It Really IS a Wonderful Life: The Snowflake Falls but Hearts in Love Keep a Home Warm All Year Long (16 page)

“At home yesterday, I made a spreadsheet for staff scheduling. I put it on a flash drive so I can work on it here.”

“Great. Scheduling is one of Sherrie’s biggest headaches.” This small talk stuff wasn’t getting him any closer to asking Dorie out.

She turned the cup he’d given her around in her hands. “I’ve never seen a John Wayne cup before. What’s the writing on the back say?”

“‘Howdy, Partner.’”

“You sound like him.”

His cheeks heated worse than an afternoon on the lake. “Susan gave me that cup. A souvenir from her trip to Hollywood last summer.”

Dorie stiffened. Not surprising. Susan put off a lot of people until they got to know her. He took another sip. “Why don’t we go upstairs? I’d like to hear more of your ideas.”

Why was this so hard? Not like he’d never asked a girl for a date before. “There are a few things I wanted to ask you.” He coughed. “To ask you privately.”

Once upstairs, Dorie plopped her purse onto her desk and sniffed the fresh flowers.

“I put them there. The ones from last week are dead. I thought you’d appreciate live ones.”

She leaned against the desk, quiet and pensive.

Might as well pump the well and see if water comes out.
“Did you notice this morning’s paper?”

“Scoutmaster of the Year? Congratulations. That’s a great honor.”

“Thanks. Well … uh … there’s … this banquet. I wondered … if … if…you’d like … to come with me.”

Her brows arched and she bit her lower lip. Did that mean yes or no? He’d give her a graceful out. “I probably shouldn’t have put you in this position. I’ll understand if you want to pass.”

“Of course I’d like to go. When?”

“This Friday.”

“My parents won’t be back for another couple of weeks. I don’t know what I could do with the children.”

Jamey wondered if the disappointment showed on his face.

“I’ll call Gillian Davidson. She offered to help.”

“Good idea. Assuming Gillian’s available, it’s a date.” Dorie squished her face into another unreadable contortion. Had she changed her mind already? “There’s no tactful way to ask this—”

What now? “Ask away.”

“Did you and Susan have an argument?”

“Not that I know of.”

He raised his cup for another sip.

“Why doesn’t she want to go with you?”

He shouldn’t have laughed. Especially not this gut-wrenching-almost-roll-on-the-floor hysteria. But no one had ever paired him and Susan together.

“Do you think Susan and I are … uh …like an item?”

Dorie nodded. “You two are together a lot.”

“Yes, we are. We’re close as cousins go, but not that close.”

Dorie’s cheeks turned bright red. “You’re not involved with anyone?”

“Not yet.” He smiled, but still unsure of his footing in these waters. “I’ll let you get to work.”

There. He’d asked her and she’d said yes. If he read her right, this date would lead to more.

Once downstairs, Sherrie waved him over and gave him a written message. “Your agent called. Said you must have your cell powered down. He wants you to call him right back.”

***

Lunch.

She’d forgotten to pack a sandwich. She’d have to manage with fast food at noon. Did she really want greasy fries? Her stomach turned and a prickly twinge spread across the bridge of her nose. Her right eye pulsed.

Not now.

The last time she had a migraine she was pregnant with Emma. Why now? And how would she manage?

She reached into her purse for an aspirin. Nothing. The bottle must have rolled under a bin when her purse fell apart. She went into the bathroom and splashed water on her face, then wobbled back to the computer and worked on a scheduling system for Sherrie. Dorie’s chest constricted, and she put her head down on the desk while she fought to breathe. “Lord, please. Not now.”

“Are you sick?”

She lifted her head and forced her eyes open. A blurry Sherrie stood by her desk. “Migraine?”

“The pressure like an overfilled balloon.”

“I get them all the time,” Sherrie said. “I’ve got medicine downstairs. Usually kicks in after twenty minutes.” Sherrie left and returned with two pills and a glass of water. “Shut down the computer and I’ll turn off the lights. You can rest on Mr. Sullivan’s couch. He left a little while ago and didn’t expect to be back today. I have to do a few errands. Elton’s off. So it should be quiet.”

Dorie’s angel disappeared down the steps. She wobbled into Jamey’s office and stretched out on his three-quarter couch. “Lord? Is this what I can expect? Days on end with obstacle after obstacle? I’m so tired of it all.”

***

From deep within never-do-I-want-to-wake-up land, Dorie heard a drawer close. She shot up. Jamey stood by his desk. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

Caught sleeping on the job. What next?
“I’m so sorry. I have a migraine.” Dorie checked her watch … only out ten minutes. “Sherrie said I should rest here. She didn’t think you would be back today.”

Jamey held up a cord. “Came to get the charger for my cell phone. Battery’s low.”

She expected a chewing out, not a conversation. “I must be a horrible disappointment to you.”

“Why do you say that? Sherrie told me you were resting for a few minutes. You’ve had a rocky first few days, true enough. Go on home. Believe me, next week will be a lot better.”

How could a mere mortal make a promise like that? As she stood, their eyes met for a few seconds. Yet, within that eternal crack, her soul leapt into his. She saw a faith, deep and abiding. Faith birthed from pain. From what pain, she could only guess.

“I hope you’re right.” She straightened her slacks. “I’ll see you Friday night?”

“I hope you don’t mind. I called Gillian already. She’ll be over to your house at six. I’ll pick you up about six thirty. The dinner’s at seven at The Pines.”

Still weakened, she leaned hard against the rail for support and took the steps one at a time. Making sure there were no more displays nearby, she put on her coat and walked out to her car. The mid-morning sun warmed the shivers running up and down her spine.

She slipped in behind the wheel of the Cavalier. Her head pounded, her knees buckled, and her insides felt like overcooked spaghetti. Yet, serenity covered her. Could her valley of peace finally be within sight?

Chapter Twenty-three

Thanksgiving Day came and went and Friday dawned with no challenge. Captain Snow Soldier had already been whittled to a midget. Dorie and the kids spent the day Christmas shopping. A great day that promised a wonderful evening. Gillian arrived right on schedule. Dorie took her coat and hung it in the closet. “Thanks again for babysitting. It’s a relief to know the kids are in good hands.”

“Tonight’s a big night for Jamey. He’s my favorite nephew, you know.”

“Would you like a cup of tea or anything?”

“Tea would be great.”

Dorie led her to the kitchen and put the water on to boil.

“Your house is lovely, Dorie.”

She blushed from the compliment. “I don’t really decorate. If anything goes together, it’s quite by accident. Practicality is my mantra. If it doesn’t serve an immediate purpose, it’s either tossed or boxed for future reference. Would you like a tour?”

“That would be nice.”

They took a quick spin through the house, ending up in the kitchen as the kettle sang. Dorie put a teabag in a Big Bird cup, filled it with boiling water and handed it to Gillian. “Milk, sugar, or honey?”

“Honey’s good.”

Where had she put it? Her mother brought her a jar two months ago. Since she never used it, she put it away … somewhere. Dorie opened three cupboard doors and finally saw it behind the sugar canister. “Here it is.” She found a clean silver spoon in the dishwasher, then handed the honey and spoon to Gillian. “I really do appreciate your coming. The kids already ate. I told them they can have ice cream later.”

At the mention of ice cream Emma sauntered in, dragging Mr. Bear behind her. “Mr. Bear likes to watch movies while he has ice cream.”

Gillian leaned in toward Emma. “You know what? I like movies too. Does Mr. Bear have a favorite?”

“He likes
Cinderella.
”

His ears never far from any conversation, Josh came in from the other room. “That’s a baby movie.”

Dorie opened the cupboard above the refrigerator and hauled out a DVD, tossing it to Josh. “I bought this while shopping Wednesday.”

“Oh, boy!
Star Wars Episode IV
.”

“If you let Emma watch her movie with no complaints, then you can stay up later to see this one after she goes to bed. Only this once. Got it?”

“Got it. Thanks, Mom.”

Gillian clapped her hands. “
Star Wars
is one of my favorites, you know.”

So far so good. “Well, if you don’t mind, I should go upstairs and get ready.”

What does a person wear to a Boy Scout Awards Dinner? Dorie opted for her go-anywhere-sure-to-please black velvet skirt and pink satin blouse. She pulled her mass of hair into a half bun, thickened her lashes, and smoothed on a thin layer of strawberry lipstick, then slipped downstairs.

Josh looked up from his comic book and extended both thumbs upward. “You look real nice, Mom.”

“Yeah, Mommy. You look pretty. What will you eat at the Boy Scout place?”

“Well, I don’t know. Jamey didn’t say. I assume they’ll have a lot of good food to eat.”

Josh’s face crinkled in deep thought. “Well, I hope they have pizza.”

“It’ll be okay if they don’t. Now, whatever Mrs. Davidson says is law. Got it?”

Josh waved his hand. “Got it.”

Emma sat Mr. Bear on her lap. “Mr. Bear’s got it.”

For Gillian’s benefit, Dorie pointed to a cedar chest under the window. “The kids have games in there if they get bored.”

Gillian opened the chest. “You have
Sorry
. Anyone up for a game now?”

“Me! We always play in the kitchen.”

“Well, let’s go,” Gillian said. The three marched in single file. Dorie jumped when the doorbell rang and Gillian squeaked a mousy laugh. “That’s probably Jamey. Go on now. I promise the house will be standing when you get back.”

When Dorie opened the door, large brown eyes stared back. “You look great, Dorie.”

She scanned the pole of a Boy Scout, uniformed from hat to shoes, complete with a badge-dotted sash. She looked at the living room clock. “Right on time. I see this scout is dependable.”

“Actually punctuality is the result of my father’s haranguing.”

“Come on in. The kids are setting up for a
Sorry
game. I have to let Boomer in. I’ll only be a minute.”

“I’ll say hello to Gillian and the kids.”

Jamey followed her into the kitchen. Emma jumped from her chair, ran to Jamey, and hugged his knees. “Hi, Jamey. Mr. Bear says hi too.”

Once Emma let go, Jamey stooped and shook hands with Mr. Bear. “Howdy, Mr. Bear.”

Emma returned to her chair. “He says he likes you.”

“Well, Mr. Bear, the feeling is mutual.”

Josh raised his shoulders, like Devon had done to exercise paternal authority. “Jamey, you won’t drive fast, will you?”

“Don’t worry, Josh. I’ll take good care of your mother for you.”

“Okay.” Josh placed the red
Sorry
piece onto the board.

Dorie opened the back door and Boomer sped toward his bowls. He nearly knocked Jamey to his feet and left a trail of mud. She grabbed several paper towels and wet them. He took them from her hands. “Let me do this. I’d hate to see your nice skirt get muddy.” He patted Boomer on the head and scratched him behind the ears. Boomer stopped gobbling his food and licked Jamey’s hand. The man had even won the Boomer seal of approval. The highest compliment her family had to offer.

“I’ll get my coat, and we can go.” Dorie pulled out her black cape and snuck a glance out the living room window. A full yellow moon hung in a darkened sky while gentle, spring-like breezes blew in unseasonably warmer temperatures. Captain Snow Soldier would most likely be a puddle by tomorrow.

Jamey helped her on with her cape. “Gorgeous night.”

He took Dorie’s hand and led her to his plain gray sedan, her fairy-tale transport to happily ever after.

Chapter Twenty-four

Dorie breathed with excitement as Jamey offered his arm. How comfortable she felt next to him as they walked into The Pines.

“I was afraid you’d cancel after the clumsy way I asked you to come with me tonight.”

“I hardly noticed.”

“I used to stutter badly when I was a kid. Then I got involved with drama in elementary school and the problem disappeared, for the most part. Now I stammer only when I get exceptionally nervous. I have to give a speech tonight. I hope I don’t hem and haw through the whole thing.”

“Pretend you’re delivering a soliloquy.”

“Actually, you’re not too far off. Speaking is a lot like acting.” He drew near and dropped his voice to a whisper. His breath tickled her ear. “I’m glad you’re with me tonight.”

He led her to a square table already occupied by a middle-aged man and an elderly woman. The placard read
Harwood/Sullivan.
Jamey pulled out Dorie’s chair.

“Brandy, this is Dorie, the one I told you about. Dorie, this ugly fossil is Branson Harwood.”

He smiled, tilting his head in a gentlemen’s greeting. “Please, call me Brandy.”

“Brandy’s emcee tonight, but don’t believe a word he says.” Jamey took Dorie’s cape. “I’ll hang this up for you. I’m going to the bar to get a Coke. Can I get you anything?”

“I’m good. Thanks anyway.”

Jamey poked Brandy’s arm. “Keep an eye on Dorie for me while I’m gone, and don’t fill her head with any stories I can’t dispute.” Brandy saluted while Jamey headed toward the bar.

“Is this your first Scout banquet?” Gray streaks blended into Brandy’s close-cropped, jet-black hair, highlighting his sparkling blue eyes. His photographic handsomeness reminded Dorie of the Baltimore city councilmen Daddy sold cars to.

“Yes. I expect my son, Josh, will get involved in scouting at some point.”