Bentley Little - The Store

Ginny faced him. "Do you think she'll be all right?"

"I don't know," he admitted.

He suddenly remembered when Sam had been ten years old and he'd taken her hiking and she'd twisted her little ankle and he'd given her a piggyback ride all the way home.

Ginny took a deep breath. "Will we ever see her again?"

He looked at her. "I don't know."

He saw Sam as she'd looked in June, at her graduation, smiling up at them from the field as she'd accepted her diploma.

Ginny reached out, hugged him again. He hugged her back, held her tightly, thought of what had happened last night in his suite. What had he done? Why had he been so stupid? Why couldn't he have been stronger? He blinked back the tears that were welling up in his eyes.

"I'm glad you're back," she said.

"I am, too," he said, starting to cry. "I am, too."

THIRTY-THREE

1

He found that he did not really want to change The Store.

When he was on the outside looking in, he had not realized what being manager of The Store entailed. He had not understood the rigorous demands of the job. There were sales quotas that had to be reached, a payroll that had to be met, people who had to be instructed and guided, a thousand little daily decisions that had to be made. As much as he hated to admit it, The Store was the engine that drove the town, and that meant that the entire economy of Juniper was now resting on his shoulders. He sympathized with his old concerns, but he realized now that the inconvenience of a few individuals had to be weighed against the needs of many.

Of course there was no way he could ever condone what had happened in the past: the disappearances, the fires, the systematic destruction of enemies and rivals. But, as King said, that was all over and done with. This was the beginning of a new day, and he was going to legitimize The Store in Juniper.

He reviewed some of The Store's practices, those that seemed to him somewhat suspect, but on closer examination, he saw that all of them were necessary. He had not liked the idea of having Security monitor every square inch of the floor, letting employees spy even on customers' most intimate acts, but shrinkage -- theft and shoplifting -- were major problems for any retailer and were a primary source of revenue loss. Besides, while people needed privacy at home, there was no reason they needed it when they were on Store property, shopping.

Directors, too, were a concept that had offended him, but he understood that despite his personal prejudice against them, they were a valid retail tool and enabled customers -- elderly customers in particular -- to easily find what they were looking for. The directors made shopping quicker and more efficient.

All the way down the line, the things that had seemed wrong to him proved to be not only legitimate and worthwhile but indispensable.

The Store's policies weren't as bad as he'd thought.

Ginny didn't seem thrilled. She disagreed with his decisions even after he explained them to her, and she seemed to think that he had sold out, that he had been brainwashed back in Dallas.

_The best sex he'd ever had_.

She still loved him, of course, and was grateful to have him back, but she was wary of him, not open and honest the way she had been, and he vowed to himself that after he got The Store shaped up, he would work on repairing their relationship.

He owed her at least that much.

At The Store, he hired new employees to replace Mr. Lamb, Mr. Walker, and Mr. Keyes. He fired some of the clerks who were not fitting in and replaced them with others who would be better able to take orders.

He had not been able to bring himself to meet with the Night Managers. He was still a little afraid of them, and though they seemed to be doing a fine job with their nighttime audits, and the reports they left each morning on his desk were both thorough and easy to follow, he could not help thinking of what he had seen in New Mexico, of the rumors Shannon had told him. He was their boss, yes, but he did not understand them and he did not know how to deal with them or what to do with them.

Still, they were part of his Store, part of his responsibility, and as King had shown him, he had absolute power over them. He should try to utilize their services and incorporate them into his management strategy.

He sat in his office for an entire morning, reading his _Manager's Concordance_, trying to learn everything he could about the Night Managers.

There was no clue as to their origins, of course, but there were examples of how to use them, as well as a detailed description of the commands that would control their actions.

He'd wanted to switch the locations of two departments ever since he'd returned. Shoes and Children's Clothing seemed to him to be in the wrong places.

But swapping them, moving all of the merchandise and fixtures, would take up a lot of time and require a lot of effort. He would either have to disrupt normal operations for a day and inconvenience shoppers or pay overtime to employees who stayed after their regular shift in order to do the job.

But he realized now that the Night Managers could do it.

It was a legitimate solution to a legitimate problem, and it also enabled him to ease into using the Night Managers, feel out the situation.

He closed the _Concordance_, leaned back in his chair, and stared up at the ceiling. Part of him wanted to bring along someone else, a subordinate, but he realized that he was being weak, and he knew that this was something he had to do on his own. He took a deep breath and forced himself to get out of the chair and pick up the _Concordance_.

He took the elevator down to their room.

The air seemed colder, the lunchroom light dimmer than before. He was not scared, exactly, but he felt uneasy, and he stood close to the open elevator door as he stared across the long room toward the tables where the back-clad figures sat.

As before, there were coffee cups before them, although once again the figures remained unmoving, staring straight ahead, not drinking, not even touching the cups.

He wished Newman King was here with him.

Licking his suddenly dry lips, Bill opened the _Concordance_ to the page he had marked. He cleared his throat, yelled out, "One! Two! Three!"

The three Night Managers nearest him stood.

He walked forward slowly, stopping when he reached the edge of the tables.

He looked down at the book again, stomped his foot three times.

The closest Night Manager turned to face him.

It was Ben.

Bill sucked in his breath, a wave of nausea passing over him. He suddenly felt weak. He stared at his friend. All color had been drained from the editor's face, all emotion, all expression, all trace of humanity. There was only a blank look of dull mindlessness on the features that had once belonged to Ben and an automatonic demeanor identical to that of all the other Night Managers.

Bill peered into his friend's vacant eyes, saw nothing there. He felt hollow himself, empty, lost. A profound grief was threatening to settle over him, a bitter despair that he knew would be overwhelming, so he gave in to the other emotions within him: hatred and anger. Blind hatred and searing anger directed not only at Newman King but at himself.

What had he been doing? Who had he been kidding? Ginny was right. He had been suckered, he had been co-opted, he had been corrupted. The Store had not changed. The Store could not change. _He_ had changed. He had bought into King's bullshit and had allowed himself to believe that The Store was different than he'd thought, than he'd known. He had put blinders on and had rationalized his involvement. He had been seduced by the power, by the luxury -- _the best sex he'd ever had_ -- by the promises and assurances of Newman King, and while his initial motives had been pure, he had embraced his new job unthinkingly, without considering the moral consequences. He had even begun believing the lies that had been perpetrated in order to continue The Store's reign.