Chapter 1
Kokomo, Indiana, Wednesday May 8, 1974 A Novelty Shop
Renée Miller searched the backroom desk strewn with papers and tiny green plastic aliens and soldiers and cowboys and Indians and…Where was it? This novelty shop had toys and doodads in every nook and cranny. Didn’t her boss ever put things away? Such a mess.
There, finally, she uncovered a razor blade, carefully picking it up. That should do the trick.
Now, to find the right one.
Her search continued as she combed through Leon’s mini Leaning Towers of Pisa stacked on the metal shelves.
If only her boss let her organize this room. But no. He had his own system, he said. He’d never find things if she moved them, he said.
Oops! She caught the stack right before it crashed on top of her head. She shoved it back in its teetering place and read the labels.
Eureka, she found it. Dragging the box to the wobbly table, she poised the blade.
“What are you doing?”
Renée jumped, dropping the razor and slicing her thumb in the process. “Ow!” She turned to her boss, Leon Simmons, owner and operator of Leon’s Novelty Shop, who had to have the stealth of a Mission Impossible team member. “You scared me. I’m trying to refill the balloon jars. We’ve got a lull, and with the kids getting out of school in a few minutes, I figured it would be a good time to replenish the canisters. But now I need a Band-Aid.”
“Here, let me see.” Leon softened his growl and took her hand to examine it, giving her a close-up view of his comb-over. “It’s not too bad. I’ll get you something while you go wash it in the bathroom.” He tried to turn her to face his chosen destination for her.
She shrugged him away and spoke over her shoulder on her way to the lavatory. “I can handle it. Just grab some balloons for me to restock.”
He didn’t say more, and once she had the water running, the noise from the pipes would’ve drowned any reply he made. Again, she wished he would spring for paper towels instead of the cloth roll for drying her hands. It was never changed often enough, despite she and her boss being the only ones to ever use the facilities—and only when she had no other choice.
The hem of her blouse would suffice, and she’d managed to get it tucked back in as Leon held up a small plastic adhesive for her. However, when she grasped for it, he moved it out of her reach and shook his head. He cupped his other palm.
Oh, good grief.
She was more than capable of putting on her own bandage. “Hand it here.”
He did so with a sigh and walked away. “I put your balloons on the counter.”
“Thanks.” Renée paused. Okay. Even Loony Leon had feelings. “And thank you for getting the Band-Aid for me too.” She headed for the front to restock the balloon jar.
The telephone rang, and just as Renée reached for it, Leon snatched it from her first. “Leon’s Novelty Shop. How may I help you?” The saccharine dripped with each word, making Leon’s smile just as phony.
He turned his back to her and dropped his voice to a growl. “Yeah, I’ll be here.” He returned the receiver to the cradle and rubbed his chin before smiling again. “I’m thinking.” He glanced at his watch, “You might as well take off now. I doubt whether many kids will stop by, it being Wednesday and all. Plus don’t you have that church thing you do tonight?”
Renée studied him a moment. “I’m fine. I leave in time to get there on my regular schedule. Besides, you know I don’t want to lose any hours.”
He paused, the gears in his head grinding for traction. “How about I pay you for the whole day. I feel bad that you cut yourself. It’s only a couple of hours, and you’ll have more time to relax at home before your thing tonight.”
Her thing tonight? It was Wednesday night Bible study at Wabash Community Church. Maybe he didn’t understand. He certainly didn’t about her needing every minute of work she could get paid for. Except he’d offered to compensate her as if she worked the whole nine to five. “It isn’t that bad an injury. I—I don’t know…”
Leon pulled her purse from the bottom drawer beneath the cash register and handed it to her. “It’s fine. You’ll get your full check plus time at home too. Here you go. Need anything else?” He glanced around the room before checking his watch again and herding her toward the door.
What was he up to?
Renée shook her head. “Since you insist. But once I’m there, if things get busy, you can call and I’ll come back.”
He escorted her to her old Pontiac Catalina. “It’s fine. I was doing this job without you before I hired you. So no worries, though I will say you pretty-up the place.” Leon winked and held her door for her. “You know, you should consider taking Wednesdays off from now on and working Saturdays instead.” And then he closed it once she was in, not giving her a chance to reply.
She rolled down her window. “Leon, are you sure?” The idea appealed as long as her son wasn’t in school. But next fall… “We can try it for the summer, maybe. But I’ll want to be home with Denny on Saturdays after he starts kindergarten.”
“That should work. We’ll talk tomorrow. Get going, your day is leaving without you.” He grinned as if he’d blessed her with a perfect gift.
Well, it was a gift, but something was running through that mind of his, and it made her…cautious. On the other hand, she had extra time with her son to look forward to.
A black sedan pulled in past her as she stopped at the lot’s entrance to check traffic. She didn’t recognize the driver but noticed in her rearview mirror that Leon waited for the guy.
She brushed away that thought and recaptured the one about Denny. That brought a smile that lasted all the way home despite the headache that had started soon after lunch. Even the lovely weather and clear blue sky framed between leafy green foliages from sycamores, oaks, and maple trees helped. Some.
She pulled into her driveway as the front door opened, and the cutest little guy she’d ever known came clattering toward her on his stick pony. He wore his favorite cowboy hat, vest, and gun belt. Renée put her foot down about getting him a play gun. Guns were not toys, they were tools, sometimes weapons. If he pretended with a toy one where nobody got hurt, how did she teach him to approach the real thing with respect?
He galloped around the car to greet her as she climbed out. “Mommy, you’re home early. Want to play cowboys with me?”
“I might just do that, only let me get inside and speak to your gramma for a minute.” She ruffled his hair that needed a trim, except she loved the feel of it so avoided trips to the barber. He bore the same straight dark blond as his dad’s, and running her fingers through it soothed her soul.
“Okay, want a ride on my pony to the house?”
Why not? “Sure.” With her purse strap secured on her shoulder, she hooked her finger through the back loop on his dungarees and galloped behind him to the porch and inside. Renée didn’t care what the neighbors saw. Her son deserved the joy, and she savored the memory it would be.
“Gramma, Mommy’s home.” Denny heralded her arrival, and her mother-in-law, Mae, appeared from the kitchen.
“Got here early. Everything okay?” She wiped her hands on her apron.
“Yeah. Leon was acting a little weird but told me to leave and he’d still pay me for the whole day.” Renée “dismounted” and hung her purse on the hook by the front door.
“That sounds a bit shady. Do you trust him to do that?” Mae questioned everything.
“He was rather insistent that I leave. He also wants me to start taking Wednesdays off and working Saturdays.” She plopped on the couch and pulled Denny onto her lap.
“What did you tell him?”
Renée kept her eyes on her son, the light in her life. “I told him I’d think about it for the summer, but once school started, I would need Saturdays home with my best guy.”
Denny turned his face to hers. “That’s me.”
“You’re darn tootin’ it is, and don’t you forget it.” She gave him a squeeze.
He laughed and climbed down. “I’ll put my pony in the barn. Wanna play checkers, Mommy?”
“Whatever you say, lil’ buckaroo.” She tossed him a wink as he galloped off to his room.
“You spoil that child. You oughtn’t always give him his way.” Mae’s disapproving frown colored her entire demeanor.
“He’s lost so much, and I only get such a little time with him. Plus, with him growing up fast… Denny’s a good boy. We both know he’s polite, does his chores, and almost never gets cranky. I don’t see him getting spoiled too badly.” It was the same argument with her mother-in-law every day.
“I realize the child has lost a lot. We all have. If Keith were here—”
“He’s not, Mae. Nothing is going to bring him back. I hate that as much as you do. But I can give Keith’s son everything I have.”
Mae took off her glasses and wiped her eyes with her apron before returning to the kitchen. Her domain would gleam before they left. Her mother-in-law’s MO for dealing with missing her son was to clean. Especially that room. Made for a tidy home life, but Renée was content not to bring up Keith. There was plenty of pain for her too when he became the topic of their conversations. She glanced at the wedding photo with her and Keith smiling both like idiots, no idea about the heartache to come. Pain that his mother had no clue about. And if Renée had her way, nobody would ever make that discovery.
Denny lugged the checkerboard and box of checkers to the living room and set up the game on the coffee table.
Renée checked her watch. She’d send him to get ready in an hour.
The time galloped past, and five games later—which she lost as Denny was getting better at checkers—Renée pulled her son close again. “You remember we have church tonight.”
He nodded.
“I think you ought to take a quick bath so you don’t smell like a cowboy who’s been on the range too long.”
“What does a cowboy smell like, Mommy?” He did a poor job of hiding his grin, guessing what she’d say.
“Stinky, stinky, stinky.” She tickled him with each syllable, and he giggled.
They were so close, they set up each other’s jokes. Renée hugged her little man, kissed his nose, and took him by the hand to lead him to the bathroom. His eyes, so like his dad’s, crinkled when he glanced up at her, making her chew her lip until she could continue. “You might have to go with damp hair, but scrub that head, kiddo. It’s smelling a wee bit cowboy too.”
She started his water while he undressed, adding plenty of Mr. Bubble to ensure a good job, and let him bathe while she stepped away. Denny was getting old enough, so she didn’t have to do everything for him, and that was bittersweet. Cheering his accomplishments was a joy, but accepting that he needed her a little less was not.
After about ten minutes, she knocked on the door. “Hey, buddy, time to wrap this up. Get all rinsed and dried off while I lay your clean clothes on your bed.”
“A little longer, please?”
Renée shook her head, not to say no, but at how she’d already caved in her mind. “Fine, but I’m getting the egg timer, and when it goes off, there better be a clean boy out of the tub, drying off.”
“Okay, Mommy.”
When she got to the kitchen, Mae didn’t say a word, but the look on her face spoke volumes.
“The timer is a great tool. If I get him used to using it, I might not have to make bargains with him anymore.”
Mae scrubbed the counter and shook her head, not even glancing up.
Okay, so Renée didn’t believe it either.
She hustled to the hall, set the timer for three minutes, and then went to his bedroom to lay out his clothes. He managed to dress himself without a problem these days, though once in a while she needed to help him with his back loops when putting on his belt. Not bad for a kid who hadn’t started school. Denny was working at tying his shoes. He could get “going around the rock,” but got messed up trying to “come through the tunnel.” And Renée was sure it was only a matter of time before he was proficient with that.
What else did she need to teach him so he’d be ready for kindergarten? He was so bright and surprised her with his questions and abilities.
Ding!
Okeydoke. Now to see if this idea worked. Slowly, she turned the knob and pressed the door open a crack.
There he stood, towel wrapped around him, grinning at her.
She had another strategy in her parenting toolbox.
But just then, Mae came down the hall, shaking her head. “Spoiled, that’s what he’s gonna be. Spoiled.”
It took everything in Renée to keep her lips zipped and smile back at Denny. Don’t let him have heard his gramma.
“Shanahan, stay behind a moment. I want a word.”
Eli Shanahan froze as the rest of the associates plowed through the double doors, tossing looks of pity over their shoulders, glad they weren’t trapped in the dark-paneled room with the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Ever since things blew up at Hamilton, Franklin, and Reynolds Law last summer, he’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Yes, sir. What can I do for you, Mr. Franklin?” He’d never call the boss by his first name, Alvin. Nope, no way. His tongue would slap him around before striking out on its own.
However, it sounded respectful to use his surname, and respect was needed when speaking to the sole surviving senior partner who held Eli’s future in his hands. Did he hear the crunch of eggshells beneath his feet?
Old man Franklin stood as tall as John Wayne with a mane that reminded Eli of an albino lion. Though lately he’d taken to walking with a cane, it did nothing to decrease the power the barrister exuded. “You’ve been showing quite the initiative, Eli. I say that you are ready to move up to junior partner. This comes with a new office, your own secretary, and a pay increase. However, before we sign any papers, I do have a concern.”
Genius, that’s all Eli could think as his boss did three things in four simple sentences: He patted Eli on the back, offered a tantalizing carrot, and put the fear of God into his lowly employee.
“What is your concern, sir?”
“I understand you still use that motorcycle as your mode of transportation.” His expression was that of someone who’d tasted something distasteful. “I couldn’t care less about you having one for your own amusement, but when representing this firm, a partner of any level needs to show the proper maturity and decorum.” Mr. Franklin held a business card. “Go see Arthur Johnson, and he’ll get you into the right type of vehicle.”
“Now, sir?” Man, he couldn’t miss tonight. It was important for him to be there. Was it possible for him to purchase a used car in ninety minutes? Only the terror of getting caught kept him from checking his watch.
“Of course now. You don’t have anything else to do, do you?” The glare in the man’s eyes told Eli he’d better not.
“No.” He accepted the card. “I’ll go right away. Thank you, sir.” Eli smiled and nodded and backed toward the conference room’s exit.
“Don’t you want to see your new office?”
Oh, so it was more than a dangling carrot. “Sure. I mean, yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Every time he was around this man, Eli’s army training kicked into high gear.
He stepped aside, allowing his boss to take the lead into the hall and halt at his secretary’s desk. “Mrs. Wimberly, please show Mr. Shanahan the office I discussed with you. Also, did you speak to the young lady from the secretarial pool?”
“Yes, Mr. Franklin. She is excited for the promotion. By the way, Dr. Wells called again. Said you missed another appointment. Do you want me to reschedule that for you?”
“No. I’ll go when I feel like it. Now show Mr. Shanahan his office.”
“Yes, sir.” Mrs. Wimberly took a set of keys from her desk and gazed straight at Eli. “Follow me, please.” She led the way from the executive suite to the elevator.
The silence fell especially loud on his ears. So much so that he couldn’t restrain himself once the doors opened and they stepped inside. “I’ll bet you’re wondering why I called this meeting.”
No tittering or giggles. Mrs. Wimberly was all business. “I don’t believe you were the one to call the meeting, Mr. Shanahan. Here we are.” The car stopped, and the doors opened as if her words summoned the action.
He fell in behind her, straight to Jesse Franklin’s former office.
Man, that old geezer was one cold-hearted dude.
Mrs. Wimberly unlocked the front door and stepped aside for Eli to enter.
It wasn’t the first time Eli had been here. No, he’d dropped in to harass Jesse more than once. But nobody had used this office from the moment Mr. Franklin’s grandson told the old man to “shove it where the sun don’t shine”. Well, not in those exact words, but he did say he was done with the kowtowing and that he had other options for employment. The boss had sealed the room off ever since last summer. A couple of the other junior partners had offered to change offices—hint, hint.
But now it was Eli’s? What did that mean? What was expected? He walked past his new secretary’s desk, his fingers trailing over the slightly dusty mahogany top, and turned the knob to enter the inner office. His new domain. Another desk, walnut and twice the size of the metal one he’d been using in the cubicle area, greeted him. He’d had conversations with Jesse in here and had admired it. Now it was his. What would this cost him?
Well, it was already costing how he arrived at work. His Harley was rad. Would he have to sell it in order to purchase the car?
Eli had some savings. Plus living like a choirboy for almost a year helped.
He stood in the middle of the room doing a slow three-sixty. What would Jesse say when he heard? Speaking of which, if he was going to run by their place tonight, he’d better get moving. “Thank you for showing me, Mrs. Wimberly. Do I see you for the keys?”
“Yes, you can come back upstairs with me, and I’ll sign them over to you.”
“Um, I’m supposed to be somewhere. Do you mind if I stop by tomorrow morning?” He didn’t want to explain why he needed to leave immediately for the car lot because of an already-scheduled pressing appointment that he shouldn’t, and wouldn’t, miss.
She cocked a penciled-in eyebrow and glanced at him as if to assess his mental stability but turned for the door. “Tomorrow at nine sharp. I will see you then.” She locked up and headed for the elevator.
Eli released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and scrambled to his soon-to-be-old desk for his checkbook and sunglasses. Next he raced to the elevator and repeatedly pressed the down button. The ancient behemoth arrived, and he rode to the underground parking garage. There sat his trusty bike. It wasn’t just his mode of transportation. It was part of his persona. His Harley said he was young and single and free. Strong and sure. All the things that being employed by Hamilton, Franklin, and Reynolds worked to take from him.
He swung aboard and fired his baby up.
Okay, so he wasn’t the bad boy he once was, at least not since Jesse and Shilo Franklin had taken him under their wings. Wings. Ha! Shilo was the closest thing to an angel he’d ever met. But she belonged with Jesse. No question about it.
Eli headed south on Washington until he came to Lincoln where he hung a left and followed it all the way to Highway 31. He’d ridden past this car lot more than once, closer to about a billion times, but never stopped in. At first the place had been beyond what an aspiring young lawyer could afford. Later, the thought intimidated him.
What would people say to know he could be cowed so easily?
But this time he pulled onto the lot and parked, making sure he had the dealer’s card in order to find the right guy. Arthur Johnson. That’s the man. Eli ran his hand down his suit coat and took a fast glance at his reflection in the showroom window as he adjusted his tie. His curly sun-bleached hair appeared a bit matted from his helmet. After running his fingers through it a couple times and smoothing his mustache, he let out a sigh. He was as good as he was going to get. He’d better go inside.
Almost as if he’d materialized up from the floor, a salesman zeroed in. “And how are you this afternoon, sir? My name is Artie. And yours?”
The person he was supposed to meet was this guy? Oh, well. Eli accepted the handshake, so the man didn’t have to keep his hand hanging in the air. “Eli, Eli Shanahan. My boss, Mr. Franklin, suggested I see you about a car.”
“Oh, right, Al. He said he’d be sending someone over.”
Al? He just called the senior member of the oldest and most established law firm in Howard County Al? What were the other signs of the apocalypse? Because that had to be one. The sudden drop in temperature caused a shiver up his spine. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were that close.”
Arthur…er…Artie did an aw-shucks move before holding up his right hand with his fingers crossed. “Al gave me a list of cars to show you. Follow me, and we’ll get started.”
Again with the follow me. That’s all Eli had been doing today. Following someone. At least he was semi-good at it.
Artie stopped next to a Regal Blue Cadillac Fleetwood Eldorado convertible that took Eli’s breath away. Because of the dark, metallic-azure beauty and the sticker price of $7,813. Holy Moly!
“So, tell me what’s going on in your head there, Eli. She’s a beaut, huh?”
Eli nodded. “You’ve got that right. But I was thinking more along the lines of something gently used.” His traitorous fingers begged to glide over the chrome.
“Oh, Al was quite clear. You’re to have a new car. His other choice is over here.” Artie motioned with his hand and led to the second vehicle, also way out of Eli’s budget and reality. Light blue with a gleaming white interior, the Cadillac Fleetwood 60 Special Brougham housed a 472-cubic-inch V8 engine. Talk about power. Wow.
“I know it’s not a convertible, but it’ll take on anything and make you proud.”
It ought to for $7,897. When was Allen Funt popping in to shout, “Surprise! You’re on Candid Camera”?
“So, which is more appealing? The power or the coolness?” Artie kept on as if this sale was in the bag.
Maybe it was, and he’d just better accept it. The real question was how much did he put down, and what terms he would get? His brain hurt from the figures.
“While you’re considering, Al wanted me to let you know that he’s already made arrangements for payments to come straight from your check, so you don’t have to worry about a thing.”
Now Eli needed a chair. A paper bag to breathe into wouldn’t be a bad idea either. Every string had been neatly pulled. All he had to do was surrender his body and soul.
So how much did he want this promotion?
“I choose power, the Fleetwood. Where do I sign?”
He imagined Shilo’s disappointment. But hey, he was the poor jerk who still had to work at the firm, and this was his best bet for a job in the profession for which he’d trained. One he was doggone good at, even if he said so himself. Shilo would get over it.
Eli followed Artie, this time to a cubicle with a desk, and the entire experience became real. When he’d signed the last page, he glanced at his watch to see he had fifteen minutes to make his appointment. “How late are you open tonight?”
“We close at nine. You’re thinking about your Harley?”
“Yeah. I should get back before then, but I’d better run. Got another commitment.” Eli crossed his fingers, hoping that Jesse wouldn’t mind helping him.
“No problem. I promise not to sell it.” Artie winked, making Eli’s breath grab in his lungs. He wasn’t sure he believed him. “Al has you all hopping with his meetings and appointments. Guess I’d better hand you over the keys. Enjoy the ride.”
Eli accepted the cold metal that sent a shiver up his spine and ended up in a handshake that wanted to go soul brother but instead went sideways.
Artie sort of giggled as his face got redder.
Time to make a break for it. Eli charged away, his new ride waiting for him outside the showroom doors.
Seventeen minutes later he pulled into the church parking lot. It wasn’t his usual spot for the meeting, but this one was open. Vince had told him last Saturday where it was when it became clear Eli wouldn’t make his regular appointment. With Vince’s direction on how to find the room—besides the fact that the guy waited outside the door for him—Eli made it only five minutes late. Vince patted him on the back and led him inside.
Fortunately this bunch still served the coffee and donuts a little longer than his regular crew. He’d just snagged a cup and a maple log to replace his missed dinner when someone asked the group to find their seats.
“Let’s have everyone stand and say the Serenity Prayer. God grant me the serenity…”
Everyone stood, reciting the prayer together. Those words had seen Eli through more than he wanted to think about. He might not be closely acquainted with the God they were praying to like Shilo and Jesse were, but he had called on His help more than once. Based on how this day was going, he and God would have to have another talk. Especially for advice in knowing how to tell the difference between what he could change and what he couldn’t.
