Cynthia nodded. He was right about that.
I have to admit, I was hoping that eventually I could help you see the error of your ways, that one doesn’t have to go to extremes with one’s diet in order to be healthy. And then you wouldn’t care what I did for a living.
But then, several things happened. First, you and Melissa explained to me the basics of why you made the switch. Second, remember when we met at the clinic? Well, I had just received news that my health wasn’t as pristine as I had believed. Third, a chance encounter with a self-proclaimed health nut – the last day that we saw each other – at the skating rink began to open my eyes. Really open my eyes. I hope you will believe me when I tell you that a few days later, I decided to quit my job. I realized I wasn’t making the positive difference in the world that I thought I was, had always wanted to. I didn’t want to be a hypocrite. I decided to give up eating processed foods, and there was no way I could keep telling the rest of the world how great Delico Foods was.
“Turns out I didn’t have to quit. After this last fiasco with kids getting sick at school, the Powers That Be decided they needed a scapegoat to save their public reputation. They picked me to be that scapegoat. They didn’t even give me a notice; I had to leave the next day.
I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. I want you to believe me when I say that number one, I am not a habitual liar, and if you take me back I will never lie to you again. Number two, the brief amount of time I’ve spent with you and Melissa I’ve grown very fond of you both. I was hoping our relationship might eventually culminate in the ‘L’ word.
Love. Preston had strong feelings for her – even Melissa – and was hoping the feelings would turn into love.
Cynthia paused to wipe a tear that suddenly tickled the corner of her eye. Then she could see clearly to finish reading.
I hope with all my might that you will think about letting me back into your home. I want to apologize in person. I want to eat some more of your healthy, delicious whole-foods meals. Most of all, I want a second chance with one of the most beautiful, smartest, and strongest women I’ve ever met. If you turn me down, I will hold no hard feelings. But I wish you would at least think carefully about it. I was already starting to feel like part of a wonderful family.
Warmly and most sincerely,
Preston
Cynthia leaned back, closed her eyes, and fought against the onslaught of tears that seemed to be inevitable. Her inner turmoil regarding Preston had been like a long, continuous prayer, and now it seemed like God was answering.
“Mommy?” Melissa’s voice beside her was small, timid. Not like her at all.
Concerned, Cynthia opened her eyes.
“I know you want to say no, but can – may I read that letter, too? Please?” Then she smiled. “I mean, if it’s not too mushy.”
Cynthia picked the sheet back up and scanned it to make sure there was nothing inappropriate for ten-year-old eyes. Then she handed it to her daughter. She didn’t believe in parents keeping secrets from their children.
Melissa sat down next to her, brow wrinkled as she perused the words on the page. A couple of minutes later, she looked up. “I can forgive him, if you can.” Her eyes suddenly shone. “I – I miss him.” She set the letter down as she bent her head to look at her lap. “That’s stupid, isn’t it?”
Cynthia scooted over next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. “Well, then that makes two of us. I miss him, too.” She would have called him right then and there if she hadn’t been on the verge of tears. The last thing she wanted was to break down over the phone to a man she had basically only ever had two dates with. What would he think?
She would call him tomorrow night.
**********
“Fancy meeting you in a place like this.”
Lucy twisted her head to look behind her, to see Preston coming up the walk toward Cynthia’s house. She beamed at him, reveling in the knowledge that she had played a small part in getting him and Cynthia back together.
“Preston Brenner, this is my husband, Mario Perez.” She canted her head toward Mario, although the motion was completely unnecessary since Mario had a firm arm around her waist.
As he extended his free arm toward Preston and the two men shook hands, Lucy’s heart warmed as she recalled the events that had brought her husband here. Their date the other night had been all about him wanting to make a fresh start with their marriage. “It takes two to tango,” he had said in regard to the fact that Lucy had gone behind his back and gotten another job. He admitted that if he had paid more attention to her and really listened to her desires and opinions, she would not have felt compelled to do such a thing.
After spending an entire evening being as sweet as he could be, he asked that they would both agree never to keep secrets from each other again. In return, he promised to be more empathetic toward Lucy’s view of food and eating. So of course when Cynthia had asked her if she could come to her house today to discuss Dr. Munger and his apparent role in sick schoolchildren, she had had to tell Mario and ask for his permission.
When he had told her he wanted to go, both to learn and to be a help, Lucy almost fell on the floor.
Now here he was, meeting the ex-vice president of Delico Foods, who was in the process of reforming himself. This promised to be a most fascinating day.
**********
Preston forgot his nervousness temporarily as he shook hands with Lucy’s husband. But not twenty seconds later, the door opened. And his heart gave a leap.
“Mario, let’s give them a minute,” he heard Lucy say as she tugged her husband a few feet down the sidewalk.
He stepped forward, his mouth suddenly dry. Swallowing, he looked into Cynthia’s eyes – and lost himself there for several long moments. But he couldn’t stand there like a mute forever. He had something to say.
“I forgive you, Preston!” Before he saw her, Melissa had careened through the doorway and wrapped her arms around his waist.
His breath caught as he looked down at her. Then he returned the embrace. “Thank you,” he whispered hoarsely. He looked up to see Cynthia standing there with a shaky smile, hesitation in her eyes. He lifted his right arm, beckoning her.
She stepped forward and let his arm pull her into their little circle. “I am so, so sorry,” he whispered.
“I forgive you, too.” Cynthia’s voice cracked, and he dared to look up into her face, which was just inches away from his. She smiled, and he smiled back, and it took everything in him not to kiss her.
Who knows how long they would have stood there if Melissa hadn’t suddenly let him go and declared, “It’s freezing out here! Time to go back inside.”
The Perez’ followed them into the house, where a sweet, spicy aroma wafted around like snowflakes in a gentle breeze. “Something smells delicious,” Lucy effused as she took off her coat.
“Gluten-free spice cake.” Cynthia kept her eyes on Preston as she answered, a flush seeping into her cheeks. “Homemade and sweetened with real, honest-to-goodness local honey.”
Preston winked at her as he slipped his own coat onto one of the hooks. He was going to say, “Sounds too good to be true,” but even though he would have been teasing, the wound between him and Cynthia was still a bit raw, despite their mutual display of affection a couple minutes ago. So at the last minute he changed the comment to, “Sounds delicious.”
He did have one real concern about it, though. He stepped over to Cynthia and said in a low voice, “But the doctor told me I had to stay away from butter.”
Cynthia shook her head, smiling. Then she looked behind her. “Lucy, back me up on this.” As the Hispanic woman approached, Cynthia gestured for them to go into the living room and sit down. “It’s not the saturated fat causing cholesterol and heart problems,” she said as she sat on the sofa. Preston settled next to her, working hard to focus on her words and not her beauty. “In fact, I’ve read several blog posts where people testified to lowerin
g their cholesterol levels after beginning to eat several tablespoons of butter a day.”
Preston lifted his brow, realizing that he had heard something like this before. Recently. “Then why are we told otherwise?”
Lucy took over, settling into the recliner, explaining about the effect on the cells of trans fat produced by hydrogenated vegetable oils. She also told him about a biased nutritional study in which the researcher threw out most of the results, the results that disproved his theory that saturated fat was connected to heart disease.
“So, yeah, the cake has butter,” Cynthia concluded with a teasing smile. “In order to help you get healthier.”
Then Preston remembered. That teacher that he’d knocked down at the skating rink had mentioned something about butter not being the cause of heart disease, but had not elaborated.
Mario, who was leaning against the recliner with his hand on Lucy’s shoulder, cleared his throat. “Shouldn’t we get to the agenda at hand?”
“We’re waiting on one more person,” Cynthia replied.
Some teacher or other who had possibly seen Munger at the last school where the food-related illnesses had occurred. Cynthia had told him as much, but hadn’t mentioned any names.
Almost the instant after she finished her statement, there was a knock at the door.
Lucy pushed herself up. “I’ll get it.”
Preston watched as she went to the entryway and opened the door. A familiar figure stepped inside. At least, she looked familiar from the back.
Then she turned around.
Preston felt his brow travel to the top of his scalp. Slowly, feeling dazed, he stood up. The woman caught his gaze a second later. “Wait a second, I know you.”
“How – how is your chin?”
Confusion fluttered over the woman’s face for a brief moment. Then her eyes widened and she began laughing. “No. It can’t be you. Really? How’s your tailbone?”
By now Preston was in front of her, grinning, and offering his hand. As she shook it, he heard Cynthia’s bewildered voice behind him. “You two…know each other?”
Preston turned around. “Remember the letter I wrote? I mentioned getting help from someone at the skating rink?”
Cynthia stepped up to them, cutting her eyes first to one, then the other. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Erin – Preston finally remembered her name – laughed even harder. “You’re the woman he was interested in?” she asked, panting, looking at Cynthia.
Cynthia glanced at Preston, eyes narrowed. “Just exactly what did you tell her about me?”
**********
She wasn’t mad. Although, when Preston first recognized Erin, a stab of jealousy had seared through her middle. But – well, except that bit about the chin and the tailbone – she understood now. Would have laughed along with Erin – and Lucy, who was near hysterics – except that she was so stunned by the turn of events that she could barely speak.
What were the chances an acquaintance of hers would meet Preston at the skating rink? And give him a lecture about food and nutrition?
Erin took a deep breath. “He said nothing, really. By his hinting around I guessed that he was in trouble with a woman over food issues.” She finally shed her coat and walked into the living room as she spoke. To Cynthia’s relief, she put some distance between herself and Preston, approaching Mario to introduce herself.
Once they were all seated around the living room, having recovered from the mild shock, Mario leaned forward and let his gaze scan the room. “So my first question is, why ain’t none of y’all called the cops?” His accent was like Lucy’s – a light Spanish one mixed with a moderate Southern twang.
“I was called in to talk to a police officer,” Erin volunteered brightly, “after I reported seeing a strange man in the Wainwright cafeteria. But since nobody could identify him, the authorities couldn’t do much about it.”
“And I’m not absolutely positive that was Dr. Munger in the car that almost hit me.” Cynthia felt Preston’s protective arm go around her shoulders, and the touch sent a pleasant thrill up her back. “I’m not sure the cops want to hear conjectures based on our paranoia.”
Preston rubbed her shoulder lightly. “Or bias.”
“Or bias.” Cynthia let herself lean against him. She hadn’t expected her and Preston to get closer – literally and figuratively – during this meeting, but neither had she expected to embrace him when he showed up at her door. The day was proving to be full of surprises.
Preston let out a sigh. “I am not only not an eyewitness, but I probably would have little clout in this matter, seeing as how the company just terminated my employment.”
Lucy glanced at her husband. “They would think he was just trying to take some sort of revenge against the school district, don’t you think, sweetheart?”
Mario crossed his arms, frowning. “But y’all seem to be convinced Munger’s behind all the food poisoning. Don’t you think that might count for something in the eyes of the justice system?”
“Possibly.” Preston put his arm down, clasped his hands in his lap, and turned to face Mario more directly. “My mother taught me to respect my elders. So I personally will defer to whatever direction you want to take the issue.”
Amusement sparkled in Lucy’s eyes, but Cynthia remained sober. Preston sounded as serious as a heart attack, and the last thing she wanted was to alienate Lucy’s husband.
The tan-skinned, dark-eyed man with gray-streaked black hair nodded solemnly at Preston. “I believe it’s our duty as American citizens to tell the police what we know. And what we might suspect.” He glanced at Lucy, then scanned the others with his eyes. “But I also have a feeling they won’t do a whole lot with the little we can give them.” His gaze settled back on Preston. “I’ll throw the ball back in your court, Mr. Brenner. You’ve dealt with him personally, I understand, and I suspect you’re none too happy about what’s gone down the past few days.”
“No, sir.”
“So you have a plan?”
Preston sat up a little straighter. “Yes, sir. I think I do.” He cut his eyes toward Cynthia. “We need to set Dr. Munger up.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
It was Monday afternoon. Five days after he almost got caught doctoring food in the Wainwright Elementary cafeteria.
He almost hadn’t finished the job. Had almost simply lit out of there when he realized he was being watched.
But then he remembered Johnson’s threats.
And the money.
So he hid, panting, right outside the cafeteria, counting to sixty to give the woman a whole minute to disappear. He was sure she would. She didn’t look like the type to blow off witnessing what she might have perceived to be a crime.
After that minute, he ran back into the cafeteria, and gave the casserole and dessert the extra flavorings and additives per Johnson’s order. Sweating like a pig the whole time. His hands had shaken, and by the time he’d finished he’d felt like it had taken an hour rather than three minutes.
Then he ran out again, jumped into his car, and drove away. To his relief, Thomas, the black man Munger had been paying to masquerade as his assistant, told him later that he had left the school office before anyone had shown up there to report seeing Munger in the cafeteria.
After that fiasco, he was hoping to have this week off. Actually, according to the plan, he was supposed to have had this week off. But the note in his hand told him something different.
“Hit Franklin again, 10:00 on Tuesday.”
It was typewritten, not signed. But who else would have sent it? Barry considered calling Johnson to confirm, but he knew the crooked lawyer hated to be kept from other money-making activities unless it was an emergency. So Munger chose to believe Johnson had written and left the note in the department mailbox.
That gave him two unsavory tasks to execute this week. The other one was to confront Brenner’s would-be girlfriend and neighbor and demand th
e money back. A simple phone call to Delico’s corporate office on Friday afternoon revealed that Brenner had been let go for financial reasons. As far as the secretary knew, and she claimed to know everything about all the major company goings-on, no one had found any dirt on Brenner. At his request, she even called him back later to confirm this knowledge with her superiors.
Barry was out a thousand dollars, and he was going to teach that little girl not to lie.
**********
Erin just happened to know that the cafeteria ladies all went on break at ten o’clock. Because all but one of them smoked, they generally congregated outside near the big trash bins. She had happened to see them there a couple of times on bitterly cold, but sunny days, so she wasn’t concerned about them huddling inside today. Besides, likely as not Munger was going to pull the same trick he had at Wainwright: have the office call the cafeteria ladies in for a brief meeting, then commit his crime while they were gone.
So her only challenge was to find an excuse not to be in her classroom for about twenty minutes that morning. She wanted to hide herself ten minutes before the appointed time, in case Munger showed up early, and give herself plenty of time to make the video.
At the Saturday meeting at Cynthia’s, Lucy had come up with the brilliant idea of simply claiming a morning substitute because she had a dentist appointment. Erin rarely ever saw a dentist, but nobody else on the staff knew that. As much as she loathed getting back to the mess – and hyper class – that the substitute would inevitably leave for her that afternoon, she couldn’t find any other way around it.
She had padded into the cafeteria a few minutes ago with her lesson plan book and a pen. If anyone asked, she would tell them that she had the morning off and had snuck in early to get some work done in peace and quiet. But while her eyes stayed riveted on the kitchen through a bank of interior windows, none of the ladies seemed to notice her.
Finally, almost as one, they went out the back door, chatting and laughing. Erin glanced up at the clock on the wall and saw that it was two minutes until ten.
She crept from her spot next to the wall and went through the doorway that the students walked through in order to pick up their food. At the threshold, she stopped. Held her breath.