“Cal,” Lia pressed the phone to her mouth and stretched the cord to its limit as she walked between the drug shelves. There were customers in the store. “I thought you weren’t supposed to work yet.”
“The doc said no patrolling. Tonight I’m filling in at the desk. That’s why I won’t make it to the checkers game with Chloe.”
“I know you’ve been spending a lot of time with her, but you just can’t promise a little girl you will do something and then not do it.”
“I’m sorry, Lia. It can’t be helped. She’ll understand. You keep telling me how responsible she is for a nine-year-old.”
But this is different! “All right. Thanks for calling.” At least.
“Tell her I’ll try—”
“Cal, don’t. Just don’t. You’ll only set us all up for disappointment. I have customers. Goodbye.”
“All right. See you.”
Lia scanned the store. No one needed her just yet. Anne had the front covered.
It was Friday, two weeks since the father-daughter date night. Cal had become a fixture at Isabel’s house. Lia grew weary of the effort to ignore him. He didn’t try to romance her. He hadn’t even brought the subject up again. And that wore down her defenses, allowing his friendship wiggle room.
Isabel would be leaving for Mexico in about two weeks. Her absence would create empty hours. Lia would automatically turn to their neighbor and that wiggle room would expand. And then one day, like today, he wouldn’t show up. Why complicate their lives?
She pulled a business card from her pocket and dialed the broker’s number. It was time to pursue the sale of the pharmacy.
Tony sat at his Tribune desk and phoned Izzy’s radio station.
“Good morning,” a chipper female voice answered. “This is WLMD. How may I help you?”
“Hello. I’m a friend of Izz—Isabel Mendoza. I’d like to send her a fax. May I have your number?”
“Sure. Let’s see where is that? Oh, here we go.” She gave it to him. “Isabel is here now. Would you like to talk to her?”
“No, thanks.”
“You almost missed her. Tomorrow is her last day working here.”
“Really?” His chest constricted. Should he ask? “Where’s she going?”
“Actually, I don’t know. I’m filling in for the secretary. Isabel said something about not being cold this winter. Sorry. Are you sure you don’t want to talk to her?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Thanks. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”
He sat at his desk, transfixed, imagining Izzy stringing Christmas lights around a crude dwelling under a hot Mexican sky.
It was out of his hands. Is this where God came in? God, please let it make sense to her. He typed in the fax number on his computer and sent the article on its way.
After leaving the station Friday afternoon, Isabel stopped in the library, plunked down some change on the counter, and went to the copy machine. A few minutes later she was back in her car, making a mental checklist, choking back tears.
Which was why she hadn’t called Tony. Blubbering wouldn’t communicate anything, and it seemed that was all she could do since reading the article he had faxed to her. Well, blubber and thank God.
She would start with Brady and Gina. Brady had been the catalyst for Tony’s visit to Valley Oaks. He would get the first copy. If they weren’t at his house, she would leave the papers stuck in between the doors. Next she would drop a copy off at Celeste and Peter’s, and then at Cal’s.
After that she would go home and blubber some more. She would reread the beautiful, haunting words of the article he had entitled “Just Come In.” It was an intriguing look at Brady’s stories, of their influence on readers. It was a human look at Saint Brady without the innuendoes or details of exposé. It was an honest representation of Christianity. His sister’s story was woven throughout.
And it was all written from a broken heart where Jesus surely must be living now.