Saving Gracie (12 page)

“That’s a good way of looking at it, Mrs. Garcia.”

“Oh, you should call me Juanita. Mrs. Garcia is Carlos’s
madre.
” She smiled that warm smile Gracie had known all her life, the smile that drew people in and made them immediate friends. Gracie hoped it made Jake feel at home in Huarache’s kitchen.

A snippet of a popular song began to play from Gloria’s cell phone. Gloria pulled off her gloves quickly and answered the phone. “How are you feeling, Cara?” Gloria pushed back from the table and stepped over to a corner of the room to talk to her patient.

“I think I’m about finished here, Juanita.” Jake dropped the last few shreds on top of the pile in front of him, then removed the spice-stained disposable gloves.

“
Muy bien!
You can help Gracie spread this masa on the corn husks, then I’ll come behind you all and add the filling and Gloria can roll them up. Then we’ll start putting them in the steamer.”

A large, aluminum mixing bowl, filled to the brim with masa, got pushed toward the open spot next to Gracie.

“What’s the best way to do this, Gracie?” Jake asked, moving just a bit closer to her than necessary. This wasn’t the first batch of tamales Gracie had a part in making. She knew it would not be the last. But she would certainly remember it as the most enjoyable.

Gracie retrieved a husk from the bowl of water to her right and laid it out before her. “After you get a softened husk, you reach in and grab a good handful of masa. Then, with your fingers, you work it out evenly—all the way to the edges.”

“That’s how you make them by yourself, Jake. When you make tamales with
su novia,
it’s much better to work like this.” Carlos stopped behind Juanita, wrapping his arms around her so that his hands slid between her arms and torso, making it appear that there were four hands preparing the corn and pork.

Gracie hoped Jake’s Spanish wasn’t good enough to realize that the word
Papí
used could be translated as “girlfriend.” A small flush of embarrassment prickled at Gracie’s cheeks like the brush of a holly bush. She and Jake were nothing more than adversaries who were becoming friends. No matter how old a daughter got, a father could still embarrass her without even trying.

“Maybe you’re right, Carlos.” Jake came up behind Gracie. “That would definitely make it more fun.”

Jake’s easy interaction with her family made her smile. David had only met her family once, and he had made it clear that he didn’t have any fun at the time.

“Jake...” Gracie tried to catch his attention in order to get his help with the giant bowl of masa that remained. He wasn’t listening. Instead, he looked into her eyes as though he’d never seen them before.

“Jake?”

He brushed back a lock of hair from her forehead, wiping a trail of masa from the fine hairs framing her face. The hairs moved past his fingers with a light tickle.

“Gracie.” He ran his fingers across the strands again, seeming completely lost in his thoughts. “Thank you.”

“For what?” She couldn’t believe it could be this easy. She hated letting bad memories crowd her mind while her heart was feeling so light, but she had to be honest. David and Jake came from the same world, so Gracie knew this moment of having Port Provident’s prodigal son fitting in so easily with her immigrant family couldn’t last.

She didn’t want to feel those feelings of rejection based on her heritage again.

So Gracie closed that door on her heart tightly, like the lid of the steamer
Mamí
was using to cook and soften the tamales.

“For letting me see that not every family works the same way as mine. My father only cared about his business. My mother only cared about being seen in the right places. My sister and I had each other, but we never experienced what you have right here in this room, except for when we spent time with Nana.”

“Cara’s in labor. I need to head to the clinic.” Gloria’s interjection unintentionally broke the connection encircling Gracie and Jake. “You can take it from here, Private Peoples. Make me proud, soldier.”

Heading out the door, Gloria returned a bigger version of the salute Jake had given her at the start of the tamale preparations. Gracie viewed it as a sign of approval. Just as he had revealed over time with her, Jake’s sincere side won out over the strictly business facade he tried so hard to maintain.

Gracie wished he’d put this genuine and fun part of his personality front and center instead of trying to be someone he thought everyone else wanted him to be.

How could she demonstrate to him the value of who God created Jake Peoples to be?

“Jake, are you planning to come to the fund-raiser at
La Iglesia de la Luz del Mundo
tomorrow?”
Mamí
sealed another bag of a dozen tamales as she talked.

Of course he wasn’t. Gracie knew that answer before Jake even spoke. Tonight’s adventure in Hispanic culture had to be a one-time thing, a break to keep Jake’s mind off what lay around the corner for him tomorrow.

Jake walked over to the sink, turned on the water and began washing his hands.

“What time does it start? I’d like to come.”

Gracie’s jaw dropped. She couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. She hoped no one else noticed her shock. They’d think she was rude—and she knew better than to bring up the past with David around her parents, who were still angry about how their daughter had been treated years ago.

Jake raised his voice to be heard over the flowing faucet. “My board meeting starts at three o’clock. I don’t know how long it will last. But since they’ve apparently already decided on the outcome, it probably won’t take long.”

Jake turned to the paper towel dispenser in the corner. It hid his face, but not the flat tones of his voice.

“We’ll be celebrating your confirmation tomorrow night at the church, Jake. Nothing is final yet.” Carlos opened another soda, swapping out Jake’s empty bottle on the table.

“That’s right, Jake.” Gracie’s mother chimed in from her spot near the steamer. “If God wants you at the head of your company, nothing will stand in your way.”

Jake nodded wordlessly.

“I can see that you’re not convinced, young man, but Juanita is right. Look around you.” Carlos spread his arms. “I should still be a cook in a small Mexican resort town. But here I am, in the greatest country in the world. I own my own restaurant. It’s not the biggest restaurant in Port Provident, but I will have been open for twenty years next month. Plus, I get to work every day with the love of my life.”

Carlos crossed the kitchen and stood next to Jake at the sink. He placed his hand on Jake’s shoulder. “That’s God, Jake. If your dream is to run your family’s company, it’s because He’s placed it there.”

“Thanks, Carlos.” Jake nodded again. “I wish I had the same confidence as you.”

Carlos kept his calloused hand on Jake’s shoulder, conveying fatherly approval through his touch. “It’s not confidence, Jake. It’s faith.”

* * *

Three hours passed in Huarache’s kitchen before Jake realized it. He’d stayed busy and the conversation had surrounded him so completely that he’d never even thought to check his watch.

As Juanita sealed the last tamale in the last plastic bag, Jake found himself wishing the evening wasn’t coming to a close. From the moment he stepped through the door, the Garcia family welcomed him—even when they didn’t have a reason to, since he’d almost bailed on them at the last minute. After spending time in her parents’ presence, Jake better understood why he couldn’t stop thinking about Gracie.

Carlos and Juanita had spent their years in Port Provident building a business, not because they were entitled to or because they would impress others, but because they desired to honor God’s blessings in their lives.

Gracie and her sister, the next generation, followed their parents’ example.

How different from the way his father had run the Peoples family business and how Jake himself was raised.

“Jake, do you mind giving me a ride back to my place?” Gracie threw a sponge over his head and into the sink as she passed him. He loved this relaxed side of her. Apparently, the time in the kitchen kept her from the worries about her business, as well.

“Of course. Happy to.” Jake would be grateful for the few more minutes to spend in her presence. He’d love to draw this enjoyable evening out as long as possible.

“Would you like me to pick you up for the fund-raiser tomorrow? I can have Anne call you and let you know when the meeting is wrapping up.”

“I only have morning and afternoon classes tomorrow, so I should be through about the same time you are.” She finished wiping down the counter, then tossed another sponge into the side of the sink filled with sudsy water.

“Great.” He smiled at Gracie just to see her shy smile turn back into a grin. It calmed the nervous quiver that had stayed in his heart since Nana’s call. “You ready?”

“Ready.”

Jake walked over to Gracie and stood next to her. It seemed like the right thing to do. She didn’t close the few inches of space between them as Jake realized he’d hoped. He couldn’t think like that. Tonight had been a welcome break, but he had no certainty in his life after tomorrow. At this point in his life, he needed a friend and nothing more.

“Carlos, Juanita, it was a pleasure meeting you both.” Jake extended his hand to Gracie’s father.

“Jake, I know you had many reasons not to come, but we are glad you did anyway. It was good to meet you.” Juanita gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

“I hope my tamales pass the test.” Jake laughed, remembering the step-by-step tutorials Gracie’s entire family had given him to make the simple, traditional food.

“I’m sure they will,” Carlos replied as Juanita nodded in confirmation. “We’ll see you tomorrow at the church, Jake.”

Gracie gave the nail on her pointer finger a little nibble as her father spoke.

“We’ve got to go,
Papí.
Jake has a big day tomorrow.” She turned toward the door. Gracie seemed to be trying to step out of Huarache’s quickly.

“You seemed nervous when your dad was talking.” Jake stopped a few steps into the parking lot.

She looked down at her feet. Her words came out muffled as she bit down on another fingernail. “Parents. You never know what they’re going to say.” Jake felt that there was more behind Gracie’s words, but she stopped short of elaborating further.

“I seemed to always have that problem growing up. My mother usually found herself halfway through a bottle of alcohol by lunchtime, so it was usually best that her slurring disguised her words. And my father, well, he’d never heard the adage about not saying anything if you couldn’t say something nice. He was all too willing to elaborate on what he saw as my many shortcomings.” Jake twisted the corner of his mouth wryly at the memory. “But luckily, neither of your parents seem to have any of those issues.”

“No, not at all. They’re good people. But sometimes they let their imaginations run away with them.” Gracie’s eyes looked distant, as though searching for some faraway memory.

Good people.
Those words took Jake back to his earlier train of thought about Gracie Garcia and her parents. The Garcias came to America in search of a dream. Through hard work, Gracie had learned a new language, then fulfilled a dream to help others do the same. She opened a small business that changed lives and paid the bills. And her parents had achieved that American dream as well with Huarache’s.

Gracie pursued a relationship with a God she knew personally and didn’t shy away from making it a part of her life, a trait Jake could now see she inherited from both Carlos and Juanita. Even skeptical Jake found that refreshing. He didn’t know God in such a way, but he admired Gracie’s honesty about her faith.

Gracie impressed Jake. She hadn’t been handed anything and hadn’t squandered opportunities.

Unlike someone else he could think of.

In truth, Gracie was everything Jake hoped he himself could be.

He’d let too many good things go in his life. His new friendship with Gracie couldn’t become just another casualty of his own streak of bad luck.

Chapter Seven

S
oft morning light peeked through the curtains in Jake’s bedroom. The sun ushered in the day on which the prodigal son would learn of his redemption—or not.

If he could have pulled the covers over his head and pushed today’s events off until a time when he could be assured of a positive outcome, Jake would have. But with Sam Pennington continuing Johnny Peoples’s tradition of spewing venom as far as Jake was concerned, that day might never come. And Jake knew he couldn’t stay in bed forever.

Dressing quickly, he stopped his nervous pacing only long enough to make coffee and pour it into a travel mug. He wanted to be at the office early and lock the door. He now knew he didn’t have much of a chance, but he did know himself. Jake needed to spend some time alone putting together the final plan.

Arriving at the office before any other employees, Jake reflected on all the classes in law school that stressed the importance of thorough preparations before going into the final arguments in a trial.

He’d stand in a boardroom today, not a courtroom, but Jake Peoples felt he had as much on the line as any death-row defendant.

The morning passed, a blur of spreadsheets and notes from past presentations. He only stopped when his stomach insisted on some food, then went right back to where he left off.

Jake notched another line on the notepad on his desk.

Forty-one.

Jake had checked the time forty-one times since returning from a solitary lunch at the sandwich shop down the street.

He put his head in his hands as he realized only ninety minutes had passed.

A muscle in his neck—right under the base of the skull—cramped. Jake needed to release some of the building tension.

He pushed aside an open file folder full of papers on the condo project and laid his head on the one available vacant space he’d created on the desk.

The sound of three insistent raps on his office door jolted through him. Eyes still closed, he tried to ignore the commotion.

“Jake? Jake?” The door muffled the voice, but every repeat of his name came through more loudly. “Jake!”

He lifted his head, fingertips squishing into the cool leather arms of the soft executive chair as he pushed himself upright.

“Coming, Nana.” Jake raised himself unsteadily, still fighting off the fog that lingered in his mind after he opened his eyes.

He caught a glimpse of the clock as he walked by. Fifty-six minutes had slid past. Jake hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He assumed sheer exhaustion and stress had finally caught up to him after a night of tossing and turning.

The numb center of his brain thawed long enough for Jake to hope Sam didn’t have a hidden camera in the office. He knew his father’s close friend would relish documenting the interim CEO sleeping before the most important meeting of his short and doomed career.

Diana Powell Peoples slipped in as soon as her only grandson opened the door just enough for her to fit through. Jake had always thought she looked younger than her seventy-four years, with very few wrinkles on her face. Today, though, every line etched into her skin seemed more pronounced. Could worry over this situation be aging her as much as he felt it was aging him?

“We need to talk, Jakey.” Nana chose to pace instead of sitting.

“Sam’s arrived earlier than I thought he would. He’s up in the boardroom, on his cell phone. We need to get up there. He won’t be able to make hurtful calls with you and me sitting across from him.”

“I hadn’t planned on going upstairs quite yet.”

“You don’t have a...” Nana turned on the ball of her foot. “Jake?”

She looked her grandson square in the eye. A few quick steps later, she folded Jake in her small arms. Diana’s birdlike stature did not affect her ability to give a bearlike hug.

“Nana...” He leaned into the relaxation he’d searched for all afternoon. “I just don’t have a good feeling about any of this.” He never could lie to this woman who’d always believed in him.

She patted his back, as she so often did decades before, when he’d been a little boy who had trouble getting back to sleep in the middle of the night.

“Me, neither, Jakey. But we’re going to get through this. No matter what happens in that boardroom, you’re still my grandson, and I’m still glad you came back from Austin to try to make this company a better place. Let’s sit for a second.”

Jake followed his grandmother to the couch like a curious puppy. He needed these few minutes with Nana. He needed to admit to himself just how much it meant to him to be the family leader his father never trusted him to be.

“I want you to go up there and speak from the heart, Jake. You’re just like all the men who’ve come before you—you like facts and figures. And I know you’re proud of what you’ve put together in a short time on that condominium development over on Gulfview.” She patted his hand. “But lots of people put together real estate and construction deals every day. I know that’s not why you came back. Be honest with yourself and be honest with the board.”

He could feel his breathing become less labored, something he hadn’t observed since last night at Huarache’s with Gracie.

“But, Nana, how do I put something into words that I can’t even explain fully to myself?” He exhaled strongly.

“I don’t know. Only you know the answer to that. I’ve learned it’s never a bad idea to pray.” She stood up and squeezed Jake’s shoulder. “I’m going to head up there and see what I can do before the meeting starts. Come up to the boardroom when you’re ready.”

The stately woman walked to the door and laid a light hand on the handle, then turned back to face her grandson. “No matter what, Jakey, I love you. Don’t forget that.”

Once she closed the door, Jake could hear only silence. Even his own thoughts fell to the wayside.

He looked at his desk, covered in stacks of folders and reams of white rectangles with rows and columns of neat black ink. He wanted so badly to draw comfort from the sight of all his preparation.

But instead, the view made his gut cramp, and left him more uncomfortable than at any time in recent memory. Jake again took note of the quiet that surrounded him.

John Edward Peoples IV stood alone. So very alone.

* * *

Echoes greeted the interim CEO as he took the first step off the elevator. The voices of the directors bounced off the polished marble flooring in the hallway to the boardroom. The amplified volume made it seem as though a hundred people crowded into the room, instead of the mere ten who would shortly be seated around the table.

Jake’s stomach seized. He could feel the viselike teeth of fear clamping down. Never before, not even when he turned over his house key to help make restitution to his creditors as a part of his bankruptcy filing, did the acidic sea in his middle churn so violently.

The feel of a thousand ant feet blazing a trail buzzed over his skin. Gripping the pen and signing his name to the paperwork dissolving his law firm a few months ago hadn’t made his hands tremble like this.

God, why did I come back? Why did I come back for this?

Jake had never directly questioned God in thirty-four years. And he didn’t know why he thought God would answer him now.

The Ruler of the Universe wouldn’t have time to answer an off-the-cuff question from a perpetual mess. God would spend His time with people who knew Him—people like Gracie.

Gracie.

Just thinking of her smile and her optimistic heart brought him a small measure of comfort. Facing the demise of her own business, Gracie never changed course. She showed him why her school was special, why her work was special. And in doing so, she gained Jake’s respect and support.

If Gracie could do that, surely Jake could pull off a similar feat today with the board. Nana implored him to give honesty. And even Jenna’s words from a few days ago came back to mind—don’t forget what’s important.

All he needed to do was convince ten business leaders why he’d come back.

Too bad God hadn’t answered his question yet.

* * *

“I thought I heard someone in the hallway.” Milton Brashear, the president of Port Provident Bank and Trust, greeted Jake at the door to the boardroom with a solid pat on the shoulder. “Ready?”

Milton meant the gesture to be reassuring—Jake could sense that—but instead it underscored what remained at stake.

“Ready.” A less-true syllable had never been uttered in Jake’s life.

“Everyone, Jake’s here. Let’s take our seats.” Milton ushered the prodigal son into the room.

The thud of the heavy doors shutting reverberated deep in Jake’s bones. No turning back now.

Nana remained standing after everyone took their seat. As the only member of the family on the board, she customarily started the meetings.

“Welcome, everyone. We only have one agenda item today, the vote to confirm John Peoples IV, as the official CEO of Peoples Property Group. This will fill the vacancy left by the unexpected death earlier this year of my son, John Peoples III. Jake will present an update on the Provident Plaza condominium project on Gulfview Boulevard, then we will take the vote.”

The matriarch sat quickly, as though she hoped to move the meeting along as fast as possible. She would not prolong the uneasiness either for herself or her grandson.

Sam Pennington spoke, his words deflecting Diana’s poised introduction like an army missile. “Diana, I don’t think we need to see a presentation. We’ve all known the boy for years. Let’s just take the vote.”

A mutter worked its way across the room. It sounded like a childhood round of the telephone game.

“Agreed.” Bruce Patterson, a local insurance agent who had served as a groomsman at Jake’s parents’ wedding, spoke above the din. “I make a motion we move straight to the vote. Do I have a second?”

“Second.” Sam raised his hand with a dismissive flick of the wrist.

Jake swallowed hard. A lead weight worked down his throat. He could feel the stretching and burning at every inch.

“We have a motion to move straight to a vote.” Nana’s voice fell flat. “Jake, do you have anything you’d like to say?”

“Diana...” Sam used the woman’s name as a warning.

She turned in his direction with whip-cracking speed. “Hold your horses, Sam. He deserves a chance to speak. You just took his presentation time away from him.”

“We’ve agreed to a vote, Diana. You can’t just keep propping your boy up.” Sam would not give an inch. Johnny Peoples died in January, but his spirit of rancor lived on in the board members he’d appointed during his lifetime.

“Since you want to play by the rules, I move that we give Jake an opportunity to make a statement before the vote. Do
I
have a second?” She never took her eyes off her son’s lifelong friend, even though she addressed the entire board with her question.

“Yes. Second.” Milton waded into the fray.

From his chair at the head of the table, Jake surveyed every other face in the room. No one moved. A few looked down, unwilling to make eye contact. Whether they were keeping their cards close to the vest or just made uncomfortable by the verbal tug-of-war, Jake couldn’t tell. He hoped for the latter. He knew his odds were better if he could play for sympathy.

Nana turned away from Sam slowly. Jake knew she was daring the troublemaker to make her bare her claws again.

“Jake,” she said deliberately, “the floor is yours.”

The significance of the moment overwhelmed him. This very floor might never be his again.

He needed words.

“Thank you, Nana.” He paused.

Breathe. Exhale. Breathe again.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming today.” Jake tried to stall with a little bit of introduction. “All of you knew my father, and most of you have watched me grow up, leave town and recently come back. For those of you who were surprised when I returned to Port Provident, I want you to know I arrived with the best of intentions.”

Jake could see compassion in the eyes of many at the table, but only sharp daggers in Sam Pennington’s cold stare. He resented every word out of Jake’s mouth.

“All of you work here in Port Provident, and you know what it’s like to do business in a small town. Reputation is everything. And it seemed to me that Peoples Property Group had been coasting on our name instead of being at the forefront of shaping this town. I came back to change that.”

Sam leaned forward and pointed straight at Jake, barging into the monologue. “No, you didn’t. You came back because your own reputation got shredded in Austin. You’re even more of a fool than I thought you were if you believe we’re all going to buy your line, son.”

Jake knew his father loved to spread stories about his naive mess of a son. He didn’t realize how much his father’s circle took them as the truth. Until now.

“It’s not a line, Sam. I could have stayed to rebuild my career in Austin. I chose to come home to lead the family company after my father’s death. I believed in my obligation to my grandfather and great-grandfather and the work they did here.” He tried to keep his buttons covered up where Sam couldn’t punch them.

“The family company? You’re not really family. So you can quit trying to—”

“You will
not
speak that way in my presence, Sam Pennington.” Nana’s gasp of breath came out more like a shriek. “Your last name is not Peoples, and you are not qualified to speak on who is or is not a member of
my
family.”

The blood sprinted to Sam’s face through the throbbing vein in his throat. His sallow skin turned crimson all the way back to the receding hairline.

“Diana, I’m more than qualified to speak on who should run this company, and this boy isn’t it. Jake’s a fool who damaged Johnny Peoples’s name before he was even born. I’m not going to stand by and let him damage Johnny’s name in death. I could give my support to this company headed by a member of the family, but all Jake has is a big name he never should have been given in the first place.”

Jake’s heart rate increased to match Sam’s. What on earth was the accountant talking about? He’d seen many sides of Sam, including pointed anger, over the years. But he’d never seen his father’s best friend lose control.