Safe in Noah's Arms

by Mary Sullivan

  He’d learned, as Audrey had said, that it was easy to underestimate Monica. While she might have an uncomplicated soul, she wasn’t stupid. On the other hand, she had no right to criticize him. He did a world of good for those in need while she sat at home and painted her fingernails pink or, worse, paid someone else to do it.

  While Kayla struggled to feed her family, Monica probably had weekly manis, pedis and whatever else people did at spas.

  Breathing deeply of the warm air flowing through his open window, he pulled himself under control. His anger was doing neither of them any good.

  He heard her sniff and a surge of remorse flooded him.

  He placed his fingers on the cool skin of her arm, but she jerked it away from him and shrank against the car door.

  “I’m sorry. Really. Don’t cry.”

  She rounded on him, red spots on her high cheekbones. “I’m not crying. I’m angry.” She leaned toward him, straining against her seat belt. “I do a lot more than you give me credit for. You’ve always thought you were better than me.”

  “What? It’s the other way around,” he yelled. He jabbed a finger her way. “You think you’re better than me. You’ve got it backward.”

  “I do not,” she responded hotly. “I think you’re hardworking and smart. You think I’m lazy and stupid. So who thinks he’s better than whom?”

  Okay, so maybe he did think she was lazy and did nothing much outside of shopping and pampering her body. He knew she and his mom liked to go to spas together. It was like Mom had adopted her as another child. And yeah, he might think Monica was lazy. How hard could working in a gallery be?

  He mimicked her in his mind. Who thinks he’s better than whom? It was petty, but it felt good. As quickly as his indignation flared, it abated. Her shot had been a bull’s-eye. He did think himself superior to her, and to all of her kind.

  And that was wrong. He needed to see her as an individual, and he needed to remember that he trusted Audrey’s opinion. If she saw more in Monica than what was on the surface, he should, too. Besides, he had seen glimmers of depth in her today.

  His righteousness deflated.

  “Tell me,” he said quietly.

  “Tell you what?” Her body language still screamed that she was a prickly, angry woman.

  Other than eating crow, which he wouldn’t do, the only way to appease her was to listen. “What else could I be doing?”

  For a long time she sat without speaking and he feared he’d hurt her so much she wouldn’t respond. Now that the heat of his anger was spent, he wanted to know what she thought.

  “Tell me,” he urged, touching her arm again, and this time she didn’t pull away. Her soft skin warmed his fingertips. “I want to know.”

  “Fund-raise,” she said. “Raise money so you can deliver meat and diapers and lots of other stuff with the vegetables and eggs, including a few luxuries like coffee and tea. Maybe even deliver seeds in the spring so they can grow their own stuff.”

  She was right, damn her.

  “I don’t think I’m qualified to fund-raise,” he responded.

  “I am,” she said and he heard in her a confidence that was missing on the farm.

  “How so?”

  “I was tutored by the best fund-raiser around.”

  When he looked at her questioningly, she said, “Believe it or not, my dad. He might look like he does nothing but sit around all day and have lunch at the country club, but boy, does that guy know how to network.” She lifted the hair from the back of her neck where a sheen of sweat glistened, her arms strong and firm, and her breasts high. Noah glanced away before he started some pretty hot daydreaming. “When I was little, he took me with him everywhere. I watched and listened and learned. I could set up a charity event in Denver that would bring in big bucks.”

  Noah snorted.

  Monica shot him a look. “Really, Noah, that’s uncouth. If you don’t believe me, just say so.”

  “I don’t believe you can do it.”

  “I can.” She sounded huffy, indignant, and he found it far too cute, so cute he wanted to provoke her further.

  “How do I know it wouldn’t be a waste of time?”

  “You’d have to trust me.”

  Ah, there was the rub. He’d trusted before and where had it gotten him? Screwed, royally, by a woman just like Monica, a woman who walked, talked and spoke like Monica...and who schemed like the devil.

  “Wouldn’t it be a lot of work?”

  “Yes. Dad worked his tail off when he raised funds, but he also had a host of women organizing the events, women with wealthy husbands, who donated their days to running charities. Lucky for you, I still know all of them.”

  The desire to do more and feed more people threaded tentacles of temptation through him. “You would do all of that work for my charity?”

  She looked surprised. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I? I like this helping-people business, Noah.”

  A gentle, satisfied smile spread across Noah’s face. “So do I.” And it felt fabulous to share that with someone. So good, in fact, he was willing to eat crow after all and admit he had a thing or two to learn about charity from Monica. In his hubris, he’d thought the learning would go only one way.

  * * *

  ON MAIN STREET, Monica headed for the organic market, Tonio’s, hoping to figure out what she’d have for dinner.

  Until a year ago, it had been called the Organic Bud, but the Colantonios had since bought it. Now, along with local organic produce, they had introduced a lot of international products.

  Monica loved shopping here.

  As an Accord living in the town named for the founding father, her ancestor, she had always felt apart from most people. She had never had Billy’s easygoing personality that drew people to him.

  Her natural reserve had gotten in the way of her being a real part of this town. She could never figure out whether people liked her, or were awed by her background, or wanted to cozy up to her father’s wealth.

  But the owner of Tonio’s was a friend, Maria Colantonio, a woman not much older than her with whom Monica had formed a bond over a love of good food. With Maria, she felt at ease. Maria liked her for herself, no doubt about it. For that, Maria had Monica’s undying affection.

  “Hey, Maria,” she called to the open indoor window of the office through which Maria watched the store. “What’s good today? I have fresh asparagus and garlic scapes.”

  Short, round Maria ran down the four steps out of the office, clapping her hands. An attractive woman, her deep-set brown bedroom eyes lit up. “You have scapes already? Where did you get them?”

  “Noah Cameron’s farm.”

  “Oh, that guy.” Maria flipped her hand in a disparaging gesture.

  “He’s a good guy.” After watching what Noah did for local families, and seeing how much they appreciated him, Monica felt compelled to defend him. Lord knew why, except that maybe she was developing an appreciation for his charity, even if he was doing it all wrong. “He does good work.”

  “Oh, I know. He’s wonderful.”

  “Then why do you seem disgusted by him?”

  “Because he won’t sell me his lovely vegetables! He’s the only one around here growing organic. He could make a fortune selling to me, but he gives it all away.”

  “For the needy.” A swell of warm, fuzzy pride arose in Monica that she was helping him. But she was also proud of Noah, that he had the guts to buck financial common sense and everyone who screamed at him that he could be making money, so he could feed people in need. She smiled. “He’s a decent guy.”

  Maria sighed. “Oh, I know, I know, but you have garlic scapes and I don’t and I’m jealous.” She laughed and directed Monica toward the meat counter.

  “Joseph,” she called to he
r husband. He came out from the back, where he butchered meat. Big and handsome, he carried his dark Italian good looks humbly.

  Maria surveyed the meat on display and ordered, “Give Monica a couple of those nice thick center-cut pork chops.”

  “I live to serve.” Despite the sarcasm, Joseph’s tone was also filled with amused affection. Monica had seen him give his wife a pat on her butt or place an arm around her waist when he thought no one was looking.

  When Joseph handed Monica the wrapped meat, she blew him a kiss. He slammed his hands against his large chest, over his heart. “My day is complete.”

  Maria laughed. “You two are shameless. Monica, stop flirting with my husband. Joseph, stop playing to the balcony.”

  “Me and Monica, we’re running away together.”

  Maria drew Monica toward the front of the store, stating loudly enough over her shoulder for her husband to hear, “You can have him, Monica. He’s more trouble than he’s worth.”

  “Ha! I’m the guy who puts up with a wife with a sharp tongue.”

  Monica giggled. “If anyone tried to come between you and Joseph, you would fight her tooth and nail.”

  Maria grinned. “True, but don’t tell my Joseph that. It’s good to keep him on his toes.”

  Monica became serious. “Maria, is there any way you would be able to hire a friend of mine?”

  “To do what?”

  “Anything. Working on cash, or filling produce bins, or stocking shelves.” She explained about Kayla Keil’s situation.

  Maria tsked. “The poor woman. Every day I thank my lucky stars that I have a good life. Problem is, I can only hire part-time right now.”

  “Maria, trust me, Kayla will take anything.”

  “Okay, send her to me then.”

  Monica paid for her items then walked down to her lawyer’s office. Maybe having two part-time jobs would work for Kayla.

  Just inside the lawyer’s doorway, she stared at the empty receptionist’s desk. She glanced at her watch. Of course. It was after hours. But the office should have been closed and the front door locked. She called, “Hello?”

  John Spade stepped out of his office, brows raised. A warm smile blossomed when he saw her. He took both of her hands in his and kissed her cheeks, cloaking her with a sophisticated aftershave he had applied with a light hand. Nice.

  She liked the scent. Maybe she should try to develop men’s colognes.

  A handsome man, polished and well-dressed, John had asked Monica out in the past. She had gone out with him on several dates, but there had never been enough chemistry between them. There was, however, plenty of respect and affection.

  Many in town thought him cold. She hadn’t had that experience with him. She’d bet the man could be as cutthroat as he needed to be in business, though.

  “Working so late in the evening, John?”

  “Of course. The clock never stops.”

  And didn’t that sum up John Spade in a nutshell?

  She explained about Kayla needing part-time work, but having few skills. “Unless you can give her full-time hours?”

  “No. My receptionist, Linda, is more than capable.” He tapped her empty desk. “Though she has been missing work lately because her grandmother is sick. She’s running behind on a few things. I’m sure she could use support with filing, answering the phone, or filling in when she has to take her grandmother for appointments. We can start Kayla on simple stuff, a few hours a week, and train her to do more.”

  “John, thank you. I mean it. Kayla needs this badly.”

  He delivered one caveat. “She will have to dress well. I have an image to maintain.”

  “She will. Not to worry. May I bring her in tomorrow morning for an interview?” She crossed her fingers that Kayla would be available. She wanted to get her out and earning a paycheck as quickly as possible.

  “Yes. I’ll be here.”

  Before she left, Monica said, “John, she’ll be nervous in her interview, especially with you.”

  “Me? Why?”

  “You’re polished, attractive and rich. She’s a farm girl. She will be intimidated, guaranteed. Go easy on her.”

  “I’ll be gentle,” he promised.

  Satisfied, Monica stepped out of his office and took her groceries home. Once there, she got on the phone to a delivery company and arranged for them to not only pick up the bike and parts, but to also bring a box large enough for her to package it in.

  By dinnertime, it was on its way to California. Monica crossed her fingers that the repairman would be able to fix it. It was the least she could do for Noah.

  After dinner, she got Kayla’s number through directory assistance and phoned her.

  During their conversation, she made the determination that Kayla would love two part-time jobs as long as she could work the hours out with both employers.

  As far as clothing went, Kayla thought she might have something nice enough to work in a grocery store, but not a law office.

  When the young woman started to fret, Monica assured her, “No problem, Kayla. Let me handle that part. I have to be at work by ten tomorrow. Can I come out to your place before eight?”

  After she hung up, she searched her closet for something that didn’t look too expensive. She chose one simple gray dress, sleeveless with classic lines, which she’d always worn with a pair of stunning Stuart Weitzmans shoes, but the shoes would look too dressy for a job interview.

  She spotted a navy blue wrap dress that would look good with Kayla’s dark hair. Both dresses would be about an inch too long for Kayla, but that was no big deal.

  A plain white blouse and black pencil skirt rounded out the wardrobe. She tucked them all into a suit bag then loaded a cosmetic bag with shades of makeup she thought might suit Kayla, along with other items she suspected the woman would need. In her jewelry box, she found a simple gold chain and a bangle bracelet.

  She had one pair of black ballet flats that Kayla could wear with all three outfits. They would have to do for now. Once Kayla made some money, she could fill out her wardrobe herself.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Monica showered, put everything into the car and drove out to the Keil farm. She carried her goodies to the door.

  When Kayla answered her knock, her flat expression quickly turned into a smile. “I didn’t think you would really come.”

  “Of course I came,” Monica replied. “I said I would, didn’t I?”

  “This is so kind of you.”

  Monica waved away that comment. “You need a little help. I can give it.” She stepped into the house while Kayla eyed her packages.

  “Can we go to your bedroom so you can try this stuff on?”

  “Yes! Follow me.”

  Once upstairs in Kayla’s very tidy bedroom, Monica took the clothes out of their plastic sleeve. Kayla gasped.

  “Oh, this is beautiful. It’s all so classy.” She touched the linen of one dress reverently. “Too classy for me. This will never work.”

  “Strip,” Monica ordered. “Let’s see how it looks on you before we decide whether it works.”

  The dress pulled a bit tightly at Kayla’s middle—she’d had three children, after all—but other than that, it fit.

  Noah was right. With the cancer, she’d lost the plumpness that had made her so pretty. But all was not lost. Monica knew her way around hair and makeup. She could bring out Kayla’s beauty.

  Monica slipped the simple gold chain over Kayla’s neck and then added the bangle to her wrist. “If you have a dressy little watch, wear it. Otherwise, if what you have looks too old, keep it in your purse. Personally, I don’t like watches, but we have to be on time for work, don’t we?”

  Shell-shocked, Kayla nodded.

 
“Try on the shoes. I hope they fit.”

  Kayla slipped them on. They were slightly too long. Monica stuffed the toes with tissues. “This will have to do until you can afford to buy a pair.”

  Kayla stared at herself in the cheap full-length mirror on the back of the bedroom door.

  “Oh,” Kayla breathed. “I look so good. I’ll have to buy pantyhose.”

  “No,” Monica ordered after a horrified gasp. “Never, ever, wear pantyhose in the summertime.”

  “But my legs are so pale.”

  “That’s okay. Use baking soda to exfoliate then moisturize. Cheap skin cream will do for your legs. Just make sure they shine. Got it?”

  Kayla smiled. “Got it, boss.”

  A small grin tugged at Monica’s mouth. She liked Kayla’s pluckiness.

  “How long may I borrow all of this?” Kayla smoothed the dress over her hips. “It will take me a few weeks to be able to purchase an outfit. We have heavy debts.”

  “Oh, I’m not lending it to you. It’s yours to keep.” Monica picked up the bag of makeup she’d packed and stepped toward the hallway to find the washroom. When Kayla didn’t follow, she stopped.

  “You can’t,” Kayla said.

  “I can’t what?”

  “You can’t just give all of this to me. It’s too expensive.”

  Monica set down the stuff she’d been fiddling with. “Okay, listen, Kayla. Every day I’m aware of how fortunate I am. The worst thing that ever happened to me was Billy’s death.”

  She sat down on the bed, because she couldn’t talk about him without getting sad. Kayla sat beside her and tentatively put her arm around Monica’s shoulders. Monica leaned into her for a moment and then rallied. “But I have a roof over my head and enough food to eat. I have nice clothes because my dad used to spoil me. I don’t let him anymore. These days, I’m making my own way in the world.”

  She touched Kayla’s knee. “But you...you are dealing with hardships I hope I never have to face. You should be given a helping hand. What Noah is doing for you is wonderful, but it isn’t enough. You need big changes to see you through to a better future and I’m trying to see that you get them.”