They stopped on the fringe of the dance floor. Jude couldn’t think of a way to escape.
“Everyone’s having fun,” he said. “And you just pointed out that you’re an important member of the wedding party. Joining in and adding to the general spirit of the occasion is part of your job, isn’t it?”
She couldn’t argue. Alex had told her, “It’s just one day, Jude. I’m counting on you. You can at least pretend to have fun.” If spinning around the dance floor one time would endear her to Alex, she could do it. Besides, pretending to have fun was what she did. She was good at it. Liam held up one hand to hold hers and slipped his arm around her back. And then, when he should have been gliding or whatever, he just remained still, staring into her eyes.
“What?” she said.
“Weren’t you taller?” he asked. “When I watched you walk down the aisle a while ago, I could have sworn you were tall. Now I wouldn’t peg you at more than five and a half feet.”
“I was tall then.”
“What?”
She raised the hem of her gauzy, satiny concoction of shiny pink, showing her bare legs almost to her knees. Laced securely to each foot was a simple but expensive running shoe. She almost laughed out loud when she saw his shocked expression.
“If you want me to put the stilts back on, you’ll have to walk me over to my table where they’re hidden under the drape. But then I won’t dance, so it’s a catch-22.”
He fidgeted with the layers of dress in her hands, trying to smooth the fabric so it covered her legs again. Was he embarrassed to be seen with a woman who’d abandoned her high heels? Too bad. Jude had never enjoyed the fashion sense of her two sisters, even though they’d tried. The shoes for the wedding had cost her fifty bucks, and they would end up gathering dust in the back of her closet.
“No, no. It’s fine. The shoes are fine,” he said, returning his arms to dance position. “We’ll dance a few minutes and then adjourn to the tennis courts outside where we can play a couple of sets.”
She almost smiled. After about thirty seconds of keeping time to the five-piece orchestra, Jude had decided that maybe she was a dancer after all. Or maybe Liam Manning was so accomplished at leading that she didn’t feel like the wallflower with two left feet. His arm pressed with authority on her back, and her hand felt light as a feather in his. His feet seemed to move with precision, stepping around and between her own so that her toes were protected while she managed to follow his unspoken directions.
At one point, he grinned down at her. “See? You’re dancing like a pro,” he said.
She chuckled. “Let’s not get carried away with the flattery, Liam.”
What is this guy’s game? she wondered. He seemed to be a mixture of propriety and charm, and Jude still didn’t trust him. She had a hard time trusting anyone who didn’t smell a little musty and have straw stuck to his boots. Although Liam Manning could possibly change her mind about all that.
She didn’t ask to sit down after the promised spin around the dance floor. Instead he slowed the pace to an easy-breathing, conversational level. “You never told me,” she began. “What’s going on between you and my father?”
“We’re back to that, are we? I hope my explanation won’t make you angry.”
“I suppose we’ll have to see about that.”
Liam cleared his throat. “Your father just asked me if I remembered you from an outing twenty years ago. I told him I didn’t, but then you reminded me of the snake incident. He mentioned how pretty you are and said I should ask you to dance.”
She grimaced. “Oh, Dad.”
“It’s okay,” Liam said. “You are pretty, and I would have asked anyway.”
Some women might have ruffled feathers after hearing such an admission. Obviously Martin Foster didn’t believe Jude could snag her own dance partner, so he decided to fix her up. But Jude wasn’t terribly upset. Making certain his daughter enjoyed a dance or two was the kind of goal Martin Foster would try to achieve on a day like this. Jude hardly ever lost patience with her father. Everything he did was from love.
She nodded, accepting that she was the daughter least likely to have dance partners lined up. “I see. And are you sorry you got stuck with the job?”
He smiled again, showing a row of perfect white teeth. If she ever found herself with Liam in good lighting, she was going to study that face until she found a flaw. There had to be one.
“Not at all. Despite your reluctance to dance with me, I think we’ve done quite well.”
So did Jude. He stopped dancing and walked with her out the door to the country club portico. “I could use some fresh air,” he said. “It’s unseasonably warm for November, but in that dress, you might be too cold.”
“No. I’m okay.”
“Good. Let’s find a place where we can sit and get acquainted.”
“This is as good a place as any.” She hopped up on the concrete railing surrounding the patio, pulled her skirt to her knees and dangled her sneakered feet as if she were anticipating plunging them into a cool stream.
“Aren’t you worried about your dress?”
“I am worried—about the next person who’ll have to wear it once I drop it off at Goodwill.”
He jumped up beside her. “I take it you’re not a, what do they call it these days? A fashionista?”
“I suppose I’m not. I buy most of my clothes at Winnie’s Western Wear, and I get my son’s school uniforms at Target. Everything else I buy online. I don’t have time to traipse through malls.”
She clutched her hands in her lap and lifted her face to catch the breeze coming through the fall maples and oak trees. There was no place more beautiful than northern Ohio in autumn. When a strand of hair whipped across her face, she tucked it behind her ear. The elaborate French something-or-other the hairstylist had perfected for her this morning was probably hanging on by a few last-gasp pins.
She and Liam sat on the railing without speaking for a moment. They both looked into the country club where wedding guests were still dancing and lining up for cake. Wesley, who was probably as uncomfortable in a tux as she was in her pink fluffy dress, was dancing with his aunt Carrie. His head only came to her chest, but they were keeping perfect time to the music. The photographer was busy snapping everyone in the throes of Alexis’s marital bliss.
“The kid in the tux who was ring bearer,” Liam said. “That’s the son you mentioned?”
“It is.”
“Cute kid.”
This guy seemed to say all the right things. Jude sighed with unexpected contentment. She felt more like herself outside, away from the festivities. And she was happy for Alexis. She deserved this wedding and this fairy-tale beginning of a new life. She and Daniel, the state’s newest young senator, were perfect for each other, and despite many problems, they’d found their way back together to share a life and a daughter.
Amazing, Jude thought. Two of the three Foster daughters had been widowed at a young age. Alexis had lost her beloved Teddy almost a year ago, and Jude had lost her Paul. Well, life had turned around for her Allie-belle today, and sitting next to this dark blond, good-looking guy, Jude had the first warm flickering of hope for a happy ending for herself one day. But the feeling was just a flicker, nothing upon which to base a future. Paul was gone. He was never coming back. Part of her would never forgive him for that. Part of her knew she would never experience the same love again.
“So, what do you do?” The voice that came from beside her and interrupted her thoughts was low and just slightly scratchy as if this dressed-up man put hot sauce on everything he ate, just like she did. No way. He had to be a hollandaise kind of guy. She didn’t answer right away because explaining what she did was difficult for some people to understand, so he added, “I mean, you don’t like walking malls...”
“I s
aid I don’t have time for shopping,” she repeated. “But you’re right. I don’t like it, either.” She turned her head to be able to read his reaction when she said, “Actually I run a small farm. In addition, I’m the CEO of a charitable foundation.”
“No kidding?” Liam said. “That’s interesting. Is it a national or a local foundation?”
“Local. Really local. We benefit mostly people from this area. I started the foundation five years ago and named it after my late husband, Paul O’Leary. He was killed in Afghanistan.”
His eyes widened as he drew in a quick breath. “The foundation is named after your late husband?”
“That’s right.”
“So you’re continuing work that Paul started when he was alive?”
“Not exactly. I...that is, we support many causes, but I always take into consideration whether I believe Paul would approve.”
“So your day is basically spent in an office while you decide which projects are worthy of foundation support.”
She laughed. “Do I look like a person who would be glued to a desk?” He couldn’t be more wrong. Jude’s day started at 6:00 a.m. By eight o’clock, it was time to rush Wesley to school, she’d fed one hungry boy and dozens of animals, checked fences, gathered eggs and milked a very large but thankfully docile cow. And that was if something didn’t happen to interrupt her.
“You’ve oversimplified what I do,” she said. “I try to be careful with the money that comes in. I analyze each proposal for its merit. And I have to answer to a board of directors, as well. So if you’re thinking that I’m a wealthy embezzler...”
“No, of course I don’t think that. But you did say you were the chief administrator, so the buck must stop...or leave the foundation’s checking account at your desk.”
Jude did make all the decisions about spending so she answered honestly, “I suppose that’s true.”
“Who is on your board of directors?” Liam asked. “Anyone I might know?”
“You know my father. Maybe you know my sister Carrie. My son, Wesley, is on the board, as well. I realize he’s just a child, but his insights are often spot-on. He has definite opinions about children’s issues. And I hope he’ll want to carry on after I’m gone.”
“And your father and Carrie aren’t active in helping with decisions?”
“Not so much. My sister works for the US Forest Service, and she’s sent all over the country. My father is a doctor, as you know. Neither one of them is a hands-on adviser.”
“I’m something of an economist, and I know a bit about how foundations work,” Liam said. “I might be interested in donating to one of your funds. It would be a needed tax break for me.”
“We’d be happy to have your money.”
“I’m cautious with it,” he added, “so I’d have to know more about the charities you contribute to.” He paused a moment before adding, “Maybe I can come out one day this week and take a look at the charities you fund.”
Suddenly suspicious, Jude wondered if Liam had an angle. Was he an IRS investigator? They weren’t usually so underhanded about their searches. And anyway, she had nothing to hide. Her father’s accountant had made certain she’d filed all the proper papers with the government. Maybe he was just interested in what she did, although that didn’t seem logical. The only people who paid attention to the Paul O’Leary Foundation were the ones who stood to benefit from it, or the handful of small philanthropists she counted on to keep going. Maybe Liam was hitting on her? No, impossible.
But if this educated, subtly charming “economist” wanted to see the foundation at work, why should she stop him? His money was as needed as anyone else’s. “I suppose that would be okay.”
She smiled to herself, thinking how Carrie would interpret this exchange. She would choose to believe that her hermit of a sister was finally encouraging a man. Nothing could be further from the truth. Other than the persistent clerk at the feed store and one of the construction workers over at Aurora Spindell’s bed-and-breakfast, no fella had shown an interest in Jude for a long time. Or, as Carrie suggested, she didn’t notice if one did. Jude didn’t date, and she’d all but forgotten the rules and wiles of flirting.
“When should I come?” Liam asked.
She bounced down from the railing. “You’re welcome to come anytime, as long as I know so I can be certain to be there. But if you come in the day, you’d best ditch the suit for a pair of jeans and some boots. And it won’t hurt if you can swing a hammer and walk fast to keep up with me.”
“I never knew running a foundation required such physical work.”
“Did you forget? I happen to run a farm, too. Nothing happens with the foundation until all the animals are fed.”
“Okay. I’ll be by on Monday a bit after noon. How’s that?”
“Works for me. Do you know where my dad’s property, Dancing Falls, is located?”
He indicated he did.
“Just come there and drive around until you see the barn.” She cupped her hand around her ear. “Did you hear that? Someone just called for Jude O’Leary’s toast to the bride and groom. Guess that’s my cue.” She crossed the portico but stopped in the doorway. “Thanks for the dance, Liam Manning. You’re very good at it, and I’m actually not as bad as I thought I’d be.”
He gave her another winning smile. “My pleasure, Jude O’Leary.”
There had to be a flaw somewhere in this man’s character, and on Monday, if he showed up, Jude would certainly look for it. But for the rest of the weekend, she might enjoy imagining a head-to-toe appraisal of Mr. Perfect. And if he didn’t show, which was more likely, no harm done.
* * *
LIAM IMMEDIATELY SOUGHT out Martin Foster. While he was trying to convince Liam to help, how could the good doctor have forgotten one vital piece of information?
“Well, how did it go?” Martin actually found Liam on the patio and put his arm around the younger man’s shoulders. “I saw you two out here getting close.”
Liam flinched. “Not half as close as your daughter is to the foundation she runs,” Liam snapped.
“What are you talking about?”
“You could have told me that her charities are all under the umbrella of her dead husband’s name! It’s almost as if she’s built a shrine to Paul O’Leary.”
Martin managed to look guilty as he dropped his hand to his side. “I didn’t think it was important. The name of the foundation has nothing to do with its financial problems.”
“Sorry, but I disagree. This is too personal now. You’re asking me to come between a woman and her deceased husband, a man who is probably regarded around here as a national hero.”
“Paul has been gone for more than five years,” Martin said. “It’s time for my daughter to move on. And it’s definitely time for her to be more sensible about this foundation.”
“Helping lonely widows move on is generally not the job of an economist.” Liam let the doctor’s words sink in. “But at least now I understand what this is about,” he said. “You want to heal your daughter’s heart as much as you want to curtail the spending.”
“I wouldn’t mind it.”
“Again, I feel I should remind you, I’m not a grief counselor.”
Martin sighed. “I only want your services as an economist. Jude has family to help her with the rest. You leave her heart up to us.” His voice mellowed. “We have an agreement, Liam. I’m counting on you. This is the first step, a vital first step in enabling my daughter to get on with her life, as well as putting a Band-Aid on the endless spending.”
“But I’m a stranger to her,” Liam said.
“Not really. She’s met you before...”
Right. Truly auspicious.
“And she knows you’re a family friend. She’ll listen to you. I know she will. Don�
�t disappoint me now, son. If you back out of the deal, I’ll just have to find someone else to examine those books and steer Jude in the right direction. And I don’t want anyone else. I want you.”
Liam sighed. This was a ticklish situation. Jude was doing her good deeds to honor her dead husband. That meant she wasn’t exactly impersonal or impartial about her decisions. She no doubt made monetary decisions based on emotion. What would Paul want? But still, he could help her. As an outsider, he could keep an open mind, something she might have problems doing. He could influence her, help her to be rational. Liam could look at this assignment, this favor, as a profitable job, couldn’t he, despite pressure from both Dr. Foster and his father?
Martin smiled. “Does that look mean you’re going ahead with our plan?”
Liam closed his eyes a moment, took a deep breath. “Yes, I’ll give it a try.”
“Wonderful. So, again, how did the first meeting with Jude go?”
“We talked and it went fine,” he said. “She seems like a nice girl. In fact, I’m stopping at the barn on Monday to find out more about the foundation.”
“Good, good. Get her to show you the books, see where all my money’s going and give her some pointers.” Martin stared at his middle daughter as she picked up the microphone to speak. “Don’t intimidate her, though. That’s not what I want. I picked you for this job because there’s a gentlemanly quality about you that I like. Jude hasn’t been happy for a while, and I don’t want you making it worse.”
So besides throwing Liam under the bus, the good doctor was practically threatening him? But unknowingly Martin had just voiced Liam’s own concerns—that he might end up making Jude’s attachment to the foundation even stronger, her loneliness even worse, especially if she felt emotionally connected to every dime she gave out. “I’ll certainly try,” he said. “But remember, you said you would level with her as soon as possible. Monday wouldn’t be soon enough.”
“Not so soon, Liam. She won’t open up with me looking over her shoulder. She thinks I trust her judgment, and if she believes I’m questioning her ability, it will cause a rift between us. I know my daughter. This will work much better if she gets to know you, if she appreciates your expertise in this area. Then she won’t just be dealing with an interfering daddy.”
The Bridesmaid Wore Sneakers Page 3
