Lambert's Peace

by Rachel Hauck

  “I see.” Taylor absorbed the reality of what Alex communicated.

  He set his water down. “Don’t worry; the pay is worth it.” She smiled. “Good to know.”

  Their pizza arrived, and the conversation went to more casual topics, such as the surrounding communities and life in northern California.

  Yet thoughts of Will interrupted her concentration. She shifted in her chair and focused on eating a slice of pizza, shoving images of Will back to New Hampshire.

  “Boswell seems to have a strong team environment,” Taylor finally said. “I like that.”

  A lot like Lambert’s Furniture, she thought. She answered that with an internal grrr. Stop thinking about home.

  Alex nodded. “It’s one of the company’s strengths.”

  He went on to describe the benefits of living in northern California, but when lunch ended, Taylor felt she’d lost some of her enthusiastic glow while trying to fight the rising tide of love for Will.

  How could he miss her so much? He’d lived the past ten years without her; now her sudden presence in his life drilled into the very core of his being, and he felt lost without her. The matters of the heart confounded him. Anxiety threatened. What if she took the California job?

  Will took a deep breath. “Be anxious for nothing,” he prayed; “let the peace of Jesus guard your heart and mind.”

  Feeling restless, he wandered from his living room to the kitchen to the back porch. Harry sat watching, his head tipped in wonder.

  “We need Taylor, don’t we, boy?”

  Harry whined, wagging his tail. When the phone rang, Will answered on the second ring with a deep hope that Taylor would be on the other end.

  “I’m hungry for some of Sam’s pie.” It was Ethan.

  “Pie?” Will echoed. “I could go for a big salad and soup.”

  “Eat whatever you want. I’m having pie.”

  Will laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m having pie, too, but I haven’t eaten dinner yet.”

  “It’s eight o’clock.”

  “I know. Meet you there.”

  At Sam’s, Will found his cousin in a booth by the door. Sam greeted him while Taylor’s nephew set water glasses on the table.

  “Have you heard from your aunt?” Will asked Jarred.

  “Nope,” the young man said with a quick, shy smile.

  After they ordered, Ethan asked, “Speaking of Taylor, how’s it going?”

  Will shrugged as he unwrapped his silverware from the napkin. “It’s not.”

  “She’s still determined to move to California?”

  “Yes, and still determined not to fall in love with me.”

  Ethan laughed. “And how do you know that?”

  “She told me.”

  seventeen

  From the balcony of her hotel, Taylor looked out over Coastal Highway 1, awed by the blazing colors of the Pacific sunset.

  “Oh, Lord,” she whispered reverently, “what a beautiful day.” During her end-of-day wrap-up with Alex, he asked Taylor about her earliest possible start date while informing her of their generous relocation package.

  “What’s your minimum salary?” he asked, a smug sort of look on his face.

  Taylor exhaled. She took his pen and jotted down a fat figure—ten percent more than she’d earned in New York.

  Alex didn’t even flinch. “Not a problem.”

  Now, on the balcony at her hotel with a cool breeze carrying the scent of the ocean brushing her face, Taylor pondered her options.

  “Lord, do I say yes if they offer?” She loved what she heard and saw at Boswell Global. She loved the idea of living in sunshine and making a six-figure salary. Before she turned thirty-four, she would have accomplished more than she’d hoped.

  She was envisioning Saturdays on the beach just as her room phone rang. “Hello?”

  “Taylor, it’s Alex Cranston.”

  She sank onto the bed. A nervous knot tightened in her middle. “I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”

  Were they turning her down already?

  “I just called to see how you like your room.”

  “It’s very nice.” She chewed on her bottom lip.

  “Well, you’re our front-runner. They loved you.”

  “That’s good to hear.” She sat against the hotel bed’s plump pillows.

  “As far as the president is concerned, you’re the one. I had to remind her we’d already scheduled interviews with the other candidates.”

  Taylor smiled. “Pamela and I had a lot of common experiences and thoughts on how the finances should be run.”

  “That’s what she said. She can’t imagine anyone fitting the bill as well as you do. But we still—”

  “I know. Interview the other candidates.”

  “Right. Have a good night. Order room service, watch a movie, and have a safe trip home. We’ll send a car for you in the morning to take you to the airport.”

  “Thank you, Alex, for all you’ve done for me.” When Taylor hung up, she thought she should jump for joy over Pamela’s favor. Instead, she wandered back to the balcony feeling melancholy.

  In the last few months, she’d gotten used to the safe comfort of being home. In the early morning, she would lie in bed praying and listening to her parents’ morning routine.

  “Grant, do you want coffee?”

  Her mother’s intonations were like Taylor’s down comforter—soft and warm.

  “Yes, Trixie. No cream this morning.”

  Her father always answered from the top of the stairs while dressing for the day. Taylor knew because the clean scent of his aftershave perfumed the hall and seeped into her room under the door.

  California—three thousand miles away and a six-hour plane ride.

  She leaned on the balcony rail, longing to talk to someone. She thought of her friends in New York. Strange, how she’d lost touch with them so quickly. Except Reneé. Taylor sighed. This wasn’t about Reneé or her friends in the city. It was about calling Will.

  Whether she liked it or not, he’d taken up residence in her heart as her closest friend. She couldn’t deny it any longer. He simply was her best friend.

  With a decisive step across the room, she dug her cell phone from her purse and dialed. She shivered when he answered the phone.

  “Hi, it’s Taylor.”

  Will was cutting the end of his apple pie a la mode when his cell phone jingled. “Will Adams.”

  He did not expect to hear her voice on the other end. He dropped his fork and cut a glance at Ethan.

  “So, you got the job?” he asked, running his hand through his hair.

  “They liked me a lot.”

  “I believe it.” He ignored the stab of disappointment. He was happy for her but sad for himself. “How’s California?”

  “Beautiful. The sunset is amazing. You’d love it here.”

  “I bet I would.” Because she was there.

  Taylor talked about her day with enthusiasm—the wonderful staff at Boswell Global, the funny story the president told during their interview, lunch at the cutest pizza place, and her hotel balcony overlooking the Coastal Highway.

  “Sounds wonderful.”

  “I don’t think I can say no.” Taylor blurted the amount of her possible salary.

  Will whistled.

  “What? What’s she saying?” Ethan whispered, poking Will’s arm with his fork.

  Will jerked away and swerved in the booth so Ethan couldn’t hear. He felt vulnerable, as if his emotions might explode and spew all over the place.

  “Hard to turn that down.”

  “R–right.”

  The conversation lulled. Will choked back a mountain of words, but how could he say again what he’d already said? Taylor had turned him down cold. “When will you know?”

  “Week or so, I guess.”

  Will managed one word. “Good.”

  “They have more candidates to interview, but the president really wants to hire me.”

>   “He knows excellence when he sees it.”

  Taylor laughed. “She. The president is a she. Pamela Carlton.”

  “Ah, forgive me.” He faced forward again and reached for his fork.

  “Oh, Will, I can see some kids playing on a basketball court.” Excitement buoyed her voice.

  He cut a bite of pie. “Who’s winning?”

  “Hard to tell. There’s a couple of kids playing. One is dribbling. Stops to shoot a three-pointer. He makes it.” Taylor cheered the unknown player, her voice vibrant.

  “Well, maybe if I visit you in California, we can play one-on-one on that court.”

  She didn’t answer for a moment, then said, “I’d like that.”

  “We’ll miss you.” He had to say it. He wanted her to know. So, he masked his I with a we, but she knew.

  “We? You and Harry.”

  He grinned. “Yes.”

  “Well, I’ll let you go. Thanks for listening.”

  “Is that all?”

  “I guess so.”

  Will pressed END and placed the phone into the holster clipped to his belt. “That was Taylor,” he said.

  Ethan eyed him. “I gathered.”

  Will shoved his plate aside, missing Taylor more each minute.

  Thanksgiving Eve, Taylor tossed and turned, trying to sleep, her mind troubled by a myriad of anxious thoughts.

  She prayed intermittently, meditating on the peace of Jesus. Her interview in California seemed like years ago.

  Since she’d returned to White Birch and Lambert’s Furniture, she’d been working fourteen hours a day. The data conversion to the HBS system aggravated her, and today had been especially trying.

  In the morning, she’d battled technical problems with the test database. In the afternoon, she and Markie ran a test conversion, and all the fields were populated with the wrong information. Then, just before leaving for the night, she and Markie ran into a snag with the accounts receivable modules, and she feared they didn’t work the way HBS promised.

  Taylor sat up in bed and glanced at the clock. Nearly midnight. She reached for her bedside lamp.

  The crash course she’d gotten from the installation team generated more questions than answers. And when they flew through the instructions on how to connect to the test and live databases, Taylor’s notes began to look like ancient Chinese.

  If I wasn’t connected to the right database, then the system settings would be wrong. She sat with her arms on her knees. She felt lost on this one and feared she was letting Will down.

  She slipped out of bed and changed into a pair of jeans and a university sweatshirt. She had to fix the problem. She tied on her running shoes.

  The office was closed Thursday and Friday for the holiday, so she’d have the place to herself all weekend if she wanted to work.

  Maybe Will didn’t count on her long-term, but she wanted to complete the job with excellence. She’d dealt with new installations before, and the amount of overlooked details could be staggering.

  Tiptoeing downstairs, Taylor picked up her purse and grabbed her coat.

  Under a blanket of night, White Birch slept.

  Maintenance crews had hung Christmas decorations yesterday afternoon and the front windows of Main Street shops twinkled with tiny white lights.

  Suspending her thoughts for a moment, Taylor imagined she lived in a land far, far away where love conquered all and hearts were never broken.

  She decided she must be longing for heaven. The idea touched her soul with peace as she passed White Birch Community Church and steered toward Lambert’s Furniture.

  She parked by the side office door, punched in her security code on the keypad, and dashed upstairs to her office.

  Within fifteen minutes, she’d found the problem with her settings and had successfully run a partial test of the data conversion.

  She clapped her hands and did a little jig around her desk. Still wide-awake, she thought she might as well work on modifying reports before going home.

  Footfalls echoed from the hallway. Taylor rose slowly from her chair, angling to see beyond her door, a cold feeling washing over her.

  Will couldn’t sleep. He checked his bedside clock for the tenth time in the last half hour. After midnight. With a sigh, he stepped out of bed and wandered past the sleeping dog to the window.

  In the moon’s pale light, he surveyed his yard, half in the moon’s glow, half falling into shadow.

  “It’s Thanksgiving and I’m fretting.” He clicked on a light and reached for his Bible.

  The words from Philippians 4:6 reminded him that the Lord watched over him.

  He repeated the verse out loud. “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God.”

  Will paced the width of his bedroom. His day had been so fragmented by meetings, phone calls, interviews for a new administrator in accounting, plus a production meeting with Grandpa and Grant, that he felt burdened by the unattended details on his desk.

  He stopped pacing and muttered to no one, “Might as well get dressed and go to the office.”

  As he pulled up to Lambert’s Furniture, he expected to see a dark building, but the corner office glowed with a low, white light. Will smiled. Taylor.

  “Wonder what she’s doing here.” He punched in his security code and bounded up the stairs.

  Taylor’s heart beat so fast she had to draw hard to breathe. She looked around for something to use as a weapon.

  “Settle down, Taylor Jo, the building is secure.” She checked her watch. Who could be there at twelve thirty in the morning?

  The steps drew closer. She blurted, “Hello?”

  Will’s handsome form came through her doorway. “What are you doing here?”

  Taylor slapped her hand over her heart. “Oh, it’s you.”

  Will grinned. “I’ve got to stop scaring you.”

  “Yes, you do.” Taylor sat down in her desk chair. “What are you doing here?”

  Will crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “I asked you first.”

  The collar of his leather jacket was flipped up on one side, and his bangs flopped over his forehead. Taylor thought he looked like an eighties pop star—and very handsome.

  He caught her staring. She blushed and turned away. “I, um, couldn’t sleep. Problem with the conversion setup kept me awake. I finally figured it out.”

  Will walked over. “Funny how brilliance comes at midnight.”

  She laughed. “Yes.” Their eyes met, and Taylor felt warm all the way down to her toes.

  He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving her face. She couldn’t breathe for a second.

  “Taylor,” he said, lightly grasping her arm and pulling her to him. He lowered his face to hers.

  “Will.” She pressed her hand against his chest.

  He chuckled. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Releasing her, he backed away. “Don’t be. It’s my problem. But, Taylor,” he said as he walked toward the door, “when a man finds a woman who drives him crazy, he doesn’t easily forget.”

  eighteen

  Taylor bolted upright when her cell phone rang. She fumbled through her purse, squinting in the bright morning light. Sun rays streamed through the frosty windowpanes like ethereal ribbons and fell across the wide wood floor.

  “Hello,” Taylor croaked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

  “Taylor, where are you?”

  “Tim? I’m at the office,” she said, her voice raspy and weak. She stood to stretch. Her back ached. “Mom called this morning.”

  “What happened?”

  “It’s Dad. He woke up with severe abdominal pain, chills, and vomiting, so Mom took him to the hospital. She looked for you, but thought you went for a run.”

  “I’m on my way.” Awake now, she grabbed her coat and purse but stopped outside her office door, suddenly overwhelmed. Her
eyes burned, and she trembled all over.

  “It’s Thanksgiving. Oh, Father, please. Be with Dad.”

  Shaking off the sense of despair, she started down the hall.

  Will looked up when he heard footsteps. Is Taylor still here? He glanced at his watch. Seven a.m. He’d fallen asleep a few times, brewed and drank two pots of coffee, then continued working. A lot of things were going to change with the new business system and work flow, even timekeeping and payroll.

  “Taylor?”

  She peered around the door bleary-eyed, her hair in disarray. “Mom took Dad to the hospital.” Taylor explained his symptoms.

  Will grabbed his coat. “Let’s go.” He unclipped his cell phone and dialed as he led Taylor downstairs and out the door.

  “Bobby, I’m on my way to the hospital with Taylor. It’s Grant. Call Grandpa and let the family know. And, oh, will you go let Harry out, then take him to Grandpa’s?”

  He opened the passenger door and helped Taylor in. Then, getting in behind the wheel, he said, “It’s going to be okay.”

  She nodded, her lips pressed together, the tip of her sleek nose red.

  Will scooted across the seat and cradled her in his arms. He didn’t know if she would resist and pull away, but he didn’t care. She was trying too hard to endure this alone.

  After a few moments, he reluctantly released her and moved back to his side of the truck. “Not a great way to start Thanksgiving Day, is it?”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  By midmorning, Dad had been admitted and several tests ordered.

  Taylor paced the waiting room with Tim and Mom. Dr. Griswold promised an update within the hour. Will went to the cafeteria in search of coffee and donuts.

  “I can’t lose him. I’m not ready. He’s only sixty-six,” Mom said, her voice weak like a lost child’s.

  Tim stood off on his own, his hands on his hips. “He’ll be fine, Mom.”

  Taylor glared at him. He sounded like a coach telling a player to get up and shake it off.

  “Mom,” she said softly, putting her hand on her shoulder. “Tim’s right. Dad is going to be just fine. We just have to trust in the Lord.”