Eden Hill (3 page)

“N
EIL, WILL YOU PLEASE
look at the map? We’re just plain lost, and that’s all there is to it. You’ve no idea how we got here.”

Cornelius Alexander slowed the Chevy to a crawl as they crossed a narrow bridge, and turned toward his wife. “I am
not
lost, JoAnn. I know exactly where we are, and we can always go right back out the same road we came in on. We were on the state highway just a couple of minutes ago.” He loved the woman dearly, especially when she called him Neil, her pet name for him, but there were days when she could be a challenge.

“More like ten minutes and three turns ago. Now stop
at that service station and ask for directions.” It seemed this would be one of those days.

Grumbling, he gave the steering wheel spinner a disgusted twist and slid into the gravel and up to the pump. A bell announced his appearance, and a short, white-haired man with a broad grin and a slight limp ambled to the side of the car. “Can I help you good folks?”

“I don’t need gasoline, just directions back . . .” The hood of the Chevy was already open, and a somewhat younger and taller man with a rumpled khaki cap was deep into the engine compartment. “Wait! I really don’t need
 
—”

“Don’t worry, Virgil is just checking your oil. Don’t need to buy anything for that.” The older man had produced a squeegee and a squirt bottle and was cleaning the windshield. “Now, just where are you trying to get back to?”

“Back to the state highway, I guess.”

“You two work it out. I’m going to find a snack.” JoAnn was already out of the car and walking toward the white concrete block building. Pregnancy had made her fickle and hungry all the time, it seemed. Eating for two, she said. No point staying in the car, so he opened his door as well. He could also use a stretch, and besides, he’d spotted something interesting across the street. He looked around. Not much to see here: a creek, a few houses, a couple of stores and churches, and as best he could tell, one pitiful service station. And a large empty lot with a very conspicuous sign.

“Bear to your left at the fork just past the bridge.” The older man was pointing back down the road. “Don’t turn right. That’ll take you over by the lake. Good fishing, but
maybe not what you’d want to do this afternoon. If you turn left again, you’ll go straight to the state highway and from there into Quincy. You say that’s where you’re heading?”

“We’re just out for a drive.” Cornelius pointed across the street. “Property for sale. Yours?”

“No.” The taller man had closed the hood and come over to where they were standing. “It belongs to the church there, but I guess they decided they didn’t need it. By the way, your oil’s just fine
 
—right on the mark.”

“Thank you. We’ll be going now.” JoAnn had returned with a cellophane package of Cheese Nibbles and was gobbling them like she hadn’t eaten all day. Which, he had to admit, she hadn’t. She slid carefully back into the car and closed the door.

Cornelius handed over a few coins for the snack and mumbled his appreciation as well, then climbed in. With a twist of the key, the well-tuned Chevrolet Bel Air roared to life, scattering dust and gravel as they pulled out. A few seconds later, he eased onto the shoulder.

“Neil, what are you doing now?” she asked, brushing away dusty crumbs from her maternity pedal pushers.

“Didn’t you see that vacant lot for sale just across from those guys? I’m writing down the phone number before I forget it.” He found a ballpoint pen and an old matchbook in the glove compartment. “It’s the perfect location!”

“Perfect for what?”

“For our new Zipco Super Service station, JoAnn. I don’t know which one of those two geezers owns that station, but it’s hopelessly out of date. That little place wouldn’t stand a
chance against major competition. No premium gasoline. No lighted sign. Gravel lot. Made of cheap concrete blocks and needs a coat of paint. And was there even one restroom? ‘Give the customer what he desires and he will patronize your establishment,’ remember?” Cornelius knew the Zipco business manual like the back of his hand.

“I suppose so.” JoAnn dabbed at her face with a Kleenex from the glove compartment, removing lipstick, crumbs, and sweat. “But just maybe people around here like that service station and those men. This might be one of those places where everyone knows or is kin to everyone else, and they may not take well to outsiders. Did you think of that? And did that wide place in the road even have a name?”

“We have to look ahead, JoAnn. That dinky service station is behind the times.” The pen wouldn’t write, so he licked at the end. “Remember, ‘The future is in clean, bright, full-service fueling centers offering quality Zipco products. Uniformed attendants will assure that every customer’s needs are met with confidence and competence.’” Straight out of the second chapter of the business manual, the section with the jet-powered cars on the title page. “Zipco is the future, JoAnn. That town, Eden . . . something, is absolutely the right place for our business. The sign said so!”

The pen finally started working, and he scrawled the number down as JoAnn continued to scowl. “What’s the matter now?”

“I guess your mind’s made up. Can we drive back to Quincy now?”

He tucked the matchbook into his shirt pocket and pulled
onto the highway. More gravel went flying as he popped the clutch.

Soon JoAnn had fallen asleep. Not only did pregnancy make her hungry, but she also tired easily. Frankly, he was relieved. The highway was lightly traveled, and he needed time to think.

Cornelius Alexander III was determined not to be an embarrassment to his father, Cornelius Alexander Jr., nor especially to his grandfather,
the
Cornelius Alexander of Alexander Motors.

He hadn’t started well. His parents had sent him to a fine college where he’d majored in frat parties and pool
 
—and one particular coed
 
—and flunked out after his first year. “No direction,” the dean had said. He’d tried to enlist to serve his country, but he even failed the physical. “Flat feet,” the doctor had said.

While sweeping floors at Alexander Motors, with fallen arches and uncertain goals, he’d accepted the eldest Mr. Alexander’s offer of tuition to the Bluegrass College of Business. It turned out to be a perfect fit. Accounting and Bookkeeping had been challenging courses, but he’d sailed through Entrepreneurship I and II, and had aced Competitive Strategies without ever cracking a book. When he graduated at the end of the summer term, he married his girlfriend, JoAnn, and began to explore business opportunities. When he met the representative from the Zanesville International
Petroleum Company at the school’s job fair, it was a match made in heaven
 
—or at least in a poolroom.

“Cornelius, a Zipco franchise has a lot to offer an outstanding young man like you.” How well he remembered the meeting in the college recreation room. The rep had steadied his aim at the white ball, paused, and chalked the tip of his cue. “We have an outstanding growth strategy, and I’m going to give you an opportunity to get in on the ground floor.” The cue ball took a solid hit, and in turn sent the red number three wobbling slowly down the rail.

“Just what’s it going to cost?” Cornelius had asked, as he caromed the five into the corner, just missing the pocket. “And what’s in it for me?”

“Excellent profits the first year. You have some debts to pay off, I suspect?” The rep grazed the eight ball, sending it dangerously near the side pocket.

“Maybe.” Cornelius chalked his own cue and chuckled; the game
 
—the more important one
 
—was going nicely. A muted click and another ball dropped. One well-placed shot would leave him in perfect position. Unfortunately, his bank off the rail was wide to the right.

“Zipco can finance you
 
—all you have to do is find a promising location. And with the money you make, you and the little lady will soon be in the house of your dreams.” The rep took a shot at the number ten ball at the other end, grazing the eight ball again and gently nudging it into the side pocket. “Aw, shoot. Well, you won fair and square.” The rep handed Cornelius a crisp five-dollar bill, and edged him toward a table where the preliminary papers were ready to sign.

Cornelius had pocketed the fiver. The house of their dreams? Wasn’t that exactly what JoAnn wanted in life, especially with a little one on the way? “May I use your pen?”

The deal was all over in two minutes. JoAnn had cried when he told her, like he had done something very wrong. Even though he’d done it for her.

No, he would not be an embarrassment to JoAnn either. He would
not
.

“Now where do you suppose that young couple was from?” Virgil finished tightening the oil filter under the hood and wiped his hands on a rag only a bit cleaner than his palms.

“A couple of counties over, judging from his license plate.” Welby and his mechanic’s creeper had disappeared under the trunk of the tiny Nash, where clattering noises could be heard. “Young couple out for a drive, and got turned around somewhere along the way. Sure did seem interested in the old feed store property, though.”

“Yeah. I’ve got a feeling that sign will lead to no good. What would you like to see go in over there?”

Welby stopped his clanking. “Cows! Or at least another feed store.” He chuckled from somewhere behind the rear axle. “Would you make sure that jack’s solid? Can’t be too careful.”

“Solid as a rock, Welby. That sign is
trouble
. Mark my words.”

“Neil, I don’t feel good about this. Any of it.” JoAnn tipped her head forward and peered beneath her long Maybelline eyelashes.

“Trust me, JoAnn. We found the perfect spot quite by serendipity. I think it must be a sign.”

“A sign. Did you see how the real estate agent was smiling? The banker was grinning like the Cheshire cat, and the man from Zipco was practically dancing on the tables.”

“So?”

“Why am I the only one who isn’t happy?”

“Because you’re expecting?”

She turned away and paused for a long time. “No, because I should have expected something like this.”