“Really?” Thomas said, though he wasn’t really surprised. He thought back to Cynthia’s problems with her parents and roommates, and their bleak conversations about it. Yes, this had been brewing for some time.
“Yeah,” Vernon said, fingering a zebra-striped paperclip. “She actually said she’s going to Europe with Orianna. I tried to give her The Talk, but I should’ve known I was wasting my breath. She was already on the plane to London, or wherever they decide to fly to.”
“Europe? With Orianna?” Thomas said, baffled. “But… last time I talked to Cynthia, she said that her and Orianna weren’t really friends anymore.”
“She mentioned something about that,” Vernon said, rubbing his chin with one hand and tapping the paperclip on the desk with the other. “Said Orianna had bad memories about this place, and it sounds like that hurt their friendship. Anyway, guess that’s all in the past, cuz they’re buddy-buddy now and going to travel the world.”
Thomas wondered how he should handle this, or if he should handle it at all. What should he say to Cynthia as her tenure winded down? Should he reach out to Orianna, who still, apparently, harbored ill feelings? Should he go to Europe with them? Would they accept him if he ingratiated himself?
These last thoughts came unexpectedly; they were the romantic dreams of a youth stricken with wanderlust, and he was no longer a youth. Still, the image of him flying across the Atlantic and touching down with them in London, where Big Ben tolled out the hours and pale men and women with stiff upper lips perambulated through a city as old as time, was a palpable as the chair frame he was now gripping tightly.
But he remembered Vernon’s Talk, and Reggie was calling him a fool, a sentimental jackass, and much more besides, and the vision passed. He was back in Vernon’s office, in Oxendine’s Grocery. He wouldn’t say much of anything to Cynthia. He wouldn’t reach out to Orianna. Both of them would drift away into the past, and he’d get on with his life. That was how they wanted it to be, after all; why should he try to catch up to them when they were running their hardest in the other direction?
“That’s something,” Thomas finally said.
“Yeah, it sure is,” Vernon nodded. He let the paperclip clatter to the desk and leaned forward, staring at Thomas. It was a look Thomas remembered well, though it had been twenty-three years since he’d seen it. This time, however, he had no trouble returning the gaze.
Vernon cleared his throat. “What I really asked you in here for, is because I want to know if you’re still on board. Everyone’s had problems these past few months, you included. And now everyone wants to quit, seems like. Of course, you’ve been here twenty-five years, you’ve stuck it out, but I just want to know if you’re still with us.”
Thomas hesitated, but only for a moment. “Yeah, I’m with you. I’m here for the long haul.”
“Good to hear,” Vernon said, leaning back and wiping some sweat from his forehead. “Let’s seal the deal, then.”
“What do you mean?” Thomas asked, suddenly confused, and a little scared.
“I’m not going to live forever, you know. Me and Yolanda don’t — can’t — have any kids, and none of our relatives care about the store. I’d like for it to be passed on to someone who does care about it, instead of some guy off the street who’s going to change everything around and cut wages and fire people when they don’t treat him like lord and master. You care, and you say you’re in it for the long haul, but are you in it for the real long haul?”
Thomas again clamped down on his chair, this time so hard his fingertips started to ache. He’d daydreamed about this very moment, of course, but he’d never been foolish enough to believe it would actually happen. He squirmed in his seat, and wiped his forehead exactly like Vernon had.
“You’re saying you’re going to give me the store? Someday, I mean? Whenever you retire?”
“Well, I don’t know about give,” Vernon said, grinning to try to lighten the mood. It didn’t work; Thomas remained rigid. “I was thinking of selling it to you at a good price. Below market value, I mean. You’ve worked here faithfully for years, but I do want to have a little nest egg for me and Yolanda. Don’t worry about financing. We’ll figure it out. And there are a lot of things you need to learn — oh boy, a ton of things — but we’ll work on that too.”
“Sure… of course… that’s great, Vernon. I… thank you. Thank you for this.”
“You’ve earned it,” Vernon said, rising from his chair, which of course squeaked. “Besides, Jack Caldwell did the same for me when he retired. Wouldn’t be right if I tried to squeeze every last penny out of the place and then leave my employees at the mercy of some buffoon who doesn’t know his asshole from a hole in the ground.”
“Thank you, Vernon. I mean it.”
“You’ve said thank you enough,” Vernon said, extending his hand. “Let’s shake on it and be done with it, before we start tearing up like a bunch of women.”
Thomas stood up shakily, but when he clasped Vernon’s hand, his grip was just as strong as his boss’s. Vernon, who’d long thought his handshake was the most powerful in Carteret County, was at first shocked, but then he relaxed and smiled, letting Thomas out-squeeze him a little bit.
“You know what, Thomas?” Vernon said, chuckling. “It’s déjà vu all over again.”
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Copyright
Copyright © 2016 Matt Cowper.
All rights reserved.
Author Website: mattcowper.com
Cover and Jacket Design by BeeGraphica
Book Formatted by Polgarus Studio