Noble Pursuits
Chautona Havig
Copyright 2009 Chautona Havig
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
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All Scripture references are from the NASB. NASB passages are taken from the NEW AMERICAN STANDARD BIBLE (registered), Copyright 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation
~In Gratitude~
I’ve read thousands of dedications and acknowledgments at the beginning of books over the years, and I’ve always wondered how the authors choose whom to thank or to whom to dedicate. Well, I still don’t know. I could be filial and mention my parents, but I’m fairly certain they wouldn’t care for this book. I’d thank my husband for being my inspiration for Nolan, but then I’d have to admit that Nolan doesn’t hold a candle to my husband, and that kills the whole inspiration angle. Some have asked me if Nolan was named after my son Nolan, and I can’t say he was. I just needed the meaning and used it anyway. I’d say that I hope my Nolan will be as wonderful as the character, but really, I think he’s far superior, so that won’t work.
There are friends who walked me through every agonizing step and who can give you every single solitary error I’ve eradicated. I believe they have a list alphabetized and numerically ordered of the remaining ones, but they’ve been kind enough to decide that publication is more important than perfection. Thanks guys—you know who you are.
However, my dear friend Teresa needs credit for the “Last Supper” concept. I stole it, without permission, and hereby give her credit, hoping that she won’t sue me or hate me for life. Love you gal! In addition, I need to thank my friend Glenda for letting me “borrow” her husband’s name. Without permission. Again. (Is there a trend here?)
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Hungarian Coffee Cake
Chapter One
July
“As you can see in this contract, Noble Solutions is only responsible for any trouble with upgrades or changes made by myself. Integrating any of your company’s adjustments with my software will be billed to your account. Is that agreeable?”
“No.”
Amid the muted sounds of a fine restaurant, Nolan Burke attempted to explain the terms of his standard contract to a potential client. His frustration mounted as the woman ignored his presentation in favor of overt flirtation. While he spoke of contract renewal dates, she suggested a dinner date and chose not to acknowledge that he declined the offer.
“No? What part of the contract do you have a problem with, Miss Walker?”
“My name is Michelle; I loathe miss. It’s archaic and patriarchal.” Nolan cringed as Michelle Walker crowded into his personal space once more. She’d been excessively warm and friendly from the moment they introduced themselves in the restaurant lobby. As he averted his eyes from a fine view of more cleavage than any man should be subjected to in public, he adjusted his pen and prayed for patience. Instead of the instant escape he hoped to receive, an opportunity to practice that prayed-for patience surfaced. “Michelle will do, Nolan. I’m not a very formal person.”
Michelle gave another slow smile and a sultry wink. Groaning inwardly, Nolan ignored the overture and tried to steer the conversation back to the subject of their meeting. “Well then, Ms. Walker—”
“Michelle.” The woman’s tone was determined, almost fierce.
Nolan signaled for the check and snapped the file folder shut. “Miss Walker, I don’t think that my company can offer you what you are looking for.” Rising to exit as quickly as possible, he continued, “May I suggest Lynn Graves over at Computing Concepts? I thank you for your time and will, of course, cover the check.”
Before Michelle could respond, Nolan signed for their lunches, and with a formal nod, wove his way through the diners. Left alone at the table, the young businesswoman fluctuated between admiration, fascination, and irritation at his apparent immunity to her. Men did not resist Michelle Walker. Period.
She scrutinized the man as he made his way through the restaurant. The cut of his suit, style of his hair, and the perfect shine of his shoes practically screamed success. He gazed briefly at a little girl wearing a paper crown and blowing out candles on an elaborate birthday cake. Nolan Burke hadn’t smiled at her like that. In fact, after their initial handshake, he hadn’t smiled at all. Michelle wondered what kind of woman could spark his interest and couldn’t conceive as to how she had failed.
Michelle was fully conscious of her attractiveness and allure. The hours and expense required, as well as her hard work in sculpting the perfect physique, showed with every move. Of course, she rewarded herself by shopping for impeccable clothing designed to accentuate her hard-earned body. Michelle’s recreation hours were all about keeping her fingers carefully manicured and her cosmetics applied with precision. Her stylist made his car payment on time every month, thanks to Michelle’s highly pampered hair follicles. She had been on the top of her flirtatious game. Michelle had begun to think that he was training for a monastery.
Michelle hadn’t considered Nolan’s company for the computer system she needed to integrate her office, until she heard about its exceptionally handsome owner. Her administrative assistant, Janice, assured her that the owner of Noble Solutions was “really hot.” After a recommendation like that, the decision was easy. Didn’t she deserve to enjoy her success? Michelle ruefully admitted to herself that Janice had been right. Nolan Burke, despite his other deficiencies, was definitely hot!
“What a self-righteous chauvinist! He probably wants a domestic little trophy wife in a yellow house with a picket fence, two point three kids, and Sunday school for all. Has anyone ever told him that this is the twenty-first century? Queen Victoria has been dead for several generations now—” Michelle Walker continued her mental tirade as she watched Nolan step out of the restaurant, hail a cab for an elderly woman, jump into his waiting SUV, and pull away from the curb.
“Bet he was a boy scout too.” She muttered under her breath, annoyed.
~*~*~*~
“What is wrong with me? Why is every woman I meet like a female masher?” Nolan put his Escalade in gear and turned up the air conditioning to cool the stifling summer heat, as he eased into the lunch traffic. All the way home, Nolan reflected on his disastrous lunch meeting.
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, apparently lost in thought. Stopped at a red light, he noticed a striking Asian woman smiling up at him from a convertible. As the light changed, and with an audible groan, Nolan accelerated and robotically drove toward home, once again mentally absent from the world around him. At the next light, he scribbled a note to have his windows tinted.
Nolan was honest with himself. Home and family were important to him; he knew what he wanted in his life and prayed daily that his desires were within God’s will. If a wife and children were not in his future, Nolan often prayed that God would remove his deep desire for a family.
He knew, without a doubt, that what he did not want was the kind of woman that impressed many of his friends and acquaintances. Nolan’s idea of an attractive woman went far beyond the superficial. Even the intelligent women in his social circles seemed to care more about a lifestyle than sharing a life. While he knew that his ideal might not exist, he had no doubt that God would have someone perfect for him, if marriage was part of the Lord’s plan for his life. Regardless, he had no interest in the forward women who’d been throwing themselves at him lately.
Nolan dialed his best friend’s home number. Sounds of squealing children in the background made it difficult for Mike’s wife Traci to hear him. “Is Mike around? Does he have a few minutes?”
Nolan filled Mike in on his botched meeting. “Mike, is it just me? Am I dreaming, or is there a chance that somewhere out there is a woman who doesn’t find it necessary to throw herself at men?”
Mike roared with laughter. “Well, when you look like you and have your bank account—”
“Man, I’m serious! This is getting pathetic!”
Toning down his voice, Nolan’s friend tried again. “Your problem, Nolan, is that you’ve always compared every woman you meet to your mom. Women like your mother are extremely rare these days.”
“Mike, I just would like to meet a Christian woman who isn’t out there flaunting herself like a baptized prostitute or trying to prove that anything a man can do, she can do better. There have to be some women left that are secure enough in their femininity that they don’t feel a need to annihilate men too.”
Nolan wished his friend a pleasant evening and tossed the handset on the couch beside him. Booting up his laptop, the frustrated man opened the file and scanned his dream wife “order form.” One evening, after a particularly draining charity dinner, Nolan had left early, gone home, and created a “wish list” for the wife he prayed the Lord was saving for him. He added new items to the list now and then, usually as the result of an unpleasant encounter somewhere.
Christian
Feminine— loves being a woman
Strong
Modest
Sense of humor
Intelligent
Low-maintenance
After reviewing his list, he added number eight.
Loves children
Nolan sighed and closed the laptop. At thirty-seven, he was not exactly old, but he was very alone. Apart from his best friend from childhood, he had no family left, and though the fellowship of Christians was always encouraging, lately it wasn’t enough. Should he move? The women he knew from his church weren’t right for him; the fact that they made their interest in him perfectly clear sent up red flags. Where was maidenly modesty anyway? If he left Rockland, where would he go? Did strong and feminine ladies even exist anymore? Maybe he should move to the South. Southern belles might be different—more traditional perhaps. Ideas and questions whizzed through his mind at lighting fast speed. Lost in thought, Nolan grumbled unconsciously, “‘A virtuous woman, who can find?’ is right!”
Chapter Two
August
Nolan wove his way through the ballroom, looking for David Corbin. Friends beckoned him to join them, but he smiled and kept weaving. A waiter handed him a glass of Zinfandel while he stood waiting for David to finish talking to the emcee.
“Hey, Burke! Did you try the rangoons? They’re great.”
“I’d rather not spend the night at the ER, but thanks.”
The emcee disappeared into the crowd, and Nolan and David made their way to a table. Before either man could say a word, a woman slipped into the empty chair next to Nolan. With all of her attention fixed on Nolan, she missed the amused expression on David’s face.
“Nolan Burke, I’m mad at you!” she asserted playfully, one hand resting lightly on his arm. “You said you’d call, and it’s been two months already.”
It took more self-control than he expected to control the urge to sigh. “Now, that’s not how I remember it, Tara. I distinctly remember you telling me I would call and me assuring you that I would not.”
“Well, of course you couldn’t mean that. Don’t you think it’s time you took me to dinner?”
Nolan dreaded these scenes. As hard as he worked to avoid openly rejecting friends and acquaintances, sometimes it was impossible to avoid. “I don’t think that’d work for either of us, but you’re good for my ego.”
As Nolan scrambled for a kind but firmer hint, David came to his friend’s rescue. Tara, I don’t mean to be rude, but the Finches are coming this way, and this is their table. Maybe we’ll get a chance to talk more after dinner.”
Tara stood, half-glared at David, and smiled once more at Nolan. “I still think dinner is a great idea. I’ll call you.”
She slipped from her chair and sashayed across the room before Nolan could respond. Mike and Traci saw the scene on their way to the table and arrived with barely suppressed mirth in their voices. “She never gives up, does she?” remarked Traci wryly. “I’ve never understood why she can’t see that you’re just not interested.”
“Nolan gets that wherever he goes. Who can resist charm, looks, and bucks? He’s a triple crown winner!”
“Thanks, Dave. That’s how I always wanted to be perceived.” A glance at Mike sent Nolan’s head wagging. “If I hear a single word about just horsing around…”
A waiter with their meals interrupted the conversation. “I have three fish and a chicken?”
Nolan raised a finger. “Chicken here.”
“Are you the allergy to shellfish?” The waiter pulled a note from his pocket.
“Yes. Is there a problem?”
“Here is a note from the chef.” Without another word, the waiter hurried off to the kitchen.
A glance at the note made Nolan smile. “I’d like to speak to the chef. Please don’t let me forget after dinner.”
“What was it?” Traci asked curiously.
“Nothing major. He just heard that there was a shellfish allergy here, and he wanted to assure me that the crab rangoons and shrimp dishes were assembled off site and cooked in a separate kitchen once they got here.”
“That’s service. I’m impressed,” remarked Mike as he took a bite of his salmon. “This is good.”
Nolan swallowed his bite of chicken Kiev. “Frank is one of the best.”
Before anyone could respond, Nolan felt a tap on his shoulder and looked up. “Yvette, how are you?”
“Better now that I see you here. Going to ask me to dance later?”
With a fork loaded with chicken, Nolan shrugged. “Depends on if you’re around when I get around to the dance floor. See you later, perhaps.” With that, Nolan took his bite and smiled a goodbye. Yvette, accustomed to Nolan’s deflections, gave him a wink and waved to the rest of the table as she moved toward the ladies’ lounge. Traci stood to follow.
“I have to hear this. I’ve been watching, and there’s an eligible female convention going on in the powder room. I’ll see who else is on the prowl and be back before you’re done with your chicken.”
The three men watched amazed as Traci disappeared into a crowd of females near the door Yvette had disappeared behind only seconds earlier. Traci had an ulterior motive. She knew what Nolan wanted in a woman and realized this was the perfect opportunity to do a little reconnoitering.
The conv
ersation inside the lounge revolved around the latest scandal, the mayoral election, and Nolan Burke. Sequestered in a stall, Traci had the perfect listening post.
“Tara, will you never give up? He is so not interested.” Claws emerged from the brunette crowd.
“I’ll give up when I see him with a wife on one arm.”
A collective titter rippled over the room. Amita Patel queried over the din, “Has anyone here actually gone out with Nolan?”
The room hushed. No one spoke. Traci heard Tara’s smug retort seconds later. “Well, then I’d say no one has room to talk. Y’all want to act superior and all, but it’s not like I’m the only one he hasn’t fallen for—yet.”
“Well, he goes to my church,” a voice in the corner said. “He doesn’t even attend the singles’ activities.”
“He took that chick from Chicago to the symphony last year. The one in the red dress?”
“That cow? She was ridiculously homely.”
Traci listened to the chatter, amazed at what she heard. She’d always thought Nolan was a bit overly dramatic about his frustration with the women in their circles, but tonight she saw a glimpse of the reality of his life. Another voice pierced her musings.
“I’m convinced he’s either gay or a modern eunuch.”
She’d had enough. Traci left the stall, barely remembering that she was supposed to be using it as intended and flushing as she left. She pushed through the throng around the mirrors and claimed an empty sink. As she reached for a towel from the room attendant, she turned to the group.
“Nolan Burke is not gay, he’s not a eunuch, and he’s most certainly interested in finding the right woman. Did it occur to you that he’s looking for something different? Someone different?”
The women looked thoughtful as Traci wove her way through the room to the door, but at the sound of the band, the atmosphere changed back to the primping she’d found when she entered. “So much for making a difference,” she muttered to herself.
At their table, Nolan looked resigned. “Too early to leave—rude not to offer to dance with someone. I guess I’ll get it over with.”
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