Madison's Miracles

Maggie Madison took hold of her courage and set a cheerful grin on her face. She knocked on the weathered wooden door. The chilly morning wind swirled through her baby fine brown hair and reddened her cheeks. Her heart rate accelerated as she got ready to do battle. Then like a distant drum, it slowed. There was no answer.

She frowned at the sign on the door. Fuentes and Son-Sales glared back at her. Her lips became a mutinous line as she raised her hand to knock again. The sound of her hand contacting the solid wooden door scared a few birds from their perches on the roof. Still no answer.

Maggie raised her hand again. This time in the form of a fist. But before she could use it, the door swung open.

An impatient face stared out at her. “Yes?”

“Good morning, Mr. Fuentes!”

Eyes the color of caramel glared at her from behind heavy, black-rimmed glasses. There was no doubt that he wasn’t pleased to see her.

 Adam Fuentes’ face went from impatient to resigned. “Ms. Madison.”

“I love the winter weather, don’t you?”

“I love it when I can get my work done without interruption.”

She put one brightly mittened hand on the door before he could close it against her. “Wait, please.”

“I don’t think we have anything to say to each other.”

“You don’t know what good news I have,” she replied in a scolding tone. “Just this morning I found out that Mr. and Mrs. Bronstein and their daughter, Jessie, have been accepted for housing in the Brookshire development. Isn’t that wonderful news?”

His expression didn’t change. “What does that mean, Ms. Madison?”

“It means one more family off the street,” she answered. “There’s only one small hitch and the deal is done.”

“Don’t tell me. You need money.”

Maggie smiled. “Only two hundred dollars, Mr. Fuentes. May I call you Adam? Only two hundred dollars will put the Bronstein family into their own home. What a deal, huh? Your business associates in the community have donated generously. I know you’ll want to do the same.”

The phone rang behind him. He glanced at it over his shoulder without moving his hand from the door. “Ms. Madison—”

“Maggie.”

“Ms. Madison—”

“If you can’t give the whole amount, Adam, that’s fine. Whatever you can give will be a big help. I don’t need to tell you how important this is to everyone. As a business member of this community, I know you’ll want to donate something.”

He made a flying dive for the phone before it stopped ringing. The door was left unguarded. Maggie took her shot. She followed him into the dark, cramped offices of Fuentes and Son-Sales.

She ignored him as he pointed towards the open doorway while he spoke on the phone. She smiled innocently and closed the door carefully behind her. Adam frowned heavily at her. But it took more than an angry look and gesture to deter her. Especially since she’d never actually been inside The Ogre’s lair.

It was a nickname Maggie and her partner, Delta, had given him. He was always scowling. The only exception was when he was telling them to leave him alone. Actually, Delta had given up trying to get him to contribute after their first encounter. He’d sent her back to the children’s shelter in tears. But Maggie was made of sterner stuff. She always got him to contribute to the cause, no matter what it took.

She looked around his office. She’d wondered for over a year what it looked like inside. She’d joked with Delta about The Ogre keeping his father locked up, working the old man until there was nothing left of him. No one in the area could recall having met his father yet there was the name on the sign.

She took off her fuzzy purple mittens. Obviously, Fuentes, the father, didn’t work there. Maybe he did at one time.

The office was divided into two rooms. One looked like it was supposed to be a secretary’s office. But the plain brown desk and chair were clearly unused. Stacks of paper covered the surface of the desk. Old green file cabinets flanked it. The whole room had the air of years of inactivity. Yet the gray tile floors were spotless. Even the mottled green blinds on the tiny window were free of dust motes in the sunlight that pushed against them.

Intense curiosity drew Maggie into the much larger, inner office. A huge old desk squatted in the center of the room. Piles of paper were carefully organized around a good computer. It was the only thing that placed the office furnishings in the present day. The room reminded her of an office in a black and white detective movie from the ‘30’s. The glass transom above the door was tilted slightly open. The metal ceiling fan spun slowly, lazily circulating warm air.

Adam was seated at the desk, glaring at her. He spoke quietly into the phone receiver and turned his back to her when he saw she wasn’t going to leave. Like he had some deep dark secret. Maggie ignored him as she continued to explore his office.

He hung up the phone. “You’re still here?”

She perched on the edge of a wooden ladder-backed chair that faced the desk and smiled at him. “Adam—”

“I don’t think we need to be on a first name basis, Ms. Madison.”

“Mr. Fuentes, then.” She wrinkled her nose. “Although I think we’re past the Victorian code of calling people Miss and Mr.”

“Let’s just cut to the chase. You need two hundred dollars this time?” He took a deep breath and faced down her cheerful smile as he got out his checkbook.

She named a figure and smiled sweetly at him. “A pretty reasonable price for everything we do for you.”

“The government should send you overseas to nag other countries into doing what they want,” he answered as he wrote the check. He ripped it out of the book and handed it to her before he turned away.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” She tucked the check into her purse. “You could at least ask me how the Small Miracles Shelter helps keep you in business.”

He almost laughed. She saw the beginning of a smile on his angular cheeks. A shadow of dark beard edged his full lips. Her eyes followed the contour of his brows as he looked up at her.

“I don’t want to know why you think your shelter helps keep me in business. I just want you to leave me alone so I can get back to work.”

“It’s because you don’t have to pay extra for insurance because the area isn’t a high crime rate area,” she continued as if she hadn’t heard him, “and because you can feel safe working here alone. How can you put a price on that feeling of well-being?”

“Ms. Madison, why isn’t it ever enough that I give to the shelter?” He sat back in his chair and put his hand over his eyes.

“You are alone, aren’t you?” She glanced around the quiet office. “Does your father still work here?”

“My father?”

She nodded towards the door. “Fuentes and Son. I assume you’re the son. Unless you’re into child labor. Is your father here?”

“My father’s been dead for five years,” Adam explained in a softer tone. “He was a self-made man who worked his way off the streets of Mexico City. He didn’t do it by getting handouts. He got up every morning and worked hard to make his life successful.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” She could see that talking about his father still hurt him.

“Don’t be. He lived a good life. A good, productive life.”

Maggie didn’t give up. “Surely you’ve known someone who just needed a little help? These aren’t bad people. They need another chance.”

“I gave you a check. Your big eyes and your short skirts worked like always. But don’t expect me to like being a victim of the Madison steamroller charm.”

“I can’t believe you can be so hard hearted!” Her tone suddenly lost its cool, cajoling quality as she realized what he was saying. “And I don’t have big eyes or short skirts! I don’t know what you think that has to do with the shelter!”

“Like you don’t use that look on the other business owners and sweet talk them into doing what you want. You have every man around here hoping to write you a check every month!”

She was furious. She was beyond furious. She was livid. Her face was hot and her voice got steadily louder. “I haven’t sweet talked anyone! And I don’t have any look I use to get help with the shelter! And women give, too!”

Adam looked satisfied with her response. “And I suppose your skirts aren’t short either?”

They both looked down at her legs. Covered in purple hose and coming from beneath a green skirt, they reminded Maggie of some exotic vegetable. Sister Margaret Mary sent her home from school once for wearing a skirt that was only halfway down her thigh. But she was an adult now. She could wear what she liked.

She looked up to tell him so and found him still looking at her legs. His gaze slowly moved up from her ankles until it reached her hemline. Her breath came a little faster. The dim office blurred around her. By the time his eyes finally reached hers, she felt lightheaded.

It was ridiculous. She had to be coming down with a cold. She put a hand to her forehead but she caught herself peeking under it. Now instead of looking into his eyes, her line of vision included a wide chest and a flat stomach that narrowed down to . . .

What was she thinking? Why was she looking at him that way? He was The Ogre. His heart was harder than a Stone Mountain figure. She wasn’t attracted to him. There was nothing attractive about him. Except maybe his eyes.

“My skirt isn’t shorter than anyone else’s.” She rescued herself by reviving their argument. Her hand twitched, wanting to adjust her skirt. But she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction! “If you lived in the real world, you’d know that!”

“If you lived in the real world,” he charged, moving slowly towards her, “you’d know that charity only makes people unable to take care of themselves.”

“That’s not true! I help children and families get on their feet again and find places to live. They make good lives for themselves! Haven’t you ever needed any help?”

He took another step towards her. “No, I haven’t.”

Maggie retreated another step. “Well if you feel that way, I won’t bother you again.”

He laughed quietly and took another step towards her. “Like I believe that!”

“And you won’t have another opportunity to help your community,” she said, taking another step back.

“I help where I see fit, not always where some silly girl points her manicured little finger!”

She bristled at that and held herself erect at her full five-foot-five inches. “I don’t have manicured hands. And I think these personal attacks are just to make up for your petty character!”

Adam suddenly took her hand. His grasp was determined but gentle. She glanced at him nervously. Was he attracted to her too? “I-uh-”

“If you don’t have anything else to say, my petty character and I would like to get back to work.” He put her purple mittens in her hand.

He was standing very close to her. She could smell the faint spicy scent of aftershave. She watched as he slowly closed her fingers around her mittens. She lifted her chin and returned his uncertain stare. The wind had loosened her purple beret. Before it could slip to the floor, he caught it and patted it back on her head.

He let go of her hand awkwardly. “Sorry. I have a niece. She’s always losing her gloves.”

Maggie automatically put her hand up to hold the beret in place. Her fingers still tingled from his touch. “That’s okay.”

He smiled at her. “We’re never going to agree on this.”

“I know. But you’re wrong.”

Maggie saw his eyes narrowed slightly beneath black brows. But he was still smiling. And that smile was doing strange things to her. Suddenly, he wasn’t looking quite like The Ogre. She took another step back even though he didn’t move.

“Goodbye, Ms. Madison.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Fuentes.”

“Do us both a favor and don’t come back, hmm?”

Maggie’s voice was a little breathless. “You’ll have to come to me, if you want to donate money to the shelter!”

Adam laughed as he closed the door.

Maggie shrugged and put her mittens on her hands. She wished that she had some soap to rub on his windows. It was childish but it sounded satisfying. She stomped back down the windy side street, muttering to herself.

He’d called her a silly girl. She had degrees in family counseling and psychology. He’d never know. And the last time she had a manicure . . . well, she didn’t even know if she’d ever had a manicure. She was angry. Like always.

Yet she kept going back. It irked her that she couldn’t get him to understand how important the shelter was to the community. She was so sure that if she could find the right words, she could convince him. It was only a matter of time. But each visit ended the same way. He gave her a check but showed no interest in the shelter. She walked away, determined not to go back again. Until she walked past his office the next time and devised some other way she thought she could get past his guard.

This time was no different. Except he’d attacked her personally.  He outright told her she was flirting with men to get their donations. She wouldn’t be going back again!

That wasn’t the only way that it was different, a tiny, silent voice reminded her. There was that moment when she realized that he was a man and not The Ogre. It was too scary and confusing to think about. So she stuck to the facts.

Adam Fuentes kept to himself and drove a twenty-five-year-old brown Mercedes. He was a member of the Better Business Bureau and The Chamber of Commerce, though he never attended any of their functions. She knew his business had something to do with trucks. The man was a mystery.

Maggie loved a mystery. She also loved a challenge. Adam represented both. She sighed as she rounded the corner and the breeze tugged at her beret again. She knew she’d be back, knocking on his door again with a new way to convince him to give to the shelter. Before she was done, he’d beg to know everything he could about her programs. She just couldn’t let it go.

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