by Rachel Hauck
Grandpa jutted out his chin and began petting Harry’s head, absently. “The doctor is recommending angioplasty.”
Will leaned back in his chair. “Angioplasty is less intrusive than open-heart surgery.”
“Trixie’s relieved about it. She came in this morning with her hair and makeup done, wearing a suit with matching shoes and hat, all smiles for Grant.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less from her.”
“She’s a rock on the outside, but I’m afraid she’s putty on the inside. Your grandma took her for coffee to make sure she’s doing well.”
“I grabbed a bite with Taylor Friday night at the hospital. She seemed to be taking it well.”
Grandpa raised a brow. “Ole Taylor—”
Will sat forward. “Don’t get any ideas.”
“Me?” Grandpa pointed to himself. “I’m already married. You are the one who needs to be getting some ideas.”
“Not so sure Taylor wants me having ideas about her.”
“Aha, is she the one?”
“The one what?”
Grandpa chuckled. “The one you’ve been waiting for all this time.”
Will focused on his computer. “Don’t you have someplace to go?” he asked, glancing back at his grandfather.
Grandpa rubbed his chin then said, “No, I’ve got all morning to hang around here.”
Will waved toward the door. “Then go bug Ethan or something.”
His grandfather chuckled again.
“What about me?” Ethan walked into the office and plopped into the chair across from Will’s desk. Harry left Grandpa and plopped his chin on Ethan’s knee.
Grandpa spoke first. “We were just talking about—”
“Nothing.” Will eyed Grandpa.
“Good,” Ethan said, scratching Harry behind the ears. “We need to talk about Grant’s replacement until he’s back on his feet.”
“Hire me.”
Will and Ethan stared at their grandfather.
“I’m available and could fill in for a few weeks. I did start this company, after all. I know most of the crew and the procedures.”
Ethan looked at Will. “He’s got a point.”
Will regarded his grandfather. “I don’t know.”
Ethan stood. Harry retreated to his corner and curled up on his bed. “He’s perfect, Will. Grandpa, you’re hired.”
Will grinned. “Fine.” He pointed at the older Lambert. “But don’t be bugging me about … stuff.”
“Taylor?” Grandpa asked.
“What’s this?” Ethan prodded, leaning on the edge of Will’s desk.
“Taylor’s back in town,” Grandpa said.
“I know. Julie said she saw her the other night at Italian Hills. Will, is there something starting up again with—”
Will leapt to his feet. “Stop.” He looked at Ethan. “Taylor quit her job in New York. But she interviewed in Charlotte and will probably be moving there soon.”
“She didn’t get the job,” Grandpa said like a seasoned anchorman.
Will stared at him, his hands on his hips. “How do you know?”
Grandpa walked toward the door and motioned to Ethan. “Better show me around the production floor, refresh my memory.”
Will shook his head as he watched them leave. Grandpa stepped back and stuck his head in the doorway. “Why don’t you call her and find out?”
Will sat down, hard. Grandpa had a way of pushing his buttons. All the right ones. For a few minutes he pondered calling Taylor, and just as he reached for the phone, it rang.
“Will Adams.”
“Hi, it’s Taylor.” Her voice reminded him of velvet.
He cleared his throat. “How are you?”
“Fine, all things considered.” She chuckled.
“Tough week?”
“Tough couple of weeks.”
Will leaned back in his chair. “I’m sorry.”
She laughed. “It’s not your fault.”
“No, I guess not.” He loved Taylor’s forthrightness.
“Daddy is scheduled for angioplasty tomorrow. He’s going down to Manchester tonight.”
“Grandpa told me,” he said, wondering if she’d tell him about Charlotte.
She sighed. “Dad’s in good spirits and other than his arteries, he’s in good health.”
Will prodded her more. “Everything else going okay?”
“If I said, I might give in and cry.”
“A good cry never hurt anyone.”
She laughed. “Moving on … Thanks for being there Friday for Mom and me.”
“Not a problem. Tell your dad Grandpa’s filling in for him.”
“He was already telling the doctor he needed to be back to work next week.”
Will grinned. “Sounds like your pop.”
“Yeah, well Trixie the Terrible is on the scene, and Dad won’t be back to work until she says so. She’s insisting he use up some vacation.”
Will laughed. “He has a lot of time banked. Tell him to relax, burn up some vacation, and heal.”
“I will.”
Then, as suddenly as the conversation started, it ended. Will wanted to ask about her job but hesitated. Too personal. If she wanted him to know about Charlotte, she would tell him.
Then he had an idea. “You still owe me pizza.”
“Right, I do.”
“You’ll be with your dad tonight and tomorrow. So—”
“I’ll be home tomorrow night by eight.” Her tone sounded promising.
“Say eight thirty? Meet you at Giuseppe’s.”
“I’d like that.”
“See you then.”
Taylor ladled soup into bowls and flipped the grilled cheese sandwiches on the griddle. Mom dropped ice into the glasses on the table with a clink-clink and filled them with iced tea.
“Tim, you want one or two sandwiches?” Taylor called.
“Two,” Tim answered from the living room, where he was arranging kindling in the fireplace. “Mom, where’d Dad put the matches?”
“Oh, he uses one of those long lighter things. Look in the end table drawer.” Trixie motioned in the air with her slender hand.
“Dad looked good tonight,” Taylor said, reflecting on their trip to the hospital in Manchester where Grant had been transported. He had a nice private room.
Tim came around the corner. “It’s still hard to imagine Dad in that hospital bed.”
Mom fluttered around the kitchen, opening and closing doors without retrieving anything. “Well now, he’ll be just fine. Just fine.”
Taylor handed Tim a plate and a bowl. “Dr. Elliot said the surgeon in Manchester is one of the best.” She touched her mother’s arm. “Dad will come through with flying colors.”
Trixie’s lips quivered when she smiled. “He is in good health otherwise, isn’t he?”
“Remember that health food kick he went on about twenty-five, thirty years ago?” Tim laughed, biting into his sandwich. A string of melted cheese stuck to his chin.
Taylor passed him a napkin, grinning. “Barely. I was what, six? You were sixteen?”
Trixie smiled. “He was so determined to get this family healthy.”
“Were we sick?” Taylor asked.
“Oh, no, but your dad wanted to ensure long, happy lives for all of us.”
Still laughing, Tim reminisced, pointing at Taylor. “Remember when old Smokey dug up the bread you buried in the backyard?”
She pounded the table. “Dad was so mad. But I thought the bread was made of twigs or something.” She made a face, remembering.
“Oh, it was horrible bread,” Trixie said, spooning a bite of soup.
“It made the worst peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,” Taylor added.
“And that was the only thing you would eat that year,” Tim reminded her.
“I remember.”
“Speaking of eating.” Tim popped open a bag of baked chips. “That was a cozy scene I walked into the other night wit
h you and Will in the hospital cafeteria.”
Taylor choked. “Cozy? A burger in the hospital cafeteria?”
“Maybe your old crush isn’t so old.”
“Have you gone crazy?”
“Taylor, lower your voice. Ladies don’t shout.”
She gaped at her mom. “And gentlemen don’t make assumptions.” She whispered toward Tim. “Have you gone crazy?”
Laughing, Tim scooted away from the table for more soup. “He’s a great catch, Tay.”
He didn’t have to remind her. “I’m not looking for a man; I’m looking for a job, Tim.”
“You could stay in White Birch and work for me. Dana’s busy hauling Jarred and Quentin all over town. Claire’s eighteen and doesn’t want to admit she knows us.”
“You actually want me to come down there and work in your office? You’re an architect, Tim. I know nothing about building buildings.”
“You don’t fool me, Taylor. I could teach you CAD in a week.”
She shook her head. “I’m a CPA, Tim, not a CAD operator.”
“Well, I offered.”
After Tim left for home and Mom readied for bed, Taylor decided to check her phone and e-mail for any messages. There were two job postings, but they were just above entry level and she wasn’t sure she wanted to drop that far down the ladder. So far, Tim’s offer was the best thing going.
Taylor shoved her laptop aside and dropped her head on her desk. She hated feeling anxious, but there it was, gripping her middle—gripping her heart and mind.
“Lord, I can’t continue like this. I need Your peace. It’s been so long.”
Almost instantly, she thought of Will. It was his peaceful aura that attracted her to him as much as his blue eyes and broad, white smile.
six
Will waited for Taylor in the back of Giuseppe’s. The smell of garlic and baking dough stirred his appetite. He rapped his knuckles against the table in a steady beat, eager to see her. When she walked through the door, he smiled and stood to greet her. Give her a hug, he thought. But she stuck out her hand before he got close.
“Hi,” she said, slipping her hand into his.
“Hi, back,” he said, liking the feel of her palm against his. They slipped into the booth, sitting across from each other.
“Welcome to Giuseppe’s.” The proprietor’s big voice bellowed toward them, all the consonants accented and rolling. “Will, who is this-a pretty lady?”
Will grinned. “You know Taylor Hanson, Giuseppe.”
The big man’s hands shot to his face and covered his jiggling cheeks. “Taylor, what is wrong? So thin. So thin.”
She pinched her lips together, though a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I lost a few pounds. Five years ago.”
Giuseppe stuck his finger in the air. “I get extra garlic rolls with extra butter.” He hurried away.
Taylor laughed, wrinkling her nose at Will. “Extra butter? That means an extra mile for me tomorrow.” She unzipped her jacket.
“I love that about Giuseppe. In his eyes, no one can be too … endowed.” Will reached for her coat and folded it on top of his.
Their waiter, Brandon, stopped by for their drink order, and Will asked Taylor, “Large pizza? The three cheese is excellent.”
Her eyes sparkled when she looked at him. Didn’t they? Or was he just imagining?
“Sounds good. I’m starved,” she said.
Giuseppe swooped in with a large basket of bread and instructed Brandon to “keep it full.”
“You’re much-a too skinny, Taylor. Much-a.”
“I’ll work on it,” Taylor promised with a wink.
When Giuseppe was gone, Will prayed over the food and the evening. After he said amen, he handed Taylor a plate with two garlic rolls. “You’re not, you know.”
She reached for her napkin. “Not what?”
Brandon set their drinks on the table. “Your pizza will be right up.”
Will nodded to Brandon then answered Taylor. “Too skinny.”
“Are you suggesting I’m overweight?”
Will laughed heartily. “I guess I’m treading on dangerous ground, aren’t I?” She grinned and nodded as he sipped his soda and decided to change the subject. “How’s your dad?”
“The angioplasty went very well. He looks a hundred percent better already. He’s probably coming home tomorrow.”
Will nodded. “We prayed for him this morning in our staff meeting.”
Taylor tore a bite off her garlic roll. “You guys pray every morning?”
“Yes.”
“I could’ve used prayer at the firm in New York,” Taylor said in a soft, thoughtful tone.
“You want to tell me what happened?”
“Not really.”
He reached for another roll. “Okay.”
“I’d had enough,” she said without preamble. “I had an egotistical boss—one of the partners—who drove me crazy. I worked seventy, eighty hours a week, and finally, I’d had enough.”
“Good for you.”
Taylor slapped her hands against the table. “Good for me? I’m unemployed. I own a brand-new imported car, my furniture is in storage, and a marvelous job opportunity in North Carolina passed me by.”
“So what? You have a mountain of experience, and you’re excellent at what you do, whiz kid. The Lord has something for you.” Will suddenly had an idea. He’d have to run it by Bobby for a sanity check, but it just might be brilliant.
Taylor lowered her gaze, her slender hands around the small white plate holding her uneaten roll. “You make it sound so easy, so not-a-big-deal.”
“I know it is a big deal, but, Taylor, you’re so much more than your career. You know, when I want to carve something special, I hunt for the right piece of wood. At first, it’s just a block with nice grain and maybe a fragrance like cedar. Then I start cutting, shaping, sanding … The wood becomes something beautiful. That’s you in God’s hands.”
She regarded him. “What an amazing image. Thank you.” With that, she sat back, dropping her arms to her sides, and stared out the window. “I just am so mad at myself for quitting. There had to be a better solution.”
“Sometimes resigning is the solution. To act when you know it’s time to move on.”
“Pizza.” Brandon cleared room for a large, round tray with a hot, thin-crust pizza oozing with cheese.
“I wish I had your confidence … and peace.”
“Well,” Will said, shoveling a cheesy slice onto Taylor’s plate, “hang around me for a while, and I might let you have some for free.”
On a crisp, cold Sunday afternoon, Taylor donned her sweats and jogged to Milo Park.
Dad was home now, and Mom flitted around the house like a hen with coop full of chicks. Taylor grinned, pressing her hand to her stomach as she remembered the four-course lunch Mom served after church.
As for Taylor, she spent an hour surfing for job openings, submitting her résumé online, and trying to get her foot in the door, any door. Last week it seemed every contact she called was either out of the office or “no longer with us.”
When Will had called an hour earlier with a flag football invitation, she had jumped at the chance to move her cramped muscles.
As she ran toward the field, she could see a dozen or so guys gathering.
Five minutes later, the blue flag and white flag teams were chosen, then Will reviewed the rules. Last, he said, “Taylor, as our only woman player, is wearing orange flags. She’s a wide receiver. Anyone grab anything but a flag, you’re out of the game.” Will jerked his thumb over his shoulder and shot each guy an intense glance. When his gaze fell on Taylor, she nodded her thanks.
“Since there’s only eleven of us, we’ll play half field. Huddle up.”
Jordan West, the star quarterback at White Birch High when Will played running back, led the white flag team. Will quarterbacked the blue flag team.
“Hi, Taylor,” Jordan said, tapping her on the arm. “I d
idn’t know you were in town.”
She smiled. “Yes, briefly.” Jordan looked so much the same. Broad-shouldered and slender … Sparkling brown eyes … His blond hair was thinner than she remembered, though.
“I heard about your dad. I hope he’s doing well.”
“He’s doing very well, thank you. He’s home, and Mom is in her element taking care of him.”
“Hanson, let’s go,” Will bellowed, motioning for her to join the huddle.
“Better go,” she said to Jordan, moving backward.
“Talk to you later. After the game maybe.”
She nodded. “Maybe.”
“What was that all about?” Will whispered when she joined the huddle.
“Nunya,” she said with a smirk.
“Nunya?” He furrowed his brow. “What?”
“Nunya business.” She laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “None of your business.”
“Har, har,” he said. In the huddle, Will instructed his team. “They have one more player than we do, but we have Speedy Gonzales here.” He pointed to Taylor. “On two, Cimowsky, you sweep around behind me. I’ll fake a handoff.” Will pointed to Taylor. “Run up the middle ten yards, turn, and I’ll pass it to you.”
“Do you want me to count one Mississippi, two Mississippi, three—”
Will bumped her with his hip. “No. I want you to run ten yards, turn, and catch.” She snickered. “Testy.”
Will ignored her. “Everyone else, block. On three.”
“Break!” The team of five moved to the line of scrimmage.
Taylor lined up on the right, her adrenaline pumping. This is going to be a blast. She could already feel the week’s subtle frustrations burning away.
Will walked behind her and touched her back. “Go for the touchdown,” he said in a low voice.
She nodded. She knew what to do. Jordan lined up across from her. He smiled. She smiled. Will shouted “Two!” and Taylor went into motion.
As Taylor cut up the middle, Jordan backpedaled, calling to his scattered team, “He’s passing to Taylor!” Ten yards, turn, and look at Will. Her gaze connected with his as he released the ball. It spiraled through the air and into her arms.
She ran for the goal, marked by two red cones, the sound of her heart beating in her ears. Touchdown. Make the touchdown.
