Plan (11 page)

Randy spent a less-than-restful night. His bedcovers were a mangled mess at the foot of the bed, and his pajamas were beyond wrinkled. He couldn't stop thinking about Rachel and her mother. There was something going on between them that was under the surface, like a volcano waiting to erupt. Rachel's embarrassment had been almost palpable.

Kathryn's unexpected visit hadn't helped his state of mind any, either. There were some complications with the satellite school. Certain officials thought that there were already too many colleges in the state already, especially in this particular area. If the deal fell through, what was he going to do? He couldn't keep working so close to Rachel. Then again, she might be busy at the Center since she would be the director now, but it would be a couple of months before the Center was operational again if Ms. Stanford could pull off the deal. Somehow he knew she would. The woman was like a steamroller. Either one moved out of her way or he or she became a permanent part of the landscape. There was something working below the surface there as well. He could feel it.

Randy stopped for a moment and prayed for Emily Stanford and Rachel, as well as for guidance. He needed all the help he could get these days. With a sigh, he threw back what was left of the covers and headed for the bathroom. Maybe a hot shower would help him think clearer.

The rest of the week went by so fast that Rachel barely remembered it. Her report to Ms. Stanford had put her several days behind on her work at the university, and it took all of Thursday and Friday to finish grading and preparing lessons. She had also neglected her housework, leaving laundry and dishes piled to the ceiling. The nice thing was that she hadn't had time to think about Randy, or Kathryn, or her mother. By the time Sunday afternoon rolled around she was ready for a break. Just as she was dozing off, the telephone rang, causing Rachel to pop straight up on the bed.

“Hello.”

“Ms. Grant, this is Ms. Stanford. I need to meet with you this evening to make some final decisions regarding the Center.”

“I thought we were meeting tomorrow after my last class.”

“Well, there have been some developments that I would like to discuss before tomorrow.”

“Are you sure it can't wait?”

“Positive. I'll expect you in half an hour.” There was a decisive click on the other end of the phone.

“Nice talking to you, too. Bye,” Rachel said into the dead receiver. She hung up the phone with a snap, but it was several moments before she could get the snap back in her body or her brain.

Thirty minutes later she was ringing Ms. Stanford's doorbell. The butler appeared and she followed him into the library where he motioned her to sit in front of the fireplace and then did another of his disappearing acts. As soon as he was gone, she walked around the room, perusing the collection of books. What she wouldn't give for a couple of months in this room. She ran her hands down the piano as she passed. It was a beautiful instrument. Although she didn't play, it had always been a dream of hers to own a grand piano and have a room like this one to put it in. Some pictures in silver frames caught her eye. One was a picture of a young Emily with a handsome young man in uniform. They were staring into each other's eyes.

“That was my Tommy.” Rachel whirled around at the sound of Emily Stanford's voice.

“He's very handsome,” Rachel replied.

“Was,” Emily picked up the picture and ran her hand down the frame.

“The two of you looked very happy.”

“We were until the war came.” She put the picture down and moved toward the fire. She warmed her hands before the fire.

“What happened?”

“He was killed at Pearl Harbor ten days before our wedding,” she replied. Her voice was hard and cold despite the warmth of the fire.

“I'm so sorry. That must have been hard for you.”

“The war was hard on everyone,” she said, shrugging off Rachel's sympathy. “I made a life for myself, volunteering during the war effort and in charities after the war. I kept myself busy. Now, I have all this.” She indicated the room with a sweeping motion. She gave a bitter laugh. “I have all this, but no one to share it with.”

“Don't you have friends and family?”

“I'm the last of my family and my so-called friends only want what they can get out of me.” The bitterness in her voice gave Rachel a chill. “You'll see someday, my girl. You'll see.”

“I thought you wanted to discuss the Center, Ms. Stanford.” Rachel changed the subject, unwilling to let this woman's bitterness invade the sense of calm and peace she had recently discovered.

“So I did.” She moved to the desk and pulled out a folder. “Here is the deed to the land and the building. The next step is hiring a construction crew to start the renovations. I want them to start tomorrow morning, so I wanted your opinion as to which company gets the job. Here are the bids we received.”

Rachel was stunned that the woman had gotten this far in such a short time. Getting the property was one thing, but getting bids from construction companies as well was amazing. Rachel took the folder and opened it. The top sheet was a list of the construction companies and their bids. It was easy to see which was the best offer.

“Well, it's obvious that Wilson Construction should get the deal. They're a well-known firm, and they gave the best bid.”

“I agree,” Emily said with a nod. “I'll notify Mr.
Wil-son this evening.”

“What else did you need to discuss?”

“That was it.”

“You called me over just for that? You could have made that decision without my help, Ms. Stanford.”

“This is going to be your show, Ms. Grant. I thought you should have input in all the decisions.”

“That's nice of you, but it's not necessary,” Rachel replied. “So, I guess you don't need to meet with me tomorrow, then.” Rachel turned to go, but Ms. Stanford stopped her.

“On the contrary, we still have things to discuss tomorrow. Be sure to bring your copy of the report with you.” She strode across the room in a manner that belied her years. “I'll expect you for lunch.” Without another word she swept through the doorway and the butler popped up in her place.

“I'll show you out, Ms. Grant.” Knowing that she had
been dismissed for the evening, Rachel followed the but
ler. All the way to the car and on her way home she puzzled over Emily Stanford's behavior. She didn't need Rachel's advice, so why did she insist that Rachel come over tonight and tomorrow? Did she like having someone at her beck and call? She soon dismissed that idea. The woman had plenty of servants and employees to boss. It wasn't until she was going through the mail at home that she came up with another possibility. Emily Stanford was lonely.

The next day went by as usual for a Monday. Her students were late and slow to answer. She wasn't at the top of her game either, for that matter. Everything seemed to move in a slow-motion haze, a reflection of the weather outside. Besides, finals were coming up way too soon. So was the day of Randy's departure. She didn't want to even consider that possibility right now. It might send her over the edge.

As promised, Rachel headed for Ms. Stanford's mansion as soon as classes were over. The butler led her to a smaller dining room where Ms. Stanford was waiting, a maid hovering in the background.

“There you are. I was beginning to think you weren't coming.” Rachel detected a note of displeasure in her voice.

“I got here as soon as I could, Ms. Stanford.”

“Well, never mind. Sit down and Mary will serve lunch.”

Rachel obeyed. Looking at the place setting, she noticed there were more pieces of cutlery than she was used to. She wasn't even sure what some of them were. The maid served lunch one course at a time, coming in at intervals to take away their dirty dishes. Their lunch was eaten with only the sound of the fork and knife hitting the china. Emily Stanford was queen of this castle to be sure. Rachel was relieved when they left the table and returned to the library. At least there she had some notion as to how to behave.

Ms. Stanford seemed reluctant to start their discussion. She insisted that they have coffee before they started, and took tiny sips from her cup. Finally, an hour into their visit, she mentioned the Center.

“Would you mind bringing me the folder from the desk? It has the designs Mr. Wilson brought me this morning.”

Rachel did as requested, taking a quick peek at the designs before handing the folder to Ms. Stanford. She motioned for Rachel to take the seat next to her on the couch.

“This is a picture of the building in 1950.” It was as Rachel had always imagined it. The weathered bricks were set off by freshly painted shutters in white.

“That's exactly how I thought it would look,” Rachel exclaimed.

“I had hoped you would feel this way. I told Mr. Wilson that I wanted it restored to its original beauty. They just don't make buildings like this anymore.” She sighed and replaced the picture. In that moment Rachel caught a glimpse of the young girl from the picture on the piano.

“I really love old buildings. When I go on vacation, I always take more pictures of buildings than I do of people.” Rachel smiled and received a small smile in return. She could see a chink in Ms. Stanford's armor, her Achilles' heel.

“I used to draw when I was a girl, and my mother was always scolding me for drawing buildings instead of landscapes or portraits.” Rachel waited for her to continue. “I always wanted to design houses and buildings, but girls didn't do that sort of thing when I was growing up.”

Rachel could see some of the bitterness bubbling to the surface once again. There had been a lot of disappointment in Emily's life. But there was still time for change.

“May I call you Emily?” Rachel asked, and the woman seemed taken aback by the request.

“I don't see why not,” she finally said, after a long pause. “Then, I'll call you Rachel.”

“Great. Now what else is there to discuss?” Rachel asked.

“That was it. I just wanted to make sure you ap-proved.” Emily picked an invisible piece of lint from her spotless suit.

“Well, in that case, I'd better be going. I have to get ready for finals.” Rachel stood. “I'll see you next Mon-day, same time.”

“Yes, of course. Next Monday.” Emily nodded her approval.

This time the butler didn't see her out. She found the door with no problem and headed home with a smile. So it was Rachel and Emily now. She smiled even brighter at the thought. She had just made a new friend.

Randy looked at the completed master bedroom. He should have felt a sense of satisfaction, but he felt oddly disappointed. It wouldn't be complete until it had furniture, but that would be for the new owners to decide. A real estate agent was coming by in an hour. He had spent the weekend putting the finishing touches on the house. It was finished, but empty. Even if he didn't change jobs, he couldn't stay in this house alone. It was meant for a family and kids, not a lonely bachelor.

The doorbell rang, a welcome interruption to his reverie. That had to be the realtor. He walked downstairs, anxious for this to be over with and yet hesitant. He'd hate to see this house go. Opening the door, he found a pouty Kathryn fidgeting on his steps. She pushed past him into the house.

“So this is where you've been spending all your time.”

He ignored her opening line. “What are you doing here, Kathryn?”

“Can't a girl come and visit her brother?” Kathryn gave him that innocent look that so often got her her own way.

“Considering I've lived here for over a year and you've never been to my house, no.” He crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

“There's no sense dancing around it. I got the news this morning. The satellite project has been cancelled permanently.”

“Why?” Randy asked, though he already knew the answer.

“The university decided there weren't enough possible students to warrant the expense of renting the buildings and hiring more teachers.” She kicked at the floor with the toe of her four-inch heels. “I was so looking forward to having you closer to home.”

“I am home, Kathryn. This is my home.”

“Not for long, I understand,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously.

“What do you mean?” Randy asked. She was up to something. He could tell by the look in her eyes.

“I heard that you're putting the house up for sale. What's up with that, big brother?” She crossed her arms and tapped one shoe.

“I only bought this house as an investment. I finished the remodeling and now I'm going to sell it for a profit. Any other questions?”

“Why don't I believe you?” Kathryn asked.

“I don't know. I'm not a mind reader.”

“Neither am I, big brother, but I do know you, and this isn't like you. You were so excited when you bought this house, talking about a wife and kids and a dog in the backyard. Now, here you are bailing out when it's just finished. It doesn't add up.” She looked up at him, a smug expression on her face. “What gives?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Come on. I know there's something wrong.” She
paused for a moment and then asked, “What's her name?”

He jumped at her question, and he could tell by the look on her face that he'd been caught. He decided to play dumb.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“That's the third time you've said that.”

“Well, you ask a silly question, and you get a silly answer, no matter how many times you ask it.” She crossed the room and put a hand on his arm.

“I know there's something bothering you, Randy. Please tell me. I can't help you if you don't tell me what the problem is.” His shoulders slumped at the worried look in her eyes.

“You couldn't help anyway, sis, but thanks for the offer.”

“So, it is a woman. What's her name?”

“Rachel.”

“That's a pretty name. Who is she?” Kathryn asked.

“She's a teacher at the university. She used to be one of my students.” Once he started talking, it was like a flood was released. He told Kathryn all about her, and her jerk of a boyfriend. They settled at the kitchen table and she listened until he had finished.

“Did you pray about it?” Kathryn was always one to get to the point.

“Yes.”

“And. . .” She waited for him to finish.

“And He said wait.”

“Then why are you jumping off the deep end and selling this house?”

“What do you mean?” Randy asked, his brow wrinkling in confusion.

“I mean, He told you to wait, not to give up. Maybe she just needs a little time to realize what a jerk her boyfriend is and what a great guy you are.”

“But they're engaged,” Randy replied. “They must be in love.”

“Don't be so naïve, Randy. Remember Danny.” Danny had been one of Kathryn's first boyfriends. “He asked me to marry him and I said yes, but it didn't take me long to figure out that it wouldn't work. I only said yes because he was the first guy to ask me.”

“So, you think she might be having second thoughts.”

“If the guy is as big a jerk as you say, and she's as smart as you say, then I'm sure she has. You'd be doing her a favor by getting her away from this guy before it's too late. Besides, you said that she said something about not wanting you to move. . .seems like a pretty big hint to me.”

“She has seemed kind of upset lately. Maybe she is having second thoughts about this guy.” He felt his spirits lift at the thought. “What should I do, Kathryn? I can't just go up and ask her. I have to find out how she feels about the jerk without making a fool of myself.”

“If you love her enough, isn't it worth making a fool out of yourself?” Kathryn asked.

Randy thought about it for a moment. If it meant winning Rachel, he didn't care what kind of a fool he looked like, but if it meant ruining their friendship forever, then Kathryn could just forget it. She gave a sigh.

“Okay. Why don't you ask her friends about their relationship?”

“I don't know any of her friends.”

“Well I suggest that you find out or ask her point-blank.”

“You always were tough as nails, sis.” He smiled at her and tugged a golden curl.

“I have another suggestion,” Kathryn said. Randy eyed her carefully.

“What's that?”

“Tell the realtor to take a hike.” Randy smiled.

After Kathryn left, the realtor arrived. Randy chose a more polite way to tell the realtor that he had changed his mind. He closed the door and leaned on it. For some reason the house didn't seem quite so empty. He could almost hear little feet on the stairs.

The sound of the wind whipping through the trees reminded him of the tornado and the Center. What was Rachel's friend's name from the Center? Sherry. No. Sarah. No. Susan. That was it! Susan. He hit the banister in triumph. Tomorrow he would talk to Susan.