A Storybook Finish (2 page)

make that happen.

JeffWheeler rubbed his index fingers across his temples, feeling

a sudden headache coming on. It didn’t do him a bit of

good to get stressed out over a silly fundraising project, yet

he couldn’t help it. Having been at this teaching post only a

year, he was still trying to get used to the way things were

done at Western High. What he didn’t plan on was teachers

looking down their noses at him. Nothing like this had happened

at his last teaching position. At first he thought it was

the way he dressed. Or maybe they had all flunked history

13 and he reminded them of their failures.

He recalled a confrontation with a teacher who had stopped

by the lounge shortly after he landed the job. Jeff had come

there for a cup of coffee and some peace of mind. He poured

the coffee and decided the best place to find peace was in

the Bible. The teacher stumbled upon him reading his Bible.

Her face turned the oddest shade of red. Her eyes bugged out

of her head as if he held a pipe bomb in his hands.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to indoctrinate our students

with that thing!”

The “thing” resting on Jeff’s lap happened to be a book of

power with life-changing capabilities. The teacher threw back

her head in a huff when he told her he was merely reading it

to find some peace. For Jeff, the Bible meant life. Without

that book, he would’ve likely ended up a drunk somewhere in

a dark alley.

Jeff had grown up in a family where success was measured

by academics. He loved history and always had his face in a

history book, courtesy of his professor-father who kept him

well-supplied. The students took to calling him The Worm

because he read so much. In college, it was the same. The other

students would party away, and he would be in the library. At

last, the pressure to conform became too great. He took to

drinking beer like everyone else. The drinking made him

popular and helped him forget the responsibility and the

pressure, or at least he thought it did. He drank frequently

after that.

A few months later, several young men invited him to a

Christian meeting, and there he found Christ. From that day

forward, he studied the Bible, along with his history books,

and never touched another beer. God was in control, except

14 when Jeff allowed situations to rob him of his peace, like this

junior class fundraising venture.

Jeff grimaced when he thought of the money going toward

the junior prom. It dredged up memories of his high school

days. He recalled how he was one out of four guys in the entire

class who didn’t attend. Not that he didn’t try. The girl he

asked-said yes, then turned around and accepted another invitation

behind his back. Jeff had buried his hurt all those years,

only to have it rear its ugly head now in a bag full of memories.

He looked down at the leather Bible resting on the coffee

table, the binding falling apart and papers jammed in it. If

only life could be easy. If only he didn’t allow the pressure to

get to him. He needed that Bible now, more than ever.

Jeff slid onto the sofa. Before him on the coffee table, amid

quizzes to grade and his worn Bible, rested the paperwork for

the fundraising project. He noticed the signature on the contract.

Lindsay Thomas. She had nice handwriting and a nice

name too, even if she seemed a bit too domineering for his

taste. Her control over the project gnawed at him. She had to

understand something. This was his show, not hers. His reputation

was on the line if things didn’t work out. He had made

so many plans, too. Failure was not an option. This fundraiser

had to succeed.

Just then the phone rang. He grabbed it up to find the loud

voice of Mrs. Coates, the English teacher, barking on the

other end. She immediately asked him why he had scheduled

a fundraising assembly during her English class, of all

things. When he politely told her he too was losing time from

his own class, her voice escalated.

“Well, this can’t happen, Jeff. I’ve scheduled a vocabulary

test, and I’m not postponing it. You’ll have to move this

15 assembly of yours to another date.”

He opened his mouth, ready to tell her he didn’t want to do

the dumb project in the first place, but teachers like her had

stuck his name on it without his consent. If she didn’t like

how he ran things, she could do it herself. He never said any

of those things. Mrs. Coates was a bigwig in the school, having

been there longer than anyone. He swallowed a retort and

asked, “What day would work out for you?”

Her voice dropped a decibel. “Next Tuesday, I suppose.”

“Tuesday. All right. I’ll switch it with the fundraising

consultant.”

The phone clicked in his ear. So much for relieving

pressure. No I’ve added more to my life. He looked up

Lindsay’s phone number to tell her about the change. It rang

endlessly. He tried four different times, without success.

“Probably out with her boyfriend, grabbing dinner and a late

night movie,” he grumbled, tossing the cordless phone on the

couch. Why that fact would bother him, he didn’t know.

Right now, his head and his confidence felt as if they were

being crushed between two lead plates. His fingers reached

for the Bible. God, help me get through this.

16 “I see you like to stay out late.”

Lindsay glanced up to find JeffWheeler staring at her and

the crate of supplies she carried into the auditorium. With

thirty minutes remaining before the presentation, Lindsay

hoped to set up a good display and still have time to gather

her wits. Instead, she found the sponsor glaring down at her

with his piercing blue eyes. If he didn’t seem so fierce at that

moment, she might have gazed at his eyes more intently,

thinking how they reminded her of a clear March sky. “Excuse

me?”

“I tried calling you at least four times last night. I didn’t

even get an answering machine. Not a very good business

practice.”

Confusion assailed her. Did the phone ring? I never heard it

ring, and I was home all evening. Don’t tell me it’s not working

again. Oh, God, help me. “I’m sorry, Mr. Wheeler. I was home

last night, but my phone has been giving me trouble lately.”

“Better get it fixed, Miss Thomas, or you’ll lose your customers.

At any rate, I’m sorry to have to inform you that I

must postpone the presentation.”

“Postpone the presentation,” she repeated. No! You mean I

dragged all my stuff here, got everything ready, even had an

anxiety attack, only to find out I’m not even doing the presentation?

She swallowed the rising indignation in her throat. After all it

was her fault. He had tried to warn her last night about the

17 change in plans. Now half the day was shot because of a

phone malfunction.

“Can you?”

She stared at him blankly. Can I what?”

JeffWheeler’s blue eyes snapped at her like angry waves of

the ocean. “Can you do it next Tuesday?”

Lindsay set down the crate with shaky hands, realizing this

man and his project had worn down her nerves to frayed bits

of wire. She leafed through her briefcase, trying to find her

personal data assistant, which seemed to have vanished into

thin air. Frustration and embarrassment began to build.

Normally calm and confident, Lindsay felt as if the wind had

been let out of her sails, leaving her adrift. “I’ll have to call

you, Mr. Wheeler, and figure out a time that will work.”

“It has to be next Tuesday.” He nodded and whirled on one

foot, giving the impression of a principal who had just reprimanded

a student.

Lindsay huffed, heaving a huge duffel bag full of prizes

over one shoulder. With both hands, she picked up the crate,

the briefcase balanced on top. She crawled down the hallway

to her car, wondering what she would do now.

Suddenly the prize bag slipped off her shoulder. The crate

fell from her hands, throwing her briefcase off and scattering

brochure packets. The duffel bag also fell with a clunk to the

floor, accompanied by the sound of breaking plastic.

“Oh, no!” she cried, opening the bag to check the damage.

The phone had broken, with Goofy’s head now resting at the

bottom of the bag. What else can go wrong today?

“Can we help?” came a pair of voices.

Lindsay glanced up to find two high school students staring

down at her with large eyes. Instantly, they placed their textbooks and notebooks on the linoleum floor and helped her retrieve the brochures that had skated

down the hall in their

plastic shrink-wrap.

“Thanks so much,” Lindsay said, stacking the brochures

back into the crate.

“Are you selling something?” asked the young woman.

“I do fundraising,” Lindsay said, brushing back a tendril of

brown hair that had fallen across her face. “I was supposed to

start the junior class fundraiser today”

The students looked at each other. “Hey, we’re in the junior

class. We were told about the fundraising project in Mr.

Wheeler’s history class.”

You mean he actually mentioned it? Lindsay then recalled Jeff

Wheeler’s dream of promoting history activities in the school

if he succeeded in impressing his fellow teachers with a

knockout sale. No doubt he needed the project to go as well

as she did.

“Yeah, we were kind of surprised when they cancelled the

assembly,” remarked the young woman. “Mr. Wheeler said it

had to do with Mrs. Coates. They couldn’t do it today because

it would interfere with Mrs. Coates’s English class.”

“Not that we care,” added the young man. “We were in for

this big vocab test. I didn’t even study for it. Did you, Jewel?”

“Not me,” said Jewel. “I had that science test to study for. I

didn’t have time earlier in the week because Mr. Wheeler had

us write a paragraph about a cause of the Revolutionary War. I

wrote about the proposition that all men are created equal.”

“And I told you that’s from the Gettysburg Address during

the Civil War!” exclaimed the young man.” ‘No taxation

without representation’ is a quote from the Revolutionary

War period.”

18

Jewel turned to Lindsay. “You see why I hang around

with Troy? He knows history better than anyone. He’s Mr.

Wheeler’s favorite student.”

“If you studied more, you’d be the favorite,” Troy said.

“History is fascinating.”

Lindsay listened to the exchange with interest, despite the

fact that more precious minutes were ticking away from her

business day. Favored student status, eh? Perhaps God was

smiling on her after all, despite the postponed project and the

splintered Goofy phone. “Say, Troy?”

“Yeah?”

“When I kick off this fundraiser next week, I’m going to

need some help. Care to be my assistant?”

“Sure!” he said enthusiastically. “What do I have to do?” I’ll let

you know when the time comes. I think it would

be good for the morale of the class, and for your teacher, if a

student were helping out with the fundraiser.”

“Can I help too?” Jewel inquired; her large, expressive green

eyes reminded Lindsay of her birthstone, emerald. “We kind

of do things together.”

Lindsay could plainly see the attraction between the two.

They were likely boyfriend and girlfriend. “Sure, you can

help.” She took a notepad out of her briefcase and scribbled

out their names, along with a brief description of each. Troy—

a long-legged guy with brown hair and freckles, teacher’s pet.

Girlfriend Jewel–green eyes and curly brown hair, only up to

his elbow in height. “Got you down on my list. Mr. Wheeler

and I have to settle on a date for the assembly When you find

out from him when it is, come to the auditorium on that day.

I’ll be setting up a table near the stage. I’ll need you to help me

form teams among the students. You both can be captains and

19 pick students to be part of your team.”

“Great!” they said together with smiles erupting on their faces.

“I hope we make tons of money with this,” Jewel commented.

“Troy and I are really looking forward to going to the

junior prom.”

Lindsay watched them touch hands and smile at each

other. While she once entertained thoughts of love as a

young person, she realized now the dangers that followed

those who tripped on emotions at a youthful age. Jewel and

Troy seemed sweet and innocent. She hoped they would not

hurt themselves by overstepping the boundary. “As long as

you’re here, how about helping me carry these bags out to

the car?”

Each student obliged. One carried the prize bag, the other

the crate. Lindsay managed her briefcase. “Thanks a bunch,”

she said when they arrived at her compact car parked in the

circular drive before the School.

“See you at the assembly!” they called.

Lindsay smiled before blowing out a sigh. At least she was

grateful for something after wasting half a day. She had a

miraculous run-in with one ofJeffWheeler’s pets—a student

who loved history as he did. With young Troy assisting her,

she couldn’t help but get on Jeff’s good side and run a better

program. “Thank You, God.”

Lindsay made it through a day of making sales calls and

meeting teachers before driving home. Nestled in a folder on

the passenger seat were two more contracts with teachers

eager to raise money. Despite the bad start to the day, the rest

had gone well. And to think, she now had an excellent way to

win over Jeff Wheeler after gaining Troy’s help with the

junior class project. This might turn out to be one of her more

20 profitable fundraisers, despite its precarious beginning. The

thought excited her.

When she arrived home, Lindsay opened her bag and took

out the Goofy phone damaged from the fall earlier that day.

She sighed, realizing how costly this was to her presentation.

Goofy had captured the attention of hundreds of students

with his automated head that lifted when the phone rang,

alerting the owner to the call. She simply must have a working

model in time for the junior class presentation. Lindsay

rubbed her chin until she thought of a fellow fundraiser in

the next territory. Skip Grearson would help her out if he

didn’t need his own Goofy phone for a presentation. Often,

Skip and she would mail each other sales brochures if one of

them ran short for a project.

“So you need Goofy,” Skip said when she called. “No problem.

No, Katy, she doesn’t mean Mr. Goofy. I’m talking about

the Goofy phone, the one Daddy uses in his work.”

Lindsay laughed when she heard Skip explaining to his

five-year-old daughter that she didn’t need a favorite stuffed

animal named Mr. Goofy. Lindsay once took a tour of the

Grearson home and was introduced to Katy’s vast stuffed animal

collection, which filled her entire bed. Lindsay wondered

where the little girl slept. She then had the tour of the playroom

and indulged in Katy’s favorite meal cooked in her play

kitchen—plastic eggs, sunny-side up, balanced on a small

plate, accompanied by a hunk of fake chocolate cake. “Yes,

please tell her I’m not asking for one of her many stuffed

friends,” Lindsay told Skip with a chuckle.

“So you want me to send it by bus? It will get there tomorrow

at noon.”

“That would be great. With this sponsor, I’ll need all the

21 help I can get. Maybe the Goofy phone will help lighten him

up a little.”

“Tough one, eh?”

“The kind that dislikes anything to do with fundraising.

Then he gives me the ultimatum. If this program is a bust,

he’ll blame me and me alone. Don’t you just love it?”

“That’s when you need Hank’s input.”

Lindsay sighed. “Don’t I wish.” Hank was their territorial

manager who came several times a year to watch them start

fundraising projects. He offered advice for making profitable

programs and dealing with troublesome sponsors like Jeff

Wheeler. “I should call him out here, but then it will look as if

I’m incompetent. No, I’m going after this, Skip. After some

easy programs, I need a challenge. And Jeff Wheeler’s junior

class fundraiser is my challenge of the semester.”

“Then go for it. I’ll get the Goofy phone out to you.”

“Thanks again. And give Katy a hug for me.”

Lindsay put down the phone and sighed, thinking about

Skip’s family. At times she wished for a family she could call

her own. A husband who would sweep her off her feet and

little ones to tuck into bed, ready to hear bedtime stories.

Occasionally, she would wander the toy aisles in the department

store, gazing at the products and figuring out what she

would like to buy for a boy or a girl. Yeah, but you need a guy

and marriage to make it all happen, she’d remind herself. A guy

like Ron from her high school days. Lindsay shook her head.

Ron was out of the picture. She didn’t even have his phone

number. Maybe she should scout him out on one of those

find-a-lost-classmate Web sites. Knowing her luck, he was

probably married with a boatload of kids.

The ringing of the phone made her jump. She picked it up.

22 “Hello, LindsayThomas speaking.”

“Ah, I see your phone works, Miss Thomas.”

Every nerve stood at attention. Shivers, like spiders, raced

down her spine. This is ridiculous, she chided herself. I refuse to

let this guy get under my skin. I’m going to be confident and

friendly. “Hello, Mr. Wheeler. I have my organizer right here

with the appointment schedule and—”

“Well, all right!” he proclaimed.

Lindsay couldn’t tell if he were kidding or being sarcastic.

She decided to ignore it and act professional. “You said you

wanted to kick offthe the fundraiser next week?”

“Tuesday.”

Lindsay looked at Tuesday. She already had two starts—

one at a day care and one for a music department. “I’m sorry,

but next Tuesday is pretty much booked. How about—”

“Tuesday,” he repeated. He then added, “Please.”

Jeff Wheeler, why are you making my life so difficult? “I’ll try

to move one of the starts,” she said, realizing how much she

was going out on a limb for this guy. Maybe intuition was at

play—the smell of a huge profit that tingled the neurons.

Skip often said Lindsay could predict how well her groups

would do better than anyone in the company. And she

smelled a strong aroma of profit with Jeff Wheeler’s little

class, if she could get by all the quirks.

“When will I know?”

“I’ll let you know tomorrow. Thank you for your call.”

Lindsay replaced the receiver and stared at her personal data

assistant. So much for my appointment with the director of Over

the Rainbow Day Care. It’s now been replaced by Mr. Humbug’s

junior class. Lindsay closed her eyes and tapped her heels

three times. “Send me to the beach,” she said with a smile,