Ever the promoter, Wendy handed Aren a business card. “I’ve written Lucie’s cell number on the back here. And, young man, you should know something …”
“Mom …” Lucie placed a restraining hand on her mother’s arm.
Aren accepted the card and set it down on the tabletop.
Lucie hesitated. She really should get back to the kitchen. “Enjoy your dinner,” she said in parting, retreating backward, one small step at a time. She bit her tongue to keep from telling him that she really would like to hear from him. The decision to contact her belonged to Aren. Now she would be the one left waiting and wondering.
Aren addressed her mother and sounded quite adamant. “Listen, I appreciate the offer but I insist upon paying for our meal.”
“We’ll argue about it later.”
Although she was already in the kitchen, Lucie was able to overhear the conversation.
“I insist, Wendy. I will pay for our meal or Josie and I will need to leave.”
Lucie heard her mother reluctantly acquiesce. Almost right away dinner orders started to come in and soon Lucie was preoccupied with cooking and getting food onto the plates. Within a matter of minutes she was so busy that she managed to put the fact that Aren sat only a few feet away out of her mind.
When next Lucie had the opportunity to look out to the dining area, she saw that another couple sat at the table where Aren and his sister had dined earlier.
Aren was gone.
Wendy had made certain that Aren had Lucie’s cell number and she was left to wonder and hope he’d phone. Lucie wasn’t finished cleaning the kitchen until after eleven. Her mother joined her and brought them each a cup of decaffeinated coffee.
“I see what you mean,” her mother said, raising the cup to her lips. “Your Aren is real easy on the eyes.”
“He isn’t my Aren,” she countered and then quickly added, “You think so?”
A smile quivered that her mother made no attempt to hide. “I wish you could have seen the look that came over you when you heard him say he’d been waiting for you.”
“All these months. Oh, Mom, I feel dreadful.”
“You wanted to meet him. Why wouldn’t you let me tell him what happened and that you were on your way to meet him when the hospital phoned?”
Lucie wasn’t sure. “The timing wasn’t right. I figured it simply wasn’t meant to be.”
“What do you think now?”
Lucie was afraid to reveal how happy she was that she’d found Aren. Although she’d worked a grueling shift, she wasn’t tired. In fact, she was fairly certain she would have a hard time falling asleep. Her mind and her heart were filled with the hope of reconnecting with the man who’d swept her off her feet last New Year’s Eve.
“Do you think he’ll phone?” she asked her mother.
Wendy lowered her gaze to her coffee. “Sad to say, no.”
Her heart plummeted. “He won’t?”
“He said as much.”
“You spoke to him after I went back to the kitchen?” Lucie had been too busy to pay attention to what had gone on after their initial meeting.
“At length.”
“Mom!” It was just like Wendy to keep her in suspense like this.
“Sometimes I wonder about you, daughter.”
“Why, what did I do now?”
Wendy shook her head. “Well, first off, you asked him how long he’d waited for you.”
“Yes, I wondered … I mean, it’s only natural to wonder if he had.” He couldn’t fault her for that.
“But you didn’t bother to mention that you’d been on your way to meet him when you got the call from the hospital.”
“I know …” Perhaps it’d been a mistake to keep silent.
Her mother sadly shook her head. “In fact, you didn’t say a single word to encourage him.”
Lucie’s heart sank. Her mother was right.
Lucie was horrified at her thoughtlessness. “I noticed that he didn’t really answer how long he’d waited for me.”
“As well he shouldn’t. Just think about it, Lucie. You stood him up and then asked him to confirm the fact.”
Hearing it put like that made her feel sick to her stomach.
“Don’t you think that was hard enough on his ego without you rubbing salt in his wound?”
Her mother was right. Lucie had messed up her chance with Aren royally. Not once, but twice. No wonder he’d made it clear he had no intention of contacting her. How completely dense she’d been. Hearing it now, and realizing how utterly foolish she’d been, made her want to weep.
Pushing the coffee aside, Lucie felt heartsick. “So he told you he has no intention of contacting me … ever.”
“A man has his pride, Lucie.”
“And I managed to stomp all over his.”
“That you did,” her mother said, and then hesitated. “However, Aren and I did manage to have a lengthy conversation.”
Lucie’s head snapped up. “What did he say?”
“Well, the truth of the matter is, I did most of the talking.”
Oh, brother, this might not be good. “Mom, what did you tell him?” Lucie waited, holding her breath.
“Lucie Ann, don’t use that tone of voice with me. I simply explained that you had every intention of meeting him January 7, until you got the call from the hospital. I’m the one who caused you to miss that meeting. I assured Aren that I am not a busybody, but seeing that you failed to make your rendezvous because of me, I considered it my duty to set matters straight.”
“What did he say to that?” Lucie leaned so close to her mother that she was in danger of falling off her stool.
“Well, right away I could see that Aren was grateful to learn the truth. He perked right up and so did his sister.”
“He did?” Lucie frowned. “But you said he had no intention of calling me even though you gave him my cell number.”
Her mother shook her head. “Give the man his due, daughter. His pride took a licking. He left his cellphone number with me and said if you were still interested then you should give him a call. You will, won’t you?”
Lucie needed no time to make that decision. “I’ll contact him first thing in the morning.”
“Perfect.”
Hungry for information, Lucie dug deeper. “Did you and Aren talk about anything else?”
Her mother hesitated. “Well, yes, and I hope I didn’t speak out of turn. I told him that you constantly scoured the newspaper looking for his byline.”
“Oh, Mom.” Lucie wished she hadn’t.
“I could tell he was pleased to hear it.”
“He was?” In retrospect, Aren deserved to know that Lucie hadn’t forgotten him. Not a day passed that he didn’t drift into her mind at one time or another. They’d been together only a few hours; nevertheless, Aren Fairchild had left a powerful impression on her.
“You ready to head home?” her mother asked.
Lucie nodded. “I bet you’re tired.”
“I’m fine. I’ve always enjoyed meeting people, but I do have to say, these dogs are barking.” Removing her shoe, Wendy rubbed her sore toes.
“We did it,” Mercy said and gave Goodness a high five.
“Aren didn’t once wonder why Wendy seated him so close to the kitchen.”
“That was an excellent idea even if I say so myself.” Shirley’s chest seemed to swell double in size.
Will looked unconvinced. “Would Gabriel call this Earthly interference?”
“No way,” Shirley assured him. “It wasn’t even close. If you want to talk about interference, then we can discuss the time Goodness took over that department store escalator or—”
“How did you get Lucie to look out of the kitchen when she did?” Will asked.
Mercy was grateful for the change of topic. She responded by pushing up the sleeves of her long white gown to reveal a row of small bells.
“The bells Lucie heard? That came from you?”
; “That will be our little secret, okay?” Gabriel might not appreciate her sleight of hand … a small play on words there.
“Wow.”
“It’s a gift,” Goodness explained, folding her hands and raising her head toward heaven with her eyes closed.
“You mean like peace, hope, mercy … that kind of godly gift.”
“Ah, not exactly.” They were leading Will down a slippery slope that made Mercy uncomfortable. “Actually, the bells are a small trick I learned years ago that I use on rare occasions.”
“To garner humans’ attention,” Shirley supplied. “I remember once when Goodness appeared in church.”
“She appeared in … bodily form as an angel?” This was one of the first lessons angels learned. Only those on direct assignment from God were allowed to appear as they were without disguise or dressed as ordinary humans. In all other instances they were to remain invisible or to take on human form.
“It was an emergency situation,” Goodness clarified.
“It was necessary,” Mercy seconded, “or Goodness would never have taken the risk.”
Will looked to Goodness for an explanation.
“I appeared before a pastor who’d lost his wife to cancer.”
“And with his wife he’d lost his faith, too,” Shirley added.
Goodness’s eyes brightened. “I wanted this poor grieving man to see God’s love. I stood in the front of the church and in the full glory of God’s grace I spread my wings and let my light shine.”
Will’s eyes grew huge and round. “What happened?”
Mercy came to stand closer to her friend. “Maybe we should see what Aren Fairchild is doing now that he’s seen Lucie.”
“No, wait,” Will insisted, “tell me what happened to Goodness and the pastor. You have to tell me.”
Goodness sighed and her shoulders and wings sank several inches. “He didn’t see me.”
“Didn’t see you?” Will was incredulous. “How could he not see you? The light of God’s love should have blinded him.”
“He was too caught up in his grief.”
“Oh dear,” Will whispered, astonished.
“That’s when I came up with the idea of the bells,” Mercy explained. “It’s a more subtle approach. The more time you spend dealing with humans the more you’ll learn that one must be subtle.”
“Most of the time delicate handling works,” Shirley added.
“Most of the time,” Mercy agreed, but then added under her breath, “but not all.”
“Okay, let’s find out what Aren’s doing,” Will said.
“You aren’t going to call Lucie?” Josie demanded, sipping coffee from the disposable cup as they headed toward the subway station the following morning. “You’re going to make her call you?”
Aren knew Josie couldn’t possibly understand the dilemma he was in; well, then again, maybe she did. He had his pride, which was something his sister should understand. After all, it was pride that kept her from contacting Jack, even though Aren strongly suspected his sister was still in love with her former fiancé. She had been stingy with information as to what exactly had gone wrong. Although he was fairly certain it had something to do with the wedding, a disagreement, probably something silly, that had quickly escalated. Apparently it had grown to the point that they were convinced, one or the other, that marriage wasn’t such a good idea after all. Following that, it made sense to assume they decided continuing their relationship wouldn’t work either. Nerves stretched to the limit over a wedding and now Josie was alone and unhappy. Well, Aren and his sister made a great team, supporting each other in their misery.
His own relationship with Lucie was complicated and getting more so by the minute. It’d all seemed so perfect, innocent even, back on New Year’s Eve. Now, with him working for the Gazette and Lucie part owner of the restaurant he’d reviewed, the possibility of him developing this relationship became that much more difficult.
“She’ll be a fool if she doesn’t contact you.”
Aren and his sister had always been close. Every morning they walked to the subway together. He’d found an apartment close to Josie’s and they met for coffee, carrying it with them as they headed toward their respective jobs.
“Maybe she wouldn’t be such a fool.” Aren had spent a sleepless night mulling over the impossibility of his situation. For one thing, he’d had a complete change of heart when it came to Heavenly Delights. Three hundred patrons hadn’t been wrong. Dinner was a delight and the desserts afterward had been heavenly. His opinion had made a complete turnaround from his previous visit. This time it had earned its name. He’d told the managing editor he intended to write another review, and he would. Furthermore, his change of heart had nothing to do with his feelings toward the chef.
“By the way, is there any chance you can get tickets for Angels at Christmas?” Josie asked.
Naturally his sister would ask about the hottest musical on Broadway. Tickets had been sold out months in advance. And with Christmas approaching they were impossible to find. “Yeah, right.”
“Well, you just might. The newspaper has connections, doesn’t it? It’s just a matter of knowing the right people.”
Aren snickered. As a recent hiree, he had little chance of getting tickets. He’d let Josie dream away. Aren enjoyed his sister’s company, but if he took anyone to see a musical it would be Lucie; that is, if she wanted to see him again.
Following his divorce Aren hadn’t leaped back into the dating world and noticed that Josie hadn’t either, although she was quick to egg him on. Deep down Aren supposed his sister needed to see him willing to risk his heart again before she felt comfortable doing so herself. Brother and sister made a terrific dysfunctional team.
“Let me know what you find out,” Josie murmured as she headed down to her train. “And if you do manage to get those tickets, ask Lucie.”
Aren frowned. “I thought you wanted to go?”
“I will someday. I was just thinking it was an invitation Lucie wouldn’t be able to turn down. I’ve heard that Angels at Christmas is an incredible musical.”
“Don’t hold your breath, okay?” He hated giving his thoughts away, and Lucie had definitely been heavy on his mind.
She gave him a cheery wave and was off.
Aren went to another track to catch his train and then walked the few blocks to the newspaper building. He dropped his backpack off at his desk and headed directly to Sandy’s office.
The managing editor sat at her computer and glanced up when he knocked against the door frame. Looking at him above the glasses perched on the end of her nose, Sandy lifted her hands from the keyboard and swiveled her chair around. “You had dinner at Heavenly Delights?”
He nodded, stuffing the tips of his fingers in his jean pockets.
“And?”
“It was terrific.”
She arched her brows as though pleasantly surprised. “So you had a change of heart.”
He admitted as much. “I can’t account for what happened the first time around. My sister was with me and her meal seemed to be just fine. Mine was a disaster.”
“But not this time?”
“No, the sole was fabulous in every way.” And in ways he hadn’t expected that had nothing to do with the menu items.
“Good. Write your piece and we’ll publish it in this evening’s edition. That should make those supporters of the restaurant happy.” As she spoke, his editor turned back to face her computer screen.
“Sandy,” Aren said, remaining standing in the doorway to her office.
She looked his way, frowning with impatience. “Now what?”
“I can’t write the review.”
“Why not?” she demanded shortly, clearly irritated with him.
“I met the chef and I know her.”
“Did that influence your opinion?”
“No.”
“Then write the review.”
“I’d like nothing better. However …??
?
She removed her glasses and glared up at him. “What’s your problem, Fairchild?”
“I want to date the chef,” he blurted out.
Sandy frowned and turned back to her computer again. “So date her. She doesn’t need to know you’re Eaton Well.”
Aren was stunned. Not knowing what to expect from his admission, his mind started to spin with happy anticipation.
“Are you still here?” Sandy blurted out.
“Thanks, Sandy, really, I mean it. This is great news.” Aren’s heart was lighter than it’d been in months.
On his way in to talk to Sandy, he’d wondered what she’d say about him wanting to date Lucie. Now it felt as if the weight of ten dump trucks had been lifted from his shoulders.
Sandy glanced his way again. “Why are you still here?”
“No … no reason … I’m on my way to my desk to write the finest restaurant review you’ve ever published.”
“Then get to it,” she muttered gruffly.
No sooner had he sat down at his computer than his cellphone buzzed. Distracted, Aren looked at it, didn’t recognize the number, and let whoever was on the other end of the line talk to his voice mail. He was about halfway through his review, which literally seemed to be writing itself, when Norm Lockett stopped by his cubicle. Norm did the reviews for Broadway shows.
“Norm,” Aren called out, stopping him. “Can I ask a favor?”
“What do you need, kid?”
Aren stood. Norm was thirty years his senior and well liked by everyone. “Is there a possibility of getting tickets for Angels at Christmas?” It wouldn’t do any harm to ask.
Norm grinned and slapped him across the back. “Let me see what I can do.”
“Thanks, Norm, I appreciate it.” Then, because he thought it might help, Aren added, “I don’t suppose you heard Doris Roberts is coming in to replace the lead in Angels at Christmas?”
“I did.”
The story had hit a few days earlier. Betty White had come down with a nasty cold and needed a break.
“I could write a short piece about Doris taking over the role,” Aren offered.
“No need,” Norm said and slapped him across the back a second time. “I’ll see what I can do, but no promises.”