“You haven’t changed,” she said.
He gave a tug on Cali’s leash to distract her from the cigarette butt someone had carelessly tossed to the ground. “And neither have you,” he said, then murmured something under his breath that sounded like “please don’t.”
Don’t what? Don’t change? Hope skittered through her chest and landed directly on her heart. A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. Other than addressing the problem he struggled with and refused to share, she didn’t want him to change, either.
“Tomorrow, please come join us for the Sunset Blessings gathering.” Prompted by his hesitation, she added, “The others have been asking about you.”
“Don’t you think if I do, they’ll assume we’re involved again?”
That was the whole point. If she and Gray spent enough time together, perhaps they would indeed become involved again.
“Since when,” she asked to redirect his focus, “did you start worrying about what other people think?”
Chapter 7
By that afternoon, Ruthie was the proud new owner of a basic alarm system on her house, and now Gray was working on putting one in at the shop. Distracted by his presence and by Savannah, who was keenly aware of her fixation with their self-appointed security man, she tried to turn her attention to the items that had cluttered her counter for the past week.
The situation with Sobo, the doll and, of course, Gray had interfered with her usual fastidious organization, and she was determined to rectify that before the day was done. She had put a lot of time into searching for the woman who’d bought the doll, and now she took a moment to tidy the temporarily neglected shop.
She positioned herself behind the counter where she could watch the door for customers while she worked. Cali automatically moved with her, circling out a comfy spot on the old blanket Ruthie had brought in for that very purpose. She told herself the added advantage of being able to subtly peek at Gray while he installed the security device had nothing to do with her decision, but the truth was that he offered the best view in the shop.
He had dressed for manual labor today, wearing faded jeans and a pale-blue button-front shirt with his company’s name embroidered over the pocket. The sleeves had been pushed up to expose lean, corded forearms perfectly suited for wielding power tools, rescuing injured dogs, and holding a woman in a way that made her feel like the most beautiful person on earth. He might have been dressed like an ordinary workman, but he was anything but ordinary.
God’s time, Sobo had often reminded her when her prayers weren’t answered as quickly as she’d like. Be patient, the elderly woman had urged, just as Paul advised in the book of Galatians. Some translations referred to the fourth aspect of the fruit of the spirit as forbearance, which Ruthie thought of as holding up under a heavy burden. Yep, that fit. And another version called it long-suffering. To her way of thinking, four years of heart-suffering had been long enough.
God’s time. Right.
She had read the promise in that verse from Jeremiah—“plans to give you hope and a future”—and knew she needed to remain steadfast in that promise. But it wasn’t easy to push aside her impatience and, yes, a little anger at how long it was taking Gray to get his act together and realize that he’d thrown away the best thing that had ever happened to either of them.
It also annoyed her that being together in proximity to each other—yet not together as a couple—didn’t seem to bother him at all, while it was tearing her up inside. So close and yet a thousand miles apart.
She sighed heavily and tamped down her frustration. Perhaps it might help “God’s time” pass a little faster if she turned her attention to getting this inventory logged into the computer and placed on display for sale.
She poked through the remaining two boxes of Pop’s, stickered each item with a consignment code, and set them in piles according to the area of the shop where they would be displayed. Then she pushed the empty box to the floor, and a small, colorful object fell along with it.
Ruthie bent to retrieve the thin wallet and was instantly enthralled by the rich colors and vibrant images stitched on the silk cover. Against a background of royal blue to represent a gently rippling pond, several lovely dragonflies of varying sizes and shapes hovered over a shiny koi fish that watched from beneath the silk-stitched waters, while other dragonflies perched delicately on a brilliant pink lotus blossom. The craftsmanship was superb, and she had no doubt this little treasure would sell quickly even at a hefty price. But after the incident with Sobo’s doll, Ruthie deemed it wise to check first and make sure this piece was actually intended for sale.
She opened the wallet to discover it was not a wallet after all but a checkbook cover or, in this case, an elegant jacket for a purse-size calendar. A flip of the current-year calendar revealed a few handwritten entries, all carefully penned in Japanese script.
The whine of a hand drill sounded from the door where Gray installed the sensor. She waited until he finished drilling to call him over. On the other side of the shop, Savannah raised her head from a pile of white lace and organza on the sewing machine and flashed a knowing grin.
Gray ambled over to Ruthie’s counter, his movements precise and fluid, making her wish she was as easy and relaxed about being in his company as he appeared to be in hers. The thump-thump-thump of Cali’s tail against her leg matched the ridiculous pounding of her heart.
“This was with the boxes Pop brought in,” she said. “Do you think Sobo meant to sell it, or should I hold it back?”
He reached for the calendar and perused the pages. “It wouldn’t make sense to get rid of a calendar only a few months into the year.”
Savannah wandered over, supposedly to see what they were looking at, but Ruthie suspected she just wanted to see what was going on between the two of them. A matchmaker at heart, Savannah had once urged her friends to sign up for an online-dating service. The timing of the suggestion had been wrong for Ruthie, having come just a few months after Gray’s now-infamous letter, so she had declined.
Paisley also refused, insisting that she preferred to meet people the old-fashioned way…in person. Savannah’s date had been an image-obsessed guy who wanted not only a gorgeous blond beauty, for which Savannah totally fit the bill, but a fitness partner who was willing to enter and run local races with him. Not likely to happen, considering her bum foot.
And Nikki’s best match had been a clock-and-watch collector who didn’t mesh in the romance department but who turned into a friend and eventually became one of her best repair customers.
Soon afterward, Savannah turned her matchmaking efforts toward volunteering at a child adoption agency. But that didn’t stop her from occasionally trying to maneuver people she cared about into each other’s arms. And she definitely cared about both her and Gray.
“More hats?” Savannah innocently inquired. She reached down and rubbed Cali’s velvety ears.
“No, it’s just Sobo’s calendar cover. We were trying to decide whether she really wanted to sell it or if Pop had put it in the box by mistake. My guess is it’s too pretty to sell. I would want to keep it.”
Savannah followed her gaze to the silk-stitched cover in Gray’s hands. “What a coincidence. That design looks exactly like the purse that belongs to the elegant Asian woman who came in here last week. You know, the one who bought Mrs. Bristow’s doll.”
Gray’s head jerked up, and his gaze met Ruthie’s. He obviously had the same thought she did.
She grabbed Savannah by the arm. “Are you sure those dragonflies are exactly like the ones on that woman’s purse? It doesn’t just sort of look like it, does it?”
Savannah looked down at Ruthie’s hand on her arm, and Ruthie let go.
“Not sort of like it. Exactly like it. She set her purse on the counter right here,” Savannah said and motioned to the area where the boxes had sat just minutes ago. “And she proceeded to rummage through the boxes, which I thought was funny because of the way she was
dressed.”
Ruthie tilted her head in a wordless question.
“She was dressed in a super-nice designer suit, carrying a museum-quality, hand-stitched purse. Even her voice and the way she carried herself were elegant,” Savannah said. “but there she was, digging through a box of dusty hand-me-downs, looking for all the world like she’d found a priceless treasure.”
For one thing, the items in the box had not been dusty. Ruthie could attest to that. Sobo would have been horrified if Pop had passed along anything to sell that was in less-than-perfect condition. As for a finely dressed customer searching through previously owned items—yes, treasures—in her shop, that kind of thing happened all the time.
The Carytown shopping area drew customers from a wide variety of social backgrounds and economic means.
“When she found the doll,” Savannah continued, “she got so excited and her hands shook so bad I thought she was having a seizure. Once we settled on a price, she couldn’t get the money out of her purse fast enough. She dropped her lipstick, her cell phone, then her keys. It was almost comical to watch.”
By now Ruthie’s hands were starting to shake, and she noticed that Gray’s brows had drawn together. Perhaps he’d made the same connection she had.
“Do you suppose she might have dropped the case while she was getting out her money?”
“Honey, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had dropped her teeth, she was that excited.”
Ruthie turned to Gray. “How rusty is your Japanese? Can you see if her name is in the book?” With a name to go on, they’d have a starting place when they searched the phone book.
Gray turned the book over in his hands and scanned the front pages for the writing that was as meticulous as Savannah indicated the customer had been. He shook his head. “There’s no identifying information in the front of the book.”
“What about the calendar entries?” Ruthie asked. “If she had a hair appointment, perhaps the stylist could tell us who she saw that day that matches our customer’s description. Better yet, maybe she has an upcoming appointment, and we can meet her where she’s scheduled to go.”
Savannah stepped back dramatically. “Way to go, Miss Marple.”
Gray’s finger stopped on yesterday’s date. “This is the last entry. Looks like we missed it.”
Ruthie’s hopes fell. Miss Marple, indeed. They were so close, and yet the possibility of finding the doll seemed so far away. “We can’t give up yet,” she said, more to encourage herself than to convince him to keep trying. “What does it say?”
“Obasan. That means aunt.’” He squinted as he struggled to make out the meaning of the rest of the characters. “One o’clock. And the rest is an address on Belmont Avenue.”
“Maybe that’s where her aunt lives.”
“Or it’s where she takes her aunt’s poodle to be groomed,” he said, a note of defeat edging his voice.
“On a Sunday?”
He scowled at her as if to say, “That again?”
“Whatever the reason she had for writing that address in her book, it’s at least worth a try.” While she was at it, she wanted to suggest he give God another try.
And her.
He shrugged noncommittally. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to see what’s there.”
For one crazy, illogical moment, Ruthie thought he was responding to the thought she dared not voice. That he wanted to give God another try. Maybe see what still existed between her and him.
Savannah flipped her wrist and checked her watch. “If you two are going to check out that address before the prayer vigil begins, you should leave now. Go. I’ll take Cali home with me.” Savannah wiggled her fingers to shoo them along.
At mention of the prayer vigil, Gray made a small noise in the back of his throat.
Every Monday, their church held a prayer vigil for those in special need, and this week Sobo’s name claimed the top of the list. Ruthie and her friends had already planned to attend, and Pop and the rest of the family would certainly be there. All believed in the power of prayer, and they were determined to do whatever they could to help.
They all loved Sobo…Pop the longest and strongest, and of course Gray. But judging by his grunt, he wouldn’t be at church tonight.
The address on Belmont Street belonged to a modest-looking cafe that sat next to an orchid shop. The logo on the flag over the neighboring store drew Ruthie’s attention and called up a long-ago memory of Gray showing up at the Bristows’ house the night of her junior prom with a delicate white flower in a plastic box. He had wrapped the orchid around her wrist and planted a chivalrous kiss on the back of her hand.
She jerked her thoughts back to the present and shaded her eyes against the late-afternoon sun to squint at the little bistro. The striped awning provided a quaint, homey feel, and a sign in the window welcomed diners with promises of seafood and vegetarian fare.
“I don’t think her obasan lives here,” Ruthie said. “Are you sure this is the right place?”
But Gray had already removed the key from the ignition and walked around to open her door. “They offer Sunday brunch until two,” he said, pointing to the sign in the window. “The note on the calendar was for one o’clock. Perhaps she and her aunt came here for brunch.”
“Good point.”
She followed him into the dimly lit interior, where they were met by a college-age fellow who offered to seat them at a booth.
“Actually, we’re not here to eat,” she said. “We came to ask about a Japanese woman and her aunt who had brunch here yesterday.”
“We had a lot of people come in yesterday.”
“She may have been driving a vintage Mazda Coupe,” Gray said, zeroing in on the facts a man might notice.
That got the guy’s attention. A smile stretched across his face. “Yeah. Pale green. It was pretty sweet.”
Unfortunately, that was all he could tell them, but confirmation that the woman had been here gave them something to go on. Ruthie flagged down a passing waitress and gave her a description of the woman who’d bought the doll.
“Yeah, the older lady is a regular. The younger one, her niece, offered to take her anywhere she wanted for lunch, but Tomiko insisted on coming here.” The waitress straightened her posture. “She always asks to sit at my table.”
A breakthrough! Ruthie glanced toward Gray, but his expression revealed only polite interest. This woman had just given them the aunt’s first name. Perhaps she knew more information that she could share.
Ruthie asked if she knew the niece’s name or where either of them lived.
“No, but the niece’s house is going to be on the Museum District Mother’s Day tour this year. They’re both really excited about that.”
Gray tipped the woman for the information and handed her his business card. “Would you call me the next time she comes in? It’s important that we speak to her.”
The waitress turned the bill over in her hand and gave him an appreciative nod.
Back in the car, Gray started the engine and cruised slowly through the neighborhood where the car club president said he’d seen the woman’s vehicle. Unfortunately, the fading daylight quickly made it too dark for a search. Besides, it was probably sheltered in a garage.
Despite the disappointment of learning neither the name of the doll’s purchaser nor the location of her car and thus her house, Ruthie could hardly contain her enthusiasm. “If I had decent phone reception, I’d look up the house tour on Google right now. Maybe the niece’s address is on the website.”
“Maybe later,” Gray said. “I’ve got to drop you off at home, then take Pop to church.”
She might be pushing too hard, but she had to ask, “Will you be staying for the vigil? It would be nice if you could be there for Sobo.”
He kept his gaze on the road, and for a moment only the twitch of the muscle in his jaw indicated he had heard her.
It may have been a stupid question, she conceded. If he no longer beli
eved in God, why would he think being there could do anything to help his grandmother? She tried another tactic.
“For Pop, then. It would mean a lot to him if you went inside and sat with him.” She didn’t even ask him to pray. Just sit.
This time, he met her gaze, his brown eyes as serious as she’d ever seen them. “I’ll be back to pick him up after the praying is over.”
Ruthie’s heart sank. He might not stick around for the vigil tonight, but what he didn’t know was that the praying would never be over. Not Pop’s. Certainly not hers.
If prayers were weapons, she’d aim hers at him until the high-vaulted barriers he’d erected around himself four years ago finally came down.
Gray wished he could have powered past the resistance that held him back from the prayer meeting. Ruthie was right that Pop needed his loved ones around him while they pooled their love and prayers toward Soho’s healing. But he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. If duty toward family hadn’t been so firmly instilled in him, Gray would have just pulled up to the front of the church, let Pop out, and driven off. But he couldn’t do that. Instead, he pulled into the parking lot and walked with him to the front of the church.
His grandfather’s normally rugged complexion seemed to have faded over the past week. Although Pop had floated a test balloon and asked if he would stay for the service tonight, there had been no pressure in his question. But his expression told him how strongly he wanted him there.
As much as he loved and respected his grandfather, he just couldn’t do it. Couldn’t be a hypocrite. Couldn’t lie and pretend to believe in the prayers that Pop found comfort in.
They were climbing the steps to the portico when one of the heavy front doors eased open and Ruthie leaned out, her red hair draping like a fine silk curtain.
“Good, you’re here,” she said to Pop, but her eyes remained fixed on Gray. “We saved you a seat up front.” Pop kissed her and mumbled something that sounded like “talk some sense into the boy.” He went inside and shut the door behind him.
Her Redeeming Faith Page 9
