Heaven Sent (34 page)

“
That he did,” supplied Mrs.
Granger, handing Becky a plate containing a flapjack in the shape
of a bunny rabbit, alongside two small sausage patties. “He left
notes for the two of you. A wire came from Mr. Henderson, you
see.”

“
Oh.” Startled, Callie
looked at the housekeeper. “Did something bad happen?”

Becky glanced up from her flapjack,
and Callie wished she’d kept her apprehension to
herself.

“
Oh, no,” Mrs. Granger said,
and Callie released a breath. “But Mr. Henderson had some
questions, according to Mr. Lockhart, and Mr. Lockhart thought it
better that he go to the city to take care of them.” She flipped
another pancake. “I don’t recall the cable coming, but I napped
yesterday afternoon.”

“
I see.” So it had been
cowardice after all, Callie thought unkindly. There had been no
cable from Mark Henderson; she’d bet her teeth on it.

Then again, cowardice might have
played some part in Aubrey’s defection this morning, but when she
considered the matter, he might have been right to remove himself.
By the time he came back in a few days, perhaps the awkwardness
inherent in the situation would have faded.

Maybe. As Callie ate her own
flapjacks, in plain old-fashioned rounded shape, she decided she’d
have to make up her mind about that later.

*****

Aubrey felt a little silly when he
showed up in his San Francisco office late that Monday morning.
Mark Henderson glanced up, registered his shock, and rose to rush
over to him, fawning as if Aubrey had been a hundred and ten rather
than a sprightly thirty-five. He frowned at his
secretary.

“
No need to pamper me, Mark.
I’m not in my dotage yet.”

Mark leaped back. “Good God, no, sir!
I didn’t mean to—that is to say, I only—”

Taking pity on him, Aubrey relaxed.
“I’m sorry, Mark. Didn’t mean to snap at you. Sorry I didn’t let
you know I’d be here this morning.”

“
I’m sure it’s quite all
right, Mr. Lockhart. There’s no need for the owner of the business
to apprise his subordinates of his every move.”

Oh, Lord, now he’d gone and done it.
He’d offended Mark Henderson, a superior employee, because he was
embarrassed about having run away from home. Aubrey
sighed.

“
Take a powder, Mark. I’m
not conducting a spot inspection or anything. I just needed to get
away from the house for a while.”

Mark remained stiff for a second or
two, then relaxed and offered a tentative smile. “Too many women?”
he asked in a teasing tone.

Ah, that sounded so simple. Aubrey
pounced on the suggestion as he’d seen Monster pounce on a paper
ball. “Exactly. I’m as fond of women as the next man, but I need to
escape every now and then.”

Going back to his desk, Mark sat,
still smiling, although with more palpable strain. “Is, ah, Miss
Prophet causing you any problems, sir?”

“
Miss Prophet?” Aubrey took
his own chair, behind his massive desk, and gazed thoughtfully at
Mark. Here, he had yesterday assumed, was the man whom Callie
Prophet loved, damn him for daring to deprive Becky of her
nanny.

Aubrey couldn’t see it. Mark didn’t
appear any more lovable than Aubrey to Aubrey’s eyes. He was a
good-looking fellow, but so was Aubrey. Mark was smart, but Aubrey
considered himself smarter. And he was a dashed sight
richer.

After sighing deeply, he said, “No.
She’s fine.”

“
Ah. I see.” Mark heaved a
huge sigh, too. “She’s an awfully pretty woman, isn’t
she?”

“
I suppose so.” Aubrey slid
a pile of correspondence to the center of his desk. Lifting the
first envelope and squinting at it, he said as casually as he
could, “You seem rather fond of Miss Prophet, Mark. Should I be
alarmed?”

“
Alarmed?” Mark sounded
genuinely shocked. “Good God, sir, no! That is to say—I assure you,
I don’t have any—I mean—”

“
It’s all right, Mark. I
only wondered if I’d have to hire another nanny any time soon. I
have no business to pry into your personal life.”

“
But I don’t
have
a personal
life!”

Aubrey glanced up with interest and
saw Mark’s face flush. “You don’t?”

Mark gave a shaky chuckle. “No. Well,
not really. My sister’s family generally takes up my time. I live
with them, you know, sir. She married a capital fellow, and I’ve
lived with them for six years now. I’m fond of their children, and
enjoy entertaining them.”

“
I see.” Aubrey hesitated,
wondering if it would be polite to ask the question that had sprung
to his mind. Then he decided he might as well. “Do you ever think
about marriage, Mark?”

“
Marriage?”

Aubrey’s secretary was plainly
startled by the question. His flush deepened. Aubrey was sorry to
have embarrassed the boy, but he had an almost overwhelming need to
understand Mark’s relationship with Callie—if there was
one.

“
Yes. You’re a young,
vigorous fellow. Do you ever think about marrying and settling
down?”

After clearing his throat, Mark said,
“Well, yes. Sometimes. But I don’t want to rush into
anything.”

Aubrey nodded, trying for a judicial,
contemplative expression but fearing his relief might be leaking
through. “So, you haven’t met anyone recently whom you’d consider
suitable material for a life’s mate for yourself?”

“
No. Not really.”

Dash it, that was no answer.
Well, it
was
an
answer, but it wasn’t the one Aubrey wanted to hear. He decided to
be more blunt. “I wondered, after seeing the two of you together,
if you might have an interest in Miss Prophet.” There. He’d said
it.

“
Oh!” Mark’s face had begun
to regain its normal color, but it reddened again at once. “Miss
Prophet?”

Aubrey picked up another envelope and
tried to appear nonchalant as he perused its contents. “Just a
thought, is all”

“
Oh. I see. Well . . . Well,
I do think she’s a charming woman,” Mark said. “And she’s quite
pretty. She seems to be good with children. She’d probably make
some lucky fellow an admirable wife.”

Dash it, Aubrey didn’t ask for a
compilation of Callie’s finer qualities. The longer Mark took in
listing them, the more Aubrey feared he was going to confess to a
secret engagement or something. He schooled his features to betray
none of his irritation.

“
But I don’t think she’d
give me a second thought if I didn’t work for you, Mr. Lockhart.
She’s obviously head over ears in love with you, sir.”

The envelope slipped from Aubrey’s
suddenly numb fingers, and he stared at his secretary, “She
what’?”

Mark started and paled. “Well, I— I
mean, it seemed—I don’t mean to say that you— Oh, dear.”

Aubrey took three deep breaths and let
them out slowly. He could scarcely credit what his ears had just
heard. But his hearing was excellent, and he knew he wasn’t
mistaken. Mark, however, was.

“
I don’t believe you’ve
judged her sentiments correctly, Mark,” Aubrey said after a moment
or two. “Miss Prophet . . .” Miss Prophet what? Miss Prophet hates
his guts? Miss Prophet despises him? Miss Prophet considers him
beneath her contempt? Aubrey didn’t want to admit those things
aloud. After fumbling around in his brain for a few seconds, he
merely said, “I don’t believe Miss Prophet entertains those sorts
of feelings for me.” In any way whatsoever.

“
No?” Mark eyed his employer
skeptically. “Well, sir, I’m sure you know best, but I’ve seen the
way she looks at you.”

Squinting at his secretary, Aubrey
thought about Callie. No. Mark was wrong. “I’ve seen the way she
looks at me, too,” he said, trying not to sound as sardonic as he
felt. “I can assure you that love isn’t the word I’d use to
describe it.”

“
No?” Mark remained
unconvinced, Aubrey could tell. “If you say so, sir.”

“
Yes, I do say so.” Dash it,
this conversation was insane. “But how did we get onto this topic?”
he said with asperity. “It has nothing to do with
business.”

A flash of annoyance passed across
Mark’s face. “No, sir, but you did ask.”

“
Oh. Right. I did. Sorry,
Mark.” Dash it. Aubrey told himself not to take his own problems
out on his secretary. “I beg your pardon. Didn’t mean to
pry.”

“
Oh, no, sir. It’s quite all
right.” His glance was shy. “I, er, appreciate you taking an
interest in me, sir. Most employers wouldn’t.”

Embarrassed now himself, Aubrey said
gruffly, “Nonsense. I value you, both as an employee and as a
gentleman of integrity and intelligence, Mark. I care about your
life and future.”

God bless it, if he got any more
maudlin, they’d both be weeping like babies. Aubrey gave himself a
mental shake.

“
Thank you very much,
sir.”

More embarrassed than ever, Aubrey
rose from his desk. “I came to the city in order to see to a few
things,” he said mendaciously. “I’ll be back a little
later.”

He escaped to Golden Gate Park, where
he walked for two-and-a-half hours, after which time he felt
capable of dealing with his business affairs again. His personal
affairs were another matter entirely. But Aubrey decided to be
patient. Patience had been his friend in business matters. It
probably couldn’t hurt in his dealings with Miss Callida
Prophet.

His confidence in business affairs
didn’t, unfortunately, leak over into his feelings about
Callie.

He did dare, however, to ask Mark in
as casual a manner as possible how he planned to spend Christmas.
It had occurred to Aubrey as he wandered around the park, not
looking at anything in particular but pondering his own problems,
that Christmas might be a good time in which to try to change
Callie’s mind about marrying him. All that warmth and good cheer.
Fellowship. Merriment. That sort of stuff.

“
Oh, my sister and her
husband invite the whole family over on Christmas Eve,” Mark told
him. Aubrey didn’t fail to notice the twinkle in his secretary’s
eyes, or the expression of fond memory on his face. “Christmas is a
jolly time for families.”

Exactly what Aubrey had been thinking.
He and Anne hadn’t had enough time together to establish very many
Christmas traditions, but they’d enjoyed family get-togethers twice
after Becky’s birth. After that, Anne had been too ill to plan
anything, and Aubrey had been too heartsick.

However, it might not be taken amiss,
by Becky or the indomitable Miss Prophet, if Aubrey were to suggest
some sort of family function. Christmas Eve sounded like as good a
time as any, and Callie had already shown her good generalship when
it came to organizing parties. Mrs. Granger would probably enjoy
it, since her own family was back East somewhere and she considered
the Lockharts her family. And Figgins, too. Delilah had family in
Santa Angelica, so she probably would rather spend the time with
them, but that needn’t matter much.

Now if Aubrey could only figure out
where to find a family . . .

His own family consisted of himself
and Becky. He’d be dashed if he’d invite Old Bilgewater, probably
the only available member of Anne’s family. The reason she was
available was that nobody wanted her around, and Aubrey was no
exception.

Hmm
. He’d just have to think of something, was all there was to
it. Becky would enjoy a Christmas party, and it would give him an
opportunity to show Callie a bit of the good life she’d be throwing
away if she didn’t marry him.

On the other hand, maybe he was just
insane. On that happy note, Aubrey scowled, and went back to
work.

*****

“
A Christmas
party?”

Callie stared at him blankly. Aubrey
grew irritated. “Yes, a Christmas party. I understand Christmas
parties aren’t entirely unheard of, even in Santa
Angelica.”

Her own eyes flashed. “Yes, I have
heard of Christmas parties, Mr. Lockhart.” She sucked in a breath.
Aubrey expected her to use it to scold him, but she didn’t. “When
would you like to hold this festive gathering?”

Her voice was so dry Aubrey might have
thought she’d dipped it in alum before flinging it at him, if such
a thing were possible. “I thought about Christmas Eve.”

“
I see.” Her eyes narrowed.
“Whom exactly do you expect would be available to travel to your
home on Christmas Eve, Mr. Lockhart? That evening is generally held
to be one for families gathering together. Even rich people can’t
expect everyone to drop their own family traditions when they snap
their fingers, you know.”

He glared at her. “Yes, Miss Prophet,
I do know that.”

Aubrey could see her better nature
struggling with her desire to hurt him. He was surprised when her
better nature won.

“
I beg your pardon, sir.
That was unkind,”

He eyed her narrowly. “Yes, it was. I
don’t suppose you’d consider calling me ‘Aubrey,’ would you? And I
could call you ‘Callie,’ and we might end up not hating each other
eventually.”