by Aimée Thurlo
“Ben, I gave you plenty of warning. The real problem was that you’d stopped listening to anyone but yourself back then.” She clamped her mouth shut. “No. Let’s not go over the past like this. It serves no purpose. We’re different people now, and that’s all that really matters.”
“I know who I am, but who are you?” he asked quietly.
“A woman who has worked hard all her life and, now, thanks to a gift from a friend, owns her own business, one that will continue to take care of a lot of other people.” She paused. “I trusted your father and he trusted me.”
“But neither of you were willing to trust me, is that it?”
“Stop trying to put words in my mouth,” she said, raising her voice. Drawing in a breath, she forced herself to calm down. “Your father loved you—unconditionally.”
“No, that’s not the way it was between us.”
“You’re wrong. He wasn’t one for flowery speeches, that’s for sure, but his feelings for you were strong. You should have heard the way he spoke about you. He was really looking forward to seeing you again. He’d bought two new fly rods so he could take you fishing for trout up by Navajo Lake. He knew you’d love that. He also bought a treadmill for his office and one of those weight benches. He remembered how you loved to work out.”
Jo saw him staring ahead, silently digesting her words.
“Tell me about the trading post,” he said at long last. “I’ve noticed some changes, like the expanded grocery section and snack counter. The inventory now also includes a lot more Native American arts and crafts and several new glass display cases. What else goes on there these days?”
For a second, Jo wondered if there was something in that particular inventory that the threatening caller had been referring to. Had Tom cheated someone, or more likely, had a former customer felt he’d been cheated somehow? She’d put that research on her to-do list, but right now, she had to play it cool and stick to the current problem—Ben.
“I’d rather you see things for yourself. Talk to the staff and the artisans who come in. The Outpost has a heartbeat all its own.” She slowed and made the left turn across the median into the long driveway.
“I’ll do that,” he said.
She circled around the trading post and parked in one of the employee slots. “Your dad’s Chevy is still parked in its spot. Why aren’t you using it?”
“When I saw your truck, I figured you and The Outpost could use it more, so I put the keys back in Dad’s desk drawer.” He looked around the cab of her truck, noting the duct-taped seats. “How old is this bucket of bolts, anyway?”
She laughed. “Hey, it’s still running, and even if it’s older than we are, it’s got a new engine and it’s reliable. It handled pretty well the other day, didn’t it?”
“Yeah, not too bad, but I’ve seen faster tanks,” he said with a straight face.
They went inside through the loading dock using her key and the touchpad. Esther, at the rear counter folding some clothing atop it, was the first to see and greet Ben. Hearing them, Regina looked over her shoulder from her position at the front register and waved.
Since he’d already been introduced to everyone, Jo gestured around the shop. “Where would you like to start? Out here? Or would you prefer office work?”
“Let me stay out front. What can I do?”
Esther spoke first. “I have some clothing samples I made using the fabric and patterns we stock—a blouse, a skirt, some pants. Once people watch me sewing a garment right before their eyes and see the possibilities, it encourages them to try it for themselves. Why don’t you help me find the best places to put them up on display? I’d like to hang them up.”
“Lead the way, ma’am,” Ben said.
Jo watched him walk away with Esther. She couldn’t have picked a better companion for Ben.
Leigh Ann came over to join her. “I know you’ve been handling a million details lately,” she said in her soft drawl, “but I just have to ask. Do you have any idea when we can expect our checks? I’m scraping the bottom of the barrel right now.”
“Payroll’s done. All I need to do now is print the checks and get Mike to cosign.”
She smiled with relief. “Phew! Up to now, I had no idea how I was going to pay this month’s electric bill.”
Hearing Esther laugh from halfway across the room, Jo glanced over and saw Ben with a big smile on his face. “I’d forgotten how charming he can be when he wants,” Jo said softly. “When it comes to dealing with the public, he may be a chip off the old block.”
“Maybe, or maybe not,” Leigh Ann whispered. “As my mama used to say, ‘Just ’cause a chicken has wings don’t mean it can fly.’”
Jo laughed softly, then returned to her desk in the lunch/break room. Calling up the business spreadsheet on the computer, she studied the numbers before her. Business was starting to pick up again, but things were moving so slowly that cash flow had reached a critical level. If she lost the ability to purchase inventory, their retail sales would continue to decline, especially in the grocery section, where foodstuffs had expiration dates and needed to be rotated constantly.
She’d have to find ways to grow the business, but that meant getting back all their lost customers, and more.
The trading post had assets, of course. She knew that other area merchants would scoop up their jewelry and saddles in a second if she offered them a good deal, just above wholesale. Their nonperishable merchandise could also be used as collateral for a bank loan, but there was no comprehensive list of the store’s inventory. The tax records contained the minimum information required, mostly the cost of acquisition and estimated value, but nothing more specific than that. Tom had insisted on keeping a lot of information in his head or on handwritten lists. His distrust of computers had been almost legendary.
At least payroll, at Jo’s insistence, had been set up in their systems. Jo had taken the checks from the printer and begun placing them inside a manila envelope when Regina came into the office.
Jo greeted her with a smile and gestured for her to have a seat.
“I’m in trouble, Jo. My whole family is,” Regina said.
“What’s going on?” Jo asked.
“Pete broke his arm at a construction site yesterday. I didn’t even find out about it until I got home. The company paid the medical bill, but no one’s going to hire a carpenter with only one working arm. It could take weeks for him to receive unemployment, and he’s not going to get that much with his work history. We’ve been living from paycheck to paycheck as it is. I need more hours, Jo—badly. Without those, I won’t have enough to keep food on our table.”
Jo exhaled softly, noticing the bank account balance still on the screen. Under different circumstances, she might have been able to extend Regina some credit here at the store, but as it was, it simply wasn’t an option. Without a positive cash flow, the business couldn’t operate.
“We haven’t had much traffic here lately. Funds are very tight for us right now,” Jo said.
“Maybe I could stock and clean the place at night—anything—please. My mom’s taking care of the baby, so it’s all on me now. I’ve got to pull in some more money. I’d get a second job, but no one’s hiring. I’ve asked around.”
Jo remembered a time when her paycheck was the only thing that had kept her dad and her going. Although she should have said no, she just couldn’t do it. “I’ll give you as many hours as I can, if you can be flexible. Start by coming in on the next morning you usually have off, tomorrow, I believe, and we’ll work it out from there. I’m going to have to inventory absolutely everything the store has on hand. You can help.”
“That’s going to be a big job.”
“Exactly. While most of our groceries, hardware, and wholesale purchases are already computerized, I need to bring the rest of the trading post into the twenty-first century,” Jo said. “After that’s done, we’ll want to drum up new business by contacting all our special-order customers, the
ones who’ve commissioned artwork and jewelry from us in the past. We need to let them know we’re still here and running strong.”
“Leigh Ann’s already on that, I think,” Regina said.
“Really?” Jo said, surprised.
Regina nodded. “She said that we all had to look for ways to get business going here. Otherwise, we’d be on the street before Christmas.”
“She’s got a point,” Jo said, pleased by Leigh Ann’s initiative. “Could you ask her to come into my office?”
“Sure, and thanks for the extra work. I’ll take as many hours as I can.”
Regina left, and Leigh Ann came in minutes later. “What’s up?”
Jo thanked her for taking the initiative contacting previous customers.
“I’m not very far along,” she said, “and I haven’t got any new orders yet, but I’ll keep at it.”
“I really appreciate what you’re doing, Leigh Ann.”
“This is your store now, Jo, but we all have bits of ourselves here, too. This job became my lifeline after Kurt’s hunting accident. Knowing that I was needed and valued kept me going. Now I’m ready to give back. Don’t y’all call it balance?”
Jo smiled and nodded. “It’s how we walk in beauty.”
“There you go, then,” she said with a happy smile. “One more thing. I think you should call our biggest customers yourself. Everyone likes to feel important, and getting a call from the new owner would hit just the right chord. The day before Tom passed on, I remember Herb Matthews called. I took the message. Herb—he likes the first name basis—always places substantial orders.”
“The man who owns the art school up by the community college?”
“That’s him,” Leigh Ann said.
“His special orders can be a challenge to fill, but he pays us well for our efforts. Last time, he wanted a special rug woven in certain colors for his wife. He also insisted that it be done by a Traditionalist who’d do all the work the old way—never weaving during storms, and never sketching the design first. He told me that he wanted someone who worked from the heart.”
“I remember. Tom called you in on that because you have a knack for matching the right craftsman to each job,” Leigh Ann said. “Which begs the question, how on earth do you do that each and every time?”
Jo smiled. “When I was much younger, all our artists seemed larger than life to me. They had the ability to create something tangible and beautiful out of nothing more than a picture they saw in their minds. I wanted to be just like them, so I started going to their studios, galleries, and every art event or show I could find. I studied and worked in every medium that appealed to me, but soon it became painfully clear that I had no artistic talent whatsoever,” she said, laughing.
“But that’s how you got to meet so many local artists,” Leigh Ann said.
“Exactly.”
Just then the phone rang. Jo answered, holding up her hand, signaling Leigh Ann to wait. After a quick hello, she put the caller on hold. “While I take this, would you go ask Ben to drive over to Mike Broome’s office in Farmington and get these payroll checks signed?” Jo held out the big manila envelope.
“My pleasure,” Leigh Ann said, taking the envelope.
As Leigh Ann went to find Ben, Jo picked the phone back up. It was a vendor, and she knew it was going to take a while.
By the time she looked up again, Leigh Ann was at her door, looking as pale as a ghost.
“What’s wrong, Leigh Ann?” Jo stepped over to the door and found Esther was also there, gripping her Bible tightly. Right behind both women was a tall, slender, Hispanic-looking man wearing large, dark sunglasses and a baseball cap.
Jo gasped as she saw the gun aimed at the backs of her women employees. Instantly she thought of the caller—the one who’d shot Tom. Was this him, and were they all about to die?
“Sorry, Jo. I walked over to help him and he pulled a gun,” Leigh Ann mumbled. “Then he got Esther.”
“No more talking, and don’t look at me. Just do what I say and you’ll stay alive,” the man ordered in a thick Spanish accent. “Put your cell phone on the counter, then move over to that big door,” he said, pointing toward the produce locker with a gloved hand.
As Jo got rid of her cell phone, she took a quick glance around the big room. At least no customers were in the store. If they could just survive a few minutes, or she could get to Tom’s shotgun below the counter.…
The man with the gun waved it in her direction. “Stop looking around, Indian. Get inside there before I shoot the old lady.”
Leigh Ann took Esther’s hand, then Jo’s, and they walked together into the produce locker.
“We’ll freeze to death,” Esther pleaded.
“Hush,” Leigh Ann whispered. “We’ll be safer in here.”
“Listen to the bitch,” the man with the gun said. “If you try to come out, I’ll kill you all.”
He slammed the door shut on them and the light went out, plunging them into total darkness.
Jo fumbled for the inside switch. When it came on, she saw Leigh Ann hugging Esther tightly. “We’re still alive,” Jo whispered. “Don’t do anything to attract his attention. He can have whatever he wants as long as it’s not us.”
She looked back at the heavy galvanized steel door. There was an emergency knob to push and open the door—a safety measure—but it would be stupid to try that now. If this man was Tom’s killer, he’d finish them off without a thought. She had no doubt he was out there now, trying to find whatever it was that had caused Tom’s death. If only she knew what it was, she’d gladly give it up right now.
Jo looked around, trying to think of a way to keep the door shut if he tried to open it … and shoot them. If there was a rope or wire, they could attach it to the bolted-on shelves and hold the door shut. Unfortunately, there was nothing like that where they were, and nobody was wearing a belt. They’d need more than one anyway to reach.
“Well, if we’re going to be in here for a while, why don’t you turn up the thermostat?” Esther said, her voice finally back. She pointed toward a control a foot above the light switch.
“Of course. What was I thinking?” Jo said, turning the temperature wheel with her finger up to fifty degrees. “At least the cooler and fan won’t come back on.”
There was a sliding sound on the floor outside, then a couple of loud thumps at the base of the door. A sliver of wood poked through the rubber seal at the floor.
“He’s jammed a wedge into the outside. We’ll have to force our way out,” Leigh Ann said. “At least we’re not locked in.”
And he’ll be less likely to come after us, Jo thought, somewhat relieved.
“Let’s huddle together to stay warm,” Esther said, reaching out for Jo and Leigh Ann.
“We need to keep listening, too. Maybe we can track his movements. As soon as he leaves…,” Jo said, her voice trailing off.
They remained quiet for several minutes, but couldn’t hear anything whatsoever. Finally Leigh Ann spoke. “Should we assume he’s gone?”
Jo shook her head. “I just heard footsteps. It sounds like he’s coming from Tom’s office.”
“Think he’s trying to break into the safe?” Leigh Ann asked.
“That’s where the money is … what we have of it,” Jo answered, nodding. “I just hope Regina doesn’t come back from lunch early today. I don’t want her running into this guy.”
Esther nodded. “Amen.”
As they waited, Jo considered moving the cold produce boxes off the shelves and stacking them in front of the door, then realized it would only restrict their own movements if they had to try to race past their captor. All they could really do now was wait.
After another twenty minutes, the only sound they could hear was that of their own breathing. Then Jo heard a faint call.
“Hey, anyone here? Where are you guys? Jo?”
“It’s Ben,” she said, smiling and nodding to the others. “Ben! We’re in here.�
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“Help!” Leigh Ann yelled, and Jo and Esther joined in.
“Jo, you in there?” Ben’s voice much closer now.
“Yes, but the door is jammed at the bottom.”
“I see it. Wait a second.”
There were two thumps, then a loud click and the door swung open.
Ben met her halfway, throwing his arms around her in a big hug. “What’s going on? You’re as cold as an iceberg. Ladies, come out and get warm,” he added, seeing Leigh Ann and Esther still inside.
“A robber with a gun. He locked us in here. What did he take?” Jo said, looking around his shoulder but not letting go of his warmth.
“No hugs for me? I’m getting a jacket,” Esther grumbled, stepping past them and grabbing a freezer coat from a hook on the wall.
“Me, too,” Leigh Ann added.
Jo reluctantly broke free from Ben’s warm embrace, turned the refrigerator back on, then shut the big door. Ben handed her a third jacket, and she took it gratefully.
“So that’s why the entrance was locked,” Ben said, stepping back and looking around the big room. “I had to use my key. And I found this out on the front steps.” He held up the pistol. “It’s a toy. Shoots plastic bullets.”
“That’s … it? Damn! I should have kicked the bastard in the balls, then beat him over the head with that thing,” Leigh Ann said. “We’ve been conned.”
“Tell me about it.” Jo suddenly felt a lot better, in spite of what they’d just gone through. They hadn’t faced a killer, just a low-life thief taking advantage of their current situation. “Let’s go see what he stole. Esther, check the registers first, and Leigh Ann, the high-end cases. Make lists. I’ll check in Tom’s office.”
“We need to call the sheriff’s department,” Ben said.
Jo picked up her cell phone, which was still on the counter, and walked to Tom’s office. A chair was tipped over, and drawers were open. The computer hardware appeared to be intact, but the safe door was wide open.
“How’d he—?” Jo said, crouching by it and looking inside. Her stomach was turning flip-flops. Her hope that the robbery was unrelated to Tom’s murder had just been crushed. She tried to remember the man’s voice. Was he the same guy who’d threatened her over the phone? Maybe.
