He left the pulpit and walked to the center of the sanctuary to lead the opening prayer. Lauren followed along in her program—until her mother’s pointy elbow jabbed her in the ribs.
“The movie people are here,” Molly whispered. “They just walked in and sat in the back row. I think Craig Hamilton is there, too.”
Now, there’s a guy she never expected to see in church this morning, never mind Cole McGuire. Lauren turned her head, as inconspicuously as she could—though as a soft buzz of whispers echoed around the sanctuary, she soon realized that the entire congregation was doing the same.
Yes, it was definitely the movie star, along with a few other actors she recognized, and some people from the crew, she assumed. Luckily, no one was really gawking.
Reverend Ben seemed aware of the distraction but continued with the liturgy in his patient, steady way. Tucker Tulley read the day’s verse from the Old Testament and the minister returned to the pulpit to read the New Testament Scripture and deliver his sermon. In keeping with the Advent season, his theme was preparing for Christmas—in the spiritual sense, but with consideration of everyone’s practical concerns, too.
Lauren had come to appreciate how Reverend Ben managed to bring home his spiritual insights in a way anyone could understand and relate to. That was truly a gift, she thought.
She found his analogy to an expectant mother preparing for the birth of her child an original way to speak about Christmas, but when you thought about it, the day was really about Mary giving birth to her son.
He spoke about Christmas not as a holiday of indulgence and gift giving but as the celebration of a new start, a fresh slate. The idea struck a chord for her. Wasn’t that what she was trying to do in her own life right now?
Was it really a fresh start if she rested up here, only to run straight into the same brick wall? What would be the point of that? she asked herself.
The next time will be different, another voice insisted. You have to go back. You can’t let the city beat you. You can scale the wall this time. Up and over, girl. You just need to be sharper, be tougher, and try harder.
Unless you want to end up married to good old Joe? Running his Chihuahua-sized law firm? Is that the sort of change you want? She shook her head, trying to clear the rambling thoughts. There were other possibilities, surely?
She realized she had missed the end of the sermon when she heard Reverend Ben say, “And now it’s time to share our joys and concerns.” He walked front and center again, coming closer to the congregation. “We’ll start with our concerns.”
A few hands rose, and church members asked for prayers for family and friends battling illness, career problems, financial stress, the loss of loved ones, and even dealing with depression and addiction.
This was a time when Lauren always counted her blessings. It also reminded her of the old motto her mother had taught them: Be kind to all you meet. You have no idea what troubles they might be facing today.
She was surprised to see Lillian seek the minister’s attention. Covered with large, sparkling rings, the wrinkled hand rose just a bit, shifted above her head, in the exact way the Queen Mum had waved to her subjects.
“Lillian? Do you have a concern?” Reverend Ben recognized her, and she rose, leaning on her cane. Her voice was surprisingly strong when she spoke.
“I’m requesting prayers for my husband, Ezra. He’s not been himself the past week or so. I suppose you could say that he’s had a . . . disappointment. He’s quite sad and not bouncing back in his usual way. I am worried about him,” she said finally.
People were sometimes vague in the way they worded these requests, Lauren had noticed. To maintain privacy, of course. God knew what they were talking about; that was the main thing.
“Our prayers are with Ezra, and with you, as he faces this challenge,” Reverend Ben assured Lillian. “We pray that he’s feeling better and recovers from this setback very soon.”
The minister seemed about to move on to the joys when another, much smaller hand rose. Lauren realized it was Phoebe. The little girl looked adorable today in a bright red coat with a black velvet collar, her long hair plaited in two shiny braids. Had Cole done that for her? What a dad.
Or maybe a woman “friend” of his had worked on the hairdo? A friend like . . . Jen Bennet?
Reverend Ben smiled and walked closer. “Yes, dear? Do you have a prayer request?”
Phoebe seemed about to lose her nerve. Lauren saw her father quietly assure her. “We need prayers for Wilbur,” Phoebe said. “He has a bad cold. He’s very sick.”
Lauren felt her heart clutch. Wilbur was sick? She hoped it wasn’t as serious as Phoebe made it sound.
“Prayers for your friend Wilbur, who has a bad cold. Is that correct?”
“Yes, he’s my friend. But he’s a pig, too. A piglet, I mean.”
A few soft laughs rose from the pews. Reverend Ben’s expression remained perfectly serious. He had a wonderful way with children. He was never condescending.
“I understand. All of God’s creatures deserve our prayers and concern,” he told Phoebe. “We pray for Wilbur’s speedy and thorough recovery. And give gratitude for the love and care you’re showing him.”
Lauren watched Phoebe sit down, her head bowed as her father leaned over and whispered to her, his arm around her shoulder.
Reverend Ben went on to the blessings, large and small, that had brought the congregation joy during the past week. Triumphs of children and grandchildren—honor roll citations, sports team victories, and winning the lead role in a school play. There were announcements of engagements, weddings, and births, as well as simple joys, like a reunion with relatives who lived at a distance, or even meeting a movie star and getting his autograph.
Fran Tulley announced that coup, looking straight at Craig Hamilton with a big grin. Lucy Bates, who sat beside her, bowed her head, Lauren noticed, looking embarrassed for her friend.
The actor had the grace to rise in his seat a bit. He smiled and called out to Fran, “My pleasure to meet you as well.”
The congregation responded with a round of applause, and Joe leaned over and whispered, “We enjoy full and colorful lives out here, Lauren. Wouldn’t you agree?”
She knew he was teasing. Mostly. “Can’t argue with that,” she whispered back.
“Want to have brunch after the service? We can drive by the movie set and see if they’re filming today.”
Lauren considered the offer. Her first thought was to make an excuse about needing to get home. She’d just spent time with Joe last night. Today as well seemed a bit . . . much?
Then she remembered her mother’s advice about going with the flow. “Sounds like fun. Maybe I can get Hamilton’s autograph, too.”
When the service ended, they slipped out of their row on the left aisle. Lauren was glad of that, knowing that Cole and Phoebe would walk down the center aisle to leave the sanctuary and she could easily avoid running into them.
She would have liked to talk to Phoebe and hear more about Wilbur, but no way could that happen without dealing with Cole.
She and Joe had made it to the narthex, where, a short distance away, Reverend Ben was stationed at the center exit to the sanctuary, a line of church members waiting to greet him. She noticed her aunt Jess in line, her expression serious as she talked with Cole. Lauren looked away quickly, turning her back to them. Hopefully, they hadn’t noticed her and she could make a quick escape.
Where had Joe run off to? She walked a few steps more into the crowd but didn’t spot him.
She felt a tug on her coat and turned to find Phoebe. “Lauren, I have to tell you something.”
Lauren crouched down to talk to her. She looked so upset. “About Wilbur? I just heard. I’m sorry he’s sick, honey,” she said sincerely. “But your dad can take him to a veterinarian. I’m sure my aunt Jessica knows
someone to call.”
Phoebe swallowed, fighting back tears. “Yes, Daddy said he will. Jessica can’t come but she’s telling him what to do.”
Lauren didn’t like hearing that her aunt couldn’t visit Wilbur. She was sure Aunt Jess would know how to whip up some herbal chest rub, or some pig equivalent of the same. Did pigs like chicken soup? Probably not, she realized.
Phoebe did not look the least bit comforted by Lauren’s suggestions. She was staring straight ahead, fighting back tears. Lauren leaned over and gave her a hug. “Don’t cry, honey. We all get the sniffles now and then. I bet when you have a cold and you stay home from school a day or two, then you feel better again, right?”
She felt Phoebe nod into her shoulder. “I guess so,” she mumbled. “But he’s so little.”
That was true. The piglet was probably vulnerable to infections at this stage of life. Since he did not have the benefit of the built-in immunities of his mother’s milk, he’d be even more so.
Lauren wondered what more she could say that might comfort Phoebe. She stood up and found Jessica and Cole McGuire standing next to her. Phoebe drifted over to her father. Cole rested his hands on her shoulders, but his gaze was fixed on Lauren. She was an expert at reading body language and facial expressions, but she didn’t have a clue as to what he was thinking.
“How is Wilbur doing?” Lauren asked her aunt. “I hear he has a cold?”
“It seems to have settled in his chest. I called my vet early this morning, and she’s going to visit him later. I’m busy with my mom right now and I have to get a cow to a farm near Deerfield this afternoon,” Jessica said, mentioning a small town in western Massachusetts at least two hours away. “I was wondering if you’d be able to help Cole and Phoebe take care of the little guy today? They really need some backup.”
Lauren glanced at Cole and then at Phoebe, whose doleful expression lit up with hope at Jessica’s suggestion.
“I do have some plans,” Lauren began, suddenly recalling Joe’s offer of brunch and celebrity hounding. It was easy to forget about the poor guy once Cole stepped into view. No disrespect—just a stone-cold fact.
“I understand,” Cole said quickly. “We shouldn’t have bothered you.”
Phoebe looked very worried and stared up at her, practically holding her breath.
“It’s no bother. No big plans that can’t be changed. But I don’t know the first thing about animal husbandry.”
“I bet you know something. All those summers at 4-H camp?” her aunt reminded her. “We just need you to give him basic care for the cold and keep your eye on him. I’m sure you can do it.”
“I guess I can manage that. But do you really need two adults to nurse him? We’ll take shifts or something?” She looked back at Cole and he finally picked up on her quizzical stare.
“The problem is,” Cole explained, “I have an important business meeting today, a teleconference that will take most of the afternoon. Phoebe was going to visit with David and Christine Sawyer. But even if Phoebe stays home, I can’t watch the pig.”
“I’m staying home with Wilbur,” Phoebe piped up.
Lauren suddenly got it. But who has a business meeting on a Sunday afternoon? She wasn’t entirely buying his excuse, but when she felt Phoebe lean toward her and tug on the edge of her coat, she sighed and knew she was all in.
“Sure, I’d love to help Wilbur,” she replied, mostly to Phoebe, who jumped up and down and actually clapped her hands.
Cole looked relieved as well and almost smiled. Her aunt Jess sighed with relief and touched her arm. “Thank you, honey. You’re a good sport. Just for that, you get a free Grateful Paw T-shirt.”
“I saw those shirts in the last issue of Vogue. Paw prints are in this season.”
Her quip broke the tension and made everyone smile—until Joe suddenly appeared.
“Hi, Joe,” Jessica greeted him, then met Lauren’s eyes, suddenly realizing what Lauren’s ill-fated plans had been about.
“Hi, Mrs. Morgan.” He smiled at Cole and offered his hand. “Joe Wagner, a friend of Lauren’s.”
“Cole McGuire,” he replied, and shook Joe’s hand.
“Oh . . . interesting.” Joe’s smile never faded but Lauren could almost hear the wheels in his head spin. “I’m the annoying Wagner, of Wagner and Associates. We represent the country club.”
“Right. I sort of put that together.” Cole did not add Good to meet you or any other false social nicety. “That’s all sod under the bridge to me.”
Lauren stifled a grin and glanced at Joe’s reaction.
“Absolutely,” Joe agreed. He said nothing more but looked at Lauren. “Ready to go? I made a reservation at the Inn on Angel Island. I thought the drive out there would be fun.”
Lauren looked up at him, then back at her aunt, Cole, and Phoebe. “Excuse us for a minute, will you?”
“We have to get back home anyway. Maybe we’ll see you.” Cole began to guide Phoebe toward the big, arched doors.
“Text me, honey,” her aunt said as she followed them.
When Lauren turned back to Joe, he looked confused. “What’s up?”
“I need to do a favor for . . . for my aunt,” she said, deciding that was the best way to frame the situation. “Remember when that little girl announced her pet pig was sick?”
Joe smiled. “That was so cute.”
“It was, and she’s a dear. The piglet belongs to my aunt’s rescue group. The little girl and her dad are just taking care of it for a while. I’ve been volunteering for my aunt, and she asked if I could help this afternoon and watch the pig a bit. The little girl’s dad has some business obligation. Seems like they need me there right away. So brunch won’t work out, I’m afraid.”
She waited for his reaction.
“Sure, I understand. I can come with you. I don’t mind.”
His offer blindsided her. Now what?
“Gee, thanks, Joe. That’s so sweet of you. But I barely know Cole McGuire. I don’t feel comfortable inviting anyone to his house. Especially with this teleconference going on. He seems very stressed about it. He probably doesn’t even want me there.”
She wasn’t so sure about the first part of her excuse, but the last part was probably true, she reminded herself. Though the larger truth was that she knew Joe’s appearance would send a message that they were a package deal—a message she did not want to send to either Joe or Cole.
Was Joe reading the subtext here? Or at least suspecting her ulterior motives for excluding him?
Joe hesitated a moment, then said, “McGuire does seem tightly wound, now that you mention it. No worries. Good luck with the little guy. Keep me posted.”
He smiled, then kissed her cheek. Lauren felt bad for backing out of their plans, but also relieved. It wasn’t as if they’d had some long-standing big date planned.
But she had just pushed him aside in order to nurse a sick pig—and to spend time with another guy and the guy’s daughter. No man, however even-tempered, could feel good about that.
“Thanks, Joe. See you at the office tomorrow.”
An important meeting with Madeleine Belkin was scheduled for early Monday morning and was at the top of Lauren’s priority list.
He nodded and headed for the coffee hour. “See you then. Have fun now.”
The zinger was so unlike Joe. Still, it was good to know he was not a total saint.
She felt a twinge of guilt as she headed outside, but quickly swept it aside as she eagerly texted her aunt to confirm that she could indeed rush to Wilbur’s rescue.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lucy had almost skipped church that morning. A floor nurse at the hospital had called very early to ask if she could fill in a shift later in the day and Lucy had agreed. Her patient load with the visiting nurse service was still relatively light, and she had offered to h
elp her old colleagues during the holidays. With Christmas shopping coming up, the extra money would come in handy, too.
She did expect to be working most Sundays until Christmas, so she did her best to attend the morning’s service. The possibility that the movie people would come, too, had never once crossed her mind. Especially Craig. Though he had attended church when they were young.
The congregation had been surprised and pleased to welcome the glamorous visitors. Lucy had been surprised and horrified. Her thoughts jumped like drops of water on a hot griddle at the sight, though she knew it would be easy to avoid him with all the church members crowding around the celebrities at the end of the service.
To be on the safe side, she hid out in the kitchen, helping Claire North and her husband, Nolan Porter, with the coffee hour service and cleanup. Claire and Nolan were rarely seen at the church, compared to their dedicated membership in years past. The couple had mostly retired from overseeing the Inn on Angel Island. They’d been catching up on their travel bucket list this last year, though they had returned just before Thanksgiving to share the holidays with the Merritts, who still owned the inn. Liza, Daniel, and their children were like family to Claire and Nolan, and Lucy wasn’t surprised to see the older couple back, at least for a few weeks.
The kitchen afforded a view of the parking lot; standing at the sink, it was easy to spot the movie people as they left the church and climbed into their big SUVs. Lucy hadn’t spotted Craig, but she assumed she’d missed him. Still, she dried the last platter with unnecessary care, searched for the last paper plate and cup, and chitchatted with Claire as they tidied the fellowship-hour supply closet. Until, finally, she felt the coast was clear.
“Thanks so much for your help, Lucy.” Claire pulled off her apron, her cheeks tinged with pink after all their kitchen work. “You’d think running coffee hour would be a snap for me, after all those years at the inn. But it’s always more than I remember.”
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