Journey Of The Heart

“Come on, Cory, you’re in for a treat,” she said, taking his hand. “I have loads of pictures. Your mother and I weren’t just friends, we were best friends.”

“I guess it’s not true then. I mean, best friends don’t steal from each other, do they?”

“No, Cory. Best friends don’t steal.”

Jake sat at his large rectangular desk, surveying his office. On the wall to his right hung a watercolor of the town center, painted by Laura before they were married. The painting showed five young children building a snowman in the town square. It reminded him of when he was young, and he often imagined he’d been one of those kids. He liked to stare at the painting for long stretches of time. It gave him inspiration.

The folder containing the plans for the new community center lay unopened on his desk. But no matter how long Jake stared at the watercolor, inspiration evaded him. He couldn’t seem to summon up any enthusiasm for work.

The board had accepted his proposal only last week. This was more than a coup on his part; it not only added another supporting column in the structure of his financial security, it also served as a concrete affirmation of his integrity. Jake’s bid had not been the lowest, as he had been unwilling to compromise his standards in any way to secure the contract. He’d always taken pride in his work, refusing to sacrifice quality and safety by cutting corners. Having lived in Middlewood all his life, he was interested in more than just profit; he’d invested his heart.