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Eleven

Anne was enjoying herself. Paintbrush in hand, she stood in the large lobby of her son’s office building and spread the bright colors across the smooth glass, creating a festive greeting for all to see. She’d drawn the outlines with a felt-tip pen and was now filling in the figures, using acrylic paints.

This was the first Christmas season since the divorce that she’d felt like celebrating. It wasn’t an effort; nothing felt forced, least of all her happiness. She thanked the angel for that. The one who’d appeared to her. Everything had changed for the better that day. Her heart felt lighter, less burdened, and life suddenly seemed good and right again.

After all these years, her prayer request had apparently been heard. Even now, Anne couldn’t get over the glorious, wonderful sound of her son’s laughter. Such a minor joy had felt forever lost to both of them. Even more wonderful, a woman—the first one her son had mentioned in five years—had caused this spark of excitement.

“How does that look, Jason?” Anne asked the security guard. The young man certainly took his duties seriously. The entire time she’d been painting, Jason had watched her. He must’ve been told that no one was to bother her, and he made sure no one did.

Jason didn’t answer and Anne turned around to see him studying the parking lot.

“Trouble?” Anne asked.

“Perhaps it’d be best if you left the area, ma’am.”

Anne peered outside; the only person she could see was a young woman wearing what appeared to be a soccer uniform. She was walking toward the building. “Who’s that?” Anne asked.

“Julie Wilcoff,” Jason answered in a low voice. He moved from behind the desk and stood directly in front of the glass doors, his posture a warning in itself.

Anne watched as the woman paused outside the door and smiled at the security guard. “Jason, I’m here to talk to my father.”

“I’m not falling for that a second time,” he said. “Your father told me to keep you out of this building and he hasn’t told me anything different, so I’m keeping you out.”

The woman glanced impatiently at Anne and then back at the security guard. “Jason, please.”

“If you’ve got a problem with that,” the guard said matter-of-factly, “then I suggest you take it up with your father.”

Ms. Wilcoff promptly pulled a cell phone out of her pocket, punched a few numbers and held it to her ear.

Jason stood exactly where he was.

“Is this the girl who gave my son such a talking-to the other day?” Anne asked. If so, Anne was eager to meet her.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Her father banned her from the building?”

“I believe Mr. Fletcher gave his approval, ma’am.”

Anne’s spirits did an abrupt dive. “I’m sure he’s had a change of heart,” she said, praying she was right.

“Then he’ll need to tell me that himself, ma’am.” The guard wasn’t budging, not an inch. That much was obvious.

Julie Wilcoff seemed to have difficulty reaching her father. With an air of frustration, she clicked off the cell phone. “My father isn’t answering,” she called from the other side of the door.

“That isn’t my concern.”

“He asked to see me,” she insisted.

For a moment it seemed Jason might waver, but he held his ground. “He didn’t say anything to me about that. I don’t have any alternative but to do as I’ve been instructed. You aren’t allowed in this building. I’m sorry, Ms. Wilcoff, but I have my orders.”

Julie nodded. “I understand. Will you tell my father I was by?”

“If I see him,” Jason said.

Julie nodded again and turned around. She started back toward the parking lot.

Anne refused to let this woman leave.

Jason moved from his post and Anne rushed to the door. “Ms. Wilcoff?” she called. “Julie?”

Julie glanced over her shoulder.

Anne stood in the doorway and gave her a quick wave. “I’m Anne Fletcher, Roy’s mother.”

“Oh, hi,” she said. Turning again, she halted in her progress toward the visitors’ parking lot. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I guess you heard about your son’s and my disagreement.” The wind whipped the hair about her face, and Julie swept it away with a stroke of her hand. “I actually came to see Roy, but I needed to talk to my dad first. I can see that’s impossible.”

“No, it isn’t.” Anne raised her index finger. “Wait just a minute.” She closed the door and discovered Jason frowning at her. “I can’t let her in here, Mrs. Fletcher,” he said, “so don’t go asking me to make allowances.”

“I had no intention of doing that.” She planned to take another approach altogether. “The best thing would be to contact my son and get this settled once and for all.”

Jason said nothing.

“Can I use the phone on your desk?” She didn’t have a cell phone; it was an expense she couldn’t afford.

“Go ahead.” He kept his gaze pinned to the door as if he half feared Julie might try to dash in while he wasn’t looking.

Anne walked over to the desk and called Ms. Johnson, her son’s assistant. “Hello, Eleanor,” she said. “Could I speak to my son?”

The woman hesitated. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Fletcher, he’s in a meeting.”

“A meeting,” Anne repeated. She’d long suspected that was the excuse Roy used when he wasn’t in the mood to deal with her. “Did he ask you to say that?” she whispered.

“Not this time,” his assistant admitted, confirming Anne’s suspicions. “He actually is in a meeting.”

“Oh, dear,” Anne said, breathing a sigh.

“Is there anything I can do?”

Anne chewed her lip. “Do you happen to know Julie Wilcoff?”

“I do.” Eleanor’s voice grew warm and excited.

“She’s here.”

“In the building?”

“No, the security guard won’t let her inside. Apparently there’s some edict her father gave and she’s forbidden to come in. Is that true?”

“I’m afraid it must be, but we all like Ms. Wilcoff.”

Unfortunately, Jason hadn’t gotten that memo. “Any idea on how we can get her inside to see my son?”

After another second’s hesitation, Roy’s assistant said, “I’ll be down directly.”

“Oh, thank you.” Anne looked up and saw Jason frowning at her. Julie hadn’t moved from her position outside the doors.

“What did he say?”

“I didn’t speak to my son, but Ms. Johnson is on her way down.”

Jason frowned even more fiercely and shook his head. “That isn’t good enough. It’s got to be Mr. Wilcoff or Mr. Fletcher himself. No one else. As I explained earlier, I have my orders.”

Anne ignored him and went back to the glass entrance doors. She opened one and said, “I phoned Roy, but he’s in a meeting. His assistant is coming down to see what she can do.”

“It’s all right, Mrs. Fletcher. I’ll just do this another time.”

Anne shoved one arm out the door. “No! Stay where you are. I’ll be right back.” She turned away and then immediately turned around. “Promise me you won’t leave!” If she was going to make a fool of herself, she wanted to be sure it was worth her while.

Julie grinned. “I won’t.”

“Thank you.”

Anne addressed Jason next. “When Ms. Johnson arrives, tell her I’ve gone to get my son.” She refused to let this opportunity—or this woman—disappear from Roy’s life. With a determination that astonished even her, Anne marched over to the elevators and pushed the button. When a car didn’t come fast enough to suit her, she pushed it again.

A high-tech buzzing finally announced an elevator. To her relief, it was empty, and she shot to the top floor in what felt like seconds. Stepping off, she hurried into the foyer, glancing around. Ms. Johnson, as Anne knew, wasn’t at her desk. Anne thought she heard voices at the end of the hallway and headed in that direction.

Sure enough, there was a meeting taking place in the conference room. Anne remembered seeing it when Roy had given her a tour shortly after moving into the building.

She hated to barge in, but there was nothing else she could do. Knocking politely at the door, Anne walked inside, her smock smeared with paint and her hair a mess. The room, which had been lively with conversation, went silent. Twenty or so men and women, all important-looking, sat around a long, rectangular table. Every one of them turned to stare at her. Anne smiled weakly and noticed that Roy was standing at the front of the room.

“Mother?”

“Could I speak to you a moment?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Now?”

Anne held her breath. “Please.”

Roy gestured apologetically at his associates. “If you’ll excuse me?”

They all nodded and Roy walked to the back of the room. “What is it, Mother?”

From the way his eyes flared and the even, unemotional tone of his voice, Anne could tell he wasn’t pleased. He guided her, none too gently, into the hallway.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt you,” she said, clasping her hands tightly.

“If this has to do with the Christmas scene on the windows, then—”

“Oh, no,” she insisted, “it’s not about that.” Her throat felt dry and it was difficult to concentrate. “This has to do with Jason …”

“And who is Jason?”

“The security guard downstairs. He tells me Julie Wilcoff has been banned from the building. I know it was her father’s doing, but Jason seems to believe you supported that decision. Did you?”

His demeanor changed, and his mouth and eyes softened. “I might have. Why?”

“She’s here.”

“Now?”

Anne nodded. “Jason won’t let her in to speak to you.”

“She came to see me, did she?” He folded his arms and seemed to consider this information with some amusement. Then the humor left his eyes. “Did she give you any indication why she wanted to speak to me?”

Anne shook her head. “Not really.”

His mouth twitched. Was that a smile trying to emerge? “Ms. Johnson did her best to talk Jason into letting her in, but he won’t budge.”

“I’ll call him myself,” Roy promised. “Go ahead and have Ms. Johnson bring Julie up to my office. Tell her I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” He glanced at his watch. “Make that twenty.”

“I hope I did the right thing,” Anne said.

“You did exactly the right thing,” he said, and to her complete shock, he took her by the shoulders and kissed her cheek.

Anne hurried downstairs. Jason was on the phone when she got off the elevator. He muttered something that sounded like “yessir,” replaced the receiver and walked over to the glass door, holding it open for Julie.

“You can come in now,” he told the young woman, who stood outside.

Julie walked into the building slowly, as if she expected alarms to ring the instant she stepped over the threshold.

“Thank you,” she said to Anne.

“Mr. Fletcher would like you to wait in his office,” Ms. Johnson told her.

“I’ll be up in a moment,” Julie said. She turned to Anne and the Christmas scene she’d started painting on the windows. “You painted these angels?”

“Oh … yes.” Anne had almost forgotten the reason she was in the lobby at all. She’d painted three angels this time, floating on a cloud and looking down at Bethlehem and the manger scene. The angels dominated the painting, their joy at the Savior’s birth evident.

“They’re absolutely lovely,” Julie said.

“Thank you.”

“I had plenty of time to look at them while I was waiting, and they seem almost real to me.”

Anne blushed with pleasure. “How kind you are.”

“Roy said you were an artist. You’re obviously very talented.”

“Roy mentioned me?”

“Yes, although I don’t know him well.” Julie shrugged. “We definitely got off on the wrong foot. I’m here to talk to him and, well, I hope we can start again.”

Anne clasped Julie’s hand in both of hers. “I hope you can, too. Could—could you and I talk sometime?”

Julie smiled. “I’d like that very much.”

“So would I,” Anne said. “I’ll be in touch.”

Twelve

Julie was waiting in his office when Roy returned from the meeting, which he’d adjourned rather quickly. She sat in the chair across from his desk, looking unusually demure. His mood had improved from the moment he learned she’d come here to see him. He’d been thinking of her ever since their pizza dinner, and he’d wondered if he’d see her again soon. He had his answer now and frankly, it was one he liked.

“Julie.” He greeted her warmly, walking over to his desk and sitting behind it. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

“I hope I’m not disturbing you.” She’d apparently come to his office immediately after school, not bothering to change into street clothes first. Despite the weather, she wore shorts and a sports jersey, and a whistle dangled like a long necklace around her neck.

“Not at all. What can I do for you?”

He assumed she was there to accept his settlement; she didn’t need to show up in person, but he was delighted she had. So she was like everyone else—willing to take easy money. Yes, he was a little disillusioned, but he still liked her. He couldn’t blame Julie Wilcoff for a quality shared by practically every other person on Earth. Greed was part of human nature, and he’d long since reconciled himself to that.

“I came to talk about what happened on Monday,” she said simply. “My father felt I was out of line bursting in here the way I did.”

“You were angry.”

“Angry,” she repeated, and with a soft chuckle added, “You have no idea. I don’t think I’ve ever been more insulted than—” She bit off the rest of her thought. “At any rate, Dad’s right. I should never have reacted like that. I made a fool of myself.”

Roy was quite enjoying this. “So you’ve come around. Somehow, I knew you would.”

“Come around? To what?”

He didn’t know why she insisted on denying the obvious. Certainly, the settlement was foremost in her mind; it had to be. “I’m talking about the money.”

Julie frowned and shook her head. “This has nothing to do with money. It has to do with an apology.”

“You’re not here because of the settlement?” He wasn’t fooled, but decided to play along for the time being.

“I came to apologize for storming into your office and for the things I said. I’m not here about that stupid, insulting settlement offer, which I have repeatedly rejected. I’d think that by now you’d get the message.” With a visible effort, she managed to keep her anger in check.

Roy’s own anger was rising. “Everyone’s interested in money, Julie, so don’t even bother pretending otherwise. Let’s both be honest, shall we? You aren’t going to get a better offer, so just sign the papers my attorney mailed you and be done with it.”

“I believe I already told you what I think of that,” she muttered. She slid closer to the edge of the upholstered chair. Soon she was barely perched on the cushion at all. He thought she might be in danger of slipping onto the floor.

“You’re holding out for more money, aren’t you?”

She bolted to her feet as if someone had pinched her. “You’re impossible, you know that? I came here in good faith—”

“Good faith?” Roy didn’t see it that way. Not when she said one thing and wanted another. But ultimately, human nature at its most basic couldn’t be defeated.

“I thought we’d made some progress, you and I, and … well, I can see you’re hopeless.”

“Me?” he shouted. “You’re the one who’s got her eye on the almighty dollar.”

“I don’t want any of your stupid money! Why can’t you get that through your head?”

“Because you’re just like every other woman.”

Her eyes seemed to grow wider. “Now you’re insulting not only me but every woman alive.”

“Yes, well, if the shoe fits.”

Hands on her hips, Julie glared at him. “Then I guess you know what you can do with your shoe.”

He glared right back. Standing, he reached for his phone and punched in the number for security. “Please send somebody to escort Ms. Wilcoff from the building.”

Julie’s mouth sagged open in what appeared to be shock. “Thank you very much, but I can see myself out.” She started for the open door, every step filled with indignation. She got halfway across the room before she swung around and said, “I really tried, you know.”

“Julie, just sign the settlement.” They would put an end to this, once and for all. Then they could move on, maybe explore the possibilities between them. He’d be willing to overlook this flaw; no doubt he had flaws of his own. Naiveté about the motives of others didn’t happen to be one of them. “Just sign, okay?” he said wearily.

“No!”

Well, that answered that.

“Furthermore, I think you’re—”

“Uh-uh,” Roy said, holding up his finger. “You don’t want to say something you’ll regret.”

The elevator doors opened before Julie had a chance to insult him. Jason, the guard from downstairs, loomed in the doorway. “You asked for security, Mr. Fletcher?”

If looks could kill, Roy would be six feet under. As best he could, he ignored Julie’s death-dealing glare. “I did.”

Jason gripped Julie by the elbow. “Once she’s gone, is she allowed back in the building?”

Julie closed her eyes. Roy looked at her curiously—was she grinding her teeth? For whatever reason, the anger seemed to drain from her.

“Let’s play that by ear,” Roy told the guard. When she saw that she had no choice but to sign, then and only then would Roy be willing to see her. He insisted on at least that much honesty.

Julie lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “I’ve destroyed the papers your attorney mailed, and I will destroy any replacement papers.”

“This is my final offer.”

She grinned. “I should hope so.” Still in Jason’s firm grip, she turned and walked away. “Goodbye,” she said over her shoulder. “And I mean that.”

“I’ll see that she leaves the building,” Jason told Roy as he hustled her out the door.

“Thank you.” Roy reclaimed his chair. Their conversation hadn’t gone the way he’d wanted. He’d hoped they could find some common ground. His problem was that he genuinely liked her. Okay, so Julie was a little stubborn and clearly unreasonable. But now he was afraid he might never see her again, judging by that final goodbye. She’d probably just mail the signed attorney’s contract, disgruntled that her ploy to get more hadn’t succeeded. She’d settle for twenty-five thousand and she’d avoid him from this moment on.

The thought depressed him. Besides, he was in the right. It was Julie who’d been unreasonable, not him.

He returned to a number of pressing business matters, determined to put Julie out of his mind. Fifteen minutes later, he began to pace, unable to concentrate. Fifteen minutes after that, he called Ms. Johnson into his office.

“Sit down,” he instructed his assistant when she entered the room. “Please.”

Watching him as he walked from one end of his office to the other, Ms. Johnson slowly lowered herself into the chair opposite his desk. “Is everything all right, Mr. Fletcher?”

“What makes you ask?” he muttered irritably.

She looked embarrassed now and her gaze followed him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so … agitated.”

“I’m not agitated,” he barked.

She dropped her eyes. “As you say.”

Roy resisted the inclination to argue with her to prove his point. He sank down in his chair, tempted to explain that he was the same as ever. But why bother? Women always stuck together.

“You wanted to see me?” Ms. Johnson asked.

Roy nodded and steepled his fingers as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. “I have a question and I’d appreciate your honesty.”

“Yes, sir.”

Again Roy felt her hesitation. She probably wasn’t the best person to ask, but his options were limited. “Am I an unreasonable man?” He didn’t know why he was questioning his own behavior, his own perceptions. Was there the slightest chance he was wrong in his beliefs about Julie?

Ms. Johnson’s shoulders rose and then fell in a soundless sigh. “You can be at times,” she said, obviously uncomfortable meeting his gaze.

“I see,” he said. “Can you give me an example?”

She nodded. “Just now with Julie Wilcoff.”

Roy was afraid she was going to say that. “You think I’m the unreasonable one?” Women stick together, he reminded himself.

“Mr. Fletcher, perhaps it would be better if you discussed this with someone else, someone more … appropriate.”

Roy frowned, unable to imagine who else he could approach. “I asked you.”

His assistant edged forward. “I had a chance to talk to Ms. Wilcoff while you were finishing up the Griffin meeting, and she seemed sincere to me. I know it was difficult for her to come, but out of respect for her father, she felt it was the right thing to do.”

“She had a rotten attitude,” he snapped.

“If you don’t mind my saying so, it appears you’re the one with the attitude problem.”

His irritation flared briefly and then died.

“Not once did she mention the settlement,” Ms. Johnson continued. “If I were to guess, I’d say she completely forgot about it. I believe she came here for precisely the reason she said—to apologize for bursting into the office. She admitted there were better ways of handling the situation and she felt badly about it. I think she was afraid she’d embarrassed her father.”

“The only person she embarrassed was herself,” Roy said.

“At least she was woman enough to admit it.”

Roy looked thoughtfully at his executive assistant. She’d spoken frankly in a way he’d never expected. “What are you suggesting?”

“I’m saying that perhaps it’s time …” She hesitated.

“Go on,” he urged. He might as well hear it all.

“Perhaps,” she said, “you should talk to Julie about this.” Roy nodded, swallowing hard. Perhaps she was right.

When she was this angry, the best thing for Julie to do was run—as if a pack of wolves was after her. The minute she got home, she tossed aside her shorts and changed into running gear. After a few perfunctory warm-up exercises, she took off. As her shoes hit the pavement, her thoughts chased each other around and around. Six miles passed, six pounding, breathless miles, before she found some measure of serenity. By then, her calves ached and her lungs burned. It was pitch-dark as she ran back to her neighborhood, cheered by the bright display of Christmas lights on the homes along her route.

As she rounded the corner to her house, she noticed a dark sedan parked in front. Her father was home, too; she saw his light blue car in the garage beside hers.

Instead of waiting for her inside the house, Roy Fletcher sat on the top porch step. She came up the walkway, bent over and braced her hands against her knees as she caught her breath. “What are you doing here?” she asked between gasps. If he wanted to resume their argument, she’d walk into the house and slam the door.

Roy stood and brushed his hands against his sides. “I don’t know. It seemed like a nice afternoon for a drive.”

“Sure it did,” she said sarcastically, still breathing hard.

“Would you believe I just happened to be in the neighborhood?”

She shook her head.

“All right,” he said. “Ms. Johnson suggested the two of us talk.”

“Talk …” Julie straightened, not hiding her shock. The great Mr. Roy Fletcher was here to make peace.

“This time I was the one out of line.” Apologies didn’t come naturally to this man; he seemed to have trouble saying the words.

Julie stared into his eyes to see if she could judge his sincerity. As far as she could tell, he meant it. She smiled and offered him her hand. He took it, then smiled back—a smile that was warm and lazy and completely sexy.

“Furthermore, I’m willing to make up for my rudeness,” he told her.

“Really? And how do you intend to do that?”

“Dinner?”

“When?”

He pulled a BlackBerry out of his pocket and looked up, meeting her eyes. “What about tonight?”

Although tempted, Julie already had dinner in the Crock-Pot and test papers to grade. “Another night would be better.”

He frowned, then suggested, “Friday? That works for me.”

“Sorry, I’ve got a game.”

“What sort of game?”

“I’m the girls’ soccer coach.”

“Oh.” He scrolled down his appointment calendar. “Saturday evening is free from seven o’clock on.”

“Yes, but …” Julie paused. “Isn’t that the parade of ships?” This was one of her favorite Christmas traditions. Last year, she and her father had managed to get her mother down to the waterfront. It had been a highlight of the season for so many years, and she hated to miss it. Especially now, when the event held such a significant memory for her.

Roy glanced up. “Yes, I believe Saturday night is the annual Christmas parade of ships.”

“I don’t suppose you’d care to see that, would you?” she asked hesitantly.

“Actually I would. I have a good view of Lake Washington if you’d like to see it from my condo.”

“Dinner, too?”

Grinning, he nodded.

“Wonderful.” Julie was thrilled not only with the opportunity to view the boats festooned with their Christmas lights but to know Roy better. His coming here was encouraging. Then a thought sobered her. They continued to trip over the matter of that settlement again and again. “You have to agree to one thing first.”

“Fine, let’s hear it.”

She threw back her shoulders. “If you say a word about the settlement or mention money even once, I’m out of there.”

He seemed about to argue. “If you insist,” he finally said.

“I do.”

“Then I guess I have to agree.”

“Good.” She smiled and raised both hands, palms up. “See? That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

“As a matter of fact,” he said with another grin, “it was.”

Julie laughed, walking past him and into the house. She opened the front door and looked over her shoulder, silently inviting him inside. “I should ask my father to escort you from the house, just so you know how it feels.”

“Yes, well—”

“Never mind.” Her father sat in the living room reading the evening paper. He lowered it as Julie walked in, Roy Fletcher a few steps behind.

“Dad, make Mr. Fletcher welcome while I shower, okay?”

Her father’s eyes widened. “What’s this?”

“We made peace,” Julie explained.

Dean turned to Julie and then his employer. “Somehow, I knew you would.” He set his newspaper aside. “Do you play poker, Mr. Fletcher?”

“Now and then. I might be a little rusty.”

“Oh, that’s not a problem.” Her father rubbed his hands together and gave a stagy wink. “I’ll get a deck.”