by Lynne Gentry
David spotted Saul Levy in the back booth. The trim man with a military buzz cut and a tidy push-broom moustache sat facing the door and reading the paper. David strode past the long counter with its display of meringue pies under glass domes and a chalk board with Today’s Specials written in Ruthie’s shaky hand. He wove through the eclectic mix of people filling the tables. A few truckers had parked their rigs two blocks away and braved the cutting wind for a saucer-sized slice of Ruthie’s pies. A big-bellied cop shoveled a tall stack of pancakes into his mouth. His holstered gun seemed like overkill in this small town. The usual coffee klatch of old men had shoved two tables together so they could regurgitate the news and argue over the price of everything.
David stopped at Saul’s table and pulled himself to his full height. “Mr. Levy?” David extended his hand. “David Harper.”
Saul lowered his paper and promptly checked his watch. “Wasn’t expecting you for another ten minutes.”
David let his unshaken hand slide inside his pocket. “I’m early.”
“I see that.” Lawyer Levy did not extend an invitation for David to sit.
David boldly dropped into the booth anyway. “I was hoping you could give me a little advance information on what Momma might expect.”
A slight twitch tugged at Saul’s poker-face expression. “I don’t know what kind of lawyer you are, but this one never breaks lawyer-client privilege, even for members of the client’s family.”
Bristling at the reprimand, along with the fact that he’d obviously been wrong about this tight-lipped attorney, David slid to the edge of the seat then stopped. “How did you know I was a lawyer?”
“Your father was very proud of you.”
The unexpected praise was another stone on David’s growing stack of guilt.
“Double cheese.” Ruthie plopped David’s favorites on the table. “No onions and I threw in those curly fries you used to order for breakfast with your daddy.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “This one’s on me.”
“Thanks, Ruthie but—”
She raised a palm cracked from years in dishwater. “I could never repay your daddy for all the business he sent my way.” Ruthie swiped the back of her hand across her brow. “Don’t let them fries go cold.” She left David staring at the steaming burger tucked inside a golden, grilled bun.
Saul laid his knife and fork neatly across the top of his spotless plate and cocked his head. “You heard the woman. Eat up.”
“I’ll just move on and let you finish your lunch in peace.”
“Don’t be stupid, boy. If I wanted to chew you up and spit you out, you wouldn’t still be upright.”
“Good to know.” Having been made to feel like a naughty boy, David busied himself with the ketchup. He squirted a glob near his fries, dipped the tip of one of the curls in sauce, then crammed it into his mouth. Salty goodness exploded on his tongue as powerful eyes drilled him from across the table. Two-handing his burger, David looked over the bun and dared to meet the scrutiny coming at him from a man he didn’t even know.
Saul held up his empty coffee cup. After the diner owner waddled over, he said, “Ruthie, you need to hire more help.”
“When I get some better tippers, maybe I can afford help.” She topped Saul off and picked up his empty plate. “Might even take a little vacation.” She nodded at David. “Need anything?”
“I’m good,” he said around the mouthful of delicious beef. “Thanks, Ruthie.”
“Stick around and I’ll put some meat on those bones.” With an exhausted sigh, Ruthie waddled back to the counter.
The beady-eyed lawyer thumped a packet of sugar. “According to the local gossip, you never practiced and don’t plan to. That true?”
“Like you said, word gets around.” Grease running down his chin, David chewed on why the sober man stirring a sugar into his coffee would care. “Sometimes you just have to wait and see what turns up fact or fiction.”
Saul tapped his spoon on the rim of the cup. “You know, your mother is stronger than you think, right?”
David wasn’t sure what galled him more: Saul’s negative opinion of David’s unwillingness to take up the vocation for which he’d trained or the man’s favorable opinion of his mother. He choked down his bite and opened his mouth to respond.
“Sorry I got tied up.” Momma stood over them. The wind had blown her hair and she wobbled on those red heels she’d worn to church the way she did when her feet were killing her, but her usual can-do smile was perfectly in place. “Saul.”
Saul wiped his moustache, scooted out from his seat, and stood. “Leona.” A crisp wave of his hand offered her his place. “May I buy you a cup of coffee?”
Momma shook her head. “I hate to rush our meeting, but Ivan wants me to cover the school board meeting tonight. Modyne’s not feeling well.”
“No problem.” Saul motioned for the check. “Add David’s to mine,” he told Ruthie.
“We’re not a charity case.” David slid out from the bench, stood, and sandwiched his mother between him and Saul. He pulled a twenty from his wallet and put it on top of the check in Ruthie’s outstretched hand. “Keep the change, Ruthie.”
Momma gave him the look that said they’d talk about his rude behavior later, then she followed the attorney to his office.
Saul Levy’s office was as sharp and put together as he was. Photos of him wearing his crisp Air Force uniform and shaking hands with senators and two different presidents lined his walls. He led them to a conference room with windows that overlooked Main Street. A gleaming walnut table with eight leather chairs took up most of the large space. At one end of the table, a thin file folder waited.
“Have a seat, Leona.” Saul pulled out a chair for Momma. Once she was settled, he claimed the place at the head of the table and motioned for David to join them opposite Momma. Eyes sharply assessing their moods, Saul put his elbows on the table, clasped his hands above the file, and waited for their full attention. “Are you expecting your daughter, Leona?”
“Maddie’s unavailable.” David intended for his abrupt insertion to draw the line on how this meeting was going to go. He was pleased the move had raised Saul’s brow.
“Very well.” Saul laid a palm on the file. “Shall we begin?”
Momma’s knuckles were white on the handles of the purse in her lap as she stared at the file. “I didn’t even know J.D. had written a will.”
“Although your husband was a very public man, he held his privacy in high regard. Unlike most folks in this town, I believe a pastor should have that right.” Saul tapped the file. “The will is standard.” He reached inside and retrieved two thin documents. He passed one to Momma and one to David. “I have a copy I can send to Maddie if you’ll tell me where to send it.”
“I’ll see that she gets her copy.” David held out his hand, withholding the information that Maddie had popped in early to surprise Momma before she had to fly around the country for residency interviews. “She’ll be home for Christmas.”
“Have her drop in for her copy.” Saul’s version of drawing his own lines. “While the will is straightforward, there is the issue of distributing the assets.”
“Assets?” Momma’s voice was shaky. “What assets?”
“There aren’t many.” Saul pulled out another piece of paper. “A life insurance policy.”
“Life insurance?” Momma’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“It’s only twenty thousand.” Saul slid the paper to Momma. “I’m afraid that won’t go far.”
“No,” Momma agreed. “Almost half will go to the funeral home.”
Saul nodded in restrained commiseration. “There’s no savings account.”
“It’s always been hard to save when”— Momma swallowed—“there’s barely been enough money for the checking account.”
David cringed at the injustice of Momma having her personal finances laid bare. “Do we really have to drag her through—”
“J.D. did
, however”—Saul continued, his steely eyes cutting from David and back to Momma—“own several stocks in a little known Singapore-based pharmaceutical corporation. TauRx. They’re presently researching Alzheimer’s disease. No one knows the value of this asset.”
“Stock? We couldn’t afford stock,” Momma said.
David couldn’t contain his shock. “Why would Dad invest in Asian pharmaceuticals?”
“His mother,” Momma answered stoically. “She died after a long, slow descent into dementia. J.D. was terrified the same would happen to him.” She opened her bag and removed a tissue. “I guess it was God’s grace that J.D. died so suddenly and with his mind still so sharp.”
Saul’s hand covered Momma’s. “We won’t know what impact these stocks will have on your future until we marshal the assets.”
Momma’s face puzzled. “Marshal the assets?” She removed her hand and David was glad.
He didn’t like the way this lawyer looked at his mother. The guy wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. If he thought his freedom entitled him to prey on this grieving widow, he had another thing coming. “Saul means Dad’s little investment could end up costing us a bucket-load of taxes.”
“Taxes?” Her eyes grew wide. “I can barely pay this month’s light bill. How am I going to pay the IRS?” Momma glanced at David’s face and immediately retracted her fear. “This is not your worry, David. It’s mine.”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Saul interjected. “Let me find out if the shares J.D. owned even meet the taxable thresholds.”
“But the income still has to be reported, right?” David clarified.
“Yes.”
Momma exhaled slowly. “Guess I better not pay off any other bills until we know how much I owe the IRS.” She closed her purse, pushed her chair back, and offered Saul her hand. “Thank you, Mr. Levy.”
“Saul, please.” The lawyer rose to his feet. “I’m here if you need me, Leona.”
David took his mother by the elbow. “We’ll let you know, Mister Levy.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Three days later, Amy guided Angus from the edge of the bed to the waiting wheelchair.
“I can walk,” her wobbly patient insisted.
She hoped his growing independence was an indication of his improved health rather than a sign that she’d made a big mistake. Either way, the system couldn’t keep him any longer. “Hospital policy.”
He dropped into the seat. “I’m not a baby.”
She straightened and faced him. “Starting today you’ll have plenty of opportunity to prove it.” She hung his filthy backpack over the handles, grateful she’d convinced him to let her launder his clothes last night. “The church is giving you the chance at a life that living on the streets never will.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“I believe you’re the type of guy who doesn’t make the same mistake twice.” It had felt good when David recognized she was smart and determined. She hoped Angus would eventually begin to believe the same about himself. “And the members of Mt. Hope Community Church believe everyone deserves a second chance.”
Angus started to get up. “Not sticking around so some lame pastor can preach at me all day.”
“I can promise you, I won’t preach.” David stood in the door, his hair mussed and his cheeks red from the cold wind. “Ready?”
“Who are you?” Angus asked.
Amy flashed David teasing look. “He’s Mt. Hope’s lame pastor.”
“You don’t look like no preacher I’ve ever seen.”
David crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame. “Well, I’m all you’ve got. Take it or leave it.”
Angus looked from David to Amy. “My mom used to say folks in Texas were bossy. It’s why she lit out first chance she got.”
“Your mother from Texas, was she?” Amy asked.
Angus shrugged. “Maybe.”
“A storm’s rolling in.” David nodded toward the gray skies outside the window. “There’s a place at my house where you can have a warm bed and full belly to ride it out, or you can sleep under the overpass. Choice is yours, Angus.”
“Your house?” Amy asked David, confused by the change in his plan to find someone else.
“Yep.” Something in the way David avoided looking directly at her told her he wasn’t telling her everything. “Momma’s hospitality is legendary.”
Once they had Angus settled, the least she could do would be to grab a private moment and propose a schedule to lighten the Harpers’ load. “Give this a chance, Angus. Please.”
The boy looked from her to David. “Guess I don’t got much of a choice.”
“Everyone’s got a choice,” David told Angus. “What we make of them is always up to us.”
Angus waved his finger between David and Amy. “You two married or something?” Angus plopped back into the chair. “You sure sound alike.”
David cut his eyes her way and smiled. “Just good friends, on the same page.”
Amy hoped David hadn’t noticed the flush his assessment of their relationship had brought to her face. “I think we’ve got everything.”
*****
Moving Angus into Maddie’s room consisted of hanging the boy’s thin hoodie on a door knob and showing him where to store his hospital toothbrush and toothpaste.
“I’ve never seen so much pink.” Angus fingered one of the ruffled curtains. “Your sister really win all these trophies?”
“She’s an overachiever.” David clapped Angus on the shoulder. “Tomorrow we’ll see about finding you some more clothes. In the meantime, a few house rules.”
“Knew this gig was too good to be true.” Angus fell back on the bed and slung his feet up on the ruffled bedspread.
“Rule number one. No shoes on the bed.” David tapped Angus on the foot and waited until the boy complied. “Dinner is always at six. There’s only one TV in the house. You’re welcome to turn it on for the six o’clock news, but Momma turns it off at nine. No drugs, alcohol, or smoking. Ever. And you will be expected to attend church.”
“Juvie has less rules.”
“Sooner or later everyone has to play by the rules.” David closed the guestroom door and took Amy by the elbow. “Juvie? That’s a little unnerving.”
“Guess I should have investigated more than his medical history. I didn’t—“
David stopped and took her by the shoulders. “Hey, this isn’t all on you. I agreed to this evil plan.”
“Evil?”
“Okay, far reaching.” His eyes had become a well of strength she could easily fall into. “We’ll give this hands-and-feet-of-Jesus thing our best shot. Things don’t work out, we’ll see what kind of state or county help is out there for him, okay?”
Amy nodded, reassured by his confidence. “Okay.”
“But I’m still going to sleep with one eye open.” Whenever David teased her it was as if the weight of the world left his shoulders, and she suspected this preacher’s son had carried heavy burdens long before he decided to take his father’s place. “Come on.” David’s hand touched the small of her back. “Angus could probably use a moment to get used to all the pink, and I could use some help deciphering the boy’s med schedule.”
“What will we do with Angus when Maddie gets home?”
“I guess it’ll give us an excuse to get together and work it out.”
“Guess so.” Amy followed David to the parsonage kitchen, her tummy quivering at the easy way he’d said get together.
Tater scurried from his bed by the back door. David knelt and gave the dog a good scratch behind the ears. “I’ll let him out and then make us some coffee.”
She’d been in this stately old house several times, mostly for wedding showers or ladies teas with her aunt. As she watched David play with the dog, fill the Keurig, and search for clean cups in the dishwasher, the parsonage took on an unexpected hominess. The kind of home she’d always dreamed of. Amy crossed her arms over her chest
and rubbed at the emptiness running through her veins.
“You cold?” David set two cups on the counter. “I can turn up the heat, but you’ll be frozen stiff before our ancient system kicks in.” He took off his jacket. As he wrapped the heavy leather around her shoulders, she melted into the warmth of having him so close. For a moment they stood toe to toe, David’s hands clutching the jacket collar. Breathing the same air, neither speaking, their eyes locked. He was going to kiss her and even though she knew better than to let her defenses down, she wanted to taste his hard-won smile.
Tater scratched at the door.
“Better let him in,” Amy whispered. “Before he claws his way in.”
David’s hands dropped from the collar of his jacket. “Yeah.” He wheeled and went to the kitchen door. Tater shot in and went straight to her.
She bent and rubbed his soft head. “You’ve got a dog clawing to get in and a boy clawing to get out.”
“Tater’s a pretty astute judge of character. He knows a good thing when he sees it. Hopefully, Angus will too.” David opened a cabinet. “Momma keeps a stash of flavored coffees squirreled away somewhere. That’ll get your blood pumping.”
Her blood was already thrumming. A hot drink was the last thing she needed. “You don’t have to wait on me.”
“I owe you a cup, remember? Besides, I make a mean cup of coffee and I’m hoping it’ll make up for my poor start on this friendship thing I bragged about to Angus.”
“Nursing our friendship to that level is going to require a hamburger at a minimum.”
His grin activated those dimples she’d noticed before. “Ruthie’s. Tomorrow at noon?”
“Agreed.” Amy pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. Why had she let those dark brown eyes entice her into thinking she could have what she’d always wanted. She’d encouraged him. She shouldn’t have and it would stop here and now. If she didn’t stop playing with fire she would get burned and worse yet, David would get hurt. She couldn’t bear the thought of adding to his pain.