Best Foot Forward (10 page)

Just then, Tanner walked out. Tanner stopped short when he saw him. I wasn't sure what to do, so I just kept going with the transaction. Did he want to pay cash or credit?

I took his Visa card, rang it up.

Burt Odder signed the receipt. I said, “You're going to love those shoes. They were made for you.”

He looked right past me to Tanner. “Give me a little tour.”

“There's nothing to see.”

“I'll be the judge of that.”

Murray came out on the floor. “I'll take you back there.”

“I want to see where he works.”

Murray led the way. Tanner and I followed into the storage room.

“Empty your pockets, Cobbie boy.”

Tanner didn't move.

Tanner took out keys, some coins, a battered wallet. Burt Odder moved forward, patted the side of Tanner's pants. “What you got in there?”

“Nuthin'.”

“Let's see that nuthin'.”

Tanner shook his head, put his hand in the side pocket, and pulled out a Snickers bar.

Odder picked up Tanner's torn book bag. “This yours?”

Tanner looked like he was going to punch his fist through a wall.

“I asked you a question.”

“It's mine.”

“Everything out.”

How humiliating.

Tanner took out paper, pens, a bag of chips.

Burt Odder grabbed the bag, turned it upside down. Out fell an expensive pair of men's snakeskin boots.

My breath caught in my throat.

“Well, now.” Burt Odder picked up a boot. “Very nice. This yours, Cobbie?”

Tanner looked down.

I turned around and saw Mrs. Gladstone leaning on her cane, watching in steely silence.

“You got a receipt for these?” Odder picked up the other boot.

Tanner said nothing.

“I told you, ma'am, this kid was no good.”

“Yes, you told me.”

“Well, we're just going to take him off your hands and put him right back where he belongs.”

“But, you see,” Mrs. Gladstone said matter-of-factly, “I gave those to Tanner.”

What did she say?

“I gave the boots to him,” she repeated.

Tanner looked as shocked as anyone.

“There was no crime here,” she added.

Burt Odder sputtered, “Lady, do you know what you're doing?”

She stood defiantly. “Is there anything else you'd like to see, Mr. Odder?”

Odder's face flamed fire red. He gave a disgusted grunt and stormed out.

Mrs. Gladstone said, “Jenna, I'd like to speak to Tanner alone, please.”

I backed out of the room.

 

“It was wrong what I did.”

Tanner said it from behind me. I didn't turn around.

“I don't know why I did it.”

“I don't either, Tanner.”

“What should I do next?”

“I have no idea.”

“Mrs. G said you'd tell me what to do next!”

I turned around, saw his face caved in with what? Guilt? Shock that he got away with it
again
?

“I don't know what you and Mrs. Gladstone talked about, Tanner. Maybe you should just go home.”

He forced a smile. “Your eyes look great when you get—”

I turned away as he ran out the door.

“I owe you an explanation, Jenna.” Mrs. Gladstone stood before me, lips pursed tight.

“No, you don't.”

“I gave Tanner a second chance because I didn't think justice would be served through that reprehensible Odder person.”

Justice? “He stole from us after everything you did for him. What makes you think he won't do it again? He tricked all of us!”

“Did he trick us, Jenna, or did he fall into his old patterns? He was like a sponge in this place, soaking everything up. This job has been crucial to him.”

“I'm sorry, Mrs. Gladstone. That doesn't excuse it.”

I was sick of excuses. My dad had all the excuses in the world.

“You're right,” she agreed, “but Tanner did not come here with your discipline.”

I sighed. “You've sure got a nicer view of humanity than me.”

“I've just lived longer. If Tanner does come back, I'm hoping we can all meet him halfway.”

“I don't know if I can.”

“I'm asking a lot of you. I know that.” Her face got faraway. “My father always said that to me. I chafed at being a preacher's kid. I watched him practice grace every day with people I thought were unworthy of his efforts.”

I wasn't in the mood to debate. “You're the boss, Mrs. Gladstone.”

“Yes, but my authority does not extend to the heart.”

I bet she could order hearts around if she set her mind to it.

“Jenna, I don't know if we'll ever see Tanner Cobb again, but I'm betting that if he comes back, he won't steal.”

“What if you're
wrong,
Mrs. Gladstone?
What do we do then?
”

She just stood there, all spine—a short monument to women of steel.

 

The problem with the heart is how it can have so many opposite feelings coursing through it at the same time. It's really an inconsistent thing—appreciating something one minute, hating it the next. Tanner had left the store two days ago and we'd not seen or heard from him since. I was so glad when he left. Now I was thinking about what Yaley had said.

When Yaley called and asked what happened, I told her.

Mattie came in the store, saying she was as sorry as she'd ever been for what Tanner did.

You can't fix it for him, I wanted to shout.

I was trying to handle homework, trying to be strong. I wrote out a schedule for myself. If every single moment went perfectly, if I cut back on sleep and never missed a green light, I'd be fine.

I was answering the phone, taking messages from anxious store managers. Two more called saying that Elden was due in town tomorrow to talk about changes in their stores, and what were they supposed to do?

Mutiny?

 

Saturday, 8:47 A.M. I pulled into the parking lot behind the Oak Park Gladstone's store. Mrs. Gladstone had brought her cane for the occasion—not just for emphasis; her hip was getting worse. Elden's meeting was due to start in thirteen minutes. He didn't know we were coming, but, hey, we're all one big happy family. Right?

Dick McAllister, the store manager, met us at the back door, looking grim. “He's got a PowerPoint presentation,” he said. “But worse than that . . .” Dick held up a green shirt with the Shoe Warehouse emblem. “I'm not wearing this, Madeline.”

I'm not, either.

Elden was shouting out instructions for how the screen was to be displayed for his presentation. He had his back to us, but it's said that snakes can sense prey, even in the tall weeds. He turned around and froze when he saw us.

“Well, Elden,” Mrs. Gladstone said, walking toward him. “Haven't you been a busy bee?” Her cane clicked on the floor. Elden tried to find his voice.

“Mother.” He tried to smile.

“I'm here for your presentation,” she said, and sat down.

I sat down next to her. “Hello, sir.”

“Oh,” he said,
“you.”

The one and only. And even smarter since I last saw you.

More shoe people came in the door. Elden had invited most of the Gladstone's managers throughout the western suburbs. He busied himself with the people who came in. Dick McAllister put up folding chairs nervously; everyone got coffee. Helen Ruggles sat next to Mrs. Gladstone. “You're looking tougher than ever, Madeline.”

That got a smile.

“Well,” Dick McAllister said, “I know we're all anxious to hear from you, Elden.”

Elden slithered forward and said, “We are embarking on a bold new journey that I believe will put Gladstone's in the forefront of shoe companies worldwide.”

He clicked to his first slide, which read, Change Is Good.

Elden then went on to explain how the Shoe Warehouse design for effective retailing would be our design as well. He showed the new plans for our stores—each store would look exactly alike. “No more worrying about how to design the displays,” he chirped. “That will be done for you.” The managers slumped glumly in their seats.

So much for creativity.

“We are in the age of instant information,” Elden continued. “And Ken Woldman understands that people get bored with the same old thing. That's why we'll have daily sales, even hourly specials—an exciting, ever-changing sales environment.”

He clicked to the next slide: Change Is Exciting.

“We will be installing closed-circuit TVs in twenty of our flagship stores and experimenting with how to get as much information to our customers as we can.”

Elden smirked. “Ken has asked that
I
be the spokesman. We're going to broadcast our bargains to our customers day and night!” His voice got a little lower, like a DJ. “Along with some special shoe and fashion tips!”

He showed a store design with the huge TV monitor on the wall.

Despair settled over the group.

I felt like I was being sucked into the center of one of those extreme-makeover shows.

Click. Together We Will Change the World.

If we don't all die from humiliation first.

That's when Mrs. Gladstone stood up. “Elden, when do you expect Gladstone's will be entirely eliminated?”

Shock hung in the room.

He sputtered. “Mother, no one is saying that.”

“When will the G be taken off the door? When will the signs be taken down? When will our brands become obsolete? You're already making them into cheap knockoffs. Gladstone's
used
to stand for quality.” She rammed her cane on the floor.
“Surely you've discussed this.”

“Mother, I hardly think—”

“I expect you've been thinking about this for quite some time, Elden.” She marched forward, glaring at him.

“Well . . .”
He put his clicker down. “I would estimate that the full changeover to the Shoe Warehouse philosophy should happen within, perhaps, the next year or so.”

“And what will happen to our best-selling brands? The Rollings Walkers, for example?”

He laughed nervously. “
If
they continue to sell well, we'll keep making them, of course.”

“I see.” She walked to the wall and threw up the light switch. “Ladies and gentlemen, as the Director of Quality Control, I want to say publicly that I disagree with this approach. First, as a member of the board of directors, I object to my not being informed of this sudden turn in our company's direction. That is against the bylaws of our company and, therefore, I will challenge it. Ken Woldman has assured me there is room in this organization for both high-quality shoes and budget brands. I mean to hold him to his word. And as the mother of our general manager, I have one thing to say to him.” I closed my eyes and heard her shout, “This will happen
over my dead body!
”

She pointed at the Together We Will Change the World screen. “I assure you, God Almighty had nothing to do with
that
!”

Applause began quietly at first, then more loudly.

Elden sputtered that anyone who did not go along with this new direction was welcome to turn in their resignation.

The shoe managers looked nervous and stopped clapping.

“We'll see about that!” Mrs. Gladstone nodded to me and marched out the door.

I marched after her.

The mutiny had begun.

At least I think it had.

Mrs. Gladstone and I were seated in rickety chairs in Gus's Shoe Repair. Gus held up a year-old pair of Rollings Walkers and the pair I'd brought in last week. The whole shop smelled like shoe polish.

“So,” he said, “anyone who tells you they haven't changed this shoe is a liar.”

Mrs. Gladstone said, “I need facts, Gus.”

“I got those.” He turned my pair over, flexed them. “The shoes Jenna brought in have got thermal plastic rubber bottoms. TPRs are used only in inexpensive casuals these days. See the crack there?”

We looked.

“I didn't have to work hard to get that to crack.” He held up the real Rollings Walkers that Mrs. Gladstone had brought in for comparison. “These here, they're older, but they got one hundred percent rubber soles. Rubber's our friend when it comes to durability.”

He yanked out the inside of my new shoe. “This isn't leather. It's man-made. It's not going to breathe like your leather, which is what you've got on the older pair. On the outside, they don't look different. On the inside . . .” He shook his head. “It's like sirloin and Spam.” He handed me back my shoes.

Mrs. Gladstone threw back her head and took a big breath.

“Madeline, it's changing everywhere. It's not just Gladstone's. I'm seeing a lot of garbage.”

“I can't accept garbage, Gus.”

“That's why you're the one to fight it.” He patted her hand; got some shoe polish on it, but that's a mark of distinction in our world.

 

Back at work, Mrs. Gladstone told me to write up everything Gus had said and put it in a file. I wrote up everything I could remember Elden saying, too.