The Promise

Chapter 12

The next day we got a taste of the madhouse to come. Bob, true to his word, made the front page. An exclusive interview with the living Promise Keeper was big news. Without making any direct accusations, he detailed Sadie's plight and the possible demise of the City Kitchen. How I promised to save it and vanquish the bad guys was implied in every word he wrote. He promised articles to follow that detailed my exploits since my singing debut. The time and place of the banquet were clearly written. He used poetic license to rename it the 'Save the Kitchen' banquet. It was over the top, and the public sucked it up.

Calls started pouring in. The caterer was one of the first with an apology. They were willing to cater the event for free, as a donation to the cause. The banquet venue called and asked if we needed more room. They moved us to their largest room at no additional cost. Best of all, Sadie was Sadie again. She was moving like a woman possessed. Everything was happening on schedule, and everyone knew their job. With every phone call she received, her confidence rose higher.

The mayor's office called and asked if it was okay for the mayor to attend the banquet. He would like to say a few words of support. It seems the police and firefighters union reps were going to be there, so the mayor felt obliged. I saw it as a win. The mayor certainly couldn't endorse the City Kitchen and then allow someone destroy it.

That afternoon, an auditor for Herzog and Associates showed. Tom Brandon, a man I had worked with in the past. We had a quick reunion and I took him to the office. We spent the afternoon going over the initial data and supporting documents. Like me, he was impressed with Sadie's books. Tom called Doug just before we opened for dinner.

"David is correct, these are clean and easy," Tom said over the phone, "I'll need two guys and two days to go through it all, but I doubt I'll find anything." He nodded and said yes a few times then handed the phone to me.

"You stirred up a hornet's nest, David," Doug said pleasantly, "I got a call from a Barbara Cane this morning. After the article, I guess she assumed you would come to me for help. She tried to convince me it would be in my best interest not to help."

"I met her yesterday. Sadie told her, and I quote, 'Bring it, bitch.'" I said it with a grin in my voice. Doug burst out laughing.

"I like Sadie already," Doug responded, "I told Barbara much the same thing, just in a more civil-minded manner. I did find out that your developer is the one and only Patrick Abernathy. You certainly don't pick small opponents, David."

"Mr. Abernathy picked us," I said. At least I could now put a name to the slimeball.

"Well, Barbara pissed me off, so I put in a call to Sarah Ferguson. Her firm is willing to defend the class action, pro bono of course, if Sadie will agree." I put my hand over the phone speaker and leaned out the office door.

"Doug Herzog found you a good lawyer, pro bono," I called out to Sadie, "you accept?" She laughed and nodded her head. I really didn't need to ask, but felt it was appropriate.

"Of course she accepts," I answered, "Doug, you have gone way beyond the line of duty here. I'm not sure if I can ever pay you back."

"I'll get it back in spades," Doug said lightly, "the firm that backed the Promise Keeper. It has to be worth a ton of billable hours. You going to sing at the banquet? My wife is expecting it."

"I wasn't planning on it. I was hoping the talent show was the last time I had to sing," I said honestly. I didn't really like the fear associated with being on stage.

"Well that will give me a leg up on the pool," Doug said, "right now it is two to one for you singing. No worries, Tom will bring a team out early tomorrow and get started. Tell Sadie to let us worry about the IRS. She just needs to get you to sing." Doug hung up before I could respond. It didn't occur to me that people would want me to sing. The Leach was planning on bringing a camera. There was no way I could sing for another audience, much less the world.

"Doug said you should let him worry about the IRS," I informed Sadie, leaving out the singing part.

"I can do that," Sadie said as she removed her latex gloves.

"Sarah Ferguson is going to take care of the class action," I added. I was full of good news. Sadie threw the gloves in the garbage, wrapped her hands around the back of my neck, and kissed me on my lips. I wasn't sure how to respond. They were soft lips and slightly moist. She pulled back an inch and looked me in the eyes.

"My apologies to Amber, but you had that coming." Sadie smiled and headed out of the kitchen. It was 4 o'clock and people needed to be fed. It was the snickers from the crew that broke my trance. In my defense, they were really nice lips. I heard "Sugar Magnolia" over the speakers and headed out to join Sadie on the line.

Surprisingly, the first person in the line was a uniformed police officer.

"You must be Sadie Milstead," the officer said, "and you must be David Thaxton." He smiled and held out his hand. I shook it as he explained. "There are two officers outside making sure the press and fans stay out. I'm supposed to stay down here in case they screw up. Unless you want to be on camera, you'll probably want to stay inside. It is a madhouse out there. I'm officer Brennan by the way."

"Thank you, officer," Sadie said, "I hope this won't be necessary for too long."

"Just until the frenzy dies down," the officer said, "your car caused most of it." He smiled at me when he said it.

"I guess everyone knows I'm here. Should have taken a cab." I shrugged away my stupidity.

The night went without incident. We fed officer Brennan who also took some desert to the cops outside. No unauthorized homeless look-a-likes made it into the City Kitchen, but we were kind of in a prison of our own making. Sadie decided to spend the night on site. I chivalrously gave up the cot. To her, it was a foregone conclusion – it was her cot anyway. I made do on a dining table. It was a little hard, but a couple of blankets made it slightly more tolerable than sleeping under a bridge.