Destiny's Dream

by Delia Latham

  She smiled, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Somehow I think your mind was right here. Now, are you going to introduce me to this charming young lady, or aren’t you?”

  He rushed to rectify his oversight. “Sorry. Destiny, I’d like you to meet my mother, Claire Gallagher. Mom, this ‘charming young lady’ is Destiny May. I believe I told you I met her at Aunt Betty’s…uh, at the funeral that was not Aunt Betty’s.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I’m so sorry for your loss, Destiny, dear.” She glowered playfully at Clay. “And I apologize for my son’s abominable behavior at your mother’s service!”

  Laughing, the older woman drew her guest into a boisterous hug, then tugged her toward the dining room, chattering a mile a minute. Clay watched, wondering how Destiny would react to her hostess’s somewhat extroverted personality. While mostly warm and wonderful, Mom could come across a tad overpowering at times. Poor Destiny hadn’t yet had a chance to get a word in edgewise.

  As the two women disappeared through the arched doorway, he wondered if perhaps it had been a mistake bringing her here so soon. The wide-eyed glance she tossed his way just before Mom jerked her forcefully around the corner seemed almost desperate. Her face had lost all of the pink brought on by his mother’s compliments, and now she looked rather pale. But surely that was his imagination. She’d been fine a moment ago.

  Grinning, he took off after them, more than willing to rescue the damsel in distress.

  ****

  Claire Gallagher!

  Destiny nearly choked on her own tongue. Oh, please God, don’t let this woman be the same Claire Gallagher whose application is on my desk.

  If only she had taken time to actually read it. But she’d planned to study all of them on Monday morning. It hadn’t occurred to her that she might need to know about any one Seeker over the intervening weekend.

  Her stomach churned as she tried to imagine how Clay would react. Feeling as he did about matchmaking as a profession, she was sure he wouldn’t take kindly to his mother being associated in any way with Solomon’s Gate.

  “You just sit right here and talk to me while I finish getting the ice in these glasses.” Claire gave a gentle shove toward a ladder-back chair in the corner. “I should have had all this on the table already, but what can I say? I’m not as spry as I once was.” A delightful trill of laughter tumbled out of her mouth and over the room, and Destiny smiled in spite of her overwrought nerves. Claire’s softly rounded tummy shook with merriment, and Destiny thought the woman’s smile could light up a dark room.

  “I only hope I’m as active as you are when I reach your age.” She managed a shaky smile.

  Clay stepped into the doorway and lolled against the frame. His gray eyes, so much like his mother’s, fixed their gaze on Destiny’s face and seemed to caress it. Her cheeks grew warm, but she did not object in the least to his scrutiny. “Caress” was probably too strong a word, anyway. No need to get all starry-eyed about it.

  “So what do you do?” Claire bounced back and forth from the dining table to the kitchen, carrying bowls piled with food. Destiny jumped up and took one, wondering how they would manage to put a dent in this bounty. Clay’s brother, Carson, was supposed to show up too, but even for four people, this was a tremendous amount of food.

  “I’m self-employed.” She placed the salad bowl in the center of the table and arranged the tongs, then quickly attempted to forestall any further questions about her job. “I took care of my mother for five years, until she passed away, so I’ve only recently re-entered the work force.”

  “Well, I’m sure she was glad to have you, dear. It’s not often you find young people willing to give up their own lives to take care of a parent these days.” She cast an assessing look over the table, which hadn’t a spare inch of space, then smiled, apparently satisfied. “I believe we’re ready. Son, you sit here at the head of the table. Destiny, you sit next to him, and I’ll just settle in across from you.”

  “We’re not waiting on Carson?” Clay seemed surprised.

  Claire shook her head. “No, he couldn’t make it. Something about a difficult client. He wasn’t sure when he’d be able to get away.”

  They took their places and Claire held out a hand to her son. “Will you say grace?”

  Clay took his mother’s hand and held the other one out to Destiny. As they bowed their heads, she breathed a sigh of profound relief. Pitfall avoided.

  For now.

  Destiny's Dream

  8

  Destiny stood next to Clay, watching the twins unwrap the last of an enormous pile of birthday presents. The final one happened to be Destiny’s own gift to her nieces.

  “Thank you, Auntie Dessie!” One of the twins beamed at her.

  “Now we can dig to China in our yard too,” her mirror image piped in. Destiny released a sigh. She’d never be able to tell them apart. Maybe a simple “Sweetie” would work for both.

  “Yes, thank you so much, Teeni.” Jenna’s sour voice dripped sarcasm as she helped the girls put away the child-sized shovels, pails and gloves, along with a colorful map of China.

  Destiny gave her sister a sugar-frosted smile and bit back the wicked cackle of laughter that fought to be released.

  “If looks could kill…” Clay’s amused whisper almost undid her. She turned to face his knowing smirk with all the innocence she could muster.

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “And I’m certain you do.” He shook his head. “Do you two spar like this all the time?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Who usually wins?” A single dimple came out to tease her senses as he favored her with a lopsided grin and cocked one brow high on his forehead.

  “Neither of us. That’s why we keep it up. One of these days we’ll have a doozy of a round, and I’ll get to really show that bossy, prissy little squirt who’s boss.”

  He chuckled. “Sure you’re not a stepsister? You are profoundly evil, woman.”

  At her answering giggle, he sputtered into a guffaw, and soon they were both laughing harder than the situation called for. Destiny covered her face with her hands. Mustn’t let Jenna catch her having fun. She couldn’t look at Clay and pull herself together. One glance and she’d lose it for sure.

  “Monsieur. Mademoiselle. I see you both retain your splendid senses of humor.”

  No, not now.

  Recognizing the snide voice, she peeked out between two fingers. Luc Jaussaud. She hoped Jenna would at least write up a nice obituary after she killed her.

  Lowering her hands, she smiled at the Frenchman. The restaurateur looked down his long nose at the two of them, and Destiny choked back a persistent gurgle of laughter. “Mr. Jaussaud! How nice to see you again.”

  The sharp jolt of Clay’s elbow in her side almost sent her off on another tangent, but she managed to keep a straight face. Closing her fingers around his arm in what she hoped was a painful grip, she pulled him closer. “Clay, you remember Luc Jaussaud from that amazing dinner last week. Mr. Jaussaud, Clay Gallagher of Gallagher Investments.”

  To her amazement, the man’s pomposity disappeared before her eyes. His thin lips stretched into a gratuitous grin and he pumped Clay’s outstretched hand with enthusiasm.

  “I am indeed honored to meet you, Monsieur Gallagher.” His sharp eyes flicked from Clay to Destiny, who had the presence of mind to snap her jaw shut and smile. “And you, jolie dame, you are the sister of our hostess, no?”

  “Yes, Jenna is my sister. I’m Destiny May.”

  He bowed over her hand with an exaggerated flourish. She resisted an overwhelming urge to snatch it away, grateful he hadn’t gone so far as to touch it with his lips. “Ah, yes…two such beautiful women must of course be famille. And you share the yeux verts—green eyes. Lovely!”

  Jenna appeared from nowhere, anxious eyes belying her bright smile. Tucking a hand through Luc’s arm, she pretended to pout. “I see you’re all having your own
little party without me. You know my sister and Mr. Gallagher, Luc?”

  “Indeed I do, mon cherie. It is my pleasure to say they are customers at my little restorante. They bring such…joie et bonheur!”

  How on earth did she know that French phrase implied something like joy and happiness? Oh, indeed! To her surprise, Destiny felt Clay’s arm sneak around her waist, drawing her close to his side—where she felt the tiny hitches of silent laughter. She bit down hard on the inside of her lip as he spoke, his voice every bit as smooth as Jaussaud’s.

  “The honor is ours, Monsieur Jaussaud, d’une certitude.”

  “Merci. I plan also to visit your établissement in the near future.” He turned to Destiny. “And you, mademoiselle…what is your champ de travail?”

  Having no idea what the man had asked her, she glanced at Jenna, whose horror-stricken expression quailed any remaining hint of humor. What possible inquiry could have turned her sister’s pretty face into a horrified mask?

  Clay removed her uncertainty. “Miss May is owner and operator of a new business in our fair city. You may have heard of Solomon’s Gate?”

  Destiny feared Jenna might pass out cold. But Jaussaud’s eyes widened in recognition. “Ah, yes, indeed I have.” He eyed Destiny with new interest. “My good friend is, in fact, tonight meeting one of your…what is it you say? Seekers, yes?”

  She nodded mutely, casting an apologetic look at her sister. Jenna, however, seemed to have made a miraculous recovery. She smiled with apparent pride and joined the conversation.

  “Yes, Destiny calls her members Seekers. Isn’t that just the sweetest term?” She patted Jaussaud’s arm. “Who is your friend, Luc—the one you mentioned? May we know his name?”

  “Oui, mon cherie. It is Preston Crane. He is…how is it you say…un veuf? His beloved wife has departed this life these many years, and he finds it…what is the word? Difficult to meet new friends, you understand.” He sent Destiny a benevolent smile that somehow looked out of place on his sharp features. “He was not eager to come to your, uh—how do you call it? Solomon’s Gate, yes. Monsieur Crane was reluctant to enter your Gate, mademoiselle, but I urged him to go, go, go! He needs to meet the gentille dames, vous comprenez?”

  “Well, I’m sure Miss May will provide your friend some splendid prospects to consider.” Clay’s accommodating remark grated on Destiny’s nerves, which had gone taut as a bowstring. This conversation spelled disaster, and his next words sealed her fate. “Which Solomon’s Gate Seeker was your friend meeting tonight, monsieur? Do you know?”

  “Oui, oui, indeed I do. I believe the lady’s name is… Clarice? No, no, that is not right.” He shook his head, staring off into nothingness as he pondered. Destiny knew her life was ruined when his expressive face brightened and he turned on that simpering smile. “Claire. Oui. Claire Gallagher.” Abruptly, he broke off and narrowed his flat eyes at Clay. “But Gallagher is your name, is it not? This gentille dame…she is perhaps your famille?”

  ****

  She couldn’t stand the silence in the car any longer. “I didn’t know, Clay. I honestly did not know.”

  His only response was a tighter clenching of an already rigid jaw. He stared straight ahead—but then, he was driving. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as she feared.

  “Clay, please say something.”

  He drew a deep breath and blew it back out. At least it was a reaction.

  “When did you get to her?”

  Surely she had misunderstood. “I beg your pardon?”

  “When did you get to my mother?” His cold voice sliced like a winter wind. “You only met her once, and I was there. What did you do—make your pitch while I put leftovers in the car?”

  A wave of hurt washed over her in a huge, battering wave. When she could breathe again, she kept her voice carefully neutral. “I never said a word to Claire about Solomon’s Gate.”

  He finally glanced her way, and she wished he hadn’t. Stark disbelief turned his eyes the color of dirty gray ice. Her chest tightened in pained reaction.

  “You expect me to believe that? Why else would she be out tonight with one of your…” Pausing, he seemed to seek the appropriate word. “One of your Seekers?” He spat the word like a curse.

  A hint of justifiable anger shafted through her, and Destiny was grateful for the bit of steel it injected into her spine. “Well, I’m sure I don’t know. Perhaps she needed better company than her sons provide.”

  Clay’s harsh bark of laughter did not amuse. “Rather odd, don’t you think, that this desire for more fulfilling company came about only after you happened into the picture?”

  She sighed. “Her application was already on my desk when I met her at dinner. I had no idea it belonged to your mother. Julie took care of Claire’s entire visit to the office. I was out, Clay. I promise you, I never saw her, and I did not ‘pitch’ to her when I met her.” She tossed him an angry glance. “I would’ve hoped you’d know I wouldn’t do that.”

  A faint hint of color rose in Clay’s face, and Destiny hoped his embarrassment was the painful kind.

  “I thought I did.” His grip on the steering wheel loosened enough to ease the white from his knuckles. “But I have to admit, this makes it difficult. Am I to believe my mother—my mother, Destiny!—just walked into a dating service and signed up to find a boyfriend without some kind of provocation?”

  Destiny shook her head, more than a little irritated. “Well, there’s an easy enough way to find out. Why don’t you just ask her?” She jerked her cell phone out of her purse and held it out. “Here, use my phone.”

  “No, thanks. I’ll speak to her in private.”

  “Fine. You do that.”

  She had never been so relieved to see Mama’s house. Clay swung his car to the curb, not even bothering to turn off the engine. He apparently wanted her to just get out and go. Well, she was more than happy to comply.

  “Thanks for going with me to the twins’ party, Clay. I appreciated your company.” Good manners demanded she thank him, but Destiny knew her voice communicated no warmth. How could it? The atmosphere inside his car was like an icebox, and she felt the chill all the way to her soul. She pushed the door open and swung her legs to the ground, only to feel his hand grip her arm. She spared him a glance over her shoulder.

  “Let’s get one thing straight. When it comes to Solomon’s Gate, my family is off limits. You understand?”

  “Perfectly.” Right now, she was more than willing to shuck him along with any other Gallagher she happened across for the rest of her life.

  She marched up the sidewalk and let herself into the house without once looking back.

  ****

  “Are you telling me you didn’t know Destiny owns Solomon’s Gate?”

  Claire Gallagher’s eyebrows rose to majestic heights. The ice in her eyes took Clay back several years, to a time when that look meant he had taken the wrong tone with her and punishment was sure to follow.

  He sighed and raked a hand across his stubbly face. Shaving hadn’t entered his mind this morning. “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to yell.”

  “Apology accepted. Don’t let it happen again. And yes, that’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

  He shook his head, dumbfounded. “Then why? Why did you go there?”

  She sniffed, still more than a bit peeved. “I am a grown woman and I don’t need to answer to you. The truth is, it’s none of your business, but since you seem intent on prying…Carson suggested it.”

  Clay jumped to his feet, setting his coffee mug rocking on the edge of his mother’s dining table. She steadied it, her chin two inches higher than usual.

  “Carson? Tell me you’re not serious. Of all the dumb fool things my brother ever pulled, this has got to be at the top of the list!”

  His mother picked up his half full mug and dumped its contents into the sink. Apparently he’d had all the coffee he was getting today. “Not stupid at all, son. I’m quite enjoying myself. I had a won
derful time with Preston last week—and again last night. I wish I had known who Destiny was when you brought her here. What an interesting young lady. And what a fascinating profession.”

  Clay grunted. “Well, I hope you enjoyed your visit, Mom. She won’t be coming back.”

  “Why ever not?”

  “Because I’m an idiot.”

  “Well, some things can’t be changed. But surely she figured out you weren’t the sharpest knife in the drawer when you barged into her mother’s funeral the way you did.”

  Despite his dark mood, Clay couldn’t help a wry chuckle. “Thanks, Mom. I needed that vote of confidence.”

  Relenting, his mother smiled and crossed the room to pat his cheek. “Just go tell the girl you’re sorry for whatever ‘dumb fool’ things you said to her, then hope and pray she’ll forgive you.”

  He shook his head. “You make it sound so easy.”

  She shrugged. “It has nothing to do with being easy. You messed up, son, and it’s the right thing to do.” She crossed to the doorway, but turned to point a pudgy finger his direction. “Beg if you have to.”

  Destiny's Dream

  9

  A musical tinkle from the other room told Destiny someone had come in the front door. Sighing, she hauled herself out of her chair. She and Julie took turns going to lunch, one of them covering the office whenever the other was out. Her assistant’s cheery goodbye had trilled through the office not ten minutes earlier, which meant it was all in her own hands now.

  She pasted on a smile, not that it would help her appearance a whole lot. Recalling the colorless face in her bedroom mirror that morning, she grimaced. These sleepless nights were taking their toll. Mama always said a gal needed her beauty sleep. Chalk another one up for Mama.

  “Hello. Welcome to Solomon’s Gate.” She greeted the broad back of a man who stood reading the assortment of scriptural plaques on the lobby wall. “May I help you?”