“I’m going to run over to Eureka to get some supplies. Need anything?”
He shook his head. “Maybe I’ll get a lot done with Jack and Paul,” he said.
“I bet you will. Come on, I’ll walk back with you.”
Art really enjoyed being around people, especially people who treated him with respect, and whenever there were men at work, he eagerly, though shyly, loved to pitch in. It sometimes made him a little clumsy.
Luke only needed an hour or two in some big box stores to load up a couple of carts with things for the cabins. What he really wanted to do was visit a certain little grocery store. He had tried not to dwell on what Art had gone through, but he had managed to have a couple of conversations with him that gave him enough information to figure out where it was. Griffin’s Grocery on Simmons Street.
It wasn’t a bad grocery store, if a little on the worn side. He glanced around and then grabbed a cart. It took him twenty seconds to pick out a bagger who had Down’s and in the produce section there was a woman he asked a few questions and by her slow and difficult answers, grappling for the right word, he suspected some kind of disability. Then he noticed her name tag—Netta. This was someone from the group home Art had said he missed. So Luke asked, “Who’s your manager here?”
“Uh-huh, uh-huh, Stan. That’s Stan.”
“And where would I find Stan?” Luke asked.
She shrugged and said, “Maybe in the back?”
Before Luke had a chance to search Stan out, there was a grocer beside him, asking, “Can I help you with something, sir?”
Luke smiled his most engaging smile. “I wanted to talk to the manager. This lady says that would be Stan.”
This was a guy in his late thirties, sharp and clean, articulate, wearing a green apron. He returned the smile. “I’m the assistant manager. Anything I can do to help?”
“Not sure,” he said with a shrug. “I just bought a small store in Clear River. Just a little neighborhood store, smaller than this. Thing is—I’m doing it on a shoestring. It’s a real good gamble, there’s no grocery in there right now,” he said, though he had absolutely no idea if there was a grocery store in Clear River. “I’m going to hire a couple of full-time people and a few part-time people. I’m going to have to stay low budget for a while when it comes to payroll. I’m interested in this store’s employees. They’re nice, they look productive, they’re challenged. I wondered how you go about finding employees like them.”
The man kept an even expression. “You’re right, you’re looking for Stan. That’s his project. His sister has some kind of home and he gives work to a lot of them. But you might want to think twice about that idea. If they get slow or confused, it can be frustrating. I work real well with them, but…” He shook his head almost sadly. “It bothers some people.”
“My younger brother has Down’s,” Luke lied. “I’m up to speed on the problems.”
“You have the patience for that, then?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said with a laugh. “He’s got a real good job now. Makes him so happy to be managing his own life. The guy has never missed work, does his chores around the house, always has money in the bank… He’s a dream come true.”
“The work has to be uncomplicated to start—like bagging. Opening boxes. Cleaning up. Even stocking shelves can get too complicated for some of them.”
“Everyone has a different level of competence, but I understand what you’re saying. So, where’s Stan?”
“Follow me,” he said. And Luke followed.
The surprises started immediately. First of all, Stan was a young guy, probably not thirty. He was slight—way smaller than Art—but scrappy-looking. He met Luke with a curl to his lip and furrowed black brows, suspicious at once. There weren’t a lot of reasons for a man to be suspicious right off unless he was expecting trouble. His size only confused Luke for a second; Stan was the one in charge and knowing Art, he would never hit back, never strike. Art also wouldn’t lie. He knew right away—Stan had punched Art.
Luke went through his spiel about the imaginary grocery store again, as convincingly as possible. He skipped the part about having a brother with Down’s and concentrated on the hard work, minimum wage, reliable attendance, his need to stay low budget. Stan did a lot of head shaking and shrugging. “I can’t help you, buddy,” he said. “Eureka is a long way from Clear River and these kids don’t drive.”