“Did you stop?”
She bit her lip. “Well, not at first. I was raised to never pick up hitchhikers. But as I drove past him, I kept thinking it was so dusty and hot out that he was going to ruin that suit.”
She made me giggle. She did love clothes. It would seem she always had.
“And,” she continued, “I thought he must have somewhere important to be, dressed up like that in the middle of the day. So, I flipped a U-turn in the middle of that two-lane highway. I pulled off on the other side of the road from him, rolled down my window, and hollered, “Looks like you’re having some trouble.” She got all dreamy eyed. “But it was me who was in trouble. His smile and eyes hit me like a Kansas tornado, and I got swept up in them.”
“Weren’t you worried he could be dangerous?” Because he absolutely was.
She tossed her head from side to side. “Maybe a little, but he was such a gentleman. He never approached my truck. He shouted his name and wondered if, when I got to where I was going, I could make a call for him. It was a long-distance call, and at the time, those weren’t cheap. He promised I would be reimbursed for my trouble.”
“Who did you call for him?”
“His secretary in Denver. He looked too young to have a secretary, but she worked her magic and rescued him, though I didn’t know that until a week later when he showed up at the diner asking for me.”
That kind of creeped me out. “How did he know where to find you?”
“I had given his secretary my name when I called and told her where I was calling from, just in case she needed to call back. It was a different time back then. We were too trusting, but I wanted to make sure Mr. Wiley, who owned the diner, got reimbursed for that call.”
I supposed that made sense. “Did he get reimbursed?”
She smiled. “Oh yes. John paid his entire phone bill for that month. He’s always been generous like that.”
I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes. He probably did it all for show or to impress Sheridan. There was no way he had done it out of the goodness of his heart, because he didn’t have one.
“In fact,” she continued, “when Mr. Wiley got sick about twenty years ago and was about to lose everything, John stepped in and paid off all his debt and took care of his medical bills. John said he owed him the world for bringing us together.”
I pressed my lips together, not sure what to say. That was actually sweet, and possibly sincere. Perhaps John was a different person twenty years ago. But he was already in politics by then, and I wasn’t sure there was anyone in office with a completely clear conscience. Not even poor Brant, for as good as he was, would have one. He was marrying a woman he didn’t love, all because of the game. And his father.
“Wow,” was all I could say.
She ran a hand through her hair, which shone like she was still a younger woman. “We made some good memories in that diner. Even though, admittedly, I was kind of embarrassed at first. We were from two different worlds.”
I swallowed hard. “I can relate.”
She patted my leg. “I know you can. We are kindred spirits. But please remember never to base your worth on what anyone tells you or thinks of you. I had to learn that lesson the hard way over many years of being scrutinized.”
“By whom?”
“Oh, you name it. His business associates and their wives. His parents. Unfortunately, even my own friends and extended family, who thought I had gotten too big for my britches. All I was trying to do was follow my heart and be with the man I loved. The man who not once made me feel undeserving of him or ashamed for how poor I was. Yet, it didn’t matter how good John had been to me—I felt lost for a long time until I finally realized it was okay for people to be wrong about me. As long as I knew I was doing my best, that was all that really mattered.”
We were kindred spirits. I’d had to come to terms with those same demons after Grandma and Grandpa had adopted me. I’d had to lose the attitude that I was inferior because of the circumstances I had been born into. I’d had to learn that it wasn’t my fault and it didn’t make me less of a person. When I’d come to terms with that and realized I didn’t have to be a product of my circumstances, it was life changing. It actually allowed me to befriend people like Brock and Brant. Yet, living in their world wasn’t as easy. It wasn’t because I felt inferior—it was because I felt helpless. And guilty. Guilty for hurting those I loved and guilty for living amid so much extravagance. Everything I wore and drove reminded me of what good that money could do to help the children I worked with. This jet alone would sustain my foundation for decades.