Lambert's Peace (8 page)

Yet, when he cruised past Milo Park, Will parked. There wouldn't be many more days like today—sunny, blue skies with a gentle breeze—and he wanted to enjoy it while he could.

The walk to the park benches cleared his head, still stuffy from the council meeting. To build a skateboard park or not had been the big debate. Will saw the merits on both sides—for and against. However, when the discussion ran well past lunchtime, he motioned to table it until the next meeting.

Half the room shouted, “Second.”

Now, taking long strides across the grounds, the mental cobwebs blew away, and Will caught sight of a familiar dark, burnished head. Taylor.

She sat with her face tipped to the sun, her sweatshirt balled between her hands in her lap. She'd been running.

“Beautiful day, isn't it?” Will said as he plopped down next to Taylor.

She screamed. He laughed. She popped him lightly on the arm.

“Ouch.” He rubbed the spot.

“You scared the wits out of me.”

He laughed. “I doubt that.”

“What are you doing in the park in the middle of the afternoon?”

Will stretched out and crossed his legs at the ankles. He locked his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. “Town council meeting every Monday.”

“Ah.”

“What are you doing?”

“Praying. Well, trying to pray, but I'm sulking more than anything else.”

He tipped his face upward. “What's going on?”

“Stuff.”

He opened one eye. “Like what?”

Starting with a sigh, Taylor told him about the call from Indiana Godwin, the wonderful job possibility, and how her track record with Lisa Downey followed her.

Will thought for a moment. “I've learned there are always two sides to every story. This Lisa person must feel justified in some way.”

“Whose side are you on?” Taylor jumped to her feet and walked back and forth in front of the bench.

“Yours, of course. But you're not going to get Lisa Dowling—”

“Downey.”

“Downey—to admit any wrongs.”

“So I'm helpless? At the mercy of her opinion?”

Will squinted up at her, catching the ire in her eyes. “No. But sulking over her isn't going to change anything. You've got to take the higher road. Don't let some woman hundreds of miles away in New York control your emotions.”

She lifted her arms in surrender. “You're right; you're right.”

Will patted the park bench. “Sit.”

“No, I'm too antsy.”

“Sit!”

Taylor sat. “I feel like your dog, Harry.”

“No,” Will said with a shake of his head, “he sits the first time I tell him.”

“Ha, ha.”

Will grabbed her hand. “Can I pray with you?”

Taylor bowed her head, her lips moving in silent prayer. Will noticed her grip grew tighter and tighter.

“Father, Taylor wants Your best. Give her wisdom and peace. Let her know the plans You have for her. I know You delight in her.”

A drop of moisture hit his hand. Taylor sniffled then covered her face with her free hand. Will wrapped her in his arms. When her tears subsided, he gave her his handkerchief.

“Better?”

She laughed and blew her nose. “Much. Thanks.” She faced him, her eyes and nose red. “I've been mad at Lisa for being an ogre when all along I should have been asking for forgiveness for my own selfish actions.”

“Now it's forgotten. Over.”

“Well, I probably need to e-mail or call Lisa, but yes, the Lord's forgiven me.” Taylor carefully folded the handkerchief and tucked it in her pocket. “I'll wash it for you.”

Will grinned and smoothed his hand over her hair. “It's going to be all right, Taylor Jo.”

She leaned against him, and his hand cradled her shoulder. “Sure, but my career is still stopped at the red light of life. I need a green go.”

“In that case, I have a proposal for you.”

To her surprise, the word
proposal
made her skin tingle. In an instant, time rolled back and she stood with Will on the White Birch covered bridge, serenaded by the water and surrendering her heart to love.

“… installing a new business system. We can't go forward with our e-business until we can handle the revenue and reporting.”

Taylor tuned in to Will. “Um, what? Business system?”

He grinned, making her feel like they were the only two people in existence. He had a way about him that made her feel special. “Right. We're looking at HBS—”

She perked up at the familiar initials. “Hayes Business Systems?”

“Yes.”

“Very classy. Kind of high-end for Lambert's Furniture, don't you think?”

“For now, but we've developed a line of furniture to sell online. HBS has a great solution for e-businesses including a module to work with online and distributor inventories.”

“They do. But, Will, a lot of their standard modules are very expensive and over the top for the streamlined business you run. Even with adding the e-business, you'll—”

He held up his hand. “Taylor, this is exactly why I—we—want to hire you. Work for us as a consultant. Help us pick the right solution and installation process.”

“Work for Lambert's Furniture?”

“Yes.” He stood, arms out to the side, his expression like he'd discovered genius.

“I don't know, Will.” She regarded him, wondering how it would feel to work every day with him. Her goal was to fix her career debacle, not lose herself in White Birch and fall in love, again, with Will Adams. “My career is important to me.”

Will tipped his head to one side. “Consulting for a multimillion-dollar furniture company would look nice on a résumé.”

She glanced up at him, squinting in the sunlight. “Can I pray about it?”

He knelt in front of her, forearms propped on his knees. “Absolutely.”

Taylor wandered upstairs to her room, her thoughts a million miles away.

“Taylor, is that you?” Mom knocked lightly on the bedroom door and peeked inside.

“It's me.” Taylor kissed her on the cheek. “You look happy.”

“Your dad just beat me at Scrabble.” Her delicate smile fanned the tiny lines of her cheeks and around her eyes. “Dinner will be ready in an hour.”

“Need help?” Taylor grabbed clothes to wear after her shower.

Mom waved both hands. “No. Go visit with your dad. He's in the library.” She started down the stairs. “Tim, Dana, and the kids are coming tonight.”

“That'll liven things up.”

After her shower, Taylor knocked on the library door, her hair still wet.

“Come in,” Dad called. “Did you have a nice run?” He closed his Bible.

“I did.” Taylor sat on the window seat. She loved the library. It was bright from the southern exposure and cozy with its overstuffed Lambert's Furniture chair, ottoman, and a rocker. This was Tim's old room, but after he married Dana, Dad knocked out a wall to make a library.

“Will offered me a job,” she said.

Dad stood and stretched. “Really?”

Taylor stared out the window. “He wants me to consult on the purchase of a new business system.”

Dad joined her on the window seat. “They've been wanting to upgrade for a long time.”

Taylor looked at him. His cheeks were pink again, his eyes bright. “Should I do it?”

“If you want,” Dad said, his words even, not hinting of a yes or a no.

“What about my career?”

“What about it?”

Taylor stood, feet apart, arms folded. “If I work for Lambert's, I'll get caught up in the job, give a hundred and ten percent, and forget to keep looking
out there
.” She motioned toward the window. She felt like a stuck record, repeating the same mantra, but she felt driven to land a CPA position with a lucrative firm.

“It's a consulting job, Taylor. A good line for your résumé. Unaccounted-for time is a negative, you know.” Dad regarded her for a moment. “Still hurts, does it?”

“What still hurts?” She walked over to the desk where faded black and white photographs lined the edges.

“Losing Will.”

Remembering pressed her emotions to the surface. “Yes,” she said quietly. “Which is crazy after ten years.”

She picked up a gold-framed picture of her parents on their wedding day in 1960. They smiled in black and white, walking up the church aisle, holding hands. That's what she had wanted with Will. But he wasn't ready.

Dad stood behind her now. “I almost lost your mom.” He chuckled as he remembered. “She was a feisty one.”

Taylor whirled round, the picture still in her hands. “Who, pixie Trixie?”

Dad gave her a deep nod. “Your grandpa insisted she marry into money and culture. Bringing home a common laborer from the furniture mill didn't fit Raymond's idea of a suitable husband for his little girl.”

Taylor sat against the desk. “I never heard this. What'd you do?”

“Never gave up. Prayed a lot, as I recall. Did what I had to do to convince her father she'd have a wonderful life with me. For a while she dated Lem Maher down in Boston. I almost lost her then.”

“Lem Maher of Maher Stationary and Business Supplies?”

“That'd be the one.”

“Wow, Dad. Pretty
rico
competition.” She rolled the
r
in
rico
.

He winked. “Love conquers all. Even money.”

She put the picture back and crossed her arms. “And the moral to this story is?” She furrowed her brow.

Dad returned to his chair. “Not sure. Maybe there's a reason you and Will aren't married—to each other or anyone else. Maybe there's a reason you quit your job and moved home. Maybe there's a reason you showed up just when Will needed help with a new business system. Maybe there's a reason he asked you to help him. Maybe there's a reason you should say yes.”

Taylor looked at him, a wry twist on her lips. “Aren't you full of reason tonight?”

Mom called up the stairs. “Grant, the kids are here. Taylor … “

Dad walked toward the door. “I can see lots of reasons why you should work for Lambert's Furniture. Least of all, finding out if you still love Will.”

Taylor stopped him before he walked out. “I don't want to fall in love with him, Dad. It's over, too late.”

He kissed her cheek. “Then don't. But do the job. Don't cut off your nose to spite your face.”

For Will, matters of the heart confounded him. They were confusing and complicated. He liked specific processes and procedures, clear-cut goals with achievable results. Why couldn't falling in love be like earning his MBA, running a business, or making furniture?

Instead, he had to navigate the minefield of Taylor's emotions. He had no map of her heart or his, no blueprint, no how-to manual. No way to know if he trod on dangerous ground.

Loving Taylor fell into a completely different category than loving his family and friends—the category of
difficult and hard
. Because if she didn't love him back, he didn't know what he would do.

Will pondered his relationship with Taylor as he parked his truck at Lambert's Furniture and trekked to the office door.

Did he love Taylor? After ten years? It didn't make sense, but then matters of the heart never did.

Will checked Bobby's office as he walked by. “I saw Taylor. Made my proposal.”

Bobby reclined in his chair. “And?”

“She's praying about it.”

“Does she know you proposed a job, not marriage?” Bobby asked.

“Funny.”

Bobby walked around his desk and shut his office door. “Got a minute?”

Will took a chair. “I know what you're going to say, Bob.”

“Then why don't you do something about it?”

Will gazed at the ceiling for a second, thinking. Slowly he shook his head. “I'm not sure.”

“Do you know how unlikely it is for a beautiful, intelligent woman like Taylor to be available and in town just when you're finally ready to settle down?”