Lambert's Peace

by Rachel Hauck

  “Whose side are you on?”

  Ethan laughed as he walked toward the door. “Yours.”

  Will walked down to Taylor’s office, pensive. “Knock, knock,” he said outside her door.

  She smiled and waved him in, finishing her conversation with Markie. “I think we’re going to have to require this field, or we could lose the order information.”

  Markie sighed. “I agree, but it’s just more for us to fill out.”

  “I’ll try to find a shortcut or create a quick key or something. But we’re going to have to use it.”

  “Let me go play around with it, too.” Markie stood. “Hi, Will,” she said as she left.

  Will sat next to Taylor in Markie’s vacant seat. “How’s it going?”

  “Good. Making headway.”

  “David Thomason called. He offered to sell us Thomason’s Furniture.”

  Taylor’s eyes widened. “Will, that’s incredible. Are you going to take him up on it?”

  “Probably.” He hesitated. “I’m here to offer you the job as CFO.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  Awake most of the night, fighting anxiety, Taylor mentally designed a new inventory work flow for the production department to use once the new business system went online.

  She tried not to think of moving three thousand miles away—tried not to think of Will’s job offer or the ever-present memory of the sleigh ride kiss.

  Around three a.m., she tiptoed downstairs and microwaved a cup of hot chocolate. She prayed in the family room then sat quietly, staring at the red, blue, green, and white lights of the Christmas tree.

  Jesus came to bring peace, but all she felt was anxious, tired, frayed, and jittery. At six a.m., she woke again after dozing on the couch. From the kitchen, she heard the sounds of Mom making breakfast. “Hey, sweetie,” Dad said, peering into the family room. “Sleep on the couch?”

  She got up, straightening and plumping the couch pillows. “I came down for hot chocolate and the Christmas lights.” She kissed him on the cheek as she passed, remembering how scared she was after his heart attack. What would life be without Grant Hanson? She didn’t want to know.

  From the stove, Mom offered to make Taylor a couple of eggs and toast.

  “No thanks. I’m not hungry.” Taylor went up to take a shower.

  A little after lunchtime, in her Lambert’s Furniture office, Taylor drew a deep breath and dialed Alex’s number. “Alex Cranston.”

  “Alex, hi, it’s Taylor.”

  “Good morning.”

  She grinned. “Actually, it’s afternoon here.”

  “Well, good afternoon then.”

  She rolled her eyes. He was far too chipper. “Yes, good afternoon.”

  He got right to business. “Here’s the deal. We need you here by the eleventh.” His words were firm, final.

  “Is there any negotiation?” She bit her lower lip in anticipation.

  “The January product launch is strategic to the company’s financial goals, Taylor. I’m sure you understand the criticality of your involvement as CFO. You know—”

  “Yes, I know.” Taylor understood the meaning behind Alex’s words. “I’ll be there by the eleventh.”

  “Is there a critical reason why you need an alternate start date?”

  “No.” She sank to her chair. “Not really.”

  “Okay, good.” His voice buoyed. “We’ll put you up in a studio apartment until you find a place, and we’ll take care of your initial food and other expenses.”

  “Of course.” She forced a smile. “How’s Christmas in California?”

  “Beautiful.”

  “I’m sure it is.” Maybe she could get her mom and dad to fly out so she wouldn’t have to spend her first Christmas in California alone.

  Wednesday night at church, the children’s choir sang Christmas carols before the message. Little Susie Sharpton belted out “Away in a Manger” like a Broadway star.

  Will applauded with the rest of the congregation, winking and waving at Jack and Max.

  As Pastor Marlow blessed the children before they scurried away to children’s church, Will felt a nudge on his arm.

  “Move over.”

  He looked into Taylor’s tired eyes. “You’re working too hard,” he whispered when she slid in next to him.

  “Is that Max in the little suit?”

  “Yes, and don’t change the subject.” He bumped her shoulder.

  “I have a lot to do.” Taylor bumped him back.

  “Well, there’s time. Don’t kill yourself. Enjoy the holidays.”

  “Right.”

  Maybe it was his imagination, but Will thought he caught a flicker of sadness in her expression, just for a moment. “There’s a gathering at Grandma’s after this.”

  “Thanks, but I think I’ll go home.”

  He slipped his arm on the back of the pew and cradled her shoulders. “Cookies, eggnog, hot chocolate, warm fire, Christmas music, huge decorated tree … “

  She shrugged away from his touch. “Shh, I’m listening to Pastor Marlow.”

  “Sorry.” He pulled his arm back.

  She propped her elbow on the pew’s arm and rested her forehead in her hand.

  Something had bothered her, Will could tell, for over a day now. He imagined it had something to do with the California job but didn’t press her. He’d wait for her to open up in her way, in her time.

  He whispered, “I’m here for you if you need me.”

  She nodded. “Thanks.”

  After the service, Will waited for Taylor outside the sanctuary doors. He felt awkward and a little like a desperate dog begging for a bone, but he’d decided to pursue Taylor until she married him. If she moved to California, he’d still pursue her, stopping only if she married someone else.

  “It’s cold tonight,” he said, stepping in time with her.

  He opened her car door for her after she pressed her remote access button.

  Taylor peered into his eyes. “Thank you for being my friend.”

  “You’re welcome.” He leaned toward her, wanting to kiss her, but Trixie suddenly appeared. “Taylor, darling, there you are.”

  Will smiled. Taylor’s mother looked so perfect in her matching coat and shoes and a sixties-style pillbox hat on her head, no less. Only Trixie.

  “We’re all going to Betty and Matt’s for cookies and hot chocolate.”

  Will cocked his right eyebrow with an I-told-you-so smirk.

  Taylor made a funny face. “I’m tired, Mom.”

  “Well, of course; you’ve been working unseemly hours. I haven’t seen you for three days. You must join us at the Lamberts’.”

  Grant hammered the last nail. “Come, Taylor. It’s a family night.”

  She agreed with a muffled okay. When Trixie and Grant walked away, Will stepped around the car door and drew her into his arms.

  Taylor burst into tears. He ached to help her, to understand what storm brewed beneath her smooth-as-glass exterior. But he didn’t ask questions. He just let her cry as he cradled her head with his hand.

  twenty-two

  Every window of the Lamberts’ home glowed with warm, golden light, and when Taylor turned into the driveway, she couldn’t imagine being anywhere else right now.

  Taking a moment to compose herself, she checked her face in the rearview mirror for mascara tracks and quieted her soul before the Lord.

  “Father, You lead me. I’m not going to worry tonight.”

  Stepping out of the car, she saw Will walking her way, an oil lantern in his hand.

  “What, out of flashlights?” She pointed to the lamp.

  “No.” He grabbed her hand. “It was on the porch. I grabbed the closest thing.”

  He led her to the house, his strong hand holding on to hers. If she could let her heart go for a moment, free to feel without consequence, Taylor would fall in love with him. She knew it.

  He amazed her. His peace, his confidence, his unassuming mann
er …

  Just beyond the front porch, he stopped. “It’s a madhouse in there,” he said, facing her.

  She laughed. “I figured.”

  Two of the younger boys burst through the front door and thundered down the front steps, laughing and screaming.

  “Oh, to be that carefree,” Taylor said without preamble.

  He chuckled. “Are you going to be okay?”

  She nodded and dropped her head against his chest. “Sorry about earlier.”

  “Anytime. You’ve been working crazy hours.”

  “I want the installation to go well. Revenue is involved.”

  “Taylor, you’ve done a phenomenal job. Markie is begging me to find a way to keep you here.”

  She lifted her head to see his face. “I’m not sure you can afford me.”

  “I’m willing to try. The CFO job offer still stands.” He brushed his cold hands along the sides of her face and hair.

  “I know.” She smiled and leaned into his touch.

  “Can I kiss you?”

  “Now you ask?”

  He pulled her to him and gently pressed his lips to hers.

  The next morning, Taylor woke when her cell phone trilled. She looked at the clock on the nightstand. Nine o’clock!

  She slapped her hand to her head. “I’m late.” Scrambling out of bed, she reached for her phone. Probably Will.

  “Is this Taylor Hanson?” a woman asked.

  “Yes.” Taylor hauled a pair of jeans and a sweater out of the dresser drawer.

  “Wonderful,” she said perkily. “This is Gretchen Levi from Computing Today.“

  Taylor jerked her head up. “Computing Today”?

  “Yes, you’re familiar with our magazine, right?”

  Taylor swallowed. “Of course.”

  “Great. I’m doing a feature on women executives in dot-com companies. I’d love to feature the piece around you. Boswell Global’s newest female exec and CFO.”

  They’ve sent out a press release already? “I haven’t even started the job.”

  “Close enough in our book. This is a big coup for women in the dot-com world, Taylor. You’re our icon.” Gretchen’s chipper voice grated on Taylor. Too early to be so cheerleader-like.

  An hour later, Taylor hung up, finally finished talking with the gregarious Gretchen who’d asked a million questions. Thankfully, she didn’t ask much about Blankenship & Burns.

  While giggly, Gretchen proved to be a skilled reporter. Taylor felt a renewed excitement for her job.

  The story would run a week from Monday, hitting the streets on her first day at Boswell. What a nice way to start her career there—in the news.

  Walking toward her office, Taylor heard Will and Bobby laughing, Ethan’s deep voice weaving through their merriment.

  She stopped, thinking no place would feel like Lambert’s Furniture. Family. Comfortable. Peaceful.

  She decided to tell Will that Friday was her last day. She had to leave on Sunday. Was it that soon?

  Markie had made great progress in the HBS installation, and right after Christmas, training started. Taylor felt she was leaving them in capable hands.

  “Taylor, good morning.” Will met her in the hall and placed his arm around her shoulder. “Sleep in?”

  She laughed and flipped on her office light. “Yes. Guess I was tired.”

  “It’s ten thirty.” Will gave an over-exaggerated look at his watch. “Are you feeling okay?”

  She set her purse on her desk and slipped out of her coat. “I need to talk to you.”

  “S–sure.” He sat down.

  A minute later, it was done. She told him. “Sunday, it’s ‘California, here I come.’”

  He stared at her, his hands folded together in front of his face. “I can’t believe you’re going.”

  She couldn’t look at him. Tracing her finger along the corner of her desk, she said, “It’s an amazing opportunity. I never knew I could make so much money this soon in my career.”

  “I suppose it’s especially sweet after New York.” Will’s words were strong, though his tone was low and soft.

  Taylor nodded. “It is.” Her gaze met his. “But thank you for the job here—and the CFO offer. I documented the procedures, setup, and work flows for the HBS system. They are stored out on the network.” Taylor handed Will a single page of instructions.

  He reached for it. “Thank you. I’ll have Markie cut you a check.” He started to say something but hesitated. “I’m not giving up on us.” His voice was kind, but his words were sure.

  Tears smarted in Taylor’s eyes as Will walked out of her office. When her cell phone rang, she answered, grateful for the distraction. “Taylor Hanson.”

  “Congratulations! You got the job!”

  She smiled, pressing on the edge of her eyes with her fingertips. “Indiana, hi. Yes, thanks to you.”

  “You’re the industry buzz right now.”

  She set her hand on her waist. “What?”

  “The word is you’re the feature in Computing Today’s next issue.”

  “Word travels fast.”

  “Lisa Downey, eat your heart out, eh?”

  “No, Indiana, I wish her well,” Taylor said. “She taught me a lot.”

  “Well, you’re on to bigger and greener pastures,” Indiana said.

  “Right. Bigger, greener.” Taylor glanced down the hall toward Will’s office.

  “Are you sure?”

  Will leaned toward Matilda, White Birch Bank’s senior teller. “I’m sure.”

  She shook her head, muttering, “Well, I never,” under her breath.

  “First time for everything, Tildy,” Will said with a wink.

  “I’ve never known you to withdraw so much as a penny, let alone … “

  Will tucked his money away, waved to the bank president, Fred Moon, and walked out the door.

  Fresh snow drifted from low, gray clouds. Will tucked his coat collar around his neck and walked to his truck. Opening his door, he beckoned to Harry. “Come on, boy.”

  When he passed Duke’s Barber Shop, he stuck his head in the doorway. “Need a haircut. I’ll be back in about a half hour.”

  Duke waved from where he worked on Tom Laribee’s balding head. “I’ll hold my breath.”

  Will laughed and continued down Main Street, past Sam’s. When he got to Earth-n-Treasures by Cindy Mae, he stopped and wiped his clammy hands down the sides of his khakis. He felt hot and nervous, yet peaceful and excited.

  “Lord, here we go.” Will was leaping out in faith, knowing the hand of the Lord would catch him. He had to take a chance; he had to risk it all.

  “Will Adams.” Cindy Mae looked up from her workbench on the far side of the shop. “I never thought I’d see you in here.” She snorted.

  He made a face. “You’re seeing me now.”

  She hopped down from her large wooden stool, settling her hands on her wide, round waist. “What can I do for you? Something for your mom? Grandma Betty?” Harry nuzzled her leg, and she patted him on the head.

  “No.” Will pulled a printed Web page from his coat pocket. “I want this ring.”

  She whistled loud and long. “You’re not going for cheap, are you?”

  “I’d like to have it by Saturday.”

  “Saturday? What’s this, an emergency engagement?”

  He cleared his throat. “Can you have it by Saturday?”

  “Let me do some checking. Be right back.” She maneuvered her large frame toward the back office. “There are some dog treats over by the door if Harry wants one.”

  Will pulled a crunchy bone from a plastic container and gave it to his furry companion.

  His blood pumped. He’d discovered the ring about a month ago while surfing the Web. If a man could fall in love with jewelry, he guessed he had with this ring. Elegant and modern, bold and beautiful, it was a platinum and diamond representation of Taylor Hanson.

  This is crazy. But at the very core of his being, Wil
l knew he had to ask Taylor to marry him. Ethan was right. He’d said everything but “Will you marry me?”

  “I have two options for you,” Cindy Mae said, coming toward him. “I can get this ring in by tomorrow afternoon.” She held up the picture Will gave her. “Or, I have this piece here.” Cindy Mae held up a black, felt-covered ring box.

  Will took it from her and pulled the ring from the slit. It was beautiful.

  “Same karat weight as the one in the picture. Brill and I picked it up at an estate sale last summer. Belonged to ole Martin G. Snodgrass.”

  Will snapped his head up. “The old bachelor?”

  Cindy Mae nodded. “One and the same. He fell in love with Carrie Waterhouse back in the sixties. But she was a wild child and ran off to California to make it in the movies.”

  Cindy Mae’s words pelted him like hailstones. “Ran off to California.” He put the ring in the box and thrust it at her.

  “No thanks.”

  Cindy Mae gently closed the box’s lid. “It’s a beautiful ring, Will. Cheaper than the one you wanted.”

  “It’s not the money,” he said, looking her in the eye. He wanted something new. Something fresh. A ring that had never been slipped on a woman’s finger with the words “Will you marry me?”

  He didn’t want a ring that signified a man’s broken heart, a ring that signified a woman running off to California. He didn’t want to be another Martin G. Snodgrass.

  “Suit yourself,” Cindy Mae said. “I’ll have this ring for you by tomorrow.” She tapped the printed paper.

  “How much?” Will pulled the bundle of bills from his inside pocket, unable to suppress a buoyant smile.

  “Cash?” Cindy Mae said, her brows raised. “Well, well. Will Adams is finally in love.”

  “No, Will Adams is finally putting his money where his heart is.”

  twenty-three

  Friday night, Taylor packed. She separated her clothes into piles: California clothes and Northeast United States clothes. Claire sat on her bed, cross-legged, reading a teen magazine.

  “Okay, Claire, pick what you want from this pile.” Taylor motioned to the Northeast pile.