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Nine

Roy sat back down at his desk and for the first time in months—years—he burst out laughing. He laughed without restraint. Then he returned to work, stared at his computer screen and started to laugh all over again.

The phone rang and Ms. Johnson interrupted his laugh-fest. “Your mother’s on line one.”

His mother? Not until Roy picked up the receiver did he recall that he’d just seen her the week before. He generally heard from her once a month; any more often was unusual. She’d said something about wanting him to see one of her paintings, but he’d told her he’d do that on Christmas Day.

“Hello, Mom.”

The line was silent.

“Mom?”

“Roy, is that you? You don’t sound like yourself.”

“It’s me,” he said. “What’s up?”

“Are you …” She paused, apparently searching for the right word. “You’re not laughing, are you?”

“Laughing?” he repeated, trying to sober his voice. “I was earlier.”

“A joke?” she asked.

“Actually, it was a woman. Her father’s employed here and she stormed into my office filled with righteous indignation about some nonsense or other. I have to tell you, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything funnier.” Humor overtook him again and he burst into waves of laughter as he described Julie’s outrage. Soon his mother was laughing, too. She seemed to find the scene as hilarious as he did.

“What can I do for you?” Roy asked as he wiped his eyes.

“I wanted to make arrangements to come and paint,” she said.

“I thought you wanted me to come to your house—to look at one of your paintings.”

She had him completely confused now. Did his mother believe he was going to let her do custodial work? “What do you want to paint?”

“The lobby windows,” she said as if it should be perfectly obvious. “Remember? We talked about this a couple of weeks ago. I’m going to paint a holiday scene on the lobby windows.”

In Roy’s opinion, Christmas wasn’t all that different from any other day of the year. He’d do his duty and spend it with his mother; they’d exchange gifts against a background of decorations that brought back painful memories for him—painful because they were good. The truth was, he no longer cared much for Christmas. The holidays didn’t even resemble what he’d once known, those warm, happy times, joking with his parents, feeling their love for him and for each other. That had been a façade, he now realized. His father had become cynical and jaded as the years passed. Roy hadn’t seen that until it was too late. Far too late.

“Oh, yes. Now that you’ve reminded me, I do remember. You can paint whatever you want, Mother,” he told her. “I’ve already let the security people know.”

“I have a wonderful idea.”

She started to detail her plans—something about angels—but he cut her off. “Mother, this isn’t the Sistine Chapel. Don’t worry about it.”

“I know, but … well, I was thinking I’d paint a religious scene with angels similar to the one in this painting I was telling you about. You wouldn’t mind that, would you?”

There was no point in arguing with her even if he did object. “All right, paint your angels. I’ll have the windows cleaned.”

Her appreciative sigh came over the telephone line. “Thank you, Roy. I’ll be there Wednesday.”

“Fine.”

“I’m not going to bother you,” she assured him. “You won’t even know I’m there.”

This seemed to be his day for dealing with irrational women. He could hear the determination in his mother’s voice. For whatever reason, she felt it was important to paint a Christmas scene, and not just any scene, either. But if painting angels on his windows made her happy, then he guessed there was no harm in it.

“Fine, Mother, come and do as you wish.”

“I promise you’re going to love my Christmas angels.”

Roy rolled his eyes. “I’m sure I will, Mother.”

She seemed to be in a chatty mood and went on about dinner with her college friend. “I’m not keeping you from anything, am I?” she asked after talking nonstop for several minutes. “I know how busy you are.”

For the first time in a very long while, Roy found he actually liked speaking to his mother—as much as he was capable of liking anything other than business. “It’s fine, Mom.”

For some reason, she seemed to get choked up over that and quickly ended the conversation. He replaced the receiver and stared down at his phone, hardly knowing what to make of his mother. Women. He’d never understand them.

Roy worked for another half hour and then realized he wasn’t in the mood. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do, but he was leaving the office. Any file he needed could be accessed from the computer at his condo—a sprawling five-thousand-square-foot penthouse suite overlooking Lake Washington.

As Roy left the elevator and walked into the lobby, he saw a truck towing a vehicle away from the handicapped parking slot.

Jason, the security guard, wore a satisfied grin. “Ms. Wilcoff’s car,” he said, answering Roy’s unspoken question. “In her rush to get in to see you, she parked illegally. Her father wasn’t willing to make allowances.”

He was enjoying this more all the time. “Where is she?”

“Her father said she could either take the bus or wait until he was available to give her a ride. She decided to walk.”

That was exactly what Roy would have expected. “Any idea how much of a hike that is?” he asked.

Jason nodded. Grinning, he glanced down at the polished marble floor. “I think it’s about ten miles.”

A smile tempted Roy. “I see.”

“You can rest assured she won’t make it past me a second time, Mr. Fletcher. Her father’s banned her from the building, too, so you don’t have anything to worry about.”

“I appreciate that,” Roy said, pushing through the glass doors, but as he walked out of the building, he realized that wasn’t true. Despite everything, he’d enjoyed his encounter with Julie, reveled in it. He felt alive in ways he’d forgotten.

Roy turned back. “Do you know which direction she was headed?” he asked the guard.

Jason looked surprised. “North, I’d guess.”

“Thanks.” Roy was going south himself, but a small detour wouldn’t be amiss. He didn’t think she’d accept a ride, but he’d ask. Perhaps a brisk walk would help her vent her anger and make her a little more amenable to reaching some kind of agreement.

Roy drove a black Lincoln Continental with tinted glass. He could see out but no one could see in, which was precisely the way he wanted it. He exited onto the main street heading north and stayed in the right-hand lane. He drove a couple of miles, mildly impressed by how far she’d gotten. She’d made good time. Perhaps she’d grown tired and taken a bus. Or perhaps she’d hailed a taxi.

Then he saw her, walking at a quick pace, arms swinging at her sides. Roy reduced his speed to a crawl as he approached her. Traffic wove around him, some cars honking with irritation, but he ignored them and pulled up alongside Julie. With the touch of a button, the passenger-side window glided down.

She glanced in his direction and her eyes widened when she recognized him.

“Get in,” he said.

“Why should I?”

Time to play nice, he figured. “Please.”

She hesitated, then walked to the curb and leaned down to talk to him. “Give me one reason I should do anything you say.”

“I’ll drive you home.”

That didn’t appear to influence her. “I’m halfway there already.”

Horns blared behind him. “If you don’t hurry up and decide, I’ll get a traffic ticket.”

“Good. It’s what you deserve.”

“Julie, come on, be reasonable. I said please.”

She looked away and then capitulated. “Oh, all right.”

She certainly wasn’t gracious about it, but he felt thankful that she opened the passenger door without further ado and slid into the car. As he hit the gas, she fastened her seat belt.

“Give me your address,” he said.

Obediently she rattled off the street and house number.

Now that she was in the car, Roy couldn’t think of the right conversational gambit. He had no intention of meeting her demands and she apparently wasn’t interested in complying with his. Silly woman. With the stroke of a pen, she could be twenty-five thousand dollars richer, but she was too stubborn to do it. Perhaps she was looking for more.

“You don’t have anything to say?” she asked him after a moment.

“Nope. What about you?”

“Not a thing,” she returned testily.

He eased off the main thoroughfare and onto a quiet side street. It was a middle-class neighborhood of older homes, mostly small ramblers with a few brick houses interspersed among them, just enough to keep the neighborhood from being termed a development.

“Are you ready to listen to reason yet?” he asked as if he possessed limitless patience and was more than willing to wait her out.

“Are you ready to accept responsibility and write me an apology?”

“Not on your life.”

“I’m not signing that settlement offer, either,” she said, tossing him a saccharine smile. She exhaled sharply. “You can rest easy about one thing, however.”

He looked away from the road to glance at her.

“I can’t afford an attorney.”

Far be it from Roy to point out that in liability cases lawyers were more than happy to accept a chunk of the settlement. Generally it was a big chunk. “Sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you are.” She closed her eyes and leaned back.

Roy didn’t completely understand why, but he found himself not wanting to drop her off at her house; he wanted to continue driving so they could talk. “We should discuss it further. Perhaps we could reach a compromise.”

“Like what? I take twelve thousand five hundred dollars and you just apologize and don’t accept responsibility?”

“Something like that. Why don’t we have coffee and talk it over?”

Julie’s head snapped up. “You’re joking, right? Did I hear you invite me to coffee?”

“A gesture of peace and goodwill,” he said in a conciliatory tone. “I hear this is the season for it.”

“Oh, puh-leeze.” She crossed her arms. “Thanks but no thanks.”

Roy shrugged off her rejection, although he had to admit he was disappointed. “I was only trying to be helpful.”

“Were you?” Her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“It’s no big deal.”

“You’re sincere?”

“Yes,” he said simply. He felt her scrutiny as he drove.

“Fine,” she agreed, “but I’d like to suggest we have coffee at my house.”

Roy pulled to a stop in front of the address she’d given him. It was a small, well-kept house, probably two bedrooms. Green shutters bordered the windows and a rocking chair sat on the front porch. Christmas lights were strung along the roofline.

“You have coffee on?” he asked.

“No, but I’ll make a pot.”

“Why not a restaurant? Neutral territory.”

“Because,” she said, and sighed heavily. “I’d feel more comfortable on home turf.”

He considered that. “Should I worry about being poisoned?”

“Hmm.” A smile teased the edges of her mouth. “That’s an interesting possibility.”

“Perhaps we can use this as a lesson in compromise,” he said.

“Compromise? How do you mean?”

“If I come onto your turf, we’ll order dinner and I’ll buy—”

Julie didn’t allow him to finish. “Dinner? I thought we were having coffee.”

“I’m hungry,” he said. “And we’ll eat in the security and comfort of your home.”

For a moment he was sure she was going to reject the idea; then she turned to him with a tentative smile. “All right. We’ll order pizza and I like anchovies.”

“Pizza it is. I like anchovies, too.” He’d never met a woman who did; once again she’d surprised him.

From the expression on her face, he wasn’t convinced she believed him.

“I’m just a regular guy, Julie.”

Muttering, “That’s what Benedict Arnold used to say,” she climbed out of the car and closed the door.

Roy joined her on the concrete walkway that led to the front steps. “I’m really not so bad, you know.”

“That remains to be seen, doesn’t it?”

He chuckled. “I guess it does. Friends?” He held out his hand.

She looked at his extended hand, sighed and gave him her own. “Don’t think this means I’m going to change my mind about the settlement check.”

“We’ll see about that,” he said as she inserted the key into the lock.

“Yes, we will,” she responded with equal determination.

Roy grinned. This might not be so bad. A girl who liked anchovies on her pizza was obviously reasonable some of the time.

Ten

Exhausted, Mercy flung herself onto a passing cloud. “This romance business is hard work,” she complained.

“But Julie’s having dinner with him.” For her part, Goodness felt encouraged. She had to give Dean Wilcoff’s daughter credit; Julie had spunk, which was something Goodness admired.

The young woman hadn’t been willing to accept Roy’s settlement because money wasn’t important to her. That was a rare human trait. The issue of earthly wealth confused Goodness. Money couldn’t buy the things that were truly important. Roy owned a fabulous condo on prime waterfront real estate. The three of them had gone to it and investigated, needing to learn what they could about him. Goodness had hardly ever visited a more beautifully decorated place, but it wasn’t a home. By the same token, Roy was surrounded by all kinds of people, employees and yes-men, but he had few friends. Those he’d once considered friends had drifted away out of neglect. While Roy was looked upon as rich, he was one of the poorest humans Goodness had ever seen.

“He likes Julie,” Shirley said with a rather smug smile.

“She amuses him.” Goodness wasn’t fooled. Roy had no real feelings for Julie. She wasn’t typical of the women he’d known and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of her. The laughter had been good for him. It had felt good, too, and that feeling had left him with the urge to laugh more. She suspected it was the reason he’d pursued Julie during her long walk home. Their shared pizza dinner had come about unexpectedly, and yet he was enjoying himself. They both were.

“Her stubbornness intrigues him,” Goodness added. “He can’t understand why she isn’t interested in the settlement.”

“Julie has principles,” Shirley announced, “and Roy hasn’t seen that in a woman in quite a while. Since before Aimee.”

Mercy agreed. “What should happen next?”

The other angels looked at Goodness as if she was the one with the answers. “How should I know?” She shrugged, as much at a loss as her friends. This relationship was a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants affair. “I’m making this up as we go along.”

“Yes, but you’ve done such good work so far.”

“Me?” Goodness cried. “This is a team effort.” She peered down through the cloud cover and stared into the house below. “They’re eating their pizza now.”

“And talking,” Mercy noted with delight.

“No one seems to be yelling, either,” Shirley said. “That’s a good sign, don’t you think?”

Goodness nodded. “He should ask her out next,” she told the others, suddenly inspired. That seemed to be the most logical step. Not that she was convinced this relationship had much of a future.

“Out?” Mercy repeated. “You mean like on a date?”

“Yes, a date. He implied that he was interested in getting her on neutral turf, remember?” That was the way humans generally did those things, Goodness reasoned, because then no one had an unfair advantage. She gave a rueful grin. Humans tended to be so competitive….

“Roy doesn’t date,” Mercy pointed out. “Not in years. He’s forgotten how. Besides, he’s got this thing about women.” From the exasperated look she wore, one might think Goodness had suggested Roy propose marriage as his next move.

“Then he has to believe it isn’t a date.” Goodness’s head was spinning. Surely there was some social event he was obliged to attend. December was the month for that sort of function.

“Think,” Mercy demanded.

Suddenly the air brightened and with a sound like thunder the Archangel Gabriel joined them. He held a massive volume in his hands. The Book of Lives. “How’s it going, ladies?” he inquired.

The three of them rushed to give him brief updates. “Great,” Goodness said cheerfully.

“Yes—very good,” Mercy seconded.

“We think Julie Wilcoff is the answer to Anne’s prayer,” Shirley told him. “They’re together now.”

Gabriel seemed impressed. “And you three arranged that?”

Goodness swallowed hard. If she admitted their role in the bike accident, it could mean trouble. Much better if Gabriel didn’t know about their little scheme. “Not entirely,” she said—which was the truth. Still, it sounded becomingly modest.

“How’s Anne?” Gabriel surprised her by asking.

Shirley, Goodness and Mercy froze. If he found out that Shirley had appeared to Anne, they could forget ever coming to Earth again. “Fine,” Goodness said, and to her horror her voice squeaked. “She’s painting Roy’s office windows on Wednesday.”

“An angel scene, if I remember correctly,” Gabriel said, studying them carefully.

“What a nice idea.” Mercy looked frantically to her friends for help.

“I can’t imagine where she came up with that idea.” Gabriel’s eyes seemed to bore straight through them.

The three of them huddled close together. “It’s that time of year, isn’t it?” Goodness asked. “I mean, humans seem to associate Christmas with angels.”

Mercy spread her wings and stepped forward. “Glory to God in the Highest,” she said.

“Glory to God,” Shirley echoed.

“Exactly,” Goodness said. “We were there to announce the good news to the shepherds that night. Well, not us, exactly, but angels like us.”

“I know all about that night, Goodness.”

“Of course you do,” she said.

“Now, back to the matter of Anne’s prayer request.”

“Yes, Your Archangelness,” Mercy said.

Her friend didn’t play the role of innocent well, Goodness thought. She resisted the urge to elbow Mercy, since she couldn’t do it without being obvious.

“What are your plans?” Gabriel asked, scrutinizing them.

“Funny you should ask,” Goodness said. “We were just discussing that. I don’t think Roy’s going to come right out and ask Julie for a date. He wouldn’t be comfortable with such a direct approach.”

“He enjoys watching the parade of boats,” Gabriel said, flipping through the pages of the book. He looked up again. “Were you aware of that?”

It was all Goodness could do not to sidle over and take a peek.

Gabriel’s attention returned to the page. “The last couple of Decembers, he’s stood on his balcony alone and watched the decorated watercraft float by.”

“And he’s wished there was someone with him to share the experience,” Shirley said. Goodness figured she was just guessing, but she’d probably guessed right.

Gabriel confirmed it. “That wish has been fleeting, but it is one he’s entertained.”

“Julie’s so athletic, I’ll bet she’s a great sailor. She loves the water,” Mercy ventured.

“So does Roy,” Gabriel said. “Or he did at one time. Unfortunately, he hasn’t sailed in years.”

“Aimee used to sail with him, didn’t she?” Goodness asked, although she was fairly sure she knew the answer.

“Roy sold his sailboat after they split up. He hasn’t been out on Puget Sound since.”

“How sad for him.” Shirley sighed as she said it.

“Perhaps we could—”

“Carry on,” Gabriel said. He seemed to be in a hurry now. “You’re doing a fine job so far.”

“We are?” Goodness couldn’t keep herself from saying. “I mean, yes, I know. We’re working very hard on this request.”

“Good.” Then as quickly as he’d come, the Archangel vanished.

Goodness relaxed. Gabriel had yet to recall them from an assignment, but there was always a chance he would, especially with Shirley disobeying the angels’ number one rule: no revelations to humans.

Perhaps they were safe, for now anyway. She certainly hoped so.

Roy slept better on Monday night than he had in months. He always fell asleep easily enough but then he’d wake up two or three hours later. Often he roamed around his condo for much of the night, unable to get back to sleep. During the past few years, he’d tried any number of remedies, all of them useless.

As the alarm sounded, he rolled over and stared at the clock, astonished that he’d slept the entire night uninterrupted. That never happened, at least not anymore.

Roy felt rested and refreshed as he got into the shower. He stopped short when he realized he was humming a Christmas carol. Christmas music? Him? Something was going on, and he wasn’t sure what. Thrusting his face under the spray, he let the water hit him full force. It occurred to him that his good night’s sleep was because of the evening spent with Julie. He liked her. Julie Wilcoff was different from any woman he’d ever known. His money didn’t impress her, that was for sure. And she didn’t seem to care about his position in the business world. If any other woman had behaved this way, he would’ve assumed she was pretending, but Julie was genuine. Even a cynic like him could recognize that much.

Roy had often been the target of women looking for a free ride. He saw himself as reasonably wealthy and reasonably attractive; he knew he could date just about anyone he wanted. However, the idea of dating any woman after Aimee had become repugnant to him. Until Julie. He wasn’t convinced he liked this, wasn’t convinced he was making the right move or that he was interested in making any move at all.

When Roy arrived at the office, it seemed his whole staff was watching him. He felt their eyes on him as he strode through the lobby and toward the elevator. People turned and stared, and he heard a few hushed and badly disguised whispers. He resisted the urge to stop and ask, “What?”

Once inside his office, he followed his normal routine. Ms. Johnson phoned to remind him of a meeting. The Griffin Plastics file was still on his desk and he picked it up reluctantly. He decided he needed more information before making a final decision.

“Could you ask Dean Wilcoff to be available after my meeting?” Roy asked. “I’d like to talk to him.”

“I’ll see to it right away.”

“Thank you.”

She hesitated as if she’d never heard him express his appreciation before. “Will that be all, Mr. Fletcher?”

“Yes.” He hung up the phone and leaned back in his soft leather chair, folding his hands. Something was in the air, something he couldn’t explain. He didn’t know what was different, but there was definitely a change, and it wasn’t just him.

The meeting, concerning the launch of a new line of security software for home computers, ran smoothly. Roy hurried back to his office when it ended, and Dean Wilcoff came a few minutes later. “You asked to see me?” the man said as Ms. Johnson showed him in. He certainly didn’t waste any time, Roy observed. He got right to the point.

“I did. Sit down.” Roy gestured to the chair across from his desk. He wanted to talk to Wilcoff, but the matter wasn’t business-related. Julie had been on his mind from the moment he’d left her last night, and he realized he knew very little about her. They’d talked, but she wasn’t one to dwell on herself, unlike a lot of women he’d known. Most wanted to impress him. Julie had surprised him in that way, too.

Dean sat close to the edge of the chair, apparently ill at ease.

“Did Julie mention we had dinner together last night?” Dean had called Julie to say he’d be home late, and Roy had left before Dean’s return.

“She did,” Roy’s head of security answered stiffly.

“How old is Julie?” Roy had never thought to inquire, not that it was important.

Dean stiffened. “You should ask my daughter that, sir.”

Ever respectful, Roy noted, and unwilling to mingle his personal life with his professional one. He tried another tactic. “While we were having pizza, Julie told me she’s a twin.”

Dean nodded but volunteered no additional information.

“I gave her a ride home from the office last night,” Roy said, testing the waters, wading in a little deeper this time.

“So she said.”

“I tried to get her to accept my settlement offer.”

Dean didn’t respond.

“She refused.”

“My daughter’s over twenty-one and makes her own decisions,” Dean informed him.

“As she should,” Roy murmured.

Dean met his eyes. “I’ve asked her to apologize for her behavior yesterday.”

This should be interesting. “And she agreed?” Frankly, Roy would be surprised if she did. He’d tried to talk sense into her over pizza and she’d been as stubborn as ever. Judging by her dogged refusal, Roy didn’t expect her to change her mind about his offer anytime soon.

“Julie said she’d give the matter of an apology some thought.”

Roy smiled. So she hadn’t ruled it out altogether. He admired her for that.

“Is there anything else?” Wilcoff asked, transparently eager to leave.

“Yes. Did I tell you my mother will be here at some point on Wednesday?”

“You did.” Dean stood. “You said she’d be painting the lobby windows.”

Roy stood, too. “I’ll check in with you later about Julie.”

“What about her?”

Roy saw that he’d spoken out of turn. “About … whether she decides to apologize or not.”

“That’s up to my daughter.”

“Yes, of course. No reflection on your job performance, Dean, which to this point has been excellent.”

“Thank you.”

Roy nodded, dismissing the other man.

Dean moved to the door, then turned and met Roy’s gaze. “Are you romantically interested in my daughter?”

Roy’s throat went dry. Romantically interested in Julie? Instinct told him to deny it immediately, but he wasn’t sure.

“Would it bother you if I was?”

“Again, that’s my daughter’s business. And yours.”

“Yes, it is,” Roy said. Theirs and nobody else’s.

Shirley and Goodness, hovering above the office, nudged each other. Mercy gave them a thumbs-up and a big grin. Kudos to Dean, they all decided, for having the nerve to ask. Romantically interested? Yes!