
“Thanks.”
As Chase hung up the phone, he gave God a smile. The Lord knew he needed encouragement, and there it was.
Miss Olivia’s book was almost complete. The debut had been set. Now, all Chase needed to do was to set his own plan into action. He just had to get Alex here. He would make it next to impossible to say no to his invitation this time.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
On Monday morning I was startled by a knock at the door.
“Special delivery for Alex Lyndon.”
“That’s me.”
The man shoved a flat device toward me. “Sign here, please.”
“Thank you.”
Special delivery? I closed the door and tore into the envelope.
Dear Alex,
Enclosed is a plane ticket and confirmation for a hotel room. Please say yes. Come to New York. We will debut your grandmother’s book with a special party. Be my date?
Love, Chase
I scanned the dates on the tickets. Friday. Did I dare? I would so love to be there for this last book debut. The thought of being near Chase again sent a tingling feeling all the way to my toes. He had signed the note with love. What kind of love did he mean? I wished for the “happily ever after” from Granny Olivia’s books. Her stories ended with right always winning, and the guy and girl together. Did that still happen in real life or was I only dreaming?
Early that evening my cell phone buzzed.
“Did you get it?” Excitement rang in Chase’s voice.
“Yes.”
“Well? You’re not gonna turn me down are you? I have my best puppy dog eyes right now.”
I laughed because I could imagine those eyes.
“Okay.”
“Great! I’ll be there to meet your plane Friday. I can’t wait for you to get here.”
His excitement poured through the phone, increasing mine.
By the time the call ended, I was sure this week would be long due to my anticipation.
To prepare, I first needed a new dress. A party in New York for the debut of a book as popular as Granny’s would be fancier than the church dresses I owned. It took two days of morning shopping until I finally discovered something. A simple yet elegant black dress that the sales lady said flattered me. I had never been able to ignore the price tag and just buy something for myself. The inheritance money allowed me to splurge a bit, though it was hard not to shop with my normal frugaln
ess. I also purchased some slacks and fall sweaters. I supposed New York would be cooler right now than East Tennessee. I also procured a nice satchel to carry my journals and writing paraphernalia. There was no way I could leave that at home for the long weekend. It was difficult to let it go at times. I was nearing completion on Granny’s story, and the other fiction was coming along.
The clothes and accessories might make me appear to fit in there in New York, but I would know the truth. But, what if? Could a nobody like me pull this off? Cinderella for a weekend. I had barely been outside the county, much less outside of the state of Tennessee.
I had done very little traveling in my life—but then again, there was a sense of adventure to this trip. My stomach was tied in knots. Friday morning arrived sunny and cool. I hauled my luggage to the front walk just as the van pulled up to take me to the airport. I fidgeted the whole ride there. I bounded through the terminal, checked my suitcases, and awaited the flight’s call. Finally the call came to board the plane. I located my seat, settled in, and noted the older woman to my right and the younger one to my left. I greeted each and proceeded to pull out another of Granny’s books. I was still reading some of her work, taking note of her technique and writing, using her example.
As soon as I opened the book, the woman on my right nudged my arm. “Ooo, I read that one last year. That’s a good one. I’ve read everything Alexa Livingston has ever written.”
The woman on the other side of me joined in. “Me, too! I just love her writing. I’ve been waiting for the last book in this latest series. It seems like forever.” She leaned forward.
“Me, too. I just have to find out what happens to Chance and Dominique.”
My grin stretched from one of my ears to the other. These two women were about to get their wish.
“So, are you enjoying them?” the older woman said.
