“Okay,” Cassidy agreed with uncertainty.
And then, turning Cass away from the mirror the same way she’d done with the high school girls, Belinda started to snip. “I quit doing hair when I was pregnant with Emma. It was hard on my body being on my feet all day. My shoulders and back would ache like the devil by evening. That’s when I started planning for my resale shop.” Belinda rambled about her early years as a retailer, snipping here and there until she was satisfied.
“Can I look?”
“Not yet.” Belinda reached for the makeup samples. They were from a line that she carried in her shop, quality products albeit a little pricey. “The makeover isn’t finished. And don’t worry, I’m giving you a soft, natural look,” she assured Cassidy as she brushed on some soft pink blush. “Playing up your great features. You have beautiful eyes. And that mouth.” She smacked her own lips. “Well, you can thank the good Lord for those nice full lips. White girls usually don’t come by lips like that naturally.”
Cassidy giggled.
“Here you go,” Savannah announced as she entered the back room with an armful of clothes, hanging them one by one on the nearby rack. “I got a variety of sizes and styles, to give you something to pick from.”
Belinda glanced at the rack of garments. “Those look great. Thanks!”
Before long, Cassidy’s makeover was complete. Her hair gently framed her face. Her makeup, though light and casual, brought out her natural beauty. And the outfit they finally decided on—a great pair of jeans, a boho-chic top, and a nicely worn denim jacket, plus accessories—was very stylish. In fact, the girl looked hot. Honestly, the transformation was nothing short of miraculous.
“Wow!” Belinda stared at her protégé. “Is that really you?”
“Let me see.” Cassidy turned to peer into the full-length mirror, blinking in surprise. “Wow is right. How did you do that?”
“I had the right stuff to work with.” Belinda put an arm around Cassidy’s shoulders. “Meaning you, sweetheart. You’re gorgeous. And don’t you forget it!”
“Wow.” Cassidy reached for her wallet, insisting on paying Belinda for the clothes.
“Put that money toward more pet vaccines. My contribution.” Belinda picked up the curled piece of paper from the dressing table. “You hold on to this verse, Cass. In your heart as well as in your hand. And I’ll repair your angel and get her back to you.”
Cassidy threw her arms around Belinda. “Thanks so much!”
“Thanks for letting me do it.” Belinda pointed upward. “I just wish Abby could look down to see you right now.”
“Who knows?” Cassidy made a funny smile. “And did I even tell you what I’m doing tonight?”
“No. Something special?”
“Well, probably not. It’s only dinner with my old lady friend Dorothy Morgan.”
Belinda tried to hide her disappointment. “You’ll look nice anyway.”
“Dorothy’s grandson is supposed to stop by.” Cassidy smirked. “Dorothy’s been wanting me to meet him.”
Belinda laughed as she realized the timeliness of this makeover. “You better let me know how it goes.” She walked Cassidy through the shop. “I want a full report when I give you your angel back.”
“You were my angel today,” Cassidy said happily. “Thanks for everything!”
By the end of the workday Grace felt like she’d made real progress. Between Louisa and Cassidy, she had quite an interesting selection of furnishings. Not anything she’d ever have used in a “real” design, but they were sturdy and serviceable. What more could she hope for? Plus, she hadn’t even seen what Belinda had to offer yet. That would come tomorrow. Hopefully it would add some spice to these meat and potatoes selections.
As she walked through the storage room in the back of her design shop, she knew she wasn’t there yet. But somehow she had to make it work. Somehow she had to transform these miscellaneous pieces into three attractive rooms. Okay, scratch attractive—at this stage, she would settle for functional. Functional with a tiny bit of style.
As she perused and measured and made notes for the various houses, she thought about when Louisa had insisted upon praying for Grace’s challenge. And now, less than twenty-four hours later, it really was starting to fall into place. Like a little miracle. Even if she had a long distance to run before she could celebrate.
She also knew that she needed to make things up with Joel. Or at least try. They hadn’t exchanged a single word since her blowup last night. She’d considered texting him “I’m sorry,” but it sounded flat and phony. She’d rather say it in person tonight.
But first she’d promised to stop by the third Habitat house to introduce herself to the family who would occupy it. They were the only ones she had yet to meet and, as a designer, she knew not to underestimate the value of the physical connection. She needed to get a feel for this family, to determine who they were and what mattered to them. Not that she could deliver it. But she could at least try.
When she got to the house, she saw a slightly beat-up blue minivan in the driveway and figured it belonged to the new owners. All she knew was that they were a family of four and that they had military connections.
As with the other families, Grace was prepared for another hard-luck story, but when she saw the beautiful young woman in the wheelchair she was taken aback. “Hello,” the woman said cheerfully. “Come in.”
Grace quickly introduced herself, explaining why she was here.
“I’m Amy,” the woman said pleasantly. “My husband, Josh, and the twins are out back, making plans for some sort of play yard or fort or something—I’m not really sure what he has in mind.”
“You have twins?” Grace stammered, trying not to stare at the place where Amy’s legs should’ve been.
“Yes. Caleb and Callie. They’re seven and a half—and a handful.”
“I can imagine.” Grace forced a smile. “I mean, I really can. I have twins too. A boy and girl, just like yours. But they’re nearly twenty now. And to be honest, they’re still a handful.”
Amy laughed. “Well, that’s not very encouraging.”
“True. But seven is a delightful age,” Grace said quickly. “They might even still believe in Santa Claus, right?”
Amy looked down at her lap. “I don’t know about that. When I came home . . . well, looking like this . . . I think they started to question a lot of things.”
“Amy!” a man called, followed by children’s excited voices. “There’s tons of space. Plenty of room in the yard for—” He stopped, seeing Grace. “Sorry. I didn’t know anyone else was here.”
Following more introductions, Josh explained about how he’d been trying to get their family into a Habitat house ever since Amy had been assigned overseas. And how it had all come together last summer. “But we never expected our home to be furnished,” he told her. “Not that we’re complaining. We couldn’t be happier about it. The kids and I had been living with my mom while Amy was serving overseas, so we really didn’t have much in the way of furniture. We really appreciate what you folks are doing. This will be our best Christmas ever.” He put a hand on Amy’s shoulder. “All of us back together again—in our own home.”
“Well, I only came by to say hello and get a feel for what sort of things you guys might like.” She made an uneasy smile. “Not that we have a lot to choose from, since the plan is already sort of in place.” She didn’t want to admit that her plan was to make the best use of castoffs from friends. “But what kind of things do you guys like? What sort of style and color and whatnot?”
“We don’t really care,” Amy told her. “Mostly we want to be together—and to be comfortable. We’ll probably love whatever you do.”
“And this house has been built specially, to accommodate Amy’s needs,” Josh explained. “With wide hallways and doorways and that ramp you saw out front.”
“Until I get my prostheses,” Amy clarified. “Hopefully I won’t need it after that. But
that might not be for another year or so. There’s quite a waiting list.”
Grace nodded. “And favorite colors?” she asked Amy.
“Blue,” Amy told her. “But to be honest, I’m not sure I want a bunch of blue in the house. Unless it’s a nice soft aqua blue. That’d be nice.”
Grace made a note of this, then asked a few more questions. Amy expressed a fondness for contemporary style, and Josh said he wanted a big-screen TV. Longing for a Santa Claus she could take this list to, Grace jotted their thoughts down. She knew the chance of having this room meet their expectations would be slim. But what else could she do?
Finally, saying she needed to get home, she bid them good night and hurried on out. As she drove home, she wished there was a way to give them all they wanted. Really, in the big scheme of things, it was small. As she pulled up to her house, she felt painfully aware of even more things that she needed to be thankful for. Legs, for instance.
As she closed the garage door, she remembered her need to apologize to Joel. But seeing that his car wasn’t in the garage, she could only hope that he hadn’t gotten home yet. And perhaps that was a good thing.
She carried the bag of groceries that she’d picked up on her way home into the kitchen. Her plan was to make a nice consolation dinner—and to apologize profusely. But first she went into the living room to make a fire in the fireplace. She wanted everything to be cozy and perfect by the time Joel got home. Especially since he’d made her a fire last night.
It felt good to be puttering around the kitchen. By 6:30 she had the table nicely set, candles lit, the makings of a good dinner in the oven, and even a few appetizers out on the island. Not to mention that the fire in the living room was crackling cheerfully. The stage was all set for her to eat crow. But where was Joel?
By 7:30 the dinner was done and being kept warm in the oven, but despite several texts, she still hadn’t heard back from her MIA husband. Worried that something might’ve happened to him, she finally decided to call.
“I told you last week that it was the office Christmas party tonight,” he said with a tinge of impatience. “Remember, you told me you didn’t want to come?”
“Oh, yeah.” She sank onto the living room sectional. “I totally forgot. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Sorry to bother you.”
“Sorry you’re not here,” he said unconvincingly. “It’s a great party. Good food and good music. And they’re playing some goofy games with some nice prizes too.”
“Have fun,” she said in a slightly choked voice. “See you later.” Then she hung up and—longing for something, yet not even sure what—she sat there and cried.
11
Cassidy knew it was silly to feel so nervous. After all, she was simply having dinner with Dorothy Morgan. Maybe Dorothy’s grandson would stop by to say hey and maybe he wouldn’t. Dorothy hadn’t even been completely sure. For all Cassidy knew, as she rang the doorbell, it might only be her and the old lady and the cat. And that would be fine.
“Come in, come in,” Dorothy said warmly. “Don’t you look nice! I’ve never seen you with your hair down, Cassidy. So very pretty. Here, let me take your overcoat.”
Cassidy peeled off her parka, handing it over.
“Brent is busy in the kitchen. He’s helping me with dinner. Did I mention that my grandson is a fabulous cook?”
Cassidy tried to hide her surprise—not that Brent was cooking dinner, but that he’d actually shown up. As Dorothy chattered at her, giving an update on Buster the dog’s improved coat, Cassidy suddenly envisioned Brent as short, bald, and middle-aged, rudely talking down to her and picking his teeth at the table. Okay, she knew she was being extreme and juvenile, not to mention shallow, but she was determined not to get her hopes up. If Brent did turn out to be disappointing, at least she’d be prepared.
“Hello?” a male voice called from the kitchen. Cassidy turned to see a lanky guy with curly dark hair grinning at her. “You made it.”
As Dorothy conducted a proper introduction, Cassidy tried not to gape at the good-looking man shaking her hand. “You like my apron?” He grinned as he waved down at the flowery garment. “Grandma insisted.”
“To protect your nice shirt,” Dorothy said as she untied it from behind him. “Brent is a good cook, but messy—oh my!”
“And the marinara sauce was splattering.” He smiled at Cassidy. “I hope you like Italian.”
“I love Italian.”
“And you’re not vegan or dairy or wheat intolerant, are you?”
“Nope. No allergies, no restrictions.”
“Cool. When Grandma told me you’re a veterinarian, I misheard her and thought she’d said vegetarian.” He chuckled. “That could be problematic with my famous meatballs.”
“I love meatballs.” Cassidy couldn’t help but like this guy. “But I can’t believe you’re doing the cooking. That’s so nice of you.”
“Well, consider this my way of thanking you for helping Grandma with her cat. She told me what you did for Muffin—and how you’re helping her neighbors—and I thought, I gotta meet this girl.”
Dorothy grinned triumphantly. “Didn’t I tell you he was a nice boy?” she gently nudged Cassidy with her elbow.
“Everything’s almost done,” he told Dorothy. “Maybe you ladies can finish setting the table.”
Cassidy felt her hopes rising, but as she set the table, she reminded herself that this could still go sideways. It wouldn’t be the first time either. Just in case, Cassidy was determined to play her hand carefully. Sure, she thought Brent was good-looking and interesting and just plain fun. But she also knew that she’d scared off more than one guy with her unbridled enthusiasm before. Play it cool, she told herself as they eventually sat down together at the little dinette table.
As before, Dorothy said a nice blessing, and then, as they ate, the conversation seemed to flow normally and naturally. Cassidy felt herself relaxing until she was almost at ease. That was a first—at least when she was out with an attractive guy. But of course, she reminded herself, this wasn’t a date.
“So you work at Auberon Animal Hospital?” Brent asked as he reached for the salad bowl.
“Yes. I felt really fortunate to get hired there right after college. That was almost five years ago, but I’m still only working half-time.”
“I don’t understand that,” Dorothy said. “A fine veterinarian like you and they only let you work half time? Doesn’t seem fair to me.”
“But that does give you time to make your house calls, right?” Brent said.
Cassidy nodded as she spooned some dressing on her salad. “In fact, it’s made me start rethinking my whole career.”
“You wouldn’t quit being a veterinarian, would you?” he asked with concern.
“No, I love being a vet. I love animals. But I think there might be a need for mobile veterinarians in this town. I’ve been wondering about getting a van and equipping it like a mobile clinic—maybe even with a surgical unit. Not for real serious operations, maybe things like spaying and neutering and simple procedures. I’d probably need to have sterile kennel units for pet owners to use during their pet’s recovery. I haven’t worked out all the details yet, but I think I could provide a valuable service. With less overhead, I wouldn’t have to charge people as much. And I think it would be less stressful on the animals to recover in their own homes.”
“That’s a fabulous idea.” Brent buttered a roll.
“I think so too,” Dorothy agreed. “I have to admit that I felt very distressed to think my poor Muffin had to spend a night at the veterinarian. I worried that she’d be upset about it. But what could I do?”
“Sometimes, when animals are severely ill or medicated, they don’t appear overly aware of their surroundings,” Cassidy assured her. “But some animals can become quite stressed in a strange place.”
“Well, of course,” Dorothy said. “Animals are not so different than people. They know their owners and their homes. It stands
to reason that they would get well quicker in a familiar place.”
“That’s exactly what I’m thinking,” Cassidy confirmed.
“You know, I read an article about a woman who claimed she could talk to the animals,” Brent said. “Kind of like a dog whisperer. Anyway, she talked about how a lot of pets would become very disturbed about going to the veterinarian. She said they were confused and frightened by it.” He laughed. “Apparently they told her.”
“I actually read that woman’s book in college,” Cassidy said eagerly. “Even though I thought she was a little whacky, she did make some good points. It’s helped me to be more empathetic. Don’t get me wrong, I really respect my boss’s experience. Dr. Auberon has been practicing veterinary medicine for longer than I’ve been alive. But he’s a little old-school. He’s always accusing me of coddling the animals.”
“Good grief, I should think he would appreciate that,” Dorothy said.
“If I had a pet, I’d want to take it to a veterinarian with compassion,” Brent assured her.
“Me too,” Cassidy said. “That’s why I try to empathize with how our pet patients might feel. I mean, imagine you’re a cat or dog and your owner takes you to the vet. Everything looks and smells different. Your beloved owner leaves you there by yourself. And suddenly you’ve got strangers who poke you and prod you and lock you in a little cage. Then you hear other frightened animals howling and whining all night long. Wouldn’t it be terrifying?”
“Sounds kind of like a bad sci-fi movie.” Brent chuckled. “One where you’re abducted by aliens and held captive inside a flying saucer while the aliens experiment on you.”
“Exactly,” she said. “That’s a good analogy of how it might feel to a pet being treated at the vet clinic.”
“Oh my.” Dorothy frowned. “Perhaps that was another reason I never wanted to take poor Muffin to the veterinarian.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” Cassidy clarified. “There are lots of situations where a good vet clinic saves animals’ lives. But there are lots of minor treatments that don’t necessarily need all that.”
The Christmas Angel Project Page 9
