Deep Shadows (10 page)

“I don't understand what you're talking about. I know the people in this town, and so do you. I don't think we'll be fighting over food in the first twenty-four hours.”

“I hope you're right.” Max stood, walked over to a large pecan tree, and leaned against it, splitting his attention between the street and her. “I also know this town, but in my line of work I tend to see the less-pleasant side of folks.”

“Legal wrangling brings out the worst—”

“As do shortages. Food, gas, water, medicine—all of those things are going to be in short supply and high demand.”

Max seemed to hesitate, which was unusual for him. He glanced past her, squared his shoulders, and then walked back over. He braced his hands on the picnic table and looked her directly in the eye.

“I need to go home, Shelby.”

“Home?”

“To High Fields. I need to check on my parents.”

“Oh… of course.” Her stomach turned and twisted. She hadn't expected him to stay by their side. Why should he? They were neighbors, childhood friends, nothing more. “I hope Georgia and Roy are doing okay.”

“My parents are probably fine, but they'll need help.” Max paused, and then he added, “I'm not leaving until I'm sure that you and Carter have sufficient food, water, and medicine, plus enough gas to drive wherever you may need to go.”

“You don't have to—”

“I do. I do have to do it.”

He sat down across from her, and she had the strangest sensation that
he was about to reach for her hands. She tucked them in her lap, feeling foolish—feeling afraid.

“I need to do it because I won't sleep unless I'm sure of those things. Remember when Pastor Tony preached on caring for your neighbor?”

“I remember.”

“That's what I'm doing. It's what I need to do. Okay?”

“Okay.” She squirmed, uncomfortable with the intense look in his eyes.

“But Shelby?”

She finally met his gaze.

“I want you and Carter to think about coming with me.”

“Where?”

“To High Fields.”

“Why would we do that?”

“Promise me you'll think about it. You don't have to decide now.”

She could only shake her head, but Max wasn't listening. He was gathering up the breakfast supplies and carrying them into his house, leaving Shelby sitting at the table alone and wondering what the next twenty-four hours would bring.

T
HIRTEEN

M
ax didn't bother attempting to talk Carter out of his bad mood. It had been a long time since Max had been a teenager, considering he'd turned forty-five a few months before. The number seemed ominous to him. Was it midlife? Did most men live to the age of ninety? He doubted it.

And what had he done with his first forty-five years? His parents were certainly proud of his law degree. He'd always thought it a respectable, solid profession—one he could count on. Now he wasn't so sure. There wouldn't be many people hiring lawyers at the rate things were deteriorating.

No, the wiser choice would have been to be a farmer, like his father and his grandfather. He couldn't go back in time and change his life's path, but he could do everything in his power to live wisely from this point forward. And it was always possible that God had a reason for giving him a love for law and order and the ability to help others through legal quagmires.

So what if they were headed back to the nineteenth century? Lawyers were necessary even then.

“I need your help getting in the store, Carter.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“I don't know, but we have to find a way. People ought to be able to purchase the supplies that are inside.”

Carter tapped his fingers against the truck's window. Finally he said, “I always enter through the main door.”

“All right, but I'm going to park in the back.”

He slowed down to scope out the storefront. A line of cars was at the gas pumps, probably a half-dozen deep.

“Do the pumps work?” Carter asked.

“No. The mayor's working on rigging up some sort of generator to them.”

“Wouldn't want to be around when those people figure out they're waiting in line for nothing.”

“Perkins had someone post a sign at each gas station, saying they were working on it.”

“So why are they here?”

“I suppose they want to be the first in line if and when the gas becomes available.”

A few more people were milling around waiting for the store to open, but it wasn't anywhere near the mob Max had expected. Of course it was early—fifteen minutes after eight o'clock if his watch could be trusted. Folks would be waking, trying to rustle up coffee and food, and attempting to understand what had happened.

A few would start to hear about the mayor's statement, which had been handwritten and posted around town. Though her intentions were good, and though posting information was probably necessary, Max expected the reaction to be panic.

Max and Carter walked to the front door of the store. As he suspected, no one attempted to stop them. They took one look at Carter's green Market shirt and assumed he was reporting to work. Some even looked encouraged, as if the presence of an employee assured them the store would soon open.

Carter walked to the front glass doors and tapped lightly on them. Henry Graves must have been standing just out of sight, because he appeared on the other side of the door and pointed to the sign which said “Closed Until Further Notice.”

“I'm here for my shift.”

Graves again shook his head.

“I was thinking I could help,” Carter insisted.

Graves actually rolled his eyes, but he unlocked the door.

“Go home, Carter. I don't need—”

When he opened the door wider to look directly at Carter, Max shouldered his way inside.

“Hey!”

“We need to talk, Henry.”

“I don't need or want to talk to you.”

Max had represented Henry's wife when the two divorced. He'd tried to convince them both to go to counseling, or at least agree to a formal separation before the divorce. Although Samantha was willing, Henry had been adamantly set against it. At that point the man's feelings and ego were bruised, and there was no turning back.

Max had seen an ugly, selfish side of Henry Graves—a side he was sure every person had if pushed far enough. His hope was that he'd learned a few things about Henry that would help him deal with the man. If he appealed to his ego, his sense of pride, he might have a chance of changing his mind.

“This town is depending on you. We need to talk about how you can reopen.”

Henry shook his head, but he allowed them to stay inside as he closed and relocked the door behind them.

“I can't reopen. The gas generator is running the emergency lights, but not much more.”

Henry had placed a lawn chair, cooler, flashlight, and extra batteries together, out of sight of the front door.

“Did you spend the night here?” Max asked.

“You gave my house to my ex-wife.”

“I didn't give her anything.” Max pulled in a deep breath and tried a different tack. “Why didn't you go to your apartment?”

“Actually I was there when the aurora hit. I was doing my laundry at the little washing room we have.” He scowled again at Max. “When the power went out, I knew I needed to get up here and secure the store.”

“Which you've done. But if you don't open, people are going to panic.”

“That's not my problem. My job is to keep the store secure until it is safe to reopen. It's not safe yet, so the store remains closed.”

“We couldn't take credit cards or checks, but we could take cash.” Carter was staring at the registers. “It would be faster, and you'd make more money because you wouldn't have to pay the credit card fee or risk taking a bad check.”

Henry continued to shake his head, but Max could tell that he was listening.

“Maybe you could allow ten people in at a time,” Max suggested. “That way you wouldn't be overrun with customers. You could even limit how many items they could purchase.”

“You're making this up as you go.” Henry sank into the lawn chair and rubbed both hands up and down his face.

It looked to Max like he'd put on at least twenty pounds since the divorce, probably from too much fast food. His stomach strained against the work shirt, and the emergency lighting gave his skin an unhealthy color.

Now he ran his hand up and over the top of his head, where his receding hairline had left a round bald spot. “Corporate has guidelines. I checked them, and we're not to reopen until the store is deemed safe.”

“It looks safe to me, Henry.”

“Yeah, well, you're not the one who is going to be sued if someone trips in the low lighting and breaks an ankle.”

“Look. Kaitlyn's here.” Carter walked over to the door and unlocked it. As he pulled the girl into the store, he spoke to her in a hushed tone. Kaitlyn Lowry was slim with long blond hair, and she also wore her green Market shirt. Max knew that Carter rarely had the courage to talk to her. The boy had actually asked him for advice about girls—as if Max had much to say on that subject. Today, though, Carter and Kaitlyn were chatting like old friends. Everything was different.

Henry stood and stared at them, apparently at a complete loss for how to proceed.

“You have two employees now,” Max reasoned. “And you'll probably have more. Let the kids work.”

“How am I going to pay them?”

“Pay them out of the cash you bring in.” Max motioned for Henry to follow him toward the business center counter, wanting to put some distance between them and the kids.

He lowered his voice and said, “You get one shot at this, Henry. Those people outside are calm now, but they won't be if you don't open.”

“And what happens when I sell out? From what the mayor said, there aren't likely to be any resupply trucks. She wanted my generator! As if I didn't need it.”

“No one's going to take your generator.”

“That idiot Eugene Stone would. He said as much.”

“Eugene isn't in charge. Perkins is.”

“The thing can't be moved anyway. It weighs a ton. Even if you had a flatbed big enough, you couldn't load it.” His eyes darted left and right, left and right. Finally he looked at Max and said, “Perkins said this might last for years, even longer.”

“All the more reason for you to make what profit you can now.” Max didn't like the way his words sounded—as if it was already every man for himself—but he needed to persuade Henry to open. Shelby and Carter needed the additional food.

“How is the frozen stuff holding up?”

Instead of answering, Henry led him down the aisle with the frozen cases. “I pulled the night shades as soon as I got here last night.”

“And the temperature?”

Instead of answering, Henry pushed his way through a set of double doors, stepped into the cooler, and checked the thermometer.

“Forty-three degrees.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “Market policy is to trash anything if the freezers get above forty.”

“Market policy… aren't there state regulations for this sort of situation?”

“Sure. State law says food must be disposed of if the cooler temperature is above forty-five degrees.”

They began walking back toward the front of the store.

“Sell the stuff,” Max said. “Sell it now, while you can.”

“But Market policy—”

“You have to make this decision on your own, Henry. You may not hear from your corporate headquarters for days or weeks.”

“Or ever.”

“That's true, but you can sell this now and allow people to take it home. Some of them have generators.”

Henry caved when a third employee showed up. When Carter opened the door to let in the middle-aged woman, an elderly man attempted to push his way through.

“Hang on there, Mr. Sims.” Henry rushed over to the door and blocked the man's entrance. “We'll be open in a few minutes. Let me set up things first.”

Max nodded at the woman whose name tag said Tina. He hadn't
noticed Carter's name tag, but then the boy pulled one out of his pocket and pinned it to his shirt. Carter, Kaitlyn, and Tina stood grinning at each other, apparently relieved that they would have work for the day. Henry relocked the store and set the three employees to writing out several copies of “The Shopping Rules,” as he dubbed them. He included all of Max's suggestions and one of his own.

Shopping Rules