A Hope Undaunted (9 page)

“No, he gave you the directorship because you’re the one with the brains and the calm and steady hand.”

A ghost of a smile played at the edges of Parker’s mouth. “All the more reason that the volunteer should answer to me and not you.”

Luke squinted at his best friend. His smile faded as he tried to assess the truth of his feelings. Could he be fair and impartial? Memories of a ten-year-old spitfire sprang to mind, reminding him how easily she’d gotten under his skin. His thoughts shifted to the golden-haired beauty who needed to be reined in, and his pulse picked up. A slow smile eased across his lips as he adjusted the box on his hip. “No, Parker, our ‘history’ as you call it is all the more reason she should answer to me. According to Brady, this volunteer assignment was actually meted out by her father after she defied him one too many times. He hopes that working in the real world will teach her she can’t always get her own way.” His smile broke into a grin. “And I hate to tell you this, buddy-boy, but if she answered to you, that’s a lesson she’d never learn.”

Parker smiled and rose to his feet. “Okay, Luke, we’ll do it your way. But don’t think I won’t be breathing down your neck if I see you abusing your power.”

“Abusing my power?” Luke’s brows sloped high, his voice wounded. “I’m a professional, Parker, I would
never
abuse my power.” He boggled the box and strode for the door, but not before flashing a final gleam of white teeth. “Now Miss O’Connor’s ‘power’? Oh, yeah – that’s about to be abused, and you can take that to the bank of your choice.”

With a lunch sack in her hand, Lizzie Brady paused at the window of McGuire & Brady Printing Company to peer inside, grateful for an opportunity to catch her breath. She tugged a handkerchief from her pocket and patted the grueling heat from her brow, wishing her pregnancy was during the winter rather than one of the city’s hottest spells.

She smiled as she spied her husband’s ink-splattered trousers beneath his favorite press. Despite the fact that his and Collin’s business was making money and expanding all the time, John Brady still felt the need to crawl under every machine in the place, additional pressmen or no.

She squinted through the gold-lettered glass door that glowed in the sunlight and smiled. Thank heavens Brady’s love affair was with machines and nothing else. Her hand gently caressed the mound jutting beneath her lavender percale maternity shift as she spied the Bible on the gnarled wood table in the back room. She grinned. That is, nothing else but family and God, she thought to herself with a thrill. She drew in a deep breath, heavily scented with gasoline, the smell of the sea, and a hint of mulch from the potted boxwoods she and Faith had talked them into. A soft prayer of thanks automatically sprang from her lips. It had been five and half years since she’d said “I do” to the man of her dreams, and somehow the dreams just kept getting better and better. She sighed and opened the door, unleashing a familiar tinkle of bells overhead.

Her brother-in-law, Collin, glanced up from the typewriter he was piddling with and broke into a wide smile, the welcome on his handsome face as warm as the day. “Lizzie! What are you doing here? You having sympathy pangs because we’re slaving on Saturday?”

She stepped inside and closed the door, grateful for the slight gust of fans cooling the shop. Pushing at a loose curl that fluttered in the breeze, she tucked it behind her ear and hoisted the bag in her hand. “In a sense. Brady forgot his lunch again, so I’m taking pity on him.”

Collin’s smile eased into a grin. “Yeah, I know the feeling. I take pity on him all the time, but he never seems to notice. Hey, where’s your little shadow?”

“Faith took him today,” Lizzie said with a quick glance in the back. “Apparently it’s time for my two-year-old son to experience his first official tea party, at least according to your Abby.”

A tender smile merged with a gleam of pride in Collin’s eyes, marking him as a doting father. “Yeah, that Abby’s a bit on the bossy side, isn’t she, though? I hope Teddy doesn’t let her push him around just because she’s a year older. Makes me wish I had a boy to show him the ropes.”

“Well, I have a feeling Abby just may be your boy – a tomboy, that is. Faith said she fights her tooth and nail when she tries to curl her hair.”

Collin leaned back in the chair and braced his arms behind his neck in a noisy stretch. His lips sported a faint smile, but there was a look of longing in his eyes. “Yeah, I think you may be right. But I’m hoping to have a real boy to carry on my name before all is said and done.”

Lizzie grated her lip, her cheeks heating at the memory of Faith’s words that her husband was “on a mission to have a son.” She fanned her face with her handkerchief. “Boy, it’s hot in here. I don’t know how you stand it.” Her glance darted once again to the back room. “Especially my husband, who I imagine spends a good part of his day under those hot machines.”

Collin grinned and shot a look over his shoulder, where the whirring of additional fans kept Brady from hearing their conversation. “Yeah, I swear the man is addicted to gears and ink, which is a good thing, I suppose, since it means he deals with the presses instead of me.” Collin stuck two fingers to his teeth and let fly with an ear-splitting whistle.

Lizzie winced at the sound, but smiled when her husband rolled out on a dolly, dappled with ink. He stood to his feet and grinned, then yanked a questionable towel from his pocket in an attempt to wipe ink from his hands. “Lizzie, what are you doing here, and where’s Little Guy?”

Her heart did its customary flip when he brushed his lips against hers. “Faith offered to watch Teddy so I could bring your lunch. I’m not sure if your memory is that bad, John Brady, or if it’s just my leftovers that you want to forget. But either way, you forgot your lunch . . .
again
.”

He took the bag and gave her a crooked grin, which lifted a streak of ink on his chiseled face, a face that had turned her head from the age of thirteen. “Trust me, it’s not the leftovers. You’re the best cook in the family, after your mother.”

Collin propped his feet on his desk and pulled a stack of invoices into his lap. He squinted at the paper on top and scratched the back of his head with a pen. “He’s right, Lizzie, you know. But don’t you dare tell Faith or I’ll deny it flat out. Hey, Brady, didn’t we already bill Mrs. Mullens for those party invitations last month?”

Brady opened the bag and unwrapped a wax-papered sandwich. He took a bite and moaned with pleasure. “Yeah, for the oldest daughter’s birthday, but this one is for the younger daughter’s. Can’t believe I ran off and left this. You make the best meatloaf around.”

Lizzie smiled at her husband, then cast a furtive peek in Collin’s direction. “Uh, speaking of not telling Faith, Collin . . .” She swallowed hard. “Brady says you’re still looking for a receptionist and that you interviewed a woman you used to . . . know.”

Collin looked up in shock, pen frozen in hand. A wash of color flooded his neck and cheeks. He gave Brady a narrow look. “You told Lizzie?”

A thick knot bobbed in Brady’s throat as he swallowed a huge bite of meatloaf whole. His eyes glazed while he choked.

Lizzie pounded him on the back. “Goodness, Brady, are you okay?”

Her husband waved her off and cleared his throat, then leveled his gaze on his partner. Another lump bobbed, but this one wasn’t from the meatloaf. “Yes, Collin, I did. She’s my wife, and we pray about everything. You know that.”

“But she’s Faith’s sister – are you crazy?”

Brady set the lunch bag on his desk and released a heavy sigh. He moved to position himself on the corner of Collin’s desk and folded his arms, muscles corded tight. “No, Collin, I’m not. Just cautious. You know perfectly well how I feel about you interviewing a woman you’ve been involved with in the past. It’s just not smart, and you know it.”

Collin tossed the invoices away and jerked his feet from the desk. His eyes cooled to pewter. “For pity’s sake, Brady, I love my wife. How can your brain even go in that direction? Evelyn is nothing more than a friend. One who needs a job pretty badly, not to mention that her qualifications are just what we need. She’s personable, smart, has bookkeeping experience, and used to work for her uncle who was a printer. She’s perfect for the job.”

Lizzie saw the breath rise and fall in her husband’s chest before he lowered his gaze to the crowded surface of Collin’s desk, now littered with invoices.

“Were you . . . involved with her?” His voice was so low that Lizzie could barely hear it.

A shot of color bruised Collin’s cheeks. His eyes darted to Lizzie before he jumped to his feet and slammed in his chair. “You’re being ridiculous, and I’ve got deliveries to make.”

Brady stood and gripped Collin’s arm, his hand knuckle-white on the sleeve of his shirt. His eyes locked on his partner’s with deadly calm. “I have to know, Collin. Were you?”

Collin flung Brady’s hand away. “Yes! Are you satisfied? But it was a long time ago, years before Faith. I swear to you, my intentions are purely professional.”

“I know they are, but some of the most serious mistakes are paved with honorable intentions. The Bible admonishes us to ‘be sober and vigilant because our adversary is like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour.’” Brady anchored two steady hands on Collin’s shoulders, one on either side. The intensity of his brown eyes conveyed his concern. “I love you like a brother, Collin, and you’re the best friend I’ve ever had, you know that. I trust you with my life. But I’m telling you right now from painful experience – we can’t hire this woman.”

Brady’s words seemed to bleed the anger from his partner’s body. Collin drew in a deep breath and then blew it out again in one long, agonizing sigh. He gouged the bridge of his nose with the heel of his hand. His voice was a whisper. “It’s too late.”

Brady dropped his arms. “What do you mean it’s too late?”

Collin plunged his hands in his pockets and stared at the floor. “I hired her yesterday, while you were out on deliveries.”

“What?” Brady took a step back. “Why?”

“Because she came in again, wanting to know if we’d made a decision.” Collin flopped into his chair and put a hand to his eyes. “I swear I had no intention of hiring her, but she got to me. I practically haven’t talked to the woman in almost twenty years, and suddenly here she is, telling me about her sick son, how hard it is for her and her mother to take care of him alone.” Collin looked up, a glimpse of pain in his eyes. “She’s a widow, you know. Her husband died six months ago, on the day their boy turned thirteen.” Wetness glazed Collin’s eyes. “That’s younger than I was when my own father died.” He blinked several times and looked away, his gaze trailing into a hard stare. “I know I shouldn’t have done it,” he whispered, “but I just wanted to help.” He hesitated to draw in a deep breath. “She cried when I gave her the job, Brady. Said it was an answer to prayer.”

Brady’s ragged sigh filled the room as he eased back onto the desk. “Okay, Collin, I guess it’s a done deal, then. We’ll give her a chance. But I want your word on something.”

Collin looked up, his eyes shadowed with fatigue. “What?”

Brady paused, studying his brother-in-law with gravity in his gaze. “I want you to promise that if that woman so much as bats an eye at you, you will let me know.”

“For pity’s sake, Brady, her husband just died – ”

“I want your word, Collin, now. Or I will tell the woman myself that we can’t hire her.”

“I’m telling you, you’re blowing this all out of proportion. She has no interest in me, and I certainly don’t have any interest in her.”

Brady leaned forward, eyes riveted to Collin’s face. “Think about it, Collin. You’re a magnet for women – always have been. Even now, I see how they look at you – ”

Collin bludgeoned the desk with his fist, eyes as intense as Brady’s. “Blast you, Brady, I love my wife – give me some credit, will you? Don’t you think I know how some women look at me? But Faith is the best thing that has ever happened in my sorry life, and there is no way I will ever botch that up. For the love of Job, man, doesn’t almost ten years of marriage prove anything?”

Lizzie watched as her husband slowly sat up, his spine steeled for battle. “It’s not your marriage or your love for Faith that’s in dispute here. Or even your ability to be faithful, although we both know that before Faith, that was sorely lacking. Ten years of women waltzing in here and flirting with you is one thing, ol’ buddy. Working side by side with an attractive woman on a daily basis, especially one you used to be intimate with, well, I’m sorry – that’s something else altogether.” Brady stood to his feet, his tall frame towering over his partner like a threat. “Give me your word, Collin . . .”

Collin blinked, his look of disbelief settling into a tight press of his lips. He exhaled and looked away. His voice was a resigned whisper. “All right, I promise. But your imagination is running away with you. Nothing’s going to happen.”

Brady stood to his feet and rolled his neck, as if to dispel the tension in the room. “You got that right, ol’ buddy, because I’m going to be tracking you every step of the way. This is not a smart thing we’re doing here, Collin, and you know it. When does she start?”