Читать книгу Bluegrass Courtship - Allie Pleiter - Страница 10

Eight seconds.

Sometimes five, but never more than eight.

Drew Downing knew the world divided itself up into people who loved his television show, and people who hated it. After three seasons of Missionnovation, Drew could size up which side of that very thin line any one person stood. Always in under eight seconds after his trademark greeting of “God bless ’ya and hello, Middleburg!”

He didn’t need the last five seconds this time…not with the pretty face of that woman in overalls standing at the end of the paint aisle. It broadcast pure skepticism. Drew didn’t even need three seconds to tell him Bishop Hardware, while it was Middleburg’s only hardware store, would be no instant ally to his cause. “Hostiles,” his producer, Charlie Buchanan, called them. Sometimes you could win ’em over, most times no matter what you did they were just sure you had an angle. If the hostiles couldn’t find an angle, they never believed you just might not have one. It only meant you hid it well.

Middleburg, Kentucky was the perfect project for the season finale of Drew’s Missionnovation television renovation program. The tiny town’s church preschool had been smashed by one hundred-year-old tree during a summer storm. Toddlers had had to learn their primary colors in the YMCA gym because their preschool had been destroyed. The town had been holding bake sales to buy new roofs and spaghetti dinners to fund drywall. And now Missionnovation was here to help.

Some folks at least were glad of it. “My stars!” came a woman’s awestruck squeal from over by the gardening supplies. “It’s those Missionnovation folks! From TV! Pam, look! It’s him.”

“How may I help you?” The woman in overalls asked.

Wow, Drew thought, I didn’t know you could make “How may I help you?” sound unfriendly. “Well, that’s just it,” he said, turning his gaze to the excited crowd that had pooled into the store behind him, “I’m here to ask you the same thing.”

Oh, sure, said the woman’s dark eyes. Drew could be in a sea of people thrilled to meet him, and the only thing he’d notice was the one person who was convinced he was on the take. The one person sure the “ministry makeover” Missionnovation offered was just too good to be true. Charlie was always giving him a hard time about his obsession to “win over the hostiles.”

A chubby older man grabbed his hand and shook it vigorously. “Mr. Downing, we sure are glad to see you and your team here. I’m the one who sent in the application.”

“Of course you are.” Drew recognized him from the application video and clasped one of the man’s shoulders. “And I’m glad you did. You must be Mayor Epson.”

“I am.” He beamed. A few of the locals patted him on the back. Watching the person who’d sent in the application get to be a hero never got old. That application process was long, complicated and demanded a lot of work. Getting to tell that person their persistence paid off, and their dream project would be realized, and on TV to boot, well that was the high-octane fuel that enabled Drew to pull as many all-nighters as he did.

“Howard Epson, life’s about to change. Your town’s about to get a shot in the arm like only Missionnovation can deliver. Are you up for it?”

These folks watched their Thursday night television. They knew what to do when Drew Downing asked “Are you up for it?” The tiny crowd yelled “We’re up for it!” so loud it echoed throughout the store. Two teenage girls grabbed a sheet of paint chip samples off the display next to them and held them out to Drew, asking for autographs. Out of the corner of his eye, Drew caught the lady in the overalls rolling her eyes.

“There’ll be plenty of time for that kind of stuff later, gals,” Drew said to the pair. “Right now we’ve got work ahead. You girls think you could convince your classmates to come on over? We need all the hands we can get on demolition day.”

“I suppose we can find a few friends,” they said. If they were in charge of bringing teens onto the set, Drew knew they’d be the most popular girls in school tomorrow.

“Then I’ll put you in charge of teen volunteers. You go see Annie in the bus and she’ll get you all set up with a box of T-shirts to give out as you sign folks up, okay?”

“Sure!” They bubbled up the aisle toward Annie, who’d be waiting in the bus as always.

“Mayor Epson, lead the way.”

“I’d be delighted!”

Drew turned back to the woman, who hadn’t moved from her spot at the end of the paint aisle. He noticed, for the first time, that the name on her Bishop Hardware nametag was Janet Bishop. Owner? Daughter of owner? Wife of owner? It was too soon to say. “We’ll be back later with a mighty long list,” he said, pointing right at her.

She looked unconvinced.

Why do hostiles always look unconvinced?