Seth stopped abruptly, and so did his heart. “How is it you know Harriett Foster?” To the best of his knowledge, this was Mrs. Merkle’s first week at the church.
“Oh, my, anyone who attends Community Christian knows Harriett Foster.”
It wasn’t possible that the housekeeper knew that he held any tenderness for this nameless woman he’d spotted in church that very morning. Was it?
“You might stop after work in the next day or so. It isn’t too early to book now for springtime,” she continued, concentrating on peeling the apples.
“I’ll need to think on it,” he stated matter-offactly, making sure no emotion bled into his voice.
“Don’t wait too long. He who hesitates misses the worm.”
“Excuse me?”
“Well, it doesn’t matter what you miss, just that you’re going to be missing. Right?”
“I suppose,” Seth said, and moved into the family room, where Judd had already turned on the television. It was a relief to focus his attention on the sporting event rather than dwell on Mrs. Merkle’s uncanny suggestions.
Chapter 8
Pick your friends, but not to pieces.
—Mrs. Miracle
“We did it,” Jayne announced triumphantly when she walked into work bright and early Monday morning. Reba had been at the office since seven, going over the books, checking the finances. The profit margin on the travel agency was so narrow that she had to keep close tabs on expenses.
She glanced up from the computer screen. “Did what?”
“Escaped Aunt Harriett. She didn’t corner me in church, thanks to you.” Jayne’s grin stretched from ear to ear. “Naturally I screened my calls all day, and yes, Aunt Harriett did try a number of times, but I thwarted her. We thwarted her,” Jayne amended.
Reba chewed on the end of her pen. She hadn’t been able to take her mind off Seth Webster from the moment she’d seen him in church. A little investigative work had helped dig up a few cherished facts. First and foremost was his first name and the fact he’d remained single following his wife’s death.
He had two children. Six-year-old twins. Apparently there was a housekeeper, too, one the children referred to as Mrs. Miracle. The one who’d made a point of making eye contact with her. The woman seemed a bit unusual. She looked perfectly normal, an older version of Mary Poppins. Twinkling eyes, a mischievous smile, a look about her that said she knew far more than she let on. Reba suspected she was reading too much into that pointed look the Websters’ housekeeper had sent her, but it had given her an uncanny feeling.
“What’s with you and Mr. Webster?” Jayne shocked her by asking. It was almost as if her employee had read her mind.
“What’s with me and…Nothing! How could there be? I don’t even know the man.” Reba attempted to hide how flustered the question made her, but it was obvious by the way her hands fluttered over the keyboard.
“But you’d like to know him.”
It would do no good to pretend otherwise. Reba lifted one delicate shoulder. “I suppose…”
“I wish you could have seen the way your eyes lit up when you first saw him. Even Cindy noticed.”
Reba’s face colored.
Jayne hung up her coat and sat down at the desk across from her. “You know what I’ve been thinking?”
Reba hadn’t a clue, and furthermore she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know. “You intend to tell me whether I want to know or not, right?”
Jayne chuckled. “You guessed it.”
Reba waited. Jayne glanced at her almost as if she were afraid to speak. “The church needs an adult, someone who’s good with children, to step in and oversee the Christmas pageant.”
“Yes, and your wonderfully generous aunt Harriett volunteered you. Remember?”
“I’m not the right person.” Jayne’s objection was adamant. “But I know someone well suited to the task. A woman who’s familiar with overseeing large projects. Someone with infinite patience, flexible hours, and a love of children. Someone who sings like a dream.”
Reba shook her head before Jayne got around to making the suggestion. She raised both hands to stop her friend from continuing. “Don’t even say it.”
“You, Reba Maxwell. You’re the perfect choice.”
This was all a bad joke. Limitless patience, her? Besides, Reba knew next to nothing about children, zilch about the Christmas program and what it entailed, and although she liked children, her experience with them was limited to her teenage baby-sitting years. She’d be an idiot to step into the coordinator’s role with less than a month before Christmas.
“You’re wrong, Jayne. I’m flattered you think so highly of my talents, but in this case it’d never work.”
“You want to meet Mr. Webster, don’t you?”
She hesitated.
“What better way than to involve yourself with his children?”
It was too cold, too calculated. Too ridiculous. Reba dismissed the idea immediately.
She walked over to the coffee machine and refilled her mug. To hear her employee, this might well be her one and only chance of having a relationship. While it was true that eligible men weren’t beating a path to her door, she didn’t think of herself as desperate, either. She was attracted to Seth Webster, but that didn’t mean she was willing to take on the impossible task of directing the Christmas pageant.
Jayne followed her. “You do want to meet him, don’t you?” she stressed once more.
“It seems to me,” Reba said, exhaling softly, “that you inherited more from your aunt Harriett than you realize.”
“Ouch.” Jayne grimaced.
“You deserved that for even suggesting such a thing. Me directing a Christmas program? Why, that’s the most outrageous thing I’ve ever heard.”
“You’re missing something here.”
Reba gazed pointedly at her watch and removed the CLOSED sign from the front window. “It’s starting time.”
“We’ve got a couple of minutes yet. First I want to know if you heard what I said.”
“Yes, but I don’t have a response.”
“The Christmas pageant takes place Christmas Eve.” Her voice escalated softly, as if this fact were of some importance.
“So?” Reba was growing tired of this conversation. She returned to her desk, intent on refocusing her attention on the ledgers.
“Wasn’t it Christmas Eve your parents wanted you to attend some big family shindig?”
“Yes,” Reba answered tiredly.
“And doesn’t the Christmas program offer you the perfect excuse not to be stuck with relatives you don’t want to see?”
Reba hesitated. Her mother couldn’t very well take issue with her if she was involved with the church Christmas program. Still, she wasn’t convinced a ready excuse would be worth all the time and effort it would take to direct thirty or more grade-school children in some play revolving around the Nativity. There were limits to how far she was willing to go to keep the peace with her family.
Her parents had taken Vicki’s side in the issue. That much had been painfully obvious from the first. But she didn’t want to drag her aunt Gerty and uncle Bill into this mess. If she failed to attend the family dinner, they were sure to feel hurt, especially since they were her godparents.
There was something else, too. The thought of everyone gathered around the festive holiday table, talking about her when she wasn’t there to defend herself…It was grossly unfair.
“As an extra benefit you’d have the perfect opportunity to meet Judd and Jason Webster.” Jayne’s piercing eyes held hers. “And their father,” she added with meaning.
“Jayne Preston, you’re shameless.”
“True. Are you going to do it?”
Reba hesitated, unsure. “I don’t know yet. The church might already have someone.”
“They don’t,” Jayne said, sounding utterly confident.
“And I know why.” She was a fool for even considering taking o
n the responsibility. But Jayne made a strong point on a number of issues. It did offer her a ready excuse to avoid the family get-together. It wasn’t as if her mother could argue when she learned Reba was involved in a church activity.
Jayne made a good case regarding Reba’s organizational skills. Her hours were flexible, and she could leave the office on short notice. Her staff of two full-time and one part-time employee were well trained and able to carry on their duties without her standing over them with a whip and chair.
She was a natural with children, although she hadn’t had much opportunity of late to get involved with them. Working with the younger generation didn’t intimidate her, not the way it would others. The truth was, she was desperately lonely. The holidays were always difficult for her. Others had family, friends, obligations. At no other time of the year did it bother her more that she wasn’t married. The Christmas project would help take her mind off all that she’d missed.
But the most convincing argument, the one that carried the most weight, was what her employee had said about meeting Seth Webster. He didn’t know her. Had no reason to make her acquaintance. Weeks, months, could pass before she had an opportunity to invent an excuse to meet him. Yet here was the golden opportunity to not only meet him, but work with his children, get to know him and his sons. Talk about having something handed to her on a silver platter.
“No one knows me,” she said several minutes later, picking up the conversation where they’d left off.
Jayne looked at her and blinked. “You mean at church? Sure they do. Maybe not by name, but certainly they know your face.”
“It’d be like asking a stranger to step in.”
“There’ll be other adults there as well. It isn’t unusual for a number of parents to pitch in.”
“It isn’t?” This gave her hope.
“Mrs. Darling has been teaching the children the music ever since September. I think you’ll find that it isn’t nearly as demanding as everyone’s made it seem. All that’s really required is the right person.”
“And you think that’s me?” She remained skeptical, but Jayne was right: this was a golden opportunity.
“Beyond a doubt. You’re perfect.”
“Hardly,” Reba said. She was a long way from that.
“As an added bonus you get to meet Mr. Webster.”
“Seth,” she supplied without thinking.
“Seth, is it? And just how did you find that out?”
The corners of Reba’s mouth tickled with the effort to repress a smile. “I have my ways.”
“I’m sure you do.”
The morning passed quickly. With the holidays fast approaching, the foot traffic was higher than usual. It amazed Reba that people actually expected to walk into a travel agency and book an extensive trip for the holidays. November and December were two of the most popular vacation months of the entire year.
“You’ll thank me for this later, you know,” Jayne commented after Reba called and talked to Pastor Lovelace. He seemed genuinely pleased to hear from her and ecstatic when she told him the reason for her phone call.
“Don’t be so sure. Depending on how this turns out, I might be forced to hire a hit man.”
“Just you wait, you’re going to thank me for this,” Jayne said with utter confidence. Lights from the Christmas tree stand on the other side of the parking lot blinked on in the descending daylight. “Who knows how long it would have taken you to meet Seth Webster if it weren’t for me?”
Reba pinched her lips together to keep from retorting. Yes, meeting Seth was one of the reasons she’d agreed to take over the coordinator’s job, but it wasn’t the only one.
The bell over the door jingled as the latest customer entered the shop.
Reba glanced up and smiled automatically. “Can I help you?” It wasn’t until the words had slipped past her lips that she realized it was Seth Webster who stood in front of her desk.
The air between them sizzled. Reba wondered if anyone else noticed. She did, and she knew he did, too.
“Hello again,” he said, and smiled.
It took a great deal to unnerve her, but he’d succeeded.
“How can I help you?” she asked in what she hoped was a nonchalant manner, gesturing toward the empty chair in front of her desk. Now all she had to do was figure out a way to carry on an intelligent conversation.
Chapter 9
Standing in the middle of the road is very dangerous: you get knocked down by the traffic from both sides.
—Margaret Thatcher, as told to Mrs. Miracle
Emily Merkle hummed softly to herself as she went about preparing dinner for Mr. Webster and the children. It was these short-term assignments that she enjoyed the most. Timing was everything.
She never doubted that broken hearts could be mended, but all the pieces had to be gathered together first. She’d see to that, of course, and in fact had already begun going about the task.
Mr. Webster wasn’t a fool. It wouldn’t take him long to discover her talents stretched beyond the job description listed for housekeeper. Her smile brightened with all she had to accomplish and the sheer entertainment she derived from doing it.
Seth Webster was a prime example, grieving for his young wife the way he did. Pamela wouldn’t like that one bit; she was a generous, warm-hearted soul who didn’t begrudge her husband happiness.
Emily dumped a glob of hamburger into the palm of her wet hand and skillfully formed a meatball. The recipe, her grandmother’s, from the old country, was sure to please.
The door leading from the garage to the kitchen opened and Mr. Webster moseyed inside the house like someone in a daze.
“Good evening,” Emily greeted him cheerfully, looking past him to be sure he’d remembered to close the garage door. He had.
She rinsed her hands off under the faucet. “How was your day?” she asked in the same upbeat mode, hoping it would snap him out of his spell.
Mr. Webster glanced at her as if he hadn’t heard her speak.
“Mr. Webster?” She noticed the hint of red at the top of his ears. “You stopped off at the travel agency, didn’t you?’’
He blinked and then frowned. “How’d you know that?’’
It was fairly obvious by the flustered look about him. She didn’t comment on that but instead offered a convenient excuse. “You’re a bit later this evening.’’
“Yes…yes, I suppose I am.’’
“Did Ms. Maxwell have any suggestions for you?’’
“Ah…yes.’’ He cleared his throat, and his ears brightened to a deeper shade of red. “She’s putting together several packages and prices for me and the kids to review.”
“She’s rather nice, isn’t she?” Emily strived to sound nonchalant, but she could see that his visit had achieved the desired results. She was delighted. This was all going so smoothly, better than she’d hoped.
“You know Reba Maxwell?” her employer asked, sounding surprised.
“Only from church.” Emily quickly occupied herself with dinner preparations, methodically adding the perfectly shaped meatballs to the simmering marinara sauce.
“From church,” Seth repeated.
“She’s taking over as coordinator of the Christmas program. She made a wise choice. Those who bury their talents make a grave mistake.” The decision had been a difficult one for Reba, and Emily was proud of her. Having the travel agent work with the children was all part of the big picture. The rewards would far outweigh any inconveniences, but Reba didn’t know that yet. Such wonders awaited her. Emily was impatient to see it come to pass.
Everything was coming together nicely. Very nicely indeed.
The best was yet to be.
Emily had outdone herself, which was saying something, Seth mused following the evening meal. As time passed he’d come to realize that the children’s name for her fit her to a tee. Mrs. Miracle had worked wonders in all their lives.
As promised, Emily read to the children foll
owing their bath, while he washed the dishes.
He’d followed his housekeeper’s suggestion and stopped off at the travel agency. He’d be finished with the Firecracker Project in a couple of months and could use the time away. Although Judd and Jason had been to Disneyland a number of times, they’d never been to Florida. Reba had suggested a number of cruise ideas as well, with prices that fell easily within his budget. But it wasn’t the vacation plans that had brought him into the travel agency. It was the idea of meeting the owner, of talking to her one on one, getting to know her. Letting her know him.
Even now his heart raced like an Indy 500 engine. He bent forward and rested his elbows against the desktop and rubbed his hand down his face. He’d never experienced anything like this. Had never felt this strongly attracted to a woman—not since Pamela. He barely knew her name, and already he couldn’t wait to see her again.
“Reba.” He said her name aloud, thinking that the mere sound of it was musical. Magical.
Seth was convinced that he’d made a first-class idiot of himself, staring at her the way he had. He’d hardly seemed able to connect one coherent thought to another.
Some self-preservation had kicked into place when he’d realized he’d been standing in front of her desk staring at her the way a boy does a puppy in a pet shop window. When he’d finally had the presence of mind to ask about vacations for him and the twins, Reba had seemed as flustered as he. She’d promised to put together several ideas and get back to him.
He’d walked out of the agency, taking small backward steps until he’d backed into the door. It wasn’t until he’d raced across the parking lot and was sitting inside his vehicle that he’d realized he hadn’t given her his name or phone number. He’d started back to leave the necessary information when she’d met him in the parking lot.
“I need—”
“Could you…Dinner. Friday night?”
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