Читать книгу Angels at Christmas: Those Christmas Angels / Where Angels Go - Debbie Macomber - Страница 13

“Not bad,” Goodness said as she studied the painting. She cocked her head to one side and decided that, as a portrait, it was uncannily accurate. “It certainly looks like Shirley.”

“I had no idea I was so lovely,” Shirley said, clasping her hands. “Is that truly the way Anne sees me?” She gazed expectantly at her two friends.

“So it seems,” Goodness replied.

“What I want to know,” Mercy began, making herself at home in Anne’s studio, “is why we haven’t been dragged back to Heaven in disgrace.” She glanced pointedly at Shirley. “By all rights, we should be standing guard at the Pearly Gates after what she did.”

Mercy was the one more accustomed to causing trouble on Earth. It used to be Shirley who made them tread the straight and narrow, but apparently the job had—unfairly—fallen to Goodness. For this assignment, anyway.

She couldn’t give Mercy an answer. The Archangel clearly had his own reasons for keeping them on Earth.

“We have an important task,” Shirley explained as if that should be obvious. “Anne and Roy need us.”

“Seems to me Julie could use a hand, too,” Goodness muttered. She didn’t want to be judgmental, but the woman Mercy considered the answer to Anne’s prayer was being less than cooperative.

“What do you mean?” Mercy asked. “I thought the accident was a brilliant idea! It got Roy and Julie together, didn’t it?”

“All they did was snipe at each other.” Goodness wasn’t disparaging her friend’s effort, but it simply hadn’t worked.

“I think I was more optimistic than I should’ve been,” Mercy said when Shirley came and sat next to her.

“I thought everything went very well.” Shirley seemed undeterred by Julie’s lack of cooperation—or Roy’s. She continued to stare at her portrait with an appreciative eye.

“How can you say that?” Goodness cried. In her opinion, Julie wasn’t the only one who needed instruction in romance. It was evident that Shirley had difficulty recognizing what worked and what didn’t. That staged accident certainly hadn’t.

Shirley sighed. “I had real hope when Roy took her to his own physician.”

“But then he dumped her there.”

Mercy nodded vigorously. “The least he could’ve done was wait long enough to make sure she wasn’t injured.”

“He did pay for her taxi ride home,” Shirley said. “They were getting along so well, too.”

Goodness gaped at her friend and wondered if Shirley had lost all touch with reality. “They did nothing but argue!” She’d witnessed courtroom battles with less antagonism. Roy Fletcher and Julie Wilcoff were completely unsuited as a couple, but no one wanted to listen to her. As far as she could see, the two of them didn’t even like each other.

Goodness might never have been in love—romance was for earthly beings—but she had an instinct for matchmaking, if she did say so herself. She’d successfully guided men and women toward each other a time or two, but none of that seemed to matter.

“Yes, they were arguing, but I was well aware even if you weren’t that they like each other,” Mercy insisted.

“I don’t think so.” Goodness hated to discourage her friends, but she didn’t see it. The spark just wasn’t there. She suspected Julie had become so discouraged about her prospects of finding a husband that she’d lost the ability to attract one. Goodness had wanted to shake the young woman for joking about her weight. A lady never discussed such things! Julie should know better. And Roy—he was one of the walking wounded. He didn’t seem capable of feeling anything, except bitterness and cynicism.

“What are you suggesting?” Mercy asked.

Goodness knew it was one thing to criticize and another to offer an alternative. But she figured they’d better face up to the truth sooner rather than later. “We should give it up and search elsewhere.”

Mercy folded her wings tightly, a sure sign she wasn’t pleased.

“We did our part. Now it’s up to the two of them. Agreed?” Goodness gave her friends a stern look.

“Just who do you think would interest Roy?” Shirley asked.

“Just who?” Mercy parroted.

They had Goodness there. “I don’t know—yet,” she said. “But we’ve done our part. Agreed?” she said again.

The other two nodded with unmistakable reluctance.

“Now I say we leave them alone, and if it’s meant to be, it’ll happen without any help from the three of us.”

Mercy seemed about to argue, but then she sighed loudly. “Oh, all right, but I still have a strong feeling that Julie’s the answer to Anne’s prayer.”

“Anne,” Shirley whispered. As if she’d suddenly remembered something, the former Guardian Angel announced,

“I’ll be right back.”

Goodness was having none of this. “Where are you going?”

Shirley glanced over her shoulder. “I’ll only be a minute.”

Goodness exchanged a look with Mercy and both of them followed Shirley. The other Ambassador didn’t go far. She crept into Anne’s bedroom and saw that the older woman was in bed, eyes closed.

“Is she asleep?” Mercy asked, floating above the bed.

“Not quite,” Shirley answered with confidence.

Goodness peered closer, but couldn’t tell. After working two consecutive nights on the portrait of Shirley, Anne must be exhausted.

“She’s meeting her son later this morning,” Mercy said.

“She won’t sleep long.”

Goodness checked the clock radio. “The alarm is set.”

“She thinks she only needs an hour or two.”

“The poor thing,” Shirley said. To Goodness’s surprise, she moved to stand over the older woman. Gently pressing her hand to Anne’s forehead, Shirley leaned forward to whisper, “You did a beautiful job.” Then she lifted her hand and eased away.

“Look,” Mercy said, pointing at Anne.

The softest of smiles touched the woman’s lips, almost as if she’d heard Shirley speak.

“Roy?”

Roy glanced up at George Williams, his high-priced corporate attorney. “I’m sorry, did I miss something?” Judging by the pained expression on the other man’s face, apparently he had. Williams had been discussing the profit-and-loss statement for Griffin Plastics, a company Roy was interested in purchasing. He’d half heard Williams drone on about “synergies”—which, as far as he could determine, just meant that Griffin would be able to make the cases for his security software. Sighing, he directed his attention to the papers on his desk. “Let me look these over and get back to you this afternoon.”

The attorney frowned, gathered his files together and stuffed them in his briefcase.

“Before you leave I have a question,” Roy said.

“About the Griffin figures?”

“No.” Roy reached for a pen and made a few scribbles on a clean sheet of paper while he collected his thoughts. “Late last week, I had a minor … altercation with a bicycle rider.”

“Altercation?” George Williams repeated.

“She fell—” he chose the word carefully “—off her ten-speed and hit a tree.”

The attorney’s eyes widened and he pulled a blank pad of paper toward him.

“She was unhurt,” Roy rushed to add. “As an innocent bystander, I immediately phoned the paramedics and notified the police.”

“So, you’re telling me that you were in no way responsible for her … fall?”

“That’s correct.”

“In other words, you happened along shortly after the accident, and out of consideration for this biker you stopped your vehicle and saw to her welfare?”

The attorney was describing a rather different scene than the one that had actually occurred, but Roy let him. “Yes,” he said slowly, thoughtfully.

“Your concern is?” Williams asked.

“The woman claims I caused her accident.” Just thinking about it irritated Roy. Although there was no evidence to validate her accusation, Julie Wilcoff had insisted he’d run into the rear of her bike. But he hadn’t even seen her until the last second and had instantly slammed on his brakes. In mentally reviewing the incident, Roy had decided that the sound of his car behind her must have startled Julie; she’d lost focus and hit something in the road, which was the reason she’d catapulted off the bicycle and into the tree.

That, however, didn’t explain the damage to her ten-speed. The bicycle clearly showed there’d been an impact from the rear. The back wheel was destroyed, the metal twisted and crumpled. Anyone looking at the bike would believe he’d hit Julie. But Roy knew otherwise, and there was no evidence on his car to suggest he’d collided with her.

“What injuries did she sustain?”

“None. She was unhurt. In fact, she refused medical treatment from the paramedics.”

Williams frowned.

“I took her to my personal physician and he couldn’t find any injuries, either.”

The attorney scribbled furiously. “What have you heard from her since?”

“Nothing.” That concerned him the most. With his name and his money, he was a natural target for frivolous lawsuits. However, any suit Julie filed might find a sympathetic jury. She could have a case, innocent though he was. It certainly wasn’t unheard of for a jury to award a huge settlement for a minor infraction, depending on how effectively the case was presented.

“I did feel bad,” Roy said cautiously. “The accident occurred on company property and I replaced her bicycle.” The new one was twice the machine her old ten-speed had been.

Again Williams made a notation. Roy worried that replacing Julie’s ten-speed might be seen as an acknowledgment of guilt. He should’ve thought of that earlier.

“Did she have a reason for being on company property?” Williams asked.

“I employ her father.”

The frown was back, creasing his brow. “I see.”

“Wilcoff was only recently hired.” Roy had let chance make the decision. He’d studied the applications, chosen the top three and written the candidates’ names on slips of paper, which he’d placed in an empty coffee mug. He’d drawn one name—Dean’s. So perhaps all of this was fated….

“Have you spoken to the father since the incident?”

Roy hadn’t. “Any suggestions on what I should do now?”

“I wish you’d said something sooner,” the attorney murmured, his expression darkening.

Roy probably should have, but until now he hadn’t seen the need. It hadn’t been a serious accident. By her own admission and confirmed by his doctor, Julie was perfectly fine. This sort of situation had never occurred before. Williams was probably right; Roy should’ve consulted a lawyer immediately.

“Trouble?” he asked, unwilling to borrow any. He had problems enough.

Williams nodded abruptly. “Even if you haven’t heard from this woman, that doesn’t mean she isn’t filing a lawsuit against you.”

“She hasn’t got a case,” Roy argued. But she did have the damaged bicycle….

“You and I know that, but didn’t you say she claims you were responsible for the accident?”

More times than Roy cared to count. Julie had accused him of running her down. It had become her mantra on their ride to Dr. Wilbur’s.

“That tells me there’s a good possibility of a nuisance suit.”

Roy should have known, should have guessed. “What do you think I should do next?” he asked, tension tightening his jaw. The thought of paying this money-grubber a dime went against his principles.

“Offer her a settlement.”

He didn’t want to do that, not in the least, but he knew it was better to take care of such unpleasantness quickly. Otherwise he might end up dealing with her in court. She had the damaged bike in her possession. A long, drawn-out trial would drain him emotionally and threaten him financially. And, needless to say, it could destroy his reputation.

“How much?” he asked bluntly.

The attorney hesitated, then said, “My expertise is corporate law, so perhaps we should let a litigation expert answer that question.”

Roy refused to waste another minute on this. “How much would you suggest?”

Williams shrugged. “Twenty-five thousand should more than compensate her for any pain and suffering.”

As far as Roy was concerned, that was twenty-five thousand too much. But gritting his teeth, he agreed. He’d order the check cut right away.

“Anything else?” Williams asked, picking up his briefcase.

“No, that should be all.”

The attorney gestured at the Griffin papers in front of Roy. “You’ll get back to me this afternoon?”

Roy nodded. He’d read over the figures and make a decision by the end of the workday. He stood, and the two men shook hands. Williams saw himself out as Roy returned to his chair.

He leaned back and steepled his fingers, his mind spinning in various directions. Shaking his head, he opened the Griffin file. Try as he might to focus on the facts and figures regarding the buyout, his thoughts wandered to Julie Wilcoff. Part of him wanted to take her at her word—to believe she had no intention of suing him. But his experience with women said otherwise.

“You know by now you can’t trust a woman.” Until he heard the words, Roy didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud.

Hoping to get a better feel for the situation, he called his executive assistant, Eleanor Johnson, and asked her to have Dean Wilcoff sent to his office. This potential lawsuit would bother him until he had some sense of what was likely to happen. The best way to find that out was through Julie’s father.

Within minutes, his new head of security was shown into his office.

“Good morning, Dean.” The older man stood by his desk, shoulders squared in military fashion.

“Sit down.” Roy motioned toward the chair recently vacated by his attorney. “I asked to see you on a personal matter.”

The other man didn’t react at all. That was good. “I assume you heard about your daughter’s bicycle accident.”

Dean nodded. “She told me about it herself. I want you to know how much I appreciate the way you took care of her.”

Roy dismissed his thanks. “She received the new ten-speed?” He’d had it delivered on Monday.

“She did, and I’m sure she’ll want to thank you personally for your generosity.”

“That isn’t necessary.” Roy paused, uncertain how to phrase the next question. “Uh, how is Julie?”

“How is she?” the other man repeated as if he didn’t understand. “Oh, do you mean does she have any lingering aches and such from the fall?”

“Yes,” Roy said without elaborating. He didn’t want to tip Wilcoff off about his fear of a lawsuit. Sure as anything, Julie was talking to some fancy lawyer who’d promise her millions. Roy’s millions. The tension gathered in his shoulder blades, tightening his muscles.

“Julie’s tough,” Dean answered, seeming to relax for the first time since entering the office. “As a kid, she had more scraped knees and bruises than any boy in the neighborhood. I will admit that when I saw her bike, I was a bit concerned, but she doesn’t seem to have any ill effects from the accident.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Like I said, Julie’s tough.”

“She’s been able to work all week, then?” That was another important question. If she was badly hurt, as she might claim, her showing up at work would be evidence that those claims were only an effort to bilk him out of as much money as possible.

“Oh, sure. She went to school every day this week.”

This was sounding better all the time, but it was no guarantee that she wasn’t planning legal action at some later point. No, it was best to deal with this once and for all.

“Your daughter’s convinced I caused the collision.” There, he’d said it. He watched the other man closely, wondering how he’d respond.

Wilcoff dropped his gaze. “Yes, she did mention that.”

Aha! Roy knew it. This was exactly what Williams had warned him about. Not hearing from Julie didn’t mean he wasn’t being set up for a multimillion-dollar lawsuit.

“I feel bad about the accident,” he said, selecting his words with care. “While Julie and I have a disagreement as to the cause, I’d like to remind you she was riding on company grounds.”

Wilcoff heard the censure in Roy’s voice and reacted accordingly. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t do that again.”

“I’d appreciate it.” He shuddered at the thought of another accident on his property.

“Consider it done,” Wilcoff said. He seemed eager to leave. “Was that all, Mr. Fletcher?”

“Actually, no,” Roy said slowly. This next part nearly stuck in his throat, but he had no option. “I’d like to offer Julie a small settlement to compensate for her pain and suffering.”

Shocked, his head of security held up both hands. “That isn’t necessary. In fact, I think Julie would be upset—”

“I insist. I’ll have my attorney draw up the papers and we’ll consider the matter closed.”

Wilcoff shook his head. “None of this is necessary. Anyway, you should talk to Julie about it, not me. But I know she’ll feel the same way.”

“Perhaps,” Roy said, although he didn’t believe it. He was a prime candidate for a lawsuit. He’d behaved stupidly in not getting his lawyer involved earlier. That oversight was a rarity for him; he hadn’t come this far in the business world by ignoring the obvious.

“Whatever you decide, Mr. Fletcher, is between you and my daughter, but I’m certain Julie isn’t interested in a settlement.”

That’s what they all say, Roy thought cynically. Julie Wilcoff was no different from any other woman he’d ever met—or any man in the same situation.

He was worried, but he didn’t dare let it show.

Wilcoff left, and Roy started to read over the Griffin paperwork, but he still couldn’t concentrate. The truth of it was, he’d quite enjoyed his exchanges with Julie Wilcoff. True, she wasn’t the most attractive woman he’d encountered, but she possessed a quick wit and a quirky sense of humor. He couldn’t recall the last time any woman had joked with him about her size or weight. He had to admit he found it refreshing.

His phone rang and he answered it. “I’m sorry to bother you, Mr. Fletcher,” Eleanor Johnson said, “but your mother is here.”

“My mother?” Oh, yes, now he remembered. He’d even put it in his daily planner. She’d asked about meeting him on Thursday and he’d suggested lunchtime. In his current frame of mind, he had no interest in food, but he couldn’t slight his mother. He sighed, then said with obvious reluctance, “Send her in.”

“Merry Christmas, Roy.” Disregarding his mood, his mother came into the office and hugged him.

“How are you, Mother? And isn’t it a little early for Christmas greetings?”

“Not at all,” she said, smiling at him with sparkling blue eyes. “Once December arrives, it’s never too early to say Merry Christmas.” Roy smiled in return. He sincerely loved his mother. She often frustrated him, but he did love and admire her—although he didn’t understand her. She’d allowed his father to swindle her out of a huge amount. Roy had wanted her to fight, had urged her to drag his father back into court and make him pay. Roy wanted his father’s reputation destroyed, which was what Burton Fletcher deserved, but his mother had refused to do it. His father seemed to have some regrets, if his efforts to contact Roy were any indication, but so far Roy had adamantly rejected any kind of relationship.

Instead of fighting, his mother had apparently forgiven Burton and become a hermit, living in a ridiculously small cottage on a tiny San Juan island. What really upset him was that she claimed to be “reasonably happy.” She’d been cheated, dumped and cast aside like yesterday’s junk mail and she was happy? Roy just didn’t get it.

“Are you ready for lunch?”

Roy couldn’t think of a way to tell her he didn’t feel like having lunch without disappointing her. He checked his watch.

“Is your meeting over?”

“Yup, I have half an hour.” His problem was that he couldn’t be around his mother and ignore the past. When he was with her, his heart ached for a life that was dead to him. He grieved for the innocents they’d once been, he and his mother. She’d taken one path since the divorce and he’d taken another. Hatred for his father and for Aimee consumed him. He wanted them to suffer, wanted them to rot in hell for all the pain they’d caused.

While his mother chose to forgive and forget, he chose to remember every detail, every incident, every minute of their treachery. In retrospect, he realized Aimee had been interested in his father all along. He’d never been anything more than the means to an end.

“I’ll take whatever time you have for me,” his mother said in the complacent voice that always perturbed him. “Oh,” she said, slipping her arm around his waist. “I have a painting I want you to look at one day soon.”

“Another landscape?” Without her knowledge, he’d purchased several of her pieces, displayed under whatever name she used. Mary Something? He couldn’t remember at the moment. She refused his financial help, but what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

“Not this time,” she said, then softly added, “This time I painted something entirely different.”