by JoAnn Durgin
“It’ll happen for you, Caty.” Ah, sweet, perceptive Kevin, another reason to adore this man. Maybe she should be embarrassed that he could read her emotions so easily, but not with him.
“God’s got it all under control, right?” She hated how her voice quivered.
“You know it. Keep your eyes on Him, Caty. Sorry, but I need to keep moving. If the guys holler for me, tell them I’ll be right back, okay?”
“Sure.” Someone rested a hand on her shoulder as Kevin headed outside. Expecting her mother, Caty turned to face her father.
“Kevin’s right, you know. God’s got this.” He lifted her chin. “Trust, sweet girl.”
Caty blinked back her tears. “I know. Sometimes it’s easier said than done, you know? I can’t cry now. Kevin’s coming back in here any second.”
“Go back into the kitchen with Mom and Winnie for a few minutes.” His voice, calm and gentle, always soothed her troubled heart. “I’ll handle everything since I know the layout of the bedroom. If we have any questions, I’ll ask.”
“I guess you were listening when I discussed it with Mom earlier this week.”
A small smile creased her father’s handsome face. “I hear what’s important.”
Caty leaned into him, her solid rock, a man of unflagging honor. “I love you, Dad.”
“Forever and always.” He kissed her forehead. That’s how they’d ended so many evenings together. Nights when he’d listen to her prayers and tuck her into bed. When she’d cry over a problem at school or a fight with her friend. When she’d think she was unlovable and that no boy would ever love her.
Yes, well, she was still working on that last one. In God’s time, not Caty’s time. She shivered and crossed her arms. Sometimes that concept was difficult to hold close to her heart since she’d always struggled with patience or the lack thereof, to be more accurate.
Watching her father head up the stairs, Caty sniffled and wiped beneath her eyes with her fingertips. How did she get so blessed to be part of such a loving, giving family?
Caty’s thoughts strayed to Caleb. What was it about him that fascinated her? Something about the underdog had always attracted her. Maybe it wasn’t so much the underdog as the walking wounded. How odd that she’d even consider Caleb an underdog in any sense of the word, but he was. It was in the depths of those soulful brown eyes as if he carried the weight of the world alone on his broad shoulders. In the tightening of his mouth when she asked him a personal question.
Was he still buried in grief over his wife’s death? She’d known others who’d lost a spouse under tragic circumstances. Some reached out for comfort in their mourning, but others kept to themselves, preferring to retreat and work out their grief in their own way. If Caleb’s last five years in the corporation were any indication, he’d taken the later route.
Lord, help Caleb to hold you close. To seek answers from you instead of trying to do things his own way. She sensed that trust might also be an issue for him, but for completely different reasons than her own.
Beneath Caleb’s self-assured exterior, she’d detected a hint of the pain he carried deep in his soul. She’d also glimpsed his underlying warmth, his compassion. If he allowed himself to give his love to another woman one day, Caleb would be the type of man who’d do so with passion and the kind of uncommon devotion that would capture and hold a woman’s heart forever.
Caty snapped out of her trance. “Someone’s being awfully poetic today.”
Enough daydreaming. Time to get back to work.
~~♥~~
After promising her mother she’d go over to the house within the hour for dinner, Caty leaned against the front door and blew out a sigh. With the furniture in place, her townhome was beginning to take shape. Having some of her family and friends here today gave her a good start in feeling like she was home again. As cozy as her condo in Lubbock was, it had never been Houston.
“Back home where I belong.” Caty started up the stairs to change her clothes. After carrying in boxes and doing some housework, her T-shirt and jeans had picked up some grime. A quick shower was in order. Hopefully she could find a box with clean clothes easily enough.
The doorbell rang as she reached the upstairs landing. Who could that be? Maybe one of the guys forgot a tool when they’d put together the bed frame. She’d better answer it. Back down the steps she went, smoothing one hand over her mussed hair.
A quick peek through the peephole revealed a man, half-hidden by something green and leafy, dressed in a polo shirt with a logo embroidered on it. He appeared legit considering a service van with a matching logo idled behind him in the parking lot.
“Delivery for Catherine Lewis,” the man said in a bored tone of voice after she opened the door. An enormous potted plant stood on her front doorstep. Goodness. The thing was as big as a small tree. Big enough that—if it were the holidays—she might hang Christmas ornaments on its branches. Oddly enough, the tree reminded her of…a huge corn stalk. Why would anyone send her a corn stalk? She liked corn as much as the next person, but really? Her ignorance of plant life was showing.
“Do you know who sent this?” She scrawled her signature on the delivery ticket he thrust under her nose. Her mom and dad? Sam and Lexa? No, that seemed highly doubtful. Of all people, her family knew she killed most plants. Maybe Marta and Eliot?
The man sighed. “There’s a card there somewhere. Check among the stalks.”
“No worries. I’ll find it. Do you mind bringing it inside?” Now that the guys were gone, she wasn’t sure she could lift the plant by herself. Neither could she afford to be laid up with a sore back on her first day of work. At least she hadn’t suffered from a sore back after her mishap downtown earlier in the week.
The man hefted the plant like it was lightweight. “Lead the way.”
“The corner of the living room should be good.” That seemed the best place since it would be shaded yet still catch rays of sunlight from the patio. “Let me get your tip. I’ll be right back.”
“Taken care of. I’m good.” With one hand in the air, he was already halfway to the front door.
“Have a nice day!” After locking the door, Caty spied two white envelopes taped to the outside of the clay pot. The first contained her parking card for the building garage and her new Belac ID badge. Caleb was a thorough man and seemed to forget nothing.
When Caty opened the second one, it contained care instructions for the plant. She’d definitely need to study those.
“Okay, then. Let’s see what I need to do to keep you alive and thriving, my friend.” Caty tossed a glance at the large plant. “Well, I’ll settle for alive, anyway.” Growing up, her brothers had teased Caty for her tendency to constantly narrate her actions. She’d also been the Lewis kid who always read the cards first before tearing into her birthday gifts.
Caty darted a glance at the plant. “I really hope you’re not hard to kill because I’m incredibly adept at it.”
Time to read. “‘This striking houseplant, actually a robust tree, is nicknamed the Corn Plant for its long, sword-like leaves that resemble the foliage of actual corn.” Well, what do you know? “It’s a member of the Dracaena group, known for its tenacious, rugged, and low-maintenance personality. The Mass Cane will thrive in an office or busy household, needing little attention and only moderate light to bring guaranteed lasting smiles.’”
Sounded like an easy care plant. “Tenacious, rugged, and low maintenance, eh?” An idea of the giver popped into her mind. Tenacious, yes. Rugged? Most definitely. Low Maintenance? That last one was a little suspect.
Spying another small envelope tucked into the side of the clay pot, Caty retrieved it. Seized it was more like it. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, for the envelope please…” Tugging out the card, she turned it over.
Welcome home to Houston, Catherine. Looking forward to working with you. ~Caleb Reid
Hmm. The small scrawl looked a lot like Caleb’s original signature. Had he handwr
itten this note and chosen the Corn Plant especially for her? Although he’d said nothing specifically about the delivery, maybe that had been the reason for his call earlier in the day.
“It’s very nice to be back home, Mr. Reid.” Tucking the card in her pocket with a smile, Caty climbed the stairs two at a time.
Chapter 14
Caty strolled into the Belac offices an hour earlier than expected on Monday morning. Not that she punched a timeclock, but it was always good to show up earlier rather than later.
Unable to sleep, she’d showered, gulped down cereal, and dressed. The Lubbock office had been much more casual, but now that she was in the main office, she figured she’d wear her professional suits most of the time. She’d managed to drive downtown, park in her designated space in the building garage, and make it up to the 35th floor without mishap. A minor miracle, perhaps, but life was good and hopefully back to her new normal.
“Good morning, Suma.”
The receptionist glanced up from the switchboard and gave her a practiced polite yet cool smile. “Good morning, Miss Lewis.” Did the woman possess emotions? Caty almost wanted to give that bare, toned arm a light pinch just to get a rise out of her.
Don’t be irreverent, Caty.
“I hope you had a nice weekend.”
Suma’s dark eyes opened wider. “It was lovely, thank you.”
Were office pleasantries discouraged here? In the Dallas office, the Belac employees were like one big happy family. Then again, if the boss was in the office, he’d always been behind closed doors. Speculating about Mr. Reid had been fun and a frequent topic of conversation before she’d actually met him. Now, things were different. Although she’d tried to avoid the gossip, she’d found the speculation rather intriguing.
“I finally got moved—” Caty swallowed her last few words as Suma lifted her finger and answered an incoming call. Why would she think Suma would engage in small talk?
“Good morning. Thank you for calling Belac. How may I help you?”
Today Suma’s nails were painted a deeper red, closer to a maroon color. Everything about her appearance was perfection. How did women like this exist? Talk about a china doll. She actually looked rather fragile.
Be nice. No pinching.
Suma’s phone manner was certainly professional and friendly. “Yes, Miss Randall. I’ll put you through to Mr. Reid’s private line.”
Caty tried to ignore the questions the phone call raised in her overactive imagination. Miss Randall? Caleb’s private line?
“You’re welcome. Have a beautiful day.” Suma glanced up at her again.
“Could you tell me if my office is on the right or left side? Any information to clue me in will be helpful.” She felt silly admitting as much and recognized she was rambling again, not an attractive quality.
“I’ve already buzzed for Miss Bonner. She asked me to alert her when you arrived. I’m sure she’ll be out momentarily.” Suma’s hand went in the air as though dismissing her.
“Great. Thank you.” Caty walked into the client waiting area. The sun streaming through the windows was bright and warm.
Good morning, Caty. How are you today?” Cordelia marched toward her and grasped her hand warmly. Her smile reached her blue eyes.
“Ready for occupancy. I mean, I’m looking forward to inhabiting my new office.” She might as well give it up. She wasn’t making much sense today. Sequestering herself like a good little accountant, crunching numbers, and staying quiet might be advisable.
“We’re glad you’re here.” Cordelia motioned for Caty to follow. “I’ll take you to your office. I’m happy to report everything arrived intact on the moving van from Lubbock. I took the liberty of directing the placement of the furniture. If there’s anything not to your liking, please let me know, and we’ll have it rearranged for you right away.”
“I’m sure it’s all perfectly fine,” Caty assured her. “Thanks for taking care of everything. As long as I have a desk, a chair, and a functioning computer, I’ll be all set. My needs are simple.” She waved to Suma as she passed by the reception desk and received a lukewarm smile in return. Apparently she didn’t use that hand to wave to lunatic accountants.
You’re losing it and it’s only Monday. Lack of sleep was never a good thing, either. Whether it was her new townhome, new job, or her encounters with the enigmatic Mr. Reid, she’d tossed and turned most of the night.
Caty started down the right hallway behind Cordelia.
“Your office is the fourth one.” When Cordelia stood aside, Caty noted the elegant gold nameplate on the door as she entered the office filled with her familiar furnishings—striped brocade loveseat in deep jewel tones, two matching chairs, a small cherry table with a lamp brought back from her parents’ trip to the Orient, and miscellaneous decorative items from Sam and Lexa’s mission trips.
“Thank you again, Cordelia.” Opening the lower desk drawer, Caty dropped her purse inside.
Cordelia handed her a small key. “This is to lock your desk.”
Caty frowned. “Is there a reason I should lock it?”
“Theft shouldn’t be a concern, but due to the nature of your work, Mr. Reid wanted me to advise you to keep your desk and office locked when you’re not here.”
That was something she hadn’t considered, but Caleb was right. In Lubbock, her office and computer had been accessible to anyone when she darted out for lunch. Of course, it’d never been a concern until the discrepancies began to appear. Perhaps she should have been more mindful.
“Then I’ll certainly do that.” Taking the key, Caty locked the desk for the moment and deposited the key in the pocket of her skirt.
“Your diplomas and personal photos are stacked against the far wall,” Cordelia said. “We’ll send someone by later today to hang them for you.”
“Sounds great. You’ve thought of everything.”
Cordelia’s smile emerged. “Would you like some coffee or tea?”
“You know, I’d really like that.”
“Why don’t you get settled for a bit and meet me in the breakroom in fifteen minutes? We can have some coffee, I’ll tell you more about the office, and perhaps introduce you to a few people.”
“That sounds lovely. See you then.” She didn’t know where the breakroom was, but how hard could it be? She’d follow her nose. After Cordelia departed, Caty walked back to her desk and sat in her familiar chair. Same job, new surroundings, new people. That’s all it was.
An image of Steve Robison popped into her head. She hoped she wouldn’t encounter him today since she wasn’t sure how she’d react. The man suspected her of wrongdoing. Other than going about her job and proving otherwise, Caty didn’t know what else to do. Armed with Caleb’s reassurances that her job was safe, she’d continue about her normal business.
Hearing a knock, Caty glanced up to see a blond young man standing in the doorway. He looked about twenty. By comparison to some of the stone-faced employees she’d passed in the hall, his friendly smile was a welcome sight.
“Hi, Miss Lewis. I’m Miles Durand, the mail guy.” Medium height, slim build, he was dressed in dark khakis and a bright orange cotton shirt with Belac, Inc. embroidered across the top left.
Caty rose from her chair and crossed the room to shake his hand. “Hi, Miles. It’s nice to meet you. Please call me Caty.”
“Sure. Nice to meet you, too. I’ll come by with your mail about eleven every morning. If your door’s closed, that’s my cue not to bother you. Then you can call me when you’re ready, and I’ll deliver it. My extension’s 301.”
“I’ll do that.” She assumed she’d find a phone list in one of the desk drawers.
“Do you have an assistant?”
Caty shook her head. “I’ve never asked for one.” In truth, she preferred working alone.
“No wonder you’re an accountant.” Miles grinned. “You save the company money. I’m actually here with a special delivery.”
“Oh?”
Matter of fact, Miles did have one hand hidden behind his back.
He leaned closer and whispered, “It’s from him. You know, The Head Honcho. The Big Kahuna.”
“Mr. Reid, you mean.”
“Right. I just like calling him those other things.”
“Should I be scared?” This kid was fun. “Not of the Big Kahuna, but of what he’s sent to me? Is this some kind of Welcome to Belac tradition?” Maybe it was a gift card to a nearby coffee shop. It couldn’t be another potted plant unless it was much smaller than the corn stalk sitting in her home. What if he’d sent her a pretty yellow rose for her desk? That’d be a lovely gesture.
“I guess. Weirdest one I’ve ever seen, and sorry to say, it’s pretty cheap.”
Okay, not a rose. She needed to push the romantic thoughts out of her mind.
“Then Mr. Reid probably means whatever it is as a joke since I work with numbers. Like you said, accountants have reputations for pinching pennies and not wanting the company to spend money on frivolous things.”
“Gotcha. I’ve never met the guy, so I couldn’t tell you.”
That might change, Miles. Caty raised a brow, waiting. When he didn’t take the hint, she angled her head. “You have something for me?”
“Oh, right. Sorry. Just don’t get your hopes up. Let’s make it fun. Close your eyes and hold out one hand.”
She followed his direction and then closed her fingers around something made from plastic—firm yet flexible with a handle.
“You can open your eyes now.”
In her hand, Caty held an oversized red, white, and blue fly swatter. Not only that, but it was a Boston Red Sox fly swatter. She saw an envelope taped to the back, but she’d open it privately.
Laughing, Caty waved it in the air as though she’d been given a prize. “This isn’t just any fly swatter, Miles. This is more valuable than you might think.”