Warren glanced up from the catalog he was reviewing with a tall, model-thin woman, and instantly motioned Brooke Anne inside. "Now, you are a person who's been on my mind lately," he said, smiling.
"Why is that?"
"Well, a certain someone came in here looking for you."
"He told me," she said. "I still can't believe Morgan did that. I think he went to every shoe store in Cincinnati looking for me."
"Ah, but he found his answers here."
She chuckled, then got to the reason for her visit. "I was wondering if you might have a half hour or so to have some tea today? I think there's a nice tea shop around the corner."
He shook his head. "Oh, no."
Taken aback, Brooke Anne turned toward the door. "Oh. I'm sorry. I'll just -"
"No, my dear. You didn't let me finish. I have everything we need for tea here."
She looked around the shop. "Here?"
Warren pointed to his back room. "There. Why don't you take a moment and look around? I'll go make the tea. Elise will assist you if you'd like to try anything on."
As Warren glided away, Brooke Anne felt Elise's jet-black eyes boring into her.
"I'm just going to look around," she said.
Elise nodded. "No problem."
"Does he really make tea back there?" Brooke Anne couldn't resist asking.
Elise's perfect features broke into a genuine smile. "Like nothing I've ever tasted. It almost puts the Excelsior Royal Hotel's tea to shame."
"Really," Brooke Anne murmured, wondering if Warren had been talking with Elise about her situation.
"Yeah. Well, again, let me know if you'd like to try anything on."
Brooke Anne wandered around the salon, thinking about how, just a few weeks ago, she'd been too afraid to even set foot inside this shoe store. Now here she was, about to have tea with the owner.
And feeling pretty good about it.
Warren appeared in the back doorway. "It's ready, love."
Warren's office was impressive - every bit as elegant as the showroom, yet more inviting. A sitting area with heavy wood furniture graced one corner, and a small kitchen, consisting of a compact refrigerator and stove, flanked the far wall. On the antique cherry coffee table stood a beautiful tea service, complete with a silver sugar bowl and china cups and saucers.
"This is amazing," Brooke Anne said, as she seated herself. "Maybe I should stop by here more often."
"I hope you will." After they'd both sipped the exquisite tea, Warren gazed at her directly. "How is Morgan?"
"He's fine. We're trying to come to grips with some things."
"He seemed quite smitten when he was here searching for you."
"We're pretty different, you know."
"Different can be nice."
"I suppose. Morgan has some trouble expressing himself. And I...I guess sometimes my insecurities still get the best of me."
He smiled. "Everything didn't magically get better when you put on your gold slippers and a new dress?"
"No. The pretty things gave me some confidence, but they didn't solve my problems."
"So, do you know what you need to do?"
Brooke Anne took a deep breath. "Stop blaming myself for what happened with Russell. Be willing to trust someone so different from me."
"And have you done those things?"
She thought about that. "I'm able to do them some of the time. Eighty percent, maybe."
Warren sipped his tea. "Some would say eighty percent is impressive."
"Would you?"
He looked surprised. "Of course. We all have problems, my dear. Even me. The key to living is to work through them until you find happiness." Warren walked over to the kitchen and picked up a tray of beautifully decorated cookies. "Have a cookie, Brooke Anne. I just purchased them from the bakery down the street."
She took one without hesitation - and bit into bliss.
*****
Chapter Thirty
Morgan was taking a stab at cleaning off his desk when his sister showed up at the office.
"Hey!" Caroline said, plopping into the chair across from him. "I haven't seen you since the soiree, so I thought I'd pay you a little visit."
"Must be my lucky day."
If she was caught off guard by his sarcastic comment, she didn't show it. "What's new?"
He shifted in his seat. "Nothing much."
Her eyes glowed. "That's not what I heard."
"What have you heard?"
"I heard you've been escorting a certain attractive blonde around town lately."
"Who told you that?"
Her lips twitched. "I have my resources...and I bumped into Breva at the diner two days ago."
Wasn't there supposed to be some kind of boss-secretary confidentiality privilege? One that prevented secretaries from divulging private information? "Is that why you're here?"
"You guessed it. Who is she?"
"You don't know her. Not really..."
"Now I'm even more intrigued. Come on. Tell me about her. What's her name?"
"Brooke Anne Kressler."
Caroline scrunched up her forehead. "For some reason that name sounds familiar."
"Maybe. She cleaned your house the other day. Brooke Anne owns Jovial Janitors. She cleans on occasion."
Surprise, then speculation, entered Caroline's brown eyes. "Well, my goodness."
Morgan immediately rushed to Brooke Anne's defense. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means that it's about time you finally fell in love."
An odd sense of bewilderment came over him. "I thought you'd be disappointed. Weren't you and Mom trying to set me up with Alexia? Mom made it sound that way."
Caroline made a face. "Mom always liked Alexia more than I did. Besides, Alexia's had a lot of work done recently," she added in a stage whisper. "I mean, she's hardly the same girl I used to know."
He wasn't sure whether to be intrigued or appalled. "You...don't think it's strange that of all the women in the world, I've fallen for a tiny janitor?"
"If you want to know the truth, I'm amazed you've managed to find anyone who'll go out with you. I love you. And I'm glad you're my brother. But you've got serious emotional attachment issues."
"I'm working on those," Morgan said. "And I've gotten pretty good at letter writing."
"That's a start. So, what's next for the two of you? Want to bring her over for holiday tea?" She snapped her fingers. "I know! Why don't the two of you come to my Boxing Day gala!"
"I'll have to see. Brooke Anne's awfully busy right now. She volunteers as an elf for the Children's Hospital Christmas party."
"That's a great cause. I bet she'll be adorable. Bob and I donated some money to Children's Hospital to help out with gifts. Did you?"
"No." His shoulders slumped. "I offered, but it didn't come out right."
"It's not too late, you know," Caroline said softly. "Actually a little bird told me they're in desperate need of a Santa for their Christmas party."
He stared at her in surprise.
"Don't worry, Morgan. One day I'm sure you're going to be a great communicator." And with that, his sister blew out of the room.
As her words hung in the air, he half-heartedly attempted to place the stacks of papers on his desk in some kind of order. There, in the middle of it all, were two sheets of his monogrammed stationery - the kind he'd pulled out weeks ago when he'd given that first note to Tomasina.
A lot had happened since he'd first desperately attempted to communicate with Brooke Anne. Repeatedly, he'd pushed himself to become better at it. He still had a ways to go, but he'd definitely improved.
And he was determined to keep trying.
Brooke Anne and Tomi were cleaning the interior design firm again. It was an opportunity for them to catch up with each other - although, admittedly, Brooke Anne did most of the talking. Tomi just nodded a lot and uttered the occasional word of understanding. So far they'd already covered Brooke Anne's visit with
Warren and the impromptu Jovial Janitors party, and had now moved on to the topic of Brooke Anne's mother.
"Isn't it something how my mom was able to read my mind from hundreds of miles away?" she asked her friend.
"It's amazing, all right."
"She seems to think I should keep being patient with Morgan."
Tomi glanced up from the chair she was dusting. "Did he call you today?"
"He did. I think he feels bad about how he acted the morning after...you know."
"He should."
"I know he likes me, Tomi, but I'm worried about what this relationship will be like a few months from now."
"Months from now?" Tomasina scoffed and arched a perfectly plucked ebony eyebrow. "Girl, you worry too much about stuff you can't control. What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about whether we'll still have enough to talk about. If we'll still like each other."
"I don't know why you're so worried. Everything will work out fine," Tomi said, as they moved on to a particularly messy conference room. "You'd think these people never heard of a garbage can," she muttered.
Brooke Anne eyed the empty pizza boxes, paper plates and plastic cups, and wrinkled her nose. "It is a mess in here. You'd think designers would party more neatly." Scooping the used materials into her trash bag, she said, "I think you're being awfully flip about this. I'm really worried, Tomi."
Tomasina reached for a bottle of cleaning spray. "You, worried? The girl who started her own company two years ago? Who agreed to go on a date with some stranger so she could pay her talented, efficient workers their Christmas bonuses?"
"That was different - that was business."
Tomi sighed. "Don't you get it, Brooke Anne? None of us knows what's going to happen in the future, if that special someone in our life is still going to be the right person for us twenty years from now. You hope so. You pray so...but things happen." She pulled out a rag from the cleaning cart and started wiping down the table, cake crumbs falling to the carpet as she did so. "Take Vanessa, for instance."
"What do you mean? That baby is just as cute as she can be."
Tomi gave her a knowing look. "Of course she is, but she was also quite the little surprise. Ronnie and I weren't planning to have kids for a while." She shook her rag out in the garbage. "And what about in the future? What if Vanessa turns into a teenager?"
"Tomi, of course she'll turn into a teenager."
"Well, shouldn't I be worrying about that?"
"But this is different. You expect kids to change."
"You need to expect change in relationships, too, Brooke Anne. And not all changes have to be bad ones. Sometimes changes bring you closer."
"So..."
Tomasina rolled her eyes in mock irritation. "So, if Morgan makes you happy, be happy. If you love him - which you do, I might add - then love him. Appreciate what you have." She waved her arms dramatically, like a circus ringmaster. Raised her voice. "Bask in his attention. Put some effort into this relationship. Know that he's doing the same."
Tomasina was getting worked up. "All right..." Brooke Anne said.
But Tomi didn't hear her. "And, girl, stop analyzing each and every conversation and worrying about how things might be twenty years from now." She waved a finger at her. "Damn, you're making me crazy."
"Thanks, Tomi."
Her friend smiled. "Anytime."
They split up to finish the job - Tomasina vacuumed and Brooke Anne tackled the bathrooms. After about an hour, they met up again at the front door. Tomi removed her ankle weights and stretched her legs. "So...you off to your elf party tomorrow?"
"I am," she answered. "Want to change your mind about coming?"
"Nope."
"That's what I thought."
Tomasina grinned. "There are some things in life you can count on, Brooke Anne Kressler. You will always love Morgan Carmichael...and I will never dress up as an elf."
Brooke Anne nudged her playfully with the cleaning cart. "I'll be sure to remember that."
*****
Chapter Thirty-One
Being an elf was not as easy as it looked. Kids cried and whined and parents grew frustrated, many of them choosing to stand back and watch, while Brooke Anne and the other volunteers made fools of themselves.
But then Santa Claus showed up and worked his magic. He ho, ho, hoed and chuckled merrily, patiently taking dozens of children on his lap and listening to their Christmas wishes. Brooke Anne watched as the kids once again became the sweet children she'd visited in the arts and crafts room over the past few months. They laughed and told jokes and munched their candy canes happily. Whoever played Santa this year deserved a special prize, she thought to herself.
After Santa left, things went much more smoothly. The elves handed out cookies and punch and presented the kids with their gifts, which was Brooke Anne's favorite part of the evening. Finally, the children left the hall, happy and worn-out.
Brooke Anne was jubilant and proud and more tired than she could ever remember being. She, along with the other twenty committee members, had made Christmas special for some very sick kids, and had given their parents a brief respite from the worry and exhaustion that permeated their lives.
It felt good; now, she just had to finish cleaning up.
Luckily, most of the mess had already been picked up by the volunteers before they'd gone home. All that was really left to do was to mop the floor and wipe down the doors and walls.
Brooke Anne, the good Jovial Janitor that she was, had volunteered her company to do the cleanup. And since it just happened to be December 22, and her four employees were busy with their families, she was taking on the task by herself.
Retrieving a mop and bucket from their nesting place in the back of the kitchenette, she got to work. She filled the pail with soapy water, pulled on some gloves and began the cleanup in earnest.
She was about a fourth of the way through when she caught her reflection in a small circular mirror on the wall. There she was, in an elf costume, mopping the floor. The quintessential jovial janitor, in fact. No wonder Tomasina had passed up the experience. Tomi had probably envisioned what she'd look like doing this job, and knew better than to embarrass herself in such a way.
Brooke Anne worked steadily. Wiped a chocolate streak off the wall. Removed a scuff mark from the gray-and-blue linoleum. Rinsed and squeezed her mop, then scrubbed some more.
Faced with the wide expanse of floor, she was reminded of a much different experience she'd had about a month ago.
When she'd been wearing the opposite of a green-and-red elf suit - a beautiful ivory dress....
And she'd been dancing in Morgan's arms, twirling gracefully, matching her steps to his. She'd laughed, asked him about his childhood and told him about hers.
Knowing no one was around, Brooke Anne bowed to her mop. "Certainly, yes, you may have this dance." One tennis-shoe-clad foot slid to the left.
Slide...step, step. Slide...step, step. Step, step, spin.
She rose onto her tiptoes, pretending she was wearing beautiful shoes. "I dance beautifully? Why thank you. I've had years of lessons, you know...."
In her mind, Tchaikovsky's "Waltz of the Flowers" was playing. She closed her eyes and recalled the night when strong hands had held her lightly. Morgan had pressed her close. She remembered his look of appreciation. Her breathless excitement. "I like to waltz best, too," she said softly to the empty room. "And I especially like waltzing with you, Morgan."
Slide, step, step. Step, step, spin.
"I'm so glad you asked me here.... You want to go dancing again, soon? Well, let me see... Why don't I call you when I get home, after I check my calendar."
The music played on...its tempo soaring toward a crescendo. Her feet moved faster. She felt like Ginger Rogers - elegant, beautiful, garbed in feathers....
Or at least something prettier than an elf costume. Maybe a red gown? Blue?
Something in organza?
"Brooke? Brook
e Anne?"
The music stopped.
Brooke Anne opened her eyes and found herself staring at Morgan. He stood in the doorway, his overcoat unbuttoned, wearing a dark pin-striped suit and a bemused expression.
"Morgan," she said. "You're here."
He pointed down the hall. "I've been here for a while. The woman at the reception desk told me you were still here, too."
He'd been there for a while? She swallowed. Glanced around. She was dressed like an elf and hugging a mop. Footprints marked the section of freshly washed floor. "I was just...cleaning up."
He stepped into the room. Right onto the wet floor. "So I see."
"I'll be done in a few minutes," she said, watching him approach. "Um, what did you mean when you said you've been here for a while?"
His eyes twinkled. "Ho, ho, ho."
She about dropped the mop. "You were Santa?"
"My sister said something.... I realized I wanted to do something from the heart."
"I didn't mean you were supposed to."
"Shh. I wanted to. Besides, I did a pretty good job, don't you think?"
She was still trying to come to grips with the fact that Morgan Carmichael had donned a fake beard and a red velvet suit to play Santa. "Yes. I.. .I thought you were great." Because she didn't know what else to do, she started pushing the mop around. "Did you need something?"
He shrugged. "I need a lot of things. I need to remember that time and relationships count for more than presents and money.... I need to learn to say good-morning with kisses instead of concerns." He eyed her outfit. "And since you're dressed for making wishes come true, I might as well tell you that what I need most of all...is you."
She stopped mopping. "What did you say?"
"Brooke Anne, you and I both know I'm terrible with speeches, but what I need more than anything in the world is you. I need you in my life, every day."
Brooke Anne could only stand there dumbly, trying to absorb his words.
He seemed to think she was rejecting him. He took a step forward, his sole squeaking on the linoleum. "Please don't give up on us."
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