Plan (9 page)

“Yeah. GED and adult education classes.” She added it to the list. One idea sparked another until there was a page full of ideas. When she put her pen down, he added the renovation lists to her sheet and handed them to her.

“You type better than I do.” He smiled and patted her hand. “You did a good job, now you can relax.” He looked at the clock and frowned. “It's late. Maybe I should follow you home.”

“No. I'm fine,” Rachel protested. “It's not that late.” Gathering up the papers, she moved toward the front door. “I'll do these first thing in the morning and leave a copy in your office for you to proof.”

“Sure. That'll be great.”

“Bye.” She fled. He called a soft good-bye from the porch, but she was intent on escape. She backed the car out of the driveway and headed for home without looking back. The tears were already beginning to fall, and she didn't want him to see her cry. Pity was the last thing she needed.

Rachel rushed to the university computer lab and found the first PC in sight. She only had ten minutes to type up the proposal before class. She had cut the alarm off in her sleep the night before and had awakened to sun streaming through the window, which was not good. Looking down at her jeans and oversized sweater, she frowned. Everything in her closet had been wrinkled or was dirty. Her hair had not cooperated, so it was pulled back into a bow at the base of her neck. She typed with a fury, groaning at every mistake. She finished and sent it to the printer, but there were two students ahead of her who were finishing up their term papers, just in time for class. She tapped her foot until her ankle started to ache. Finally, the printer spit it out. She glanced over it, saved the file to a disk, and headed for Randy's office. She was going to be a few minutes late, but the students would get over it. Half of them never showed up on time anyway. Randy's office was locked so she slid the proposal under his door with a sigh and went to class.

She fumbled through her classes, anxious to get back with Randy. It wasn't because of the proposal, she admitted to herself, but because she wanted to see him again. She wanted to see if he really meant what he said last night about leaving, or if he was only trying to protect himself. More than anything, she wanted to see that
look in his eyes again. The one that said he wanted her.
She stopped by his office between every class, but missed him every time. Deep inside, she knew he was hiding from her. She finally saw him at the lunch break.

“Randy,” she called. Rachel jogged down the hall to where he stood with one hand on the door. “I've been trying to catch you all morning.” She paused for a breath. “Did you read over the proposal?”

“It looks fine.” He didn't say anything more, and Rachel knew he was sticking to his plan. He wouldn't even look her in the eye. “Look, I've got to go now. I'm meeting someone for lunch.”

“Oh, sure. I understand.” She felt a pain in her chest, a tightness, like someone was trying to squeeze the life out of her. “You are still going with me to meet Ms. Stanford tonight, aren't you?” He looked up then.

“Of course. I told you I would.” He seemed almost hurt by the accusation in her voice. “I'll come by your house about six, and we can ride over together.”

“Great. I'll see you at six, then.” He nodded and disappeared through the door. She wondered who he was meeting for lunch. Maybe that person was the reason he didn't want to continue what happened last night. Maybe that was why he wanted to move. Possibilities flew around in her head until she was dizzy. It could be anything, and these mind games were getting her nowhere. She repositioned her bag and followed him out the door. She had to eat something, or she would never make it through her last class. She made her way across the quad to The Magnolia.

Rachel didn't see them until she had picked up her order and was looking for a table. Randy was sitting at their table with a knockout. She was tall and willowy, making Rachel feel suddenly awkward and ugly in her jeans and sweater. The woman was wearing a tailored suit and French heels in the latest style. Randy was leaning across the table, following her every word. She had been right—he was seeing someone else. Kissing Rachel had just been a passing whim, an emotional moment. Why would he want Rachel, when he could have this blond beauty?

Her stomach tightened, and all desire for food left. She made her way to a table half-hidden by a fake tree and forced herself to eat. She had barely forced down two bites when Jane Coefield, secretary to the Dean of the English Department, slid into the chair opposite her.

“Hey, Rachel. Is this chair free?” She settled in without waiting for Rachel to answer. Looking around, Rachel noticed that most of the tables were full, so she could hardly ask to be left alone.

“Sure, Jane.”

“Did you see that woman with Dr. Harris? She's something else, isn't she?” Jane scowled at the woman's back. “She's been with Dr. Harris all afternoon, hanging on him like a long-lost love. Her name's Kathryn Dawson and from what I overheard, she's from Dothan where
they're talking about building the satellite school.”

Jane prattled on, but Rachel didn't hear anymore. Her worst dreams were coming true. Kathryn was the reason he was so intent on moving. The food in Rachel's stomach turned to stone, but she forced the remaining few bites down her throat. She made all the right replies to Jane's remarks and left as fast as she could.

Randy listened to Kathryn rave on and on about her plans for him once he moved to Dothan to work at the new satellite school. She always had been a take-charge person. Even when they were little, she had tried to run the house and tell him what to do. Although he was older by
two years, she thought she had to take care of him.

“Randy, dear, are you listening to me?” She tapped her nails on the table in front of him.

“Of course I am, sister dear. I was just thinking about when you were a little girl. Now look at you, all grown up and running your own business.” She smiled up at him.

“That's more like it.” Kathryn leaned back in her chair and eyed him critically. “What's wrong?” Randy twisted in his seat, but refused to meet her gaze.

“What do you mean? Everything's great. After this semester, I'll probably be starting a great new job and be living down the road from you and Michael. What else could I ask for?”

“I can tell something is wrong. You can't hide anything from me, brother dear, so spill it,” Kathryn drawled, tapping the table for emphasis.

“Like I said before, everything's fine.”

“Don't give me that, Randy. I've seen this look before, but I've never seen it this bad.” Kathryn took a sip of her iced tea and watched him over the rim. She waited for him to answer.

“I'm just worried about a friend, that's all.”

“Is this a girl-kind-of-friend?” Kathryn asked slyly.

“Never mind,” Randy replied.

“I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong,” Kathryn complained.

They spent the rest of the meal in quiet. Kathryn was pouting. Sometimes she didn't know when to let things drop. He tried to make small talk about the view and the food, but his mind wandered back to last night. Rachel had been responsive to his touch. There was still a chance that she didn't really love that guy. God would just have to work things out, and if she decided to stay with the jerk, then so be it. Then he would take the job and start fresh somewhere else. With the decision made, he felt a load fall from his shoulders. He stood up and gave Kathryn a hug.

“You're something else.”

“I know.” She gave him a crooked smile. She kissed him gently on the cheek. “Maybe someday you'll tell me what's bothering you.” They parted company at the door, leaving Randy alone with his thoughts. He would just have to give it to God and let Him handle it.

Rachel spent the rest of the afternoon in a mental fog of doubt, worry, and pure jealousy. No matter how she tried, she couldn't get the image of Randy and that woman out of his mind. How could she compete with that blond goddess? She pulled into her apartment's parking lot, but couldn't remember any of the drive home. By five-thirty she was a knot of nerves. Randy arrived precisely at six o'clock, not too early and not too late. With one hand on the doorknob, she tried for a deep breath, but only managed a shaky gasp. “Pull yourself together, girl,” she muttered aloud. The doorbell rang again, and she jumped, jerking the door open. Randy stared in startled surprise.

“Are you all right?” he asked. He looked handsome in a collarless dress shirt and sports jacket. The navy blue brought out his brown eyes.

“Fine. The bell just startled me.” She tried to laugh it off, but she could feel him watching her.

“Are you ready?”

“As ready as I'll ever be. Did the proposal look okay?” Rachel asked. He opened the briefcase at his side. The case looked new and expensive. Rachel couldn't remember seeing it before. “Is that a new briefcase?”

“Yes, it is. Kathryn gave it to me.”

“Oh.” She couldn't think of anything to say. The mere mention of Kathryn's name had sent a flush of heat to her cheeks. “It's very nice.”

“Yes, it is,” he mumbled as he searched through the
papers. Finally, he pulled out three bound copies of the
report. She hadn't even thought of that. He gave one copy to Rachel. “Here's your copy. You can look it over on the way to Ms. Stanford's house.”

“First, there's something I've been meaning to ask you.” Rachel took a deep breath and gathered her courage. “I realized the other day that I had failed in my duty as a friend and as a Christian.” She paused for a moment.

“Go on,” Randy said, looking intently at her.

“Are you a Christian?” She glanced out from under her lashes and was surprised by the warm smile on his face. It had been several days since she had seen that smile.

“Yes, I am.” He shook his head. “I'm guilty of the same. You mentioned God answering your prayers, so I assumed you were a Christian. I never asked, either, but I'm glad you did.”

“Well, now that that's out of the way let's go charm Ms. Stanford.” She sounded more convincing than she felt.

She followed Randy out, taking an extra moment as she locked the door to calm her racing heart. He was a Christian. That was one more reason to love him. As she walked around him to the car, their shoulders brushed, and a shiver ran up her spine. He pretended not to notice, but he stepped away a little too quickly so she was certain he'd felt it too. Rachel could feel her stomach knot up and her face burn. Now that he had Kathryn, he couldn't even stand to touch her. She watched him settle into the driver's seat, and she didn't take her eyes off of him until they pulled into Ms. Stanford's driveway. Tonight might be her last night with him, she realized. She felt compelled to take in every inch of his profile, every mannerism.

“We're here.” Randy's voice broke her concentration. She picked up the report and what was left of her composure and got out of the car. Randy followed her up the stairs. They seemed so steep, yet they arrived at the door too soon. When the butler answered the bell, Rachel almost turned tail and ran. Almost.

“Please follow me,” the butler requested. She was tempted to mock his tight-jointed walk like they did in the cartoons. Instead, Rachel walked calmly in his wake. His broad back blocked her view of the room until he stepped aside. She almost gasped at the sight. It was a library, but the word hardly described the place. It was more a haven for books, books, and more books. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the circular room, except in the center of the far wall where it stopped at a massive fireplace and on each side where bay windows stood as sentinels. On one side a black lacquered grand piano was placed at an angle. In the middle a Queen Anne sofa and wingback chairs surrounded the fireplace. On the right, a massive cherry desk faced the room. Emily Stanford was seated in the leather chair behind it, looking more formidable than ever. Rachel took a deep breath and went to the seat the butler indicated. The clock chimed the half hour as Ms. Stanford looked up from the papers she had been reading.

“Did you bring the report?” Ms. Stanford asked.

“Yes. It's right here.” Rachel fumbled in her briefcase until she remembered that Randy had Ms. Stanford's copy in his case. “Uhm. Dr. Harris has it.” She tried to cover her embarrassment, but she could feel the heat in her cheeks.

“Here you go, Mrs. Stanford,” Randy said as he handed her the report.

“That's
Ms.
Stanford.” She emphasized the Ms. with all the starch of a military dress uniform.

“Sorry,” Randy mumbled.

“I'll look this over and then we can discuss it at length over dinner. Miles will show you to the dining room.”

The butler appeared at Rachel's right. Ms. Stanford turned to the manuscript without another word. Rachel followed Miles into the dining room. “Ms. Stanford will join you shortly,” Miles said and then disappeared as quickly as he appeared. She stood in the doorway uncertain of what to do.

“She's not long on ceremony, is she? Or small talk, for that matter,” Randy whispered. When she didn't answer, Randy continued, “Look. Everything will be okay. Don't let her get to you.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Hey, we're in this together. Remember?”

“Yeah, but for how long?”

Randy didn't have time to respond before Ms. Stanford swept into the room and motioned for them to take seats at the table. As soon as they were seated, she rang the bell at her side and a maid materialized with the first course.

“I was impressed with your report, Ms. Grant, and you too, Dr. Harris.” She paused to take a bite of salad. Rachel followed suit with a prayer that she didn't drip dressing
all over herself. “I've decided to buy the Center.”

Rachel almost choked on the broccoli she was carefully chewing. “Excuse me?” she managed to squeak.

“I've decided to buy the Center property. I called the city and asked them to put a hold on the demolition until I could meet with them to discuss terms.” Rachel stared at the woman in disbelief. Her cold blue eyes were as sharp as steel and unwavering. “I will have my executor handle the money for the renovation. I will forward your ideas to him, and he will have the final say regarding the project. However, there is one thing. I expect Ms. Grant to meet with me once a week to keep me informed. Is that clear?”

For the first time, Ms. Stanford looked up from her food and stared directly into her eyes. Rachel swallowed hard. “Why me?”

“Because you will be the director.”

Rachel wasn't sure if she had heard correctly. Director? What did she mean, director? “Ms. Stanford, I'm no director. I'm a teacher. Susan is the director.”

“I contacted Susan, but she has already accepted a position at the high school. Besides, you are my first choice.”

“But, Ms. Stanford, I don't have any experience in administration,” Rachel protested.

“Let's get one thing straight, Ms. Grant. Either you are the director, or I withdraw funding. Are we understood?”

Rachel stared, mouth open, for several moments. Ms. Stanford's eyes locked with hers, and she knew she had no choice. “Yes, ma'am.”

“Good. I'll expect you Monday after your class to discuss the details.”

That was all Ms. Stanford said during dinner. Randy didn't say a word until they were on their way down the sidewalk.

“Well, it looks like you get to keep the Center.”

Rachel couldn't think of an answer. They drove to her apartment in silence. She barely heard Randy's goodbye. She unlocked the apartment and dressed for bed in a daze. It was only eight o'clock, but she couldn't handle anything else tonight. She needed time to take it all in and digest it. What exactly did Ms. Stanford mean by director? Rachel was sure to find out on Monday.