A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

This chapter is huge, for me. It is about double the normal length: Dawn

SATURDAY, June 18, 2016

Bobby spent the night in a sleepover at Marc’s house. They boys were close friends, and the Hafleur’s enjoyed having Bobby over. And the boy was gaining more than just friendship in his sleepovers: he was learning French. Mrs. Hafleur still was more comfortable with that language, so it was spoken in the house a lot. Conversations between Bobby and Marc’s mother used to require a translator, but lately they seemed to be developing a language of their own, a little French, a little English, and they could communicate. And the fact that all the games on Marc’s Playstation were in French made Bobby want to learn the language better.

Rachael didn’t get to sleep in with her brother gone. Maria had gone to the bakery at 6, and Rachael was expected at 7. Maria had gotten Gary to agree to send one of the girls from their old house at the same time. Rachael didn’t know those girls well, and wasn’t sure which would be coming to work. So when she got out the door at 6:50, she noticed a young woman in front of her house walking towards the bakery.

“Are you going to the bakery?” Rachael asked. This woman was the first one she had ever seen who was bustier than Maria. And not just by a little bit. She had dressed conservatively, but there was no concealing that bosom.

“Yes. I am supposed to work there today. My first day,” Jane Scott said a little shyly.

“Me too. Work, not first day. My parents own the bakery. I can only work till noon, so that is why Mom needed you. You’ll be working in the back, doing phone orders mostly.”

“You must be Rachael,” Jane said. “Gary calls you his angel. You really are pretty. I wish I were blonde, although most men wouldn’t notice. They can’t take their eyes off of these.” She glanced down at her breasts.

Soon they were in the bakery and Rachael showed Jane the computer system that had recently been built for taking phone orders. Luckily Jane had worked in a MacDonald’s as a teen, before falling into the clutches of Carlos Murrez, her former pimp. Thus she quickly picked up on both the computer and the cash register beside it.

Maria was prepping goods for the morning rush, but would take over training at 9 when the store opened so Rachael could help the girls in the front. Both Kyle and Doug were working, and had a hard time keeping from staring at Jane’s figure. Geoff came over to introduce himself, and did glance down a bit, but struggled to look the new employee in her eyes. The fact that his buxom wife was standing right there made it important to keep eyes up.

It was Mike who impressed Jane the most. He came over to greet the girl, and never looked below her eyes. His smile made her a little weak in the knees, and she smiled back at him. She glanced over to see him at work several times, and he was never staring at her the way the boys were. Like most bakers Mike was super fit, with large arms from carting around sacks of flour, and a muscular chest covered only with a thin white t-shirt.

Rachael caught her drooling a bit at the young baker, and put the pieces together. “He’s single, and a really good guy,” she told Jane.

“What? No, I couldn’t. I mean, who would have me with my history?” she said, looking away from Mike.

“He might,” Rachael said. “He is a good guy. He will look into your heart, not at your body.”

“He’s the first guy who’s looked me in the eyes like that since I got these,” Jane said.

“They are implants?” Rachael asked.

“Yeah. Three times actually. Your Mom’s look nice. Who did them?”

“God did,” Rachael giggled. “They are 100% natural.”

“Oh my, I didn’t think … I’m sorry,” Jane said, flustered.

“Don’t worry. It just means that I have to worry about mine getting that big,” Rachael said.

“Your figure is perfect,” Jane said.

“Yeah, but I’m not quite 15. We don’t know what we will get when we hit 18 or so. Why did you get three sets of implants?”

“Carlos paid for them,” Jane said. “We were so drugged up we would agree to anything. Mine were about the size of your mom after the second implants. Then that bugger got another set put in to make me two more sizes bigger. It made him a ton of money: not that I saw any of it. I didn’t have to walk the streets though. I had a regular clientele coming to the house for me.”

“Can you have them taken out, at least some of them?”

“I hope so,” Jane said. “I don’t think I could got back to natural. A B cup would feel odd to me after so many months this size. But a reduction will be expensive. Not just to remove the implants, but also to tighten up all the loose skin that will be left behind.”

“Well let me know before you have it done,” Rachael giggled. “I want to go to the beach with you and Mom in bikinis so I can watch the men go crazy.”

Maria came over. “One of the things you will get a lot of calls for this morning are Clouds. Mike, do we have any Clouds out that are cool enough to eat?” Mike came over, picking up a roll as he came. He tore it in half as he approached.

“Open wide,” he said with a smile, and Jane did, almost by reflex and Mike popped the warm roll into her mouth. He then popped the other half into his own mouth. Jane’s eyes went wide as she tasted the buttery creation, and had a big smile.

“That is incredible,” she said. “No wonder people have to phone in orders for them.”

“They have become one of our top sellers since Mike introduced them,” Maria said. “People love them for Sunday dinners, and we can’t make enough of them on a Saturday.” She turned to Mike: “Back to work, slave.”

Mike ambled back into the production area, and Maria explained: “That was a joke. Mike is a partner with Geoff and I in the business. He’s been a great asset since he started working here.”

“A partner?” Jane mused. She had only thought he was one of the employees. A great body and a great job: he would be a real catch for someone. Someone with a better past than hers.

Maria left a little before 9 for her meeting, and Rachael rotated between helping Jane and helping at the front counter. The phone had been ringing steadily since 8, and Jane quickly got into the swing of things. She might look like a bimbo, but there was a good brain in there, and Maria left feeling things were in hand.

Maria took a taxi out to Bill Strong’s motel, where there was a small meeting room set up for interviews. Bill had advertised, and had short-listed three candidates for chef, and another three coming in the afternoon for restaurant manager. As well as Bill and Maria, the senior accountant for the motel, and the manager of the local credit union were helping with the interviews.

The first chef candidate was a young red head named Lily Cowen. She was local, and had just finished the culinary school at one of the colleges in Toronto. She had good ideas, and showed a portfolio of her best creations from college. They looked impressive, and covered a wide range of styles, from French classical to Italian and Greek.

Next was a heavyset man of about 45, who had no portfolio. When asked which type of cuisine he specialized in, he claimed that he was an expert in all of them. His single page resume showed just one prior job, and that one of only eight months. The place name made it sound like a café, rather than a full restaurant. When Maria questioned him about it, he said that he was only working there temporarily, until he got a ‘good job’. He claimed that he could provide a list of prior employers, and listed several good Toronto places.

“You realize that we will contact all these places for a reference,” Maria said, and the man turned white as a ghost. He stammered a bit, then suggested that he could have the restaurants call Bill.

The third man didn’t have a chance. He just looked too slick to be believable. Maria asked him what the ingredients of a Caesar salad, and he came up with a list that was completely wrong. At that point Maria got up and stepped out of the meeting room for a moment. She returned as Bill was thanking the man.

The interview team then recapped the presentations. “I wouldn’t loan that last guy $5,” the credit union manager said. “He just feels like a con man.”

“The other man was no better,” Maria said. “You know that the ‘references’ that will phone you will be friends of his, not the actual restaurants. If he worked at Spiro’s in Toronto, it would have been as a dishwasher, not a chef.”

“What about the girl?” Bill asked. “She is super young, but looks to be well trained, and had very good marks at the college.”

“That can go two ways for you,” Maria said. “She might have a local boyfriend and want to stay in Ingersoll long term, or she might just be looking at this as a first job to use as a stepping stone to a better place in Toronto. There is no way of knowing. Also, you learn more in your first six months at a real restaurant than you do in three years of culinary school. If she had been working a year or two at two other places, then I think she would be fine. But I can’t see her having the presence to start out as a head chef.”

“But she is the best we have,” Bill wailed. “I really wanted to hire someone right away, so we could get some professional help in designing the kitchen.”

“Which none of these three can do,” Maria pointed out. “But when I stepped out, I made a call. I have a fourth candidate that might be the answer to our problems.”

She popped her head out the door, and saw Chef sitting in a chair in the lobby. “Please come in Chef,” she said, leading him into the room.

“Gentlemen, this is Chef, and I am embarrassed to say that I don’t know his proper name. He has been preparing dinners at our Church for the past several weeks, and the entire parish has raved about his food. He has real experience, although he was out of the loop for a few years. I think he will be a long term employee, if you hire him.”

“My name is Tyson Longstrom,” Chef said, “but everyone calls me Chef.”

“I had dinner at the Church last Wednesday,” Bill said. “That was fantastic food. What are your long term plans?”

“As Maria said, I hope to remain in this area, even if it means just working in a diner or café. I did my time in Toronto, working my way up from kitchen fodder to sous chef at the Sheraton. I am not proud of becoming addicted to drugs, and finally having to come back to Ingersoll where I could afford to live on assistance. Since my recovery I have been trying to pay back. If I get this job, I will insist on having Wednesday’s off, so I can continue to help out at the Church suppers. I also have a commitment on Friday evenings, but that is too important a night in this business. I think I can switch it around to a Tuesday night event though.”

“I was thinking Sunday would be one day off,” Bill said.

“Heaven’s no,” Chef said. “There is no Sunday buffet here in town. We should do a brunch. It will be a hit immediately: I bet it will do half the business we get the first week. But it will also get people coming here, and many will start coming back for a menu meal later. We should also do a supper brunch on Friday nights. Hopefully it will be a destination event for a lot of people. Filling the place just twice a week, with healthy crowds the rest of the week will make the place a success.”

“Who will handle Tuesdays and Wednesdays if you are off,” Bill said.

“One thing a good chef does is train his staff to be able to carry on when he is away. I have a couple of helpers at the Church I would like to bring along, but they aren’t even cooks yet. I would need a good sous chef that has some training and maybe some experience. He would be in charge when I am away.”

“Or she,” Maria said. “We interviewed a young girl just out of George Brown College in Toronto, but she is just too young and inexperienced.”

“I know the instructors at George Brown,” Chef said. “They turn out good students. All they need is a little experience in the field. How were her marks?”

“Excellent,” Bill and Maria said at the same time.

“They don’t give out top marks there for anything less than the best,” Chef said. “If I get this job I would like to meet her. Would she come to the Church next Wednesday as a volunteer? I could see her in action.”

“Well, you have this job if you want it,” Bill said. “In fact, if you want to start right now you can. Maria has suggested that a salary of $52,000 a year would be appropriate. I can start you two days a week at $400 until we get closer to opening, gradually building you up to five days a week. And there will be healthy bonus money if the place does well.”

“It will,” Chef vowed. “That is low money for a Toronto place, but perfectly acceptable for Ingersoll. And I will start immediately, if you want. I have a need for some funds for my Friday night project.”

“Great. Now we will have a quick lunch, and then there are interviews for the restaurant manager. I have ordered in KFC. I hope that is acceptable.”

“Barely,” Chef said with a shudder. “If nothing else, the catering for your events is going to start looking up once you get me a kitchen built.”

“Before we start, does Maria want to make one of her little calls to see if she can find a candidate to interview for this job?” Bill said.

“No, but I know someone at the Church who might work out,” Chef said. “Like me he is just trying to get his life back on track. I’ll give him a call.

The afternoon roster went quicker. The first applicant walked in, saw the credit union accountant, and immediately got up and walked out.

“He owes us over $40,000,” the manager said. “I’d appreciate if you could pass on his contact information. We need to talk to him.”

The next man came in and had experience as manager in the Stedman’s junior department store in town before it closed nine years ago, handling a staff of 24. Since then he has been an assistant manager at McDonalds, and felt that the combination of the two positions made him a good candidate for the job.

After he left, Chef noted “Working at a McDonalds is not a substitute for real restaurant experience. Other than staff management and scheduling, they are totally different. Everything at McDonalds is decided at head office. Managers there are basically just running through the steps that corporate dictate. There is no experience in dealing with the unexpected.”

“Again, a possible. Hopefully the next man, or your man from the church, will be better,” Bill said.

The next man came in, sat down, looked around the table, and then saw Chef. He blanched and quickly stood up and sprinted out the door. A minute later a car could be heard peeling out of the motel lot.

Maria had never seen the normally-jovial Chef look so angry. For several minutes he just sat and took deep breaths, trying to regain control over his emotions. “That man … that person … that thing worked with me at my last good job. He was restaurant manager there. He got me hooked on drugs. He became my pusher, and for several others that worked there. I have vowed peace to our Lord, but seeing him again made me want to do some terrible things to him. And he deserves it.”

Maria went out and found Moses Carter in the lobby, sitting in the same chair that Chef had.

“I am Moses Carter,” the man started, “although Chef and the rest of the guys at the Church call me Mo or MoMo. The Chef said you have a position here that might be suitable for me.”

“Yes. We are adding a family restaurant here in a few months,” Bill said. “We were lucky enough to hire Chef to be … well, Chef. He said you have some experience in food services.”

“I do,” Mo said. “I owned a small restaurant in London for six years. It started out well, but then my partner basically absconded with all the working capital. He was a lawyer, so it was all legal, but basically he screwed me out of my share in the business. I tried to keep it going but a few months later I had to shut the place down. I still owe the landlord $100,000 in back rent, and I intend to pay him back one day if I get on my feet. I fell into alcoholism as the restaurant was going down, but I have a handle on that now.”

“How big was your place?

“We sat about 40 when the place was full, and it was at first,” Mo said. “From what Chef told me, your place is going to be twice that size, or a bit more. But I should be able to scale my experience up. You just need so many wait staff per shift, and the busy periods will be the same in either case. I would love to get back into the field.”

“We are paying $52,000 a year once we open, with a good bonus if there are profits. We will offer $200 a day for any work before we open, and I do want you and Chef here tomorrow to look over the plans we have drawn up. I want shovels in the ground by July 1.”

“Do you have a construction manager?” Mo asked.

“No, will I need one?” Bill said.

“You will if you don’t plan on doing the job yourself. It will be more than a full time job though.”

“Can you take that on?” Bill asked. “I have other interests beyond the hotel, and I’ve only got about 10 hours a week for this.”

“You will need way more than that,” Mo said. “Look, why don’t we start on the daily pay plan you mentioned, and see how it goes? I suspect I’ll be full time before you know it.”

------ - -- - -- - -

Rachael left the bakery just after noon, and was changed and at the church by 12:30, a half hour before the wedding was to start. The Hobo Army was out in full force, directing cars and providing valet service. There were a slew of John and Paul’s friends from Toronto in town. Inside the church, the place was nearly full, and probably would be by the time the service started. In the lobby Rachael found John and Paul, dressed in nearly identical navy suits. John had a red tie, and Paul and a patterned one that was mostly yellow. Pastor McNaughton was praying to the painting, as were many other people.

As she approached the couple, she saw that Gary was there, and he helped the pastor to his feet. The pastor moved off to make a phone call, while Gary joined Rachael with John and Paul.

“Quite a crowd in there,” Rachael said.

“Ah, our wedding singer is here. We can start anytime,” John said jokingly. The pastor ended his call and approached.

“I’m glad to see you fellows don’t get into all the hype and tradition of brides,” he said. “Bride can’t see groom on wedding day, something borrowed, something blue and all that.”

“And having a best man and maid of honor,” Paul said wryly. “Our attendants are both women: a maid of honor and her partner, who claims that she is Best Dyke.”

The pastor choked for a second, and then smiled. “Times are changing. Just go with the flow.” Then he looked at the grooms and said: “I have news. I don’t think I can officiate at the ceremony today.”

Paul immediately frowned. The homophobic bastard, he thought. Put us through the wringer thinking he is changed, and then pulls the rug out from under us at the last minute. “So there won’t be a wedding?” he sneered.

“Oh my dear boy, there will be a wedding. How can there not be? This church is full of love: for you, and between the two of you. I just won’t be able to officiate. I know I promised, but my boss just gave me the word. I’ve called Pastor Helen, and she is on her way back from Oshwegen, and should arrive in 15 minutes. She will officiate.”

“What has happened?” Rachael asked, surprised by the change. The pastor had been eager to conduct the first gay marriage in his church.

“I was praying,” the pastor said, “and I was told that Paul’s recently departed father wants to attend, and the Lord has given permission.”

Everyone was confused for a few seconds, then Rachael got it. “And if he attends, then it will be by taking your body over again. And he can’t do that if you are officiating, can he?”

The pastor looked at her with a smile, as if to say ‘Good girl, you figured it out.’ “Yes, exactly. I will make an announcement at the start of the ceremony, then go and sit next to Paul’s mother. Hopefully his father can visit for a few minutes.”

“Rachael, can I speak with you,” Gary said, moving off to the side.

“Sure Gary, what is up?”

“Well, a few of the Hobo Army found some instruments in the shed last week, and they have been repairing them. They are forming a little group, and wonder if you would do them the honor of letting them accompany you today: two guitars, a bass and an electric piano. They assure they are all in tune. Oh, here is Beth Anne.”

“I was kinda hoping I could sing with you, Rachael,” the tall blonde said. “Even just backup would be cool. I know you like Amazing Grace, and we could do backup for it.”

“Do you know I’ve Got You Babe, by Sonny and Cher?” Rachael said. “I wanted to do it, but it really needs to be a duet. If you could sing Cher, I could do Sonny. That would go well while John, Paul and their attendants sign the register. I was going to do Amazing Grace at the start of the service, and I was going to do Morning Has Broken as the men walk down the aisle together.”

“We can do those,” Beth Anne said. “We will need to set up right away, if we are starting at 12:30.”

“I think there is going to be a little delay,” Rachael said. “But set up at the front of the church. It will give the people something to look at, if nothing else. I’ll be down in a minute.”

It was a quarter to one when Helen rushed in and signaled for Rachael to start the first hymn. She sang the first few notes a cappella and then the band started, amplifying and enriching the music. Beth Anne’s voice provided a counterpoint to Rachael’s lead vocals, and Amazing Grace never sounded better to the girl.

Pastor Helen stepped forward but it was Pastor McNaughton who spoke first. “Dearly beloved. I was just telling the grooms how much love was in our little church today. You are all welcome here. I promised several weeks ago that John and Paul, our dearest friends, would be the first same sex marriage in this church, and that I would conduct the ceremony. Unfortunately something has come up, and I cannot officiate. I pass the ceremony over to my colleague Pastor Helen McFarland.” With that he stepped down and sat on the front row, next to Paul’s mother and sister.

With that Rachael started to sing Morning Has Broken, and the men took their cue to walk down the aisle. Rachael had never before had accompaniment like this, and had only sung duets with her mother. But Beth Anne had a perfect counterpoint voice to Rachael, and harmonized perfectly.

As Pastor Helen went through the ceremony, Paul glanced over at his mother and was surprised to see the pastor holding her hand. He nearly choked up at the realization that his father was here, and seeing him marry, and approving. He managed to get out the ‘I Do’ when needed, and only fumbled a bit putting the ring on John’s finger, then received the same.

“I now pronounce you partners in life. You may kiss the … groom,” Pastor Helen said. As the two men kissed, a shaft of light beamed down from the roof and highlighted the entwined heads, causing a delighted gasp from the audience. It seemed as though God was sending a sunbeam to congratulate the pair on their wedding.

Up at the back of the balcony Gary smiled. When the roof had been redone, Skid had come up with a shutter to the skylight. Gary merely had to pull one cord to open it, and another to shut it. It had the effect he wanted, as he pulled the second cord as the kiss ended.

After Rachael and her band sang I Got You Babe, Lulu, the Best Dyke came to the dais. “I understand that when you all got your invitations to the wedding, Paul and John made it clear that they didn’t want gifts. Apparently they intend to keep selling paintings in their shop, not toasters and small appliances. Instead, they asked everyone to think of a happy thought that they could put into a book to remember this day forever. If you would all head downstairs, you will find sheets and pens near the door. Take one and jot down your message, and then return it to desk. The pens are a souvenir for you to take home. Oh yes, I understand there will be finger food down there by the far wall. Enjoy.”

“Finally, I see a lot of you have prayed to the painting in the lobby. I can’t stress how important it is for you to stop there and pray, even if you are not a Christian. I’m a Dyke Wiccan, but spending 10 minutes there the last time I was here changed my life. I could feel the love pouring into me. Things that had been broken inside of my head since I first came out to myself were suddenly fixed. It made me whole again. I can’t promise that it will be as transformational for all of you, but you do need to give it a chance.”

Rachael had to hurry to leave the church just after 4 while a good party was going on in the basement of the church, in spite of their being no liquor served. Chef had been working all day Tuesday making finger food for the event, and Friday morning. He was away Friday afternoon and evening, but was back at it Saturday morning until he was called away at about 10, leaving his cooks to finish up.

Rachael walked home, and didn’t quite get there when the van from Stoner Studios pulled up. Mikki and Larissa were already there, and Mr. Stoner drove them to the Legion, which was already set up with about 250 chairs arranged around the biggest TV monitor Rachael had ever seen. Mikki and Mr. Stoner set to work hooking her laptop up to the monitor while Rachael and Larissa wandered around, finally finding the woman who was Legion president.

“Girls,” the woman said. “Anticipation for your video is through the roof. We initially thought we would offer a free viewing but when demand became clear we set a $10 charge, and it still sold out in two days. I’ve been dealing with sob stories from people who didn’t get a ticket in time, and seem to think that I can somehow pull more out of my butt.”

“That should give the Legion a nice little donation then,” Rachael said.

“Are you sure that you girls don’t need any of the money? I mean, it was all your work,” she said.

“You own the film now,” Rachael said. “Mr. Churchill, our teacher, apparently spent over $500 of his own money renting uniforms and buying special effects, so it would be nice if he could be reimbursed, but after that all the money should go to the Legion.”

“Well, even two thousand dollars will help. Our building committee is trying to raise money to pay for a new roof for the place. But with an aging and dwindling membership base it is hard. One good thing from your video is that it has drawn in 14 new members from the young men who acted in your video. They can only be auxiliary until they turn 21, but it is nice to have some young blood in the place.”

“If you need a roof done, contact Gary at the church,” Rachael said. “I understand there is a team of experienced volunteers (they did the church roof) who will do the work for the cost of materials alone. It might save you some money.”

“Oh goodness, I will. Anything that can save some money is appreciated.”

Mikki and Mr. Stoner now had the computer hooked up to the big TV, with the big Mac home page on the monitor. They left it like that, with Mikki watching to make sure no curious hands got on the connections while Rachael, Larissa and Mr. Stoner headed back to the house to get Grandpa. The old soldier was planning on making one of his rare appearances out of the house at the Legion. A big easy chair from the bar had been moved up to the hall, in the middle of the seating for him.

At home Larissa and Rachael helped Grandpa get ready. He could still get into his old WW II Staff Sergeant uniform: in fact, it was somewhat loose on him now that he didn’t have the muscle tone he had as a young man. But he still was proud to put on the old uniform, and he let the girls fuss about his hair and shoes, as well as the uniform. The last step was placing the Victoria Cross around his neck. By the time 6:30 came and they were ready to go, the rest of Rachael’s family had arrived. Maria made quick sandwiches for all, and they were ready to go right behind the girls and Grandpa in the Stoner van.

At the hall, the room was more than half full. People knew that tickets were in short supply, and had come early. When Larissa and Rachael led Grandpa in, one on either of his arms, there was a sudden silence, and then a raucous applause broke out that continued until the girls had helped the old veteran into his chair. He waved to the audience, and gradually the applause stopped, but Legion members immediately pressed around, wanting to thank Grandpa for his service, and to get a close-up look at the medal. Most of the Legion members were seniors, but even so none other than Grandpa had served in that war. But most of them had fathers who had served overseas, and had heard stories about the war when their fathers were still alive. They were excited to hear of Grandpa’s story in the video.

The result was that it was 7:20 before the Legion president was able to restore order and get ready for the showings. Mikki sat at the front to control the computer, but Carly, Larissa, Rachael and their families had reserved seats around Grandpa. Bobby proudly sat on his Grandpa’s lap, to the pleasure of both.

The show started with the boys’ video, which they had allowed to be shown. After it was finished, there was more than polite applause. It was not the same as the school assembly: people in a small town are always interested in stories about their community, but a cartoon documentary was not what the people had come for.

Mikki switched on the girls’ video a few seconds later, and the room was silent for the next half hour, with the exception of a small scream at one point during the battle scene. Rachael later learned that one of the mothers of the boys in the video was unable to restrain herself when she saw her son take a fake bullet to the head, and called out. But overall, there was silence throughout. When the credits rolled, the silence continued as familiar name after familiar name rolled across the screen.

Finally the last shot appeared: the Victoria Cross, with a caption beneath that read: “Buy a Poppy and Show that You Remember Them.”

For almost a minute there was silence, and then one person started to clap. Then several more, and a second later every pair of hands in the place was coming together in applause that far outdid that of Grandpa’s arrival.

A short question and answer followed: Larissa was not well known in town yet, so some thought she was a model hired to do the film. The questioner was amazed to find out she was only 15, and from town. She took the time to note her origins in France, and how much her people admired the Canadians for saving them from the Nazis. The UK and the US had done more than Canada, but the French were proud that a smaller country would come to their assistance in a time of danger.

Mikki was too self-conscious to answer questions about her editing, and especially directing the battle scene, so Rachael took over, noting how incredibly talented her friend was, and how she now hoped to attend a good film school after high school.

After the questions petered out, another crowd appeared around Grandpa. While people were talking the Legion president brought a man to Rachael.

“Rachael,” she said. “This is Colin Masters. He runs the cinema at the mall, and would like to make you an offer.”

“Our attendance is pretty sparse on Monday through Thursday,” the man said. “Most people watch the new hit movies on the weekends. I’d like to dedicate one of my screens to show your videos each hour on Monday and Wednesday, the week after next. We could charge $10 for an hour-long show. I bet some of the people here would come again, to see the movie on the big screen, not to mention all the other people in town who will want to see it.”

“First,” Rachael said, “you need the Legion’s permission to show the film, not mine. We have given them all rights to it. But the little opening video with the cartoons is not a part of the package. You will have to talk to the creators to get their permission, and negotiate terms. I can give you the name of the lead animator.”

“Oh, we will need that. Both videos together will run an hour. Anything less than that won’t be a theater experience. Your video is the more important one. We could give $2.00 for the cartoon, and then $7.50 for the movie. Would that work?”

“That only leaves you with fifty cents,” Rachael said. “Surely you need more.”

“That is how the movies work,” Colin said. “For a blockbuster, almost all the ticket price goes to the studios. We make out money on popcorn, candy and drinks. We can work out the same deal with you.”

“With her,” Rachael said, turning to the Legion president. “It is her movie now.” Rachael gave out Neal’s contact information, and then went back to Grandpa. She looked at her phone, and saw that it was after 9. The old man must be getting tired, even though he seemed to be glowing with the attention and praise he was getting. Rachael decided to step in.

“Folks,” she said loudly. No reaction. “Folks,” she said louder. Her little girl voice just didn’t carry through. But Mr. Stoner heard and he shouted: “Quiet! Rachael would like to speak.” That worked.

“I want to thank all of you for coming, and especially for the welcome you have given to Grandpa … Sergeant Verdun. But it is getting late, and some of us have to get up pretty early for church tomorrow. So I think we will have to call it a night.”

It still took another half hour for the crowd to say their goodbyes and for Larissa and Rachael to lead Grandpa to the van. They were home before 10, barely, and Rachael was able to get Grandpa and a very sleepy Bobby to bed.

That night Rachael had a lot to talk about.

Dear Lord

My, what a day. First, meeting Jane. I think Mike is taken with her. I wonder if they will become a couple. She is a lovely lady, and when she gets her enhancements reduced I think they will be perfect for each other.

Paul and John got married: whee. And Paul’s late father got to be there, thanks to Pastor McNaughton. And it looks like the Hobo Army is forming a band. A pretty good one, by the sounds of it. I will have to watch out, or they will want to pull me in with them. I just can’t. I barely have enough time in a day as it is.

And the video was a hit. The kids like Cheesy, but adults like ours better. Yay. Good for the boys if they can make a little money from their production. I wonder how many people will come see them at the theater? The Legion will benefit from our work, and that is all we wanted.

Thank you for a wonderful, though busy, day.

Amen