An attentive Zeke Hughes stood on the porch directing each load off the moving truck. A house of this size would typically have more to unload, but the sole resident was content with what had come with him—boxes of books mostly.
A law library of sorts was coming together upstairs, where one of the movers was taking a break, flipping through pages of Insurance Coverage Litigation with glazed eyes. He quickly closed it when Zeke arrived, carrying another box.
“That can go on the shelf with the others, thanks,” Zeke said, ready to see the crew off.
Renovating an old house in a new town would keep Zeke busy. That, and the job for which he came to little Edenbury, Kansas, a secluded mining town nestled in the northeast corner of the state. Edenbury was quite different from the big city and all that came with it. Zeke was grateful when his transfer request was approved out of the corporate office to this sleepy community of just over five thousand.
The vertical wardrobe boxes were the last off the truck. Zeke saw the movers to the door and closed it before heading to the kitchen to find the coffee maker. Standing at the counter, he looked out the window to see neighbors walking by as the moving truck pulled away.
Zeke was startled when he heard his phone ring for the first time. His mother had left two messages on the answering machine already. A widow for eleven years now, she called him a little too regularly. He answered when he could, probably not as much as she wished.
He picked up. “Hello, Mom.”
“Zeke, honey, you know how I get worried. How are you?” his mother began. “Have you met anyone yet? Do you like your boss, your office?”
Zeke was patient. “Yes, Mom, everything is fine. It’s a small town, people are nice. The house is big, but it’ll give me something to do. How are you?” he asked.
“I’m fine, dear. Just a little lonely,” she replied. “Tell me more about your job and that little town you’ve run off to.”
“I don’t start until tomorrow. The office has just two other people. Angus, my boss, and Lucy, who sits at the front and helps write the policies. I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”
“Well, that sounds nice,” his mother said. “I just want to hear everything about your new house and what you’re doing. You know it makes me feel better.”
“I’ll have more to share tomorrow, I’m sure. Nothing was broken during the move, so I’m pleased about that,” Zeke reported as he rummaged through a box on the counter.
“That's good to hear. I’m glad you’re well. I’ll let you go, then,” she said.
Zeke stopped rummaging. “Good night, Mom. I miss you.”
They hung up. His mother was an hour ahead now, and the calls would come earlier for Zeke. He realized this meant he’d get a break at night with more time in the library.
Zeke poured some coffee, grabbed a folding chair from a box, and set it outside on the large wrap-around porch. He was still wearing his tie, as it rarely came off before eight p.m., something he got from his father. The rolled-up sleeves were a rare sight, but he considered it practical for unpacking.
Zeke was an old soul when it came to fashion. He also enjoyed listening to good jazz music and eating simple foods prepared well, preferably at home. He’d once gone through a drive-through window at a fast-food chain. Once. Between the discomfort of ordering, the salty food, and indigestion, he put that experience down as a disaster. His childhood didn’t include such folly, and now he could see why his father didn’t allow it. His complexion and physique thanked him. Smooth and chiseled, Zeke’s simple yet handsome looks went well with the neatly pressed suits he wore every day.
“Well, hello there, neighbor!” A man waved from his convertible as he backed out of the driveway next door.
Zeke raised his coffee mug. “Hello there!” he replied.
“Welcome to the neighborhood! Glad someone is here to take care of that beautiful house.” The man pulled away as others walked by with dogs on leashes.
Living on the corner lot would give Zeke more exposure and attention than he wanted. The tradeoff was that spacious, stately library. They say kitchens and bathrooms sell houses, but not for Zeke. It was time for some peace and quiet. He needed a break after the last few years of complete insanity in the corporate world. Retreating to Edenbury was just what the doctor ordered.
Alice Tremain and Miriam Ketchum walked the neighborhood every evening.
“I wonder when his family is coming,” Alice said. “The real estate agent told me he was from Georgia. Surely he has a family.”
“One would think,” Miriam replied as they sized up the unremarkable four-door sedan parked in Zeke’s driveway.
Without more to gossip about, the subject changed to the next most exciting thing on their walk.
–
Early the following day, Zeke pulled back the temporary shower curtain, grabbed a towel, and searched through the boxes on the floor to find his shaving kit. The previous night, he had unpacked an adjoining bedroom with a closet large enough for his dozen or so identical suits and shirts. The tie selection was also simple - black or black. Zeke was of the Einstein school of thought, or so he had read. The idea was that brainpower could actually be saved by reducing the number of decisions being made when getting dressed each morning. You never know when you’ll need that extra gray matter to give you an edge.
He found the five-minute drive refreshing compared to the long commutes he was used to in the city. The sounds and smells of Edenbury awakened his senses. He didn’t need to take the long way around the town square, which surrounded the tree-filled local park, but he wanted to take an inventory of the basic amenities. Hardware store, check. Diner, check. Town park, check. He had found the grocery store the day before. It was nothing to write home about unless his mother asked, of course, which she probably would.
Zeke took one of the four parking spaces in front of the agency building. In the next space, a RESERVED sign stood in front of a silver mini-van with a missing hubcap. Zeke imagined a spot on the pavement that matched the burning oil smell that lingered as he passed the vehicle. A set of small stairs and two doors later and Zeke Hughes was standing in the empty waiting room of the Heathrow Insurance Agency, a tiny outpost many miles from corporate headquarters. A talk show murmured on the small television in the corner. The only other sound came from an aggravated voice down the hall. Seeing no point in waiting, Zeke approached.
“No, we have to go next week. The kids will be off school.” With the phone in one hand and a fishing brochure in the other, Angus Owens was oblivious to the neatly dressed newcomer standing in the doorway.
Zeke was greeted by a chaotic jumble of work and personal effects scattered about Angus’ office. An old baseball bat rested in the corner while layers of papers and folders covered every available inch of horizontal surface.
“No, that won’t work either,” Angus said as he finally waved to Zeke.
Angus removed his feet from the desk and pointed to a room further down the dimly lit hallway.
Zeke wandered down and turned on the light to find a vacant desk and little else. A large, drafty window overlooked a narrow alley between the old buildings.
When the bathroom door opened at the end of the hall, Zeke looked out to see a young woman pass by, only to return a moment later.
“Oh my, hello. Sorry, I didn’t hear the door open.” The young woman wiped her hands on her dress before offering one to Zeke.
“Pleasure to meet you. The name is Zeke Hughes,” he replied, shaking her hand.
“Lucy. Lucy Greyson. I’m the office coordinator. Assistant, I mean. Whatever. It’s nice to meet you. We’ve heard good things.”
Her nervousness was interrupted by Angus, now standing in the doorway.
“Lucy, Zeke. Zeke, Lucy,” he said.
Zeke and Lucy prolonged the awkwardness in unison. “We’ve met.”
Angus dropped a thick stack of files on the desk, and they all watched as a flurry of dust particles scattered in the beam of sunlight streaming into the room.
Embarrassed, Lucy waved her arms around. “Sorry, this office has been vacant for a bit,” she said.
Angus turned but stopped in the doorway. “Those are just a few of the outstanding claims I need you to look into,” he said.
When Zeke didn't respond, Angus headed back down the hall.
Lucy left to fetch some cleaning supplies while Zeke tested out the desk chair, which had seen better days. He hoped he wouldn’t be using it much. Unbuckling his satchel, he began extracting his favorite writing utensils as Lucy returned and started cleaning the desk.
“I would have done this sooner, but corporate wouldn’t confirm when you were coming,” Lucy said.
Zeke took the paper towels. “It’s fine. Thanks. I can take it from here.”
Looking as if she was prioritizing the many questions in her head, Lucy lingered just long enough to hear Angus call from his office.
“How about getting us something from Jake’s?” he yelled. “You know what I like.”
“Can I get you something from the diner?” Lucy asked. “They have great pastries.”
Zeke replied with a grin. “You decide.”
–
On her walk to Jake’s Diner, Lucy replayed her first meeting with Zeke Hughes.
“You decide?” she said to herself.
Lucy was confused, then intrigued, then confused again. She was unsure of both him and herself. Her mind raced. Who dressed like that? Who talked like that? What kind of pastry would she choose? There was so much to process.
Insurance just got interesting.
The tinkle of the bell above the door at the diner announced Lucy’s arrival. She greeted the usual crowd as they nursed their morning cups of coffee. Lucy’s best friend and roommate, Cheryl, abandoned the booth she was cleaning to beat her to the counter.
“I saw his car. He looks like a bore. What can you tell me?” Cheryl asked.
Lucy pushed back. “Relax, he just got here,” she replied. “We need coffee and pastries. Three of them.”
Cheryl wouldn't give up so easily, and Lucy knew it.
“Well, you have to tell us something.”
Lucy looked around to see that everyone in the vicinity was waiting. There wasn’t much that didn’t get around Edenbury, and Jake’s Diner was rumor central. And at the center of rumor central was Cheryl.
“Literally, I’ve spent like five minutes with the guy. Check back with me tomorrow,” said Lucy.
Jake yelled from the grill area. “You’re just going to leave us in suspense like that?”
“Okay, fine,” Lucy replied. “Zeke is single. I think. And, he carries a satchel.”
“Like a man purse?” asked Cheryl.
Lucy took a stool at the counter. “I guess. He’s from the city, you know.”
The locals exchanged glances, seemingly excited to discuss something new. Lucy rolled her eyes.
Cheryl poured the last coffee. “What kind of pastries do you want?”
Lucy paused. “You decide.”
With a confused look, Cheryl grabbed a bag and loaded it. She released Lucy without further interrogation.
“See you after work,” Cheryl said.
As Lucy headed back down the alley toward the office, a gentle breeze began to form into a tight whirlwind behind her on the ground. Debris and leaves danced about, rising as the swirling funnel of wind quickened and grew as tall as Lucy. Wandering back and forth, the now clearly defined miniature tornado playfully followed in her footsteps the entire length of the alley. Somehow unaware, Lucy turned a corner, and the wind and leaves quietly dispersed onto the sidewalk as if nothing had happened.
There was one who had witnessed it, however. As he watched her through the window of his new office, Zeke's first impression was confirmed. There was something very special about Lucy Greyson.
Read Chapter 2 - Mister, are you a prophet?
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