“Oh, Aren, I’d like nothing better, but as you can see I’ve got my hands full at the moment.”
Speaking of hands, Aren was forced to back into the sink and raise his arms above his head as Lucie flew past him. Clearly this wasn’t working.
“Can’t we talk Sunday?” she asked.
“Ah … sure.” The review was scheduled to be printed in the Saturday edition.
“Great.”
“I apologize for stopping off without calling first.… I should have realized. Sunday, then.”
“Sunday,” Lucie echoed. “Then I’ll be able to give you my full attention.”
“Okay.” Aren’s shoulders sagged with frustration and discouragement as he started out of the kitchen.
“Aren, hold up a minute,” Lucie called out, stopping him.
Just before he walked away, Lucie came to him, placed her hands on his shoulders, and then gently pressed her lips to his. Aren felt that kiss all the way to the bottom of his feet, his nerve endings sizzling, and when she stepped back it was all he could do to remain standing.
“Will that hold you until Sunday?” she asked with a saucy grin.
Aren needed to clear his throat before he was able to speak. “It should.”
“Good.”
The kiss held him all the way back to Manhattan. By then his head had cleared and the buzz on his phone told him he had a text. Even without looking Aren knew it was from Josie.
Well? No doubt she’d been waiting all day to hear how he intended to handle this difficult situation.
I wrote my piece and used her quotes. She’ll recognize who I am the minute she picks up the newspaper. He needed to wait only a few seconds for her reply.
That’ll do it all right. Are you at peace with whatever happens?
Aren hated waiting; it made everything worse.
I think so.
Not two seconds after he sent his message, he received an answer back.
Fingers crossed.
He wanted to mention the article to Lucie, but it had been impossible to hold any kind of conversation while she was cooking. He’d done his best but it seemed as if the forces of nature were against him.
He texted back. Have dinner with me. Meet me in 15 and I’ll explain. Lucie’s mother gave me a to-go box.
Josie’s response was fast in coming. This better be good.
Aren grinned and quickly typed: Dinner or my excuse?
Both.
Saturday afternoon, Lucie reached for her cell and went to her contact list. She pushed Aren’s name and number. After three rings, he answered. “Aren, here.”
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Lucie?”
He sounded both pleased and surprised to hear from her, which boosted her confidence. “Yup, it’s me.”
“What am I doing? Nothing much. I just finished my laundry and cleaning my apartment. I save everything for the weekend. We’re still meeting tomorrow for dinner, aren’t we?”
“I’m planning on it.”
“What’s up?”
“Would you like to work for your dinner?”
“Ah, sure. What do you have in mind?”
“Meet me in half an hour,” she said and gave him the address.
“You aren’t at the restaurant?”
“Not now, but I will be later. This is something special.”
“Special. Do you want to give me a hint?”
“Nope. It’s a surprise. You showed me such a wonderful time I thought I would return the favor.”
“I thought dinner on Sunday was that.”
“This is something … extra. Mom is with me so don’t be late.”
Aren chuckled. “I’m on my way.”
Lucie ended the call.
“You got ahold of him?” Wendy asked, tying the apron around her middle. The meal was almost ready to serve. Two hundred fifty meals, to be exact. Roast beef, mashed potatoes with gravy, fresh green beans, a homemade roll still warm from the oven, and chocolate cake.
“Aren’s on his way.”
“Did you tell him this is a soup kitchen?”
Lucie did her best to hide a smile. “I might have forgotten to mention that.” She returned to the Salvation Army kitchen and put the finishing touches on the gravy. Within a few minutes the doors would open and the homeless men and women would pour into the dining hall. After reaching for trays and plates, Wendy, Lucie, and Aren would serve the homeless as they went through the line. Wendy would dish up the meat and potatoes, Aren was assigned the vegetables and gravy, and Lucie planned to finish up with the roll and cake. Drinks were on the sideboard and the paid staff would see to keeping the coffee, tea, milk, and water replenished.
As long as Lucie could remember, she and her mother had volunteered at the shelter in December. She’d have just enough time to serve dinner here before heading out to cook at Heavenly Delights. Her day had been jam-packed from early morning, starting with the baking and menu planning. Her head was buzzing with everything she had to do when Jazmine phoned to say she’d come down with the flu. That meant Lucie and her mom would be short one person for serving dinner. Lucie had immediately thought of Aren.
“I’ll finish up here,” her mother told her. “If you didn’t explain what this is all about, Aren will assume he has the wrong address.”
“You think I should go outside and wait for him?”
“Yes, sweetie, otherwise he’ll be confused.”
Lucie knew her mother was right. Grabbing her coat, she stepped into the wind and cold of the late afternoon. The gloomy skies threatened more snow, which she didn’t mind. Snowfall made the holiday season all the more festive.
As she paced the area she thought about the men and women without anyplace warm to sleep. Well, for tonight they would have a hot, nutritious meal to fill their stomachs.
A taxi pulled up across the street and Aren climbed out, frowning. He glanced down at a slip of paper in his hand. Her mother was right. He was confused.
“Aren,” Lucie called, waving her arm above her head in order to get his attention, while clenching her coat closed at her neck. She marveled that he’d been so willing to come even without any details.
His face relaxed when he saw her and after looking both ways, he raced across the street.
“What is this?”
“A homeless shelter. Mom and I volunteer and we’re short one person. Can you help?”
“I’d love to … only can we talk afterward?”
Her shoulders sagged with disappointment. “Oh, Aren, I can’t. I’m so sorry. I have to leave as soon as we’re finished to get to the restaurant.”
He expelled his breath. “Did you read the paper this morning?”
“No,” she admitted. There simply hadn’t been time. But there could be only one reason he’d asked. “Did the paper print one of your articles? Did you get a byline? Finally! Oh, Aren, you must be so pleased. I’ll get a newspaper as soon as I can.”
He didn’t answer right away. “Actually, I’d prefer that you wait. Let’s talk before you read my piece, okay?”
——
“What’s in the newspaper?” Will asked, following the couple into the homeless shelter.
“I don’t know.” Shirley went in with him. Goodness and Mercy were already inside. Goodness stood in the back of the room, with the newspaper spread open on one of the tabletops.
“Oh, no,” she wailed and then slapped her hand over her mouth. Her eyes widened as she read the Lifestyle section.
“What is it?” Will asked, joining Goodness.
“It’s Aren’s restaurant review,” Goodness explained. “The one for the place where he and Lucie dined Thursday night after the play.”
“And …”
“Oh dear.”
“What? What?” Mercy zoomed across the room. She tried to get a look herself but with Goodness, Shirley, and Will hovering over the newspaper she couldn’t see a thing.
“What did Aren do, carry a reco
rder in his pocket?”
“What did he say?” Mercy demanded.
“He practically quoted every word Lucie said over dinner. The minute she reads this she’ll know he’s the food critic Eaton Well.”
“Which is why he wants to talk to her before she reads the newspaper. Good heavens, why would he do such a thing?”
“Don’t ask me.”
A stunned silence followed. This was worse than bad. It would be disastrous to their budding relationship.
“Then it’s our duty to make sure Lucie doesn’t read that article.”
“What can we do?” Shirley said, her wings sagging. “We’ve given Gabriel our word that we wouldn’t interfere in their romance. The minute we do he’ll know about it.”
Mercy didn’t know what the problem was, seeing that they’d already crossed the boundary line the night of the play. In fact, she was amazed they hadn’t been called to task before now.
“Don’t you think we’re beyond worry about that now … after what happened at the play?” Mercy asked.
“Okay, okay, I know everyone is still upset with me about that camel. I’ll admit I let matters get out of hand, but I did not, and I repeat, I did not, do anything to influence Aren and Lucie’s feelings for each other.”
“Me neither,” Shirley reminded them. “Everything I did was on stage.”
“That’s right,” Mercy said, and was cheered by the thought. While they had caused something of an Earthly sensation, it had been in innocent fun. For whatever reason, Gabriel hadn’t mentioned the incident, and for that she counted her blessings. Her many blessings.
“Still, we must proceed with caution,” Shirley said. “We don’t want to cross the line but we need to keep Lucie in the dark until Aren has a chance to explain.”
“Which means she can’t read that article.”
“It would be devastating to her,” Will agreed.
“So we’re all in agreement. We will take whatever measures necessary to keep the article out of Lucie’s hands.”
“But only the newspaper,” Shirley said. “We won’t involve ourselves in anything beyond that.”
“Yes,” each one said in turn.
“That will give Aren a chance to talk to her on Sunday, but if Lucie is upset with him after that, then what?” Will asked.
“Then she’s upset.”
“But what if …”
“We can’t involve ourselves in happenstance,” Mercy explained. “We’ll deal with her reaction when the time comes.”
“Seeing how I already botched up the timing,” Will murmured, berating himself.
Shirley placed a gentle hand on his forearm. “It was a rookie mistake, don’t be so hard on yourself. You should have witnessed some of the stunts Goodness and Mercy pulled when they first started work as Prayer Ambassadors.”
“We all make mistakes,” Mercy added. “Even Shirley.”
“Oh, yes, I’ve made a few of my own,” the former Guardian Angel admitted. “But with the help of my friends everything turned out fine.”
“We’ll set matters straight,” Goodness assured him, and they would. With God there were no accidents.
“Thank you so much for helping out,” Lucie told Aren as they finished with the kitchen cleanup. Wendy washed dishes, Aren dried, and Lucie put everything back in its proper place.
The homeless had come and gone. Several commented that this was the best dinner they’d ever tasted.
“You do this on a regular basis?” Aren asked.
He sounded impressed, which pleased her, but actually she felt like the one who received after volunteering. “Our family has done this ever since I was a kid. Dad would join in, too. It just wouldn’t be Christmas without doing something to help others. My parents were big on teaching my brother and me to give back.”
“Did we wear you out?” Wendy asked, joining them.
Aren shook his head. “No. In fact I feel great. I should be exhausted but I’m not.”
“I find it that way, too,” Lucie told him. Seeing the faces of the men and women who came through the line had inspired her to do more, to be more, to invest more of herself in others. She thought about the staff at the restaurant and her friends with renewed appreciation. She thought about Aren, too, and how much she liked him and how grateful she was that he was back in her life.
“Lucie, you’d better leave now, sweetie, or you’ll be late. I’ll be right behind you once I finish up here.”
Her mother was right. Impulsively she hugged Aren. Automatically his arms came around her and he held her close for the briefest of moments before reluctantly releasing her.
“Thank you again,” she whispered close to his ear. “I’ll always be grateful I met you.”
“Always?” he asked, his eyes pleading with her.
The question seemed to hold within it another. One she didn’t fully understand. “Yes,” she assured him. If they were never to see each other again she would have no regrets. Although she was only beginning to know him, she felt strongly linked to him. Their relationship held such promise and the attraction remained strong and seemed to grow every time they were together.
Lucie looked into his eyes and saw doubt and regret. It shocked her, but unfortunately she didn’t have time to ask or to figure it out.
Wendy brought Lucie her hat, coat, and scarf. The scarf was one of her favorites, mainly because her mother had knit it for her the Christmas before last. What made it special was that her mom had turned to knitting to help her grieve after the death of Lucie’s father. This was the first piece Wendy had completed following her husband’s death.
“I’ll walk you outside,” Aren offered.
“Oh, please do,” Wendy added. “It’s sometimes difficult getting a cab in this part of town.”
“Mom, I’ll be fine.”
“Yes, you will, especially if Aren is with you. Now shoo.”
Shaking her head, Lucie reached for her gloves and got her purse before joining Aren. She wasn’t fooled. Her mother had used this as an excuse to give her more time with Aren, not that Lucie was complaining. She welcomed the opportunity.
Dusk had settled over the city. The streetlights had just come on. Because she’d been so busy with the demands of the restaurant Lucie hadn’t taken much time to appreciate the season. Everything seemed so rushed. Her mother had set out a few Christmas decorations but their tree wasn’t up and she had yet to start her shopping.
“I wish I had more time to spend with you,” she told Aren as they walked to the closest intersection.
“It’s fine, Lucie, don’t stress over it.”
“There’s so much more I want to know about you.”
He stepped halfway into the street and waved down a taxi. The first one sped past, but the second stopped.
Aren opened the door for her and Lucie climbed inside.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he told her, and leaning into the car, he gave her a quick kiss.
“I’ll make a dinner you won’t soon forget.”
“You don’t need to go to any trouble. What’s important is being with you.”
Lucie felt the same way. They would have the entire evening together, and the promise of that filled her with happy anticipation.
Aren closed the door and stepped back. She waved to him and, as was her custom, she placed her hand to her lips and then to the window.
After she gave the driver the address of Heavenly Delights, the taxi drove away, and Lucie settled into the seat. It was then that she noticed a copy of the New York Gazette on the seat next to her.
An immediate sense of panic rose up in Mercy when she saw Lucie reach for the Saturday edition of the New York Gazette that rested next to her in the taxi.
“Quick,” Goodness screeched, wagging her finger at Lucie. “Grab that newspaper.”
Lucie reached for the paper and it wouldn’t budge from the seat for the simple reason that Will sat on it. Tug as she might, the newspaper stayed exactly where it was.
“That’s not going to work for long,” Shirley cried, also in a panic. “Roll down the window and get rid of it.”
Mercy reached over and quickly cranked the lever. Immediately a blast of cold air filled the cab.
Lucie gasped and reached over to roll up the window.
“Hey, lady, it’s December. Roll up that blasted window before we both freeze.”
“I’m trying. The handle seems to be stuck.”
“Try harder.”
Goodness reached for the newspaper and swirled it around the inside of the cab, which was no small feat, seeing how crowded it was with the four of them cramped inside the front and back seats plus the cabdriver and Lucie.
“You throw that newspaper out the window and I get charged with littering, then you’re paying the fine, lady.”
“I’m trying to get it,” Lucie shouted back, but every time it came within her reach, Goodness jerked it away.
“Get rid of it,” Mercy urged, doing her best to help and only adding to the mayhem.
“I don’t want to litter,” Shirley cried, wadding up the newspaper and stuffing it on the floorboards.
Lucie reached for it but before she could snatch it, Mercy grabbed the paper and shouted at her friend, “For the love of heaven, toss the thing. We can go back and pick it up later.”
“Okay, okay.”
Out the window the newspaper went, but as luck would have it, the pages landed at the feet of a policeman. He immediately leaped onto his motorcycle and gave chase, lights and siren blazing.
“Okay, lady, what did I tell you?” the cabbie grumbled. “You’re paying the fine. I didn’t have anything to do with this.”
“Ah … I didn’t litter, I swear. It just flew out of the cab all on its own.”
“If that’s your story then okay, but personally I think you’d better come up with something a bit more original.”
The taxi driver pulled to the side of the road and eased to a stop at the curb. The motorcycle cop parked directly behind him. He swung off his bike and walked directly to the side of the taxi. With his feet braced apart, and his thumbs tucked in his waistband, the officer waited for the taxi driver to roll down his window. The driver complied, but reluctantly.
Angels at the Table Page 10