Luck in Misfortune

Jeanette Abrams, a single mother of four children, stood nervously in a bookstore as she applied for a new job. Her lavender blouse was buttoned up to the collar to appear professional. She had paired the beautiful silk with a black pencil skirt, and casual black heels. Unemployment struck her down wreaking havoc on her family during a large corporate shut down. For her, this silly bookstore job was her rent, her utilities, and food in the mouths of her children. Her goal was to appear professional, and qualified for the position.

She watched as customers took their time, walking around the store as she waited for the manager to call her back. There were the customers who put things back where they found them, and then the ones who grabbed a cart load of items and shoved them somewhere when they decided against the purchase. Nausea set in at the idea of being an hourly worker after spending several years as a salaried project manager. There were no similar jobs in her area at the time she had lost her position, and she’d been turned away from several companies for being over-qualified. This little bookstore was her last hope.

The young manager, a boy who was barely a man, nervously interviewed her. He asked routine questions and rambled about the duties of being a book grader for Wilson Books. He began to explain that they had used and new inventory which they would price, peruse for damage, and place in alphabetical order on the shelves by genre. Jeanette, though overwhelmed with the idea of customer service, was pleased with the thought of grading books in a small room by herself. She listened carefully as the young man fiddled with a pencil, tapping it on his desk every now and then. He reminded her so much of her own teenager that her pride was injured more knowing that he would become her boss.

When she started the position the following week, her first duty was to learn to grade and price used inventory. She entered a small room in the back of the store with boxes piled like the Great Wall of China around the room. The wall of boxes made for a very cramped place to work. Tommy, her new boss, demonstrated what she would be doing. She delved right into the first stack of boxes, flipping through the books, grading them, and adding a price sticker to the front carefully not covering up any of the book’s information. When the boy was satisfied that she knew what she was doing, he left her to her own devices promising that he would be back to check on her.

Jeanette spent more than an hour in the room before she was told to take a break. Tommy walked into the room as she walked out for her lunch break. She knew that he was in there meticulously checking to make sure she hadn’t made any mistakes. She sighed as she opened her lunch bag and sat down in the overly white employee lounge. For being a bookstore, the little room was certainly void of personality or color. She bit into an apple and listened to it crunch as she stared at the walls wishing she had some other option in life.

She got to the fourth box of used books and looked curiously at a little, beat up black book after her lunch break. It looked like it had been through the wringer, so she carefully lifted it from the box and opened it up. There were jotted notes and quotes written all through it and she realized it had to have been a mistake. It was someone’s personal diary or thought book, not really something that could be sold.

She got to the last page of the book, and her eyes widened in surprise. Her fingers shook as she looked around the room and slipped the little black book into her pocket. Overwhelmed with excitement, she grabbed her things and clocked out early explaining to her manager that she just couldn’t stay. She yelled her apologies as she ran out onto the street with the book securely concealed in her pocket.

She dialed the number on her cellphone that the book said to call, and a weak voice exclaimed, “You’ve found the book!”

“Yes, I have. Is it real? Is it true? I don’t know if I deserve the chance, but I certainly need it.” Jeanette’s voice collapsed in mid-sentence as she choked back tears. After everything she’d lost and sacrificed to make sure that her children would have everything they needed, this could be her big break.

“My dear, I promise you, it is real. Please use the address in the book to meet my colleague and you will be given a case containing twenty thousand dollars. It is my pleasure to give back to the community, for alas, I cannot take it with me when I’ve gone.” The gentle voice on the phone was weak with old age.

“Who are you? What makes someone to be such a giving person?” Jeanette had finally let tears escape her. Her cheeks became rivers, and though she needed such a gift, the cruelty of adulthood made it impossible to believe that someone would do such a kind thing for such a perfect stranger.

“Madame, I had hopes that the Gods would put my little black book into the hands of someone who needed it the most. I lay on my death bed with no family to share the wealth with. So, in honesty, I gave most of my fortune to my workers. However, I find it necessary to prove to society that kindness is still an essential part of being a human being. There’s no love in money, but there is help for those who need it. Why not leave a legacy of kindness behind?” The frail gentleman began coughing fiercely.

“Thank you,” she sobbed into the phone. “You’ve just done such a kindness for my family. I’ll never forget your kindness, sir. I wish you a peaceful passing, and I promise to you that I will reciprocate your actions onto someone like me who could use some luck in their misfortune. You are a saint.” She bid the man goodbye and proceeded to meet with his colleague. Once her tears had dried, she was able to figure out just what she would do with twenty thousand dollars that could help her keep her promise to the sickly old man.

In just a day, Jeanette’s life had changed forever. She invested her twenty thousand dollars into her own event planning firm. Her luck had turned around, and she planned her death for thirty-seven years. It was written into her will that her fortune and business should be divided between her children and grandchildren, and her estate sold and also be equally divided. On her deathbed, she pointed out the one stipulation that her children didn’t know about.

“My girls,” her ragged, old voice sounded above machines. “I need you to do one thing for me. Many years ago, when I started J’s Events and Services, a kindly man had donated twenty thousand dollars to whomever would find his little black book first. Thankfully, it was I who found it, and here we are today with a legacy.”

Her daughters listened and sobbed as their mother told them the story of how their way of life had been made possible by a perfect stranger. She pointed to the eldest daughter to get into a drawer, and she pulled out her mother’s own little black book. It had inspirational quotes about kindness and life. It was ragged and the notes were scribed in various shades of ink.

Jeanette looked on her daughters and said, “You will take that little black book and put it somewhere for someone to find. I have twenty thousand dollars in a deposit box, and whoever finds that book, you will meet them with the cash. My one and only hope is that the person who finds it deserves and appreciates it. It has been written in my will, and I trust you will do this kind thing for me, as I made that promise so many years ago.”

Mackenzie Black, a poor woman who lived in the projects contemplated her life as she entered a subway train. She’d lost everything in a fire, but was thankful she and her son had survived. Her job was minimum wage, and she couldn’t afford to move away from the projects that were becoming more and more run down, but on the subway to work that day, she found something hidden in the crack of the seat… A little black book that would change her and her son’s life forever.