Pound Foolish (Windy City Neighbors Book 4) by Neta Jackson, Dave Jackson Page B

like Jesus.”
         The light turned green. “Maybe we’ve got some wrong ideas about the life Jesus has for us. Maybe we’ve been thinking too small. I know I sure have. I grew up, you know, just plodding along, doing whatever was right even if it made me miserable. In college, when I transferred to the U of I, my roommate played baseball for the Illini. I didn’t have any friends, but my roomie frequently invited me to go out for pizza with him and the other guys on the team after a game. I always said no because I knew they’d order beer by the pitcher, and I didn’t know how to handle that. How miserable is that?”
         Nicole remained quiet. Greg glanced in the rearview mirror. Becky was sitting behind her mom with her head down, hands folded in her lap as though she was about to cry. Why? Were the kids scared because they were arguing? If so, it wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t wanted to start an argument, just wanted to share his new vision with his wife, for pity’s sake. But he had to admit the tension over the last few weeks had wound him tighter than an old guitar string.
         “Hey, kids. What should we do this afternoon?” No answer. “Huh? Whaddaya say, Becky?”
         “I dunno.” Her voice was soft and muffled.
         Greg looked out the window. “The clouds are breakin’ up. We could go down to the lake. You wanna do that?”
         “Maybe.”
         Not much enthusiasm.
         Later, after a subdued Sunday dinner in the dining room, the kids ran upstairs to their rooms without mentioning the lake, something they usually responded to with glee. Knowing Nicole was still upset, Greg tried to make a gesture by helping clear the table rather than heading right down to the family room to watch the Chicago Cubs’ game on TV.
         She finally broke the silence as they carried dirty dishes into the kitchen. “Greg, I’m sorry. It wasn’t right for me to shut you down like I did. If you feel God gave you a vision this morning, I ought to be the first one to invite you to share it.”
         “Thanks. I appreciate that, ’cause I didn’t know what I’d done wrong. I mean—”
         “It wasn’t you, and I’m sorry. Why don’t you tell me about your vision?”
         Was it really safe to get into it now? She’d been touchy for weeks. Was there something else that needed attention first? Something he couldn’t put his finger on. But she seemed open to listening. “Okay. See, I’ve been thinkin’ . . . if God has more for us, it probably won’t be a sudden inheritance from some long-forgotten relative, but it might come from something we do, you know, perhaps starting a little business, like a home industry.” Greg set the last of the dirty dishes on the counter as Nicole started loading the dishwasher. “The kids are getting old enough that they could be involved. You’re always looking for teachable moments with the kids. What could be better than providing them with an example of real entrepreneurship right in our own home?”
         Nicole straightened, dirty dish in hand. “What are you talking about? You want me to start a home business?”
         “Well, yeah, maybe. Of course, it’d have to be the right kind, something the kids could be involved in. Not anything that’d take you outside the home like selling real estate or anything. I mean, the kids couldn’t be a part of showing houses to people, and besides you’d have to get a license for that. I’m talkin’ about something you’re good at, like . . . like cooking. You’re a great cook! Maybe you could do specialty baking like cupcakes for birthday parties. The kids could help cook and take orders and keep records, and . . . and . . .”
         Nicole gave a short laugh. “So you think I’m that good of a cook, do you?”
         “Well, sure. You could do it.” Though perhaps the idea of her baking cupcakes all day wasn’t so good. “Or maybe