His eyes skimmed her up and down. “I’m betting he just liked your skirt.”
“That’s quite enough, Vic,” Pete said.
Maxine slapped her hands on the table and leaned forward into Vic’s face. “You dumped this on me knowing I was out of town. You called my home and not my company provided cell, probably because you couldn’t come up with anything on your own, and by giving it to me on my home answering machine you knew I wouldn’t get the message until it was too late, probably hoping that the ultimate failure would be entirely mine. Well, Vic, looks like that backfired on you, because now the ultimate success is entirely mine, and you can eat your heart out.”
She straightened and whirled toward Pete. “I have sick time and personal time up the whazoo. I’m taking the rest of the day off to go visit my new nephew.”
He probably would have said something if she hadn’t stormed out of the room. She was angry enough that it had been on the tip of her tongue to quit, which was why she was just going to leave and deal with it all tomorrow.
Her assistant jumped up from her cubicle as she headed toward her office door. “Maxi!”
“Not now, Tina” she said, pushing the door open and slamming it shut behind her. She was halfway across her office before she saw Daniel Crow standing at her window. She froze, barely stifling a scream, and took a deep breath, desperately trying to get a handle on her temper.
He turned at the loud crack of the door slamming. His hands were in the pockets of his pants and he gave her a slight nod of his head. “We haven’t been formally introduced,” he said by way of an opening.
No longer feeling like she was going to scream, she extended her hand and stepped forward. “Maxine Bartlett.” In her heels, she met him at eye level.
Instead of shaking her hand, he took it in both of his and held it. “Bartlett. A white name. So your mother was Native American?”
Using more force than should have been necessary, she reclaimed her hand. “No, actually my father. But I never knew him and don’t know anything about it.”
“So you know nothing of your heritage?”
“Not really. It’s not something I’ve ever bothered to research.”
His eyes were dark, searching. “And why is that?”
“Let’s assume I’m as interested in my father as he was in me,” She took a step back. “Did you have questions about the presentation?”
“You wear jewelry but no wedding ring.” His smile could barely be called a smile. “Can I assume this means you’re not married?”
She sighed inwardly and took another step backward. “You know what, Mr. Crow? I’ve been awake since yesterday morning, and I was just getting ready to leave for the day. Why don’t we arrange a meeting later in the week so I can answer any questions about my proposal?”
“I’ll take that as a no.” He glanced at his watch. “My mind is made up about whether to give your agency a pass. My marketing team can take it from here. I came to your office to see if you would like to have dinner with me tonight.”
Her morning was steadily going downhill. “And if your pass at me doesn’t go your way, will my reply affect your decision to ‘take a pass’ on my agency?”
He cocked his head and almost smiled again. “What if I said yes?”
With a bright smile, she said, “Then I’d have to ask you to find yourself another rep, sir. The sooner, the better.”
It surprised her when he threw back his head and laughed. “Now, I am very intrigued.” He stepped forward and took her hand again. She bit back panic, her heart racing. As much as she pulled, he wouldn’t release her. She started feeling trapped. “No,” He asserted. “Your response will in no way affect my business decision.” His smile disappeared and his eyes grew serious. As he spoke, her office door opened. “Now, will you have dinner with me, lovely Maxine Bartlett?”
Maxine stared into his rich black eyes, eyes that stared at her like a starless night. His face was youthful and ancient at once, a perfect symmetry carved from the brown earth with lips that could be cruel or let slip ancient wisdom. She felt her hand relax, no longer struggling to pull her fingers from his grasp and thought of all of the different ways she could sketch this face.
Why couldn’t Barry look at her like that? Why couldn’t he hold her hand like that? She remembered how he had snatched her up this morning, claiming her mouth with his, conquering her hurried rush with his slow desire. She remembered the feel of his iron muscles wrapping her up, covering her like a warm blanket, shutting out everything save his touch and his mouth.
“Miss Bartlett. How nice.” Barry observed from behind her. Barry. Her husband. Maxine closed her eyes and groaned.
CHAPTER 15
BY the time she disengaged her hand from Daniel Crow’s, Maxine realized that Barry had already vanished. Daniel Crow smirked and asked, “Boyfriend?”
Maxine, deflated, answered, “No.” She wearily walked to her desk. She slipped her black wool coat on over her yellow suit, wrapped her white scarf around her neck, and picked up the purse and briefcase she’d haphazardly tossed on top of her desk when she rushed into the office less than an hour ago.
Hopefully, Crow followed up with a raised eyebrow and an inquiring, “No?”
Maxine shook her head, her eyes level with her client. “That was my husband.” It didn’t feel wrong to say the word out loud, as it related to Barry. It felt very right.
Crow had the dignity to look surprised. He actually took a step backward, perhaps considering Barry’s hulking size. “Oh.”
“Mr. Crow, it was nice to meet you. I look forward to working with your team.” She gestured toward the door. Maybe he didn’t notice that she failed to offer her hand this time – maybe he did. She honestly didn’t care.
“I’m sure we’ll meet again. I’m sincerely sorry …“ he gestured vaguely, “for my part in any misunderstanding with your husband. I’m happy to do whatever it takes to clear it up.”
Maxine didn’t reply, but she nodded her head and followed him out. She stopped at Tina’s desk and, as soon as she was sure he was out of hearing, said, “Don’t allow clients into my office without me. There is proprietary information on other firms in there.”
“I know,” the eclectic woman before her said. She wore earrings in the shape of New Year party hats that moved and glittered. “He kind of strong armed his way inside. He’s a little bit intimidating.”
Maxine felt her lips thin. “Then you should have been standing in there with him until I arrived or else simply called security.” She slipped her briefcase and purse straps over her shoulder and pulled black leather gloves out of her pocket. “I’m taking a personal day. No calls.”
SINCE Barry brought her to the office, Maxine’s car was still at her apartment. She took a cab to her church, the sprawling church in the very center of one of Boston’s most troubled neighborhoods. The giant complex filled two city blocks with buildings and schools and chapels. The cab dropped her off in the main parking lot in front of the sanctuary building. As she stepped out of the taxi, she looked up at the huge steeple visible for blocks around. A weight settled over her heart, making her steps to the front door feel heavy laden.
The door opened without resistance, and she stepped into the huge entryway. It felt very quiet, very empty. She knew the staff was working, she saw their cars in the parking lot, but no one came to the vestibule to see why the door had opened and shut.
Why had she come here? “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered. In her mind she heard the word as if it had been spoken out loud. Pray.
She pushed the coat from her shoulders as she crossed the large lobby. Her heels clicked on the marble tile, echoing in the surrounding space. Doors to her left and right led to stairwells that went up to the balcony levels or down to classrooms and offices. Huge sets of doors in front of her led to the sanctuary, and that is where she headed.
The warm scent of lemon oil welcomed her as she entered the giant room. She could see t
he gleam of the old wooden pews and guessed that they had recently been polished. She had thought she would slide into the first pew she came to, but instead felt compelled to keep walking all the way down to the front where the altar was strategically lined with boxes of tissues and evenly placed on the floor next to where people knelt in prayer.
As she stepped, she stripped off her gloves, scarf, and coat. She laid them in a pile on the front pew, then fell to her knees and bowed her head, resting her arms on the prayer bench. For the first time in her life, she prayed out loud. “God, please help me.”
Her voice sounded odd to her own ears, but she kept going, fervently appealing to God almighty to show her what to do. “Father, You know, even before I knew it, that I’ve loved Barry forever, even when I probably wasn’t supposed to. You know that my heart is good where he is concerned. But I’m afraid that impulsiveness ruined what could be.” She smiled. “I’d like to say that You led the two of us to get married, but I doubt either one of us were open to You at the time. But doesn’t Your Word say that all things work together for good if I love You?” With tears choking her words, she said, “God I love You. I don’t know that I knew before. I don’t know if I was just going through the motions to please Robin or if I was really sincere, but right now I know I love You. I know I want to serve You. I know I want to live my life for You and give myself to You. And now I just need You to tell me what You want me to do.”
For an hour she prayed on her knees. When her knees and back started to hurt, she shifted backward until she sat on the first pew, but she kept her head bowed and kept talking to God. Without actually ending the prayer, she eventually quit speaking and just sat there, letting her heart do the talking for her.
Eventually, she felt someone sit next to her. She raised her head and saw Abram Rabinovich, a very close friend of Tony’s and a pastor at the church. Maxine had always liked him very much. He taught Old Testament classes at the school. As a former rabbi who had come to know Christ well into adulthood, he was very well versed in the Law of Moses.
“Want to talk about it?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” she said. Strangely, the surge of emotions she expected didn’t happen. She felt wrung out, tired, but the weight on her heart had lifted sometime in the last hour and she felt lighter. “I think I just spent the last hour talking about it.”
Abram chuckled. Maxine heard both compassion and wisdom in that soft laugh. He shifted in the pew until he could face her fully. “Excellent point.”
“I’m just trying to figure out where to go from here.”
“Did you find your answer?”
“How will I know?”
He put his hand out evenly and pursed his lips. “God speaks to us all in His own way, and to each of us as we need to hear His voice. But He does speak, Maxine. Sometimes, God says ‘yes.’ Sometimes, He says ‘no.’ Sometimes, it’s ‘wait.’ If you don’t know, then God hasn’t answered yet. But He will, I promise you.”
She could hear the assurance in his voice. He spoke of certainties. “What do I do now?”
Abram patted her on the shoulder before he stood. “Be still.” He loosened his tie and looked up at the massive cross that towered behind the choir loft. “Christ Himself often sought solitude to talk to God and to listen to Him. Why don’t you go somewhere quiet and just let Him speak to your heart?” He looked back at her and smiled. “And then do what He tells you, without question, and without hesitation. Stop trying to tell Him what to do. Put your life fully in His hands. Do it and know in your bones that He will work out the details.”
He sat back down again. “When I came to know Christ, I was teaching in a Jewish Orthodox university, and quickly rising up through the ranks of rabbi. My entire family for thousands of years had worshipped Jehovah God a certain way, and I had to turn my back on all that. Doing so made me an outcast, a leper so to speak. It wasn’t easy, but it was God’s will and when I surrendered to His will, God opened doors all around me. I got this wonderful job here, my beautiful Sofia has brought her brother and her parents to know the Messiah, and I was blessed to see my mother accept Christ before she passed. Now, my father is starting to speak to me again. Even if it is only to debate with me, still we are talking again. And there is love there.”
He stood again. “God will make the way clear when the choices you make are in accordance with His will and His purpose, when you listen to His desires for your life.” Slipping his hand into his pocket, he pulled out his phone and read a text message. “Now I must meet my beauteous Sofia for lunch. Would you care to join us, child? Sofia would be happy to see you.”
“No. Thank you.”
He pulled a business card out of his front pocket. “I am available any time you need to talk. Please call me, if you have questions or just need an ear or a prayer.”
“Thank you.” She took the card and clutched it in her hand. When she heard the last of his steps echo up the aisle and the large door gently close behind him, she stood and picked up her coat and her purse. Dizzy, she realized how exhausted and hungry she felt. Putting the business card in her wallet, she called for a cab and decided that a large pepperoni pizza was her first order of business, and her warm bed second.
UPON returning home from the church, Maxine ordered delivery pizza. While she ate, she called Robin, promising a visit in the morning. After eating pizza and changing into a comfortable pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, she had collapsed in exhaustion on her bed. At midnight, she woke up and ate more pizza, set up the coffee maker, and sorted through the mail that had piled up in her absence. Restless, she had gone back to bed and only slept a couple more hours.
She woke at four-thirty in the morning. She tossed and turned for a few minutes before finally getting up and out of the bed. She went to her kitchen and bypassed the coffee maker’s timer, ordering it to deliver a pot right away. While she waited for the invigorating brew, she went back into her studio.
She stood in the very middle of her studio floor, barefoot, her body aching with fatigue and stress. Nothing felt right. Her apartment felt too empty, too lifeless. Her bedroom felt cold, barren. This home that she had poured so much energy into every decorating detail felt wrong. And in here, in this room where no one other than she had ever stood – no, wait. Barry came in here with her just two days ago, just the day before yesterday. She told him about Monty Jordan. Had it only been two days? How had so much gone on inside of her, outside of her, in such a small span of time?
She felt … ready. But ready for what? What was God telling her to do? When would He tell her to do it? Abram had advised that she be still and listen. With her hands on either side of her head, she spun in a circle in the middle of her studio floor and wondered, prayed, begged God to be clear when He gave her the answer because she needed to know what to do.
MAXINE hung up the phone for the dozenth time that morning. She rolled her head around, trying to ease the muscles in her neck. Two weeks had gone by since the acquisition of the Crow Chicken campaign. Two weeks of Crow cronies calling every five minutes with instruction, guidance, counsel, advice – constant interruptions about the final written proposal, statement of work, and detailed scope that they wanted by five o’clock today. If they would simply stop interrupting her …
A rat-tat-tat on her office door seconds before it opened interrupted even that thought. Peter Mitchell opened the door without waiting for her to answer the knock. “Got a minute?”
Maxine’s eyes shifted to the clock sitting on the corner of her desk. Twelve forty-five. “Only if you have food.”
Peter grinned and walked fully into the office, holding up a paper bag that bore the logo of her favorite sandwich shop. “Julie ordered for us.”
She waved him forward as she shifted papers in order to clear a spot in front of her. “I think I love you.”
“I’ll be sure to inform my wife.”
“She’d understand.” Maxine greedily removed the white butcher paper that accommodated
her favorite turkey Reuben on rye. Around a mouthful she asked, “What’s up?”
“I just wanted to tell you that the preliminary work I’ve seen on the Crow scope is nothing less than exemplary.”
Maxine lifted an eyebrow as she took another bite. Her teeth crunched through the toasted marble rye and crisp sour kraut. “You didn’t bring me a sandwich to tell me I do good work. I’ve been trying to get a meeting with you for over a week and I feel like you’ve been dodging me. All of a sudden you’re in my office with a bag of buttered rye in hand. What’s up, really?”
Peter did not take a bite of his own sandwich. Instead, he stood and wandered to Maxine’s project bulletin board and looked at the various computer printouts and sketches and proposals for actors from agents for the Crow ad. “I’m not entirely positive that a partnership is going to open up.”
Maxine sighed and put her sandwich down. She gingerly brushed the crumbs off her fingertips and thought very, very carefully about the words on the tip of her tongue. With a silent appeal to God to keep from letting emotion override common sense, she finally responded. “I have worked hard for you for over four years. Most weeks, I work six or seven days, sometimes pushing seventy or eighty hours. I do it without complaint because that’s what it takes. And I single-handedly brought in the biggest client you have ever had.” She stood only because she towered over him and wanted to have that slight advantage. “Single-handedly, Peter. Given that context, I need you to explain why you aren’t entirely sure about a partnership offer.”
He put his hands in his pockets and turned to face her. “I just don’t know if it is the right decision. The timing …”
“The right decision?” With a huff of breath, she closed her eyes and fought for control. She picked up her sandwich and threw it into the trash can. “Well, let me tell you something about timing. I have a meeting with Crow’s people at five. They’ll receive the written scope and go over it, I’m sure, with a fine toothed comb. I will give you one week of being completely available to them for questions and concerns, because I care about this company and the fact that we have this big contract. But I also have fifty-two days of accrued leave. Starting tomorrow, other than direct contact from anyone at Crow, I’m taking those fifty-two days. While I’m gone, why don’t you consider the timing so you can be sure?” She leaned over the desk and picked up his sandwich and threw it into the trash can, too. “My lunch break is over. I have to finish what I’m doing to prepare for that meeting. Thank you for finally taking time to speak with me.”
Emerald Fire (Christian Romance) (The Jewel Series) Page 14
