“Yep. He says you’re a handful.”
“Humph . . . that’s the pot calling the kettle black.”
Betty grinned and reached for some papers off another desk and tossed them on Katie’s. “Uh-huh, which is why I’m glad you’re here. Bobbie Sue and I think this will be fun to watch. Come on, I’ll teach you how to fill out these forms in a minute. But first, I need to show you something.”
“Sure. Who’s Bobbie Sue?”
Betty casually strolled the length of the room to the far front corner, motioning for Katie to follow. “Bobbie Sue Dulay. You might say she’s our Southern contingent at the BCAS and a real ray of Georgia sunshine. She’s kind of like a permanent paid volunteer who does whatever we need – typing, filing, babysitting.”
“Babysitting?” Katie’s incredulous tone took a turn toward sweet. “Oh . . . you mean for Mr. McGee.”
Betty turned around with a chuckle and folded her arms. “Oh my, Bobbie Sue’s just gonna love you. No, she provides foster care when we need it. Has eight children living with her right now. That is, until we can place them in permanent homes. They’re all in school, of course, which is why she’s able to help us out during the day. Right now she’s over at the BSCG, the Boston Society for the Care of Girls, which is an affiliation of the BCAS. Bobbie Sue fills in over there whenever Miss Lillian needs her.”
“Miss Lillian?”
“The director for the BSCG. She’s a little thing and every bit of seventy-five years old, but she’s a real pistol who runs the orphanage as efficiently as a small army. She’s worked at the BSCG for years, as far back as when it was called the Boston Female Asylum. Back then, it only took in orphaned and disadvantaged girls ages three through twelve. Now it takes in young women up to eighteen, providing schooling and skills they’ll need on their own.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Katie breathed. A surge of pride filled her chest that she would be working for an organization that bettered the lives of women. Her heart started to race. Maybe . . . just maybe . . . working at the BCAS would be a good thing after all.
“Bobbie Sue’s over there today, filling in for one of the cooks who took sick.”
A frown creased Katie’s brow. “Goodness, not from the food, I hope?”
Betty grinned. “No, all of our cooks are great and pretty good at serving up just what our kids need.” She stepped aside and waved her hand at the table behind her, which sported a brand-new dripolater coffeepot and several stacks of cups and saucers. Suddenly, in a flutter of sooty lashes, the sympathetic smile was back. “And speaking of ‘serving,’ your first task of the day will be to make coffee and take it in to Mr. McGee.” Her lips twitched enough for Katie to notice. “He says it’s to be your job while you’re here.”
Irritation bubbled inside of Katie’s stomach like a pot of vinegar about to boil over. “He wants me to make coffee and serve it to him?” she rasped, feeling the acrid steam in her eyes.
Betty chuckled and reached for the pot, then gave Katie a gentle pat. “Oh, you can do it, Katie,” she whispered. She placed the pot in her hand with a wink. “Just think of it as poison.”
“So, we’re going with the retired pastor and his wife?” Parker glanced up from the application in hand, eyes pensive in thought. “Even though they’re in their sixties and not the best subjects to travel?”
Luke paused for several seconds to rest his chin on his fist. He finally released a weary sigh and sat back, massaging the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, I think so, don’t you? The younger couple could withstand the rigors of train travel with children far better, but their references are pretty scarce. I’m not sure we should take a chance. And the single man is out – he’s not even from around here, so we have no idea of his history.”
“So the Tuttles it is. I just wish we had a better selection of applicants,” Parker said, staring aimlessly out the window.
Luke sighed. “Yeah, well, the pay is not exactly an incentive to beat down our door.”
“No, I suppose not.”
“Anyway, at least this is one of the last times we’ll have to do this. In a few more months, no more orphan trains, no more traveling agents.” Luke chucked the last application onto Parker’s desk. He sank back in his gray padded chair and ran a thick finger along the inside of his collar, already feeling the heat of the day. Sweet saints, he’d give anything to loosen this tie and rip off this coat, which at the moment was only a few degrees shy of frying him to death. He glanced at Parker and frowned, envious of his rolled-up shirtsleeves and jacket draped over his chair.
Luke closed his eyes, hands braced to the back of his neck. “Where in the blazes is Betty?” he groused. “She was supposed to send in coffee a half hour ago.”
“Since when does Betty ‘send in’ coffee?”
Luke’s eyes remained closed. “Since the volunteer arrived.”
The squeal of Parker’s chair indicated he was getting comfortable, probably with feet propped up on the desk. “I see. And I suppose that’s the reason for the brand-new jacket and tie? Which, I might add, won’t seem so brand new after wearing it all day in this heat.”
Luke cocked one eye half open. “What’s your point?”
“Oh, I don’t know. That maybe you’re taking this volunteer thing a little too seriously . . . maybe even a bit opportunistically?”
Luke blew out a tight-lipped sigh. “I’m just trying to be professional. Is that a crime?”
“No, no, not a crime. But as both you and I learned in Old Man Flannery’s criminal justice class, motivation is everything.”
His eyelids lifted to assess the seriousness of Parker’s manner. “Meaning?”
“Meaning that I’m just a tad curious – and maybe even a little concerned – about your motivation. You generally shed a suit coat and tie within minutes of crossing that threshold, and you wouldn’t even wear one if you weren’t worried about Harris Stowe waltzing in any minute, unannounced. And a volunteer bringing you coffee? Bobbie Sue would have you drawn and quartered if you pulled that on her. So, what gives?”
Luke exhaled loudly and sat up, arms flat on the chair and hands gripped on the edge. “Nothing gives. I just think we have a responsibility to be professional here. You know, make a good impression.”
Easing his head back on his chair, Parker assessed him through dubious eyes. “You’ve never been concerned about making an impression in your life, McGee. You wouldn’t even own a suit if I hadn’t insisted on you taking my old ones for this job.” He paused, studying Luke with a degree of fascination. “It’s this new volunteer, isn’t it? You’re shining up your image for her, changing who you are to impress her, aren’t you?”
A scowl tainted Luke’s lips. He slashed his hand through his hair, wreaking havoc with the Brilliantine. “You’re out of your mind, Riley. I’m not changing who I am for anybody, especially some spoiled rich kid with her nose in the air.”
“Oh, really? And how much did that suit set you back, Luke?”
Luke bolted up from the chair, the heat from the blasted suit bleeding into his face. “You looking for a fight, Riley? ’Cause if you are, just give me the word.”
“Well, that would be one way to get you to take the stupid coat off, I suppose.”
Luke ripped it off and tossed it over the back of the chair. “There, does that make you happy? All comfy-cozy now?”
Parker scrunched his face and scratched the back of his neck. “Not really. As long as I’ve known you, you’ve always thumbed your nose in high society’s face. For pity’s sake, I practically had to put a gun to your head to get you to wear a tie to your first interview. Now you’re not only trussed up with one that looks like it costs a week’s salary, but it’s choking you to boot. That’s not like you and you know it. I want to know – what’s going on?”
Luke glared at his best friend and felt his eyes burning all the way to the back of his head. His sarcastic comeback got as far as his teeth when the truth of Parker’s words struck like a
blow to the gut. With a faint groan, he doubled over and exhaled, finally sagging into the chair with a hand to his eyes. “Is it that obvious?”
There was a hint of a smile in Parker’s gentle tone. “Well, not to someone who doesn’t know you, but to Betty and me? Uh, we’re thinking that maybe you hit your head on the tub.”
A chuckle erupted from Luke’s throat. He cuffed the back of his neck, hoping to deflect the embarrassment he felt. “Yeah, well, it must have knocked me out cold, I guess, because sweet mother of Job, I didn’t know I was such an idiot.”
“Sometimes. But mostly you’re a great lawyer with a big heart who cares more about the kids on the street than the money in your pocket or the suit on your back. Which brings me to my original question – what gives?”
Luke mauled his face with his hands, then dropped them flat on the arms of the chair. He looked Parker straight in the eyes. “I don’t know, Parker. Blame it on Katie O’Connor, I guess, dredging up memories from my past.”
“What kind of memories?” Parker shifted to get comfortable, eyes sharp with concern.
Luke jumped up and moved to the window. He shoved his hands deep in his pockets. “Painful ones, I’m afraid. You see, I met her and her family at a vulnerable time. My mother had just run off with another worthless boyfriend, which in the end was a good thing because that meant I’d have less bruises at night. And my gram, well, she raised me pretty much out of duty only, when she wasn’t traipsin’ off to her sister’s in Arkansas. That’s when Brady – Katie’s brother-in-law – took me under his wing. That man taught me what it felt like to be loved, respected.” Luke stared out the window, grateful Parker couldn’t see the moisture in his eyes. He blinked to sidetrack his tears with a bitter laugh. “And believe me, I didn’t get a lot of respect back then. I was fourteen going on fifteen but looked all of ten. And on the streets of the Southie neighborhood, poor, spindly, snot-nosed kids didn’t fare all that well . . .” His jaw tightened. “At least not if your mother was a whore. Which meant,” he said with a definite edge in his tone, “that I was a bastard, an outcast, somebody to be trampled underfoot . . . lower than street trash.” He closed his eyes, remembering Katie’s words on the porch swing that day.
“And why would anyone like a street rat like you?”
“What d’ya call me, O’Connor?” he’d asked, shock leeching the blood from his face.
Her blue eyes had been as hard as he’d ever seen, fury glinting in their watery depths. “Street rat!” she screamed again, bolting to her feet with hurt in her face. “Nobody would ever like a street rat like you.”
He blinked in shock. What had he done? All he’d said was that Esther Mullen had a crush on him and he thought she was pretty.
Katie shoved him hard. “Go on, get out of here and leave me alone. I don’t want trash like you for a friend.”
Trash. The violence of that one word had split his heart wide open. With a rage he hadn’t known he possessed, he’d bludgeoned her with the only weapon he had. “Yeah? Well, I don’t want a leper for a friend, either. You’re not just ugly, Katie O’Connor, you’re a deformed freak of nature.” Her face had been a mask that said she didn’t care, but the pain in her eyes had made him sick to his stomach. And then she had hauled off and whopped him so hard, he could still hear his ears ring.
Luke turned and gave Parker a melancholy smile. “Trust me, nobody had a truer talent for trampling than Katie O’Connor. As warm and inclusive as Brady and the O’Connors were, Katie was as condescending and obnoxious.” Luke sighed. “Unfortunately, I liked the little brat, and I’m not sure why. I never met a ten-year-old with a sharper tongue. But I’ll tell you – from that perky little nose stuck in the air to the constant roll of those blue, blue eyes – what can I say? I was a mass of raging hormones in an underdeveloped body. I was fascinated by her, wanted to best her, wanted to prove I was somebody she could respect.”
“We’re talking about a ten-year-old here, Luke. She’s a woman now. Don’t you think it’s time to cut her some slack?”
Luke grinned and strolled back to his chair, opting to follow Parker’s lead and prop his feet on the desk. “She may look like a woman on the outside, Parker, but trust me – inside she’s still that sharp little thorn in my side, telling me I’ll never be more than dirt beneath her dainty, upper-crust feet. If you could have seen the contempt on her face when she thought I was a soda jerk the night I filled in for Betty, you’d understand. Now that she knows who I am – the riffraff from her past – I just think it’s best to nip it in the bud. Besides, that’s the whole reason she’s here in the first place – as a punishment meted out by her father to teach the little brat some humility.” Luke loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves, flashing another gleam of teeth. “And who better to teach her than me – the bane of her existence?”
Parker studied him for a moment with brows furrowed in thought. “So, why not best her again? Teach her what kind of man you’ve become – treat her with respect.”
The grin on Luke’s lips faded to a scowl. “I’ll treat her with respect when she earns it.”
Parker nodded and folded his hands on his chest. “Oh, I see. You mean like the ten-year-old did with you?”
Luke’s eyes narrowed. “What’d you have for breakfast? It’s giving me indigestion.” He plucked a half-eaten roll of Life Savers out of his pocket and pelted one to the back of his throat before offering one to Parker.
Parker shook his head, a faint smile curving the edges of his mouth. “Yeah, well, trust me, it’s not as bad as the nausea you get when your best friend loses sight of what’s important for childish revenge.”
“Why are you gunning for me this morning, Riley?”
Parker exhaled a noisy sigh. “Because I hate to pull rank on you, Luke, but if you continue with this vendetta against that poor volunteer – ”
Luke shot to his feet. “Poor volunteer? She’s the spoiled daughter of one of the top newspaper editors on the Eastern seaboard. The woman probably spends her days painting her nails and her nights painting the town.”
“You know what I mean. No matter who she is or what she’s done in the past, the woman doesn’t deserve the grief you’re planning to give. You’re a professional and an extension of the BCAS, for pity’s sake. And most importantly, you’re my best friend and a man I respect and admire. Who,” he emphasized with a lift of his brows, “committed his life to God, as I recall.”
Parker’s words sucked the venom right out of Luke’s wellplanned revenge. He thought of the promise he’d made to Brady, both as a kid and then a few years back, when his life had been on the skids in New York. Brady had bailed him out both times – first with a place to live at the age of fourteen when his gram left, and then with college and law school when Luke’s future had been nothing but bleak. Thanks to Brady’s support and prayers, Luke had walked away from the street gang that had been his life, determined to make a difference and do the right thing – for himself, for Brady, and for God. He dropped in the chair, suddenly depleted. “You should’ve been a criminal lawyer, you know that? You really know how to nail a guy to the wall.”
“Naw, I can only do it when I really care about something – like a friend who’s more of a brother. Otherwise I’m a marshmallow, and you know it.”
Luke sucked in a deep breath and slowly released it. “Thanks, Parker. I guess I got a little off-track this time.”
“Well, you usually right yourself fairly quickly, Luke, but since the BCAS is involved, I figured I’d exercise some of the authority I so seldom get to use.”
Luke smiled. “You use it more than you know, and I’m glad. As Brady is fond of saying, I need to be reined in every now and then. Although once you meet our new volunteer, you’re going to have a whole new appreciation for my talent to be civil.”
“She can’t be that bad, McGee. I haven’t seen a woman yet you couldn’t turn around.”
“Yeah? Well, you’re about to see your first.”
&n
bsp; Parker chuckled. “Good, I’m looking forward to it. And by 92 the way, have you had a chance to go over the new histories that came in last week?” Deep ridges dug into Parker’s brow, suddenly altering his good mood. “Bobbie Sue knows one of the kids, apparently. Says he’s been living in an alleyway on Pernod since his grandma died of pneumonia last month.”
Luke felt his stomach constrict, and his expression sobered along with Parker’s. “God, please . . . don’t let this be another one on his way to Deer Island.”
“No, Bobbie Sue says this one’s not ready for the juvenile reformatory just yet – he’s a good kid, apparently.”
“Yeah,” Luke said with a twist of his lips. “They all are until they live on the streets awhile, then it’s all downhill.”
Concern shaded Parker’s features. “Look, maybe I need to be the one at municipal criminal court every morning instead of you, Luke. I think serving as a bondsman for juveniles placed on probation is starting to wear on you. Like maybe it’s too personal, you know?”
“No, I’ll be fine, Parker, but it never ends, does it?” He sighed and put a hand to his eyes. “Sorry, but I’ve been too wrapped up processing adoption papers the last few days to go over the histories you asked about, but I will today, I promise. That is,” he said as he lumbered to his feet, “once I pump some hot, strong coffee into these veins.”
Parker arched a brow and angled his chin, engaging some of the authority he so rarely enjoyed. “Which, as usual, you’ll get for yourself, right?”
Luke grinned. “If you were any kind of friend, you’d let her serve me just once . . .”
“Nope, I’m afraid you’d like it too much, and then it’d become a hab – ”
“Excuse me, Mr. McGee? I knocked, but I guess you didn’t hear me. I have your coffee, sir.” Katie poked her head in the door.
Both men jumped to their feet. Parker hurried to take the tray and carefully set it on his desk. He extended his hand. “Welcome to the BCAS, Katie. We’re glad to have you aboard. I’m the director, Parker Riley, and I understand you already know my assistant, Luke McGee.”