by Dani Wade
“Honestly, give me the details of a ship’s engine any day as opposed to decorating details. I only agreed to meet in the coffee shop so I’d have this to keep me awake.” He lifted his coffee a few inches off the table. But it was the sheepish grin that got to her.
She’d never imagined seeing that expression on this driven businessman’s face. Unfortunately, she liked it. Too much.
“So how are Ms. King and Rosie?”
“Oh, she’d just want you to call her Auntie.”
He nodded, his expression remaining open in a way she wasn’t quite used to or comfortable with.
“Physical therapy is going well, although she hates it.”
Royce shrugged. “Who wouldn’t? It’s torture.”
“Even more so for her, because she thinks it’s a burden to everyone that we’re juggling her appointments with our jobs and Rosie’s care. As if that matters to any of us girls.”
“My mother was like that,” Royce said, staring down into his cup. “She didn’t ever want to tell me when she had a doctor’s appointment or treatment—she felt it took me away from more important things.”
When he looked up, his eyes were serious in the same way she’d seen at the hospital. “But she got over it after the one time she took a cab to the hospital for a chemo treatment. After that, she knew in no uncertain terms I would be there for every appointment, no matter what I had going on.”
That had to have been a huge concession for such a driven man.
This led her to say what had been on her mind for over a week. “I really do appreciate all you did for us, for me, at the hospital. Especially knowing that there had to be a lot of bad memories associated with that place.”
“It was nothing—”
“Don’t.”
When he finally looked at her, she reached out and cupped his hand where it lay on the table. “It wasn’t nothing. No man in that frame of mind should have to hold a teething six-month-old for that long—it was a tremendous help to us. I won’t let you dismiss that.”
He glanced down at her hand over his. It wasn’t until several moments later—moments of anticipation that caused Jasmine to shake inside—that he spoke.
“My mother, no matter how sick she was, always had a kind word for everyone she came across at that hospital. She would help in any way she could, sometimes even pushing herself past what she was capable of to help her fellow patients.”
“And you were there to help her?”
“As much as possible.” Still he wouldn’t look up at her.
She couldn’t resist pushing a little farther. “But I don’t understand. You say she took care of you, you took care of her, but also that she abandoned you. What happened?”
“It wasn’t because she didn’t want me...” His husky voice trailed off. Beneath her palm, she felt his hand curl into a fist. Then she noticed the shadow across their table.
Glancing up, she found the stern man from the far table standing over them. He didn’t look her way or acknowledge her. His gaze was trained tightly on Royce as he said in a gruff voice, “Getting involved with your employees never leads to anything good.”
Then he turned and walked away.
* * *
“That was my father. Guess he didn’t want to stick around and be introduced.”
The bitterness in his own voice made Royce cringe.
Jasmine glanced over her shoulder to watch the man disappear out the door. “I’m confused,” she murmured.
Join the club.
“He looked familiar,” she said with a faraway tone in her voice.
Though he never talked about him, just this once Royce was happy to provide the basics. “He should. His name is John Nave.”
He could see the light of recognition dawning in her sexy blue eyes. “That’s right. The John Nave, from one of the oldest families in Savannah, and one of the richest.”
“But I don’t understand...” Jasmine said, her brow wrinkling in confusion. “He’s your father?”
“My mother was his housekeeper.” Royce hated saying it that way, because it sounded like he was defining his mother by her profession when she’d been so much more.
To her credit, Jasmine’s expression didn’t change. If anything, it turned a little stiff. “I’ll be honest, I’m appalled he would say something like that to you, considering...”
She didn’t know the half of it. “That’s mild, for him. When he bothers to acknowledge me at all, he’s usually pretty nasty.”
“But isn’t he married?”
“To one of the coldest women in the world,” he murmured. “But that was a while after my mother had broken contact with him.”
“How did your mother manage?” Jasmine whispered, her voice full of empathy.
“When she didn’t get rid of me like he wanted, it took her a long time to find more work. But when she did, she worked her fingers to the bone, because the bastard made sure she couldn’t get a judge in the county to award her child support.”
Jasmine closed her eyes tightly, shaking her head. When she opened them, he noticed the glossy sheen of tears.
Were they for him? No one but his mother had ever shed a tear over the way he’d been treated.
“I’d like to say it surprises me,” Jasmine said, “but I’ve seen it often enough at the mission. Dads who simply couldn’t care less about a child out in the world with their DNA. Men who would have preferred for them to die than take on any obligation in their own lives.”
Oh, how well he knew that type.
She leaned back, studying him. He wasn’t sure when she’d stopped touching his hand, but he felt the loss of contact keenly. “I’m not really upset about me,” he said, waving the thought away as if it were a particle of dust in the air. “It’s more about my mom. What she was left to deal with.”
“That’s why she left you, isn’t it?”
He glanced over her shoulder instead of looking into her eyes and seeing the knowledge there. He nodded. “She had to work a lot to keep us afloat.”
“And you made it up to her.”
Royce sat a little straighter. “I did. She loved that house. She used to work there when she first started.” He could remember long stories she would tell about the few parties she’d helped serve at, then caring for the house until it was closed. “I wanted her to be in a place she loved, so I bought it for her.”
Jasmine covered his hand with hers once more. “That’s wonderful, Royce.”
“It’s what she deserved after all of her sacrifices for me. By damn, I was going to give it to her.” He let a little smile slip out. “She was happy.”
“She never fell in love again?” Jasmine asked. “Never wanted to have more children?”
“When would she have had the time? Nope. She loved me, but she wanted no more children to complicate her life. And I’ll never have children, either.”
Jasmine didn’t draw up in shocked outrage the way he might have expected. She simply asked, “Why not?”
“I’ve made my choice. Business is a demanding mistress. I refuse to do both.”
She pressed her lips together for a moment before letting herself speak. “It’s a shame. You were good with Rosie.”
“Raising a child is a lot different than holding one for thirty minutes.”
She smiled, though there was a hint of sadness around the edges. “I’m learning that all too well. My mother died, too, when I was fifteen.”
He’d gotten that impression but never asked the details.
“Both of my parents, actually. They were killed in an automobile accident.” She absently ran her finger around the edge of her cup. “We came to live with Auntie. She took all three of us in when we had no other place to go. No other relatives. Not even distant ones.”
>
“That’s a big responsibility.”
“Auntie said something to me then. Something I’ve never forgotten, even though I didn’t fully embrace it at the time.”
“What’s that?”
“That children aren’t everyone’s cup of tea.”
It made sense, especially to Royce.
Jasmine wasn’t done, though. That sad smile returned as she added, “But some people should learn to be tea drinkers.”
Nine
“I really don’t see why we need to do this,” Royce said as Jasmine approached over the cracked and broken sidewalk. “It’s not necessary.”
And here she thought she’d loosened him up a little. Especially after the surprisingly personal meeting at the coffee shop a few days ago. Of course, the way he’d conceded the design choices with a curt “You know better than I” should have reminded her he didn’t want a say in everything.
“It’s not necessary to educate yourself about the charity you are promoting with your big-ticket event?”
“I told you the charity was your choice.”
She could just get right to the point, but why not enjoy teasing him for a minute? “What’s the big deal? So you spend a few hours down here on a Saturday. What else are you gonna do? Work?”
They shared a look, his blue eyes narrowing as if he was contemplating retribution for her sarcasm.
“Just consider this part of your job,” she said. “Trust me, I’ve been to dozens of these charity events. You’re gonna get asked lots of questions about City Sanctuary mission. Do you want to appear ignorant?”
“I could refer them to you.”
“And still appear ignorant. Especially to the Jeffersons.”
He grimaced, probably because he knew she was right. “It should be enough that I’m donating money.”
“Don’t sulk, Scrooge. You just might enjoy yourself.”
His eyes widened just a notch at her tone, but she ignored it and headed for the entrance. The parking area was hidden from view of the building by a tall retaining wall that supported the elevated ground the original church had been built upon. Excitement filled her as they made their way to the break in the wall for the stairs leading to the lawn. There she caught the first glimpse of the ancient stone chapel. Though the additions made to the compound over the years didn’t entirely match the architecture of the original building, which had stood since just a few decades after Savannah was founded, they didn’t detract from the atmosphere, either.
Jasmine followed the gravel path with ease, having developed a familiarity with the place after years of volunteering here. She greeted the regulars as they passed.
She’d always felt safe here. The mission’s destitute clients had never scared her. She’d experienced more fear among Savannah’s elite, to be honest.
Everyone she greeted along the way to the entrance followed the same pattern: a smile and hello for her, then a quick suspicious glance at the man behind her. Strangers to the mission were often regarded that way, at first, but this was probably enhanced because she’d never been here with a man. Usually she was alone; only occasionally did she visit with her sisters.
They entered through the main registration lobby, where Jasmine paused. “This is the area where most public traffic comes in,” she said. “Overnight guests are assigned their spaces, and those who need other services are directed to the areas or personnel they need.”
She waved to the couple who usually handled the front lobby on Saturdays, then led Royce to the first large hallway. “The building was originally a church, and has been added to over the years. This makes it a little confusing for newcomers.” She gestured to the left. “There are offices down here. A couple of classrooms where we hold seminars or tutoring. And there’s a closet at the far end where we store used clothing to hand out.”
After giving him a minute to process, she turned right. “The main dining area is at the back. I’ll take you there in a little while. It was the most recent area to be updated, because part of it collapsed during the last hurricane that came through. A tree fell on it, so we had to do some structural repairs.”
They stepped through a set of double doors into a gymnasium with a scuffed but decent floor. Royce, who had been silent the whole time, took in the group of children playing basketball. “This looks nice.”
“It is—we use it for some after-school programs and there’s actually a men’s basketball group that meets here. Anyone in the building is allowed to participate.” She nodded toward the far corner. “But here’s the problem. This room has to serve double duty.”
“Are those beds?”
“Foldaway cots. We have a women’s dorm in the back, which has a leaking roof. The old chapel serves to shelter small family units when necessary. This is the men’s dorm. So every night we have to pull the beds out onto the floor and every morning they are stripped and put away.”
“That’s a lot of work,” he murmured.
“It is.” She took a deep breath, almost afraid to share her hopes for the fund-raising event. “The neighbors here were an elderly couple and they gifted their land to the mission upon their deaths. But there aren’t any funds to build on it.” She met his solemn gaze. “A fully functioning building with single-purpose sleeping quarters would make a big difference in this part of Savannah.”
“Miss Harden! Watch this!”
Jasmine glanced over as one of her little tagalongs, Oliver, jumped toward the basketball net. At five, he wasn’t tall enough to make headway, but he had enough enthusiasm to make his jump impressive. “Great job!” she yelled back.
He dribbled the ball over to them, showing off his skills. “Look what I learned to do.” He grabbed the ball up and rolled it across his outstretched arms and along the back of his neck.
Jasmine laughed. “Well, that’s pretty cool. But how is it gonna help you play basketball?”
“Mr. Mike said it will help me learn dex—um, dexter—”
“Dexterity?” Royce offered.
“That was it.”
“I see,” Jasmine said. “You are well on your way to being a professional ball player, in my opinion.”
The little boy stopped moving and gave her a cheeky grin. “Didn’t you say you don’t know anything about basketball?”
She brushed her knuckles against his cheek. “That’s true. But I know determination when I see it, and you have tons of that, my sweet.”
He giggled, then dribbled the ball back toward the court. She smiled after him. “He’s such a cutie. His mama named him Oliver after a cocky, sneaky cat in a cartoon. I have a feeling he’s gonna live up to the name.”
Instead of a chuckle, Royce said, “My mother named me after my father’s car.”
She swiveled to face him. “What?”
“My father’s Rolls Royce. He told her the only thing he’d ever loved was his car. Guess it was some kind of dig to remind him that a kid deserved love, too. Didn’t work so well.”
“Or maybe it was to remind her that she got the better end of that deal.”
“What do you mean?”
“Cars don’t give an awful lot of love in return, Royce.”
* * *
As they turned back toward the main building, Jasmine spouted facts about the various aspects of the homeless mission’s programs. Royce wasn’t tracking. Her words from the gym kept ringing in his ears. He couldn’t help but wonder—were they true?
“Jasmine, ma fleur. So wonderful to see you.”
Royce forced himself to tune in as they were approached by a man in khaki pants and a polo shirt. Jasmine introduced him as Francis Staten, the director of the mission.
“So wonderful to meet you,” Francis said with a firm handshake that matched his calm, competent expression. “We are so gratefu
l for what you are doing for us.”
Royce was having none of that. “You know I can’t take the credit. Jasmine is the one who brought the need to my attention.”
Francis smiled. “And you must know that with her running your event, it will be very successful.”
“That’s my sincere belief, also,” Royce agreed.
Francis gave an appreciative chuckle. “Before she combusts from that blush, shall I show you around?”
Jasmine smiled in a sheepish way. “Well, we’ve already looked over the gym, front offices and lobby.”
“Excitement got the better of you, huh?” Francis asked as they headed farther down the hallway toward the back of the building. “I’ve never had a more enthusiastic volunteer than Jasmine here. She was such a sad girl when she first came to us, and she has become the mission’s biggest asset.”
“All of our volunteers are,” Jasmine insisted.
That blush sure was cute.
As they crossed through a large double doorway into a spacious banquet room, Francis explained, “This is our main dining area, with industrial kitchens on the other side of those serving tables. The kitchens were refurbished by a major pledge drive. We serve hundreds of meals per day. The kitchen updates made it so much easier to keep the food fresh, hot and plentiful.”
The long room was broken up by rows of tables and chairs. Only about a third of them were occupied at this time on a Saturday. “We’ll start serving lunch soon,” Francis said.
A lady sitting at the first table with a group of her friends called out to Jasmine and waved. With a smile, Jasmine excused herself to go over to them. Royce and Francis watched as she hugged each woman in the small group.
“She’s incredible,” Francis said. “A young woman who lives her beliefs, rather than simply talking about them.”
He glanced over at Royce, lowering his voice a touch. “Have you met Rosie?”
Royce nodded. His stomach flipped as he imagined Rosie in this environment. Her birth mother had been a frequent guest here, so Rosie would have grown up with no stable, secure home base. “She’s a beautiful little girl,” he murmured. “It’s hard to tell she was adopted.”
