Angels at Christmas Page 9

  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 flyby-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 sayin
g. “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!

  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.”