And being seconds from kissing a woman in his office was about as offtrack as he could get.
He didn’t even really know much about her, except she was smart, bossy and emotionally vulnerable in a way that made him want to protect her from the world. But she didn’t need him to do that. Rich people just hired someone to protect them. Grant rubbed his temples and tried to corral his thoughts.
In a job like this, you had to understand the danger of becoming too emotionally close to the people who needed your help. It was okay to make friends, to give support and encouragement; it wasn’t okay to let attraction lead to actions. To be fair, it was definitely a mutual attraction. The way her eyes looked at him told him that.
And she wasn’t a resident or someone in need of counseling. But she had already said she was working her way back from some kind of traumatic past. Her faith was new, untested. He had no right to get in the way of what God was working in her heart. It was too much, too soon. The “new chick” was going to have to find her way without any of his attention. Plus, he had bigger problems on his plate, starting with a leaky roof and a Thanksgiving dinner for five hundred. After that, he had to take another look at the financials. If anything else went wrong, anything at all, their reserves would be tapped out.
Chapter Four
Calista’s usual morning routine began with two pieces of seven-grain toast, some orange juice and a long run on her treadmill. This Wednesday was no different, except that she pounded out a solid five miles with an overwhelming feeling of happiness. The awesome view of the Rocky Mountains never got old. She couldn’t wait for the next snowfall, a few days from now, if the forecast was right. Last year she’d been too busy to enjoy any of it, practically living at the office. But this year would be different.
It would be the perfect winter moment: watching big flakes drifting past her tenth-floor windows as she read in her favorite chair, wrapped in a cozy blanket and sipping hot chocolate. In her mind’s eye, there was someone new in the picture. Someone tall, handsome, caring. Calista shook her head and turned off the treadmill. Grant was never going to end up in her condo, sipping hot chocolate or not. To him, the luxury high-rise would be a disgusting waste of money.
Mimi wandered into the kitchen and surveyed her domain from the end of her squashed and furry nose. Cruella De Vil could have learned a thing or two from Mimi. The cat was bad to the core. Deceptively sweet on the outside, Mimi would wait for Calista to leave before she took her revenge, usually by chewing on her nicest pumps.
Calista put out a tentative hand, hoping for the hundredth time that they could be friends. The Siamese cat waited for her to get closer, then darted forward with lightning speed to nip Calista’s fingers with her tiny, sharp teeth. She yelped and snatched her hand back. Mimi made a slow-motion about-face and presented her fluffy behind before she sidled out of the kitchen.
Calista sighed, and headed for the master bathroom.
After her shower, she decided on a simple tailored white shirt and khaki pants. She let her blond hair dry naturally so it curled a bit and swiped on a light pink lipstick.
Calista took a long look in the mirror. She tilted her head and squinted, watching little crow’s-feet appear at the corners of her large green eyes. She had always taken care of her skin and watched her weight, but no more than most women. Calista knew she had a lot of spiritual work to do but at least she wasn’t obsessed with her appearance.
It was a strange feeling, looking at her own personality under the microscope. She’d spent so many years gliding by on power and position that she wasn’t even sure what her weaknesses were.
She closed her eyes for a moment, praying that God would reveal her faults to her. Just not all at once, please, she thought hastily. Maybe she could tackle one issue a month. And this month would be...being a better friend. She opened her eyes and grinned at her reflection. This would be the ultimate makeover, from the heart on out.
* * *
“Glad to see you this morning,” Grant said.
Calista knew it was just words, but she couldn’t help grinning every time he said it. “Thanks, I can’t seem to stay away.”
He reached out a hand and she responded, feeling the warmth and strength that she had missed ever since the first time they’d met. She struggled to sort her feelings, to narrow down the whirl of conflicting emotions. But all she could feel was the touch of his hand, and hear the steady beat of her heart against her ribs. As he let go, she noticed dark shadows under his eyes and there was a persistent frown line between his brows.
“Everything all right? You look tired.”
His shoulders straightened a bit and he glanced out the lobby window behind her, watching the residents filing in from the halls. “Fine. Just the busy season.”
“Does your family live around here?” As she asked the question, she wished she could snag back the words. He probably thought she wanted to know more about his alcoholic mother. Her cheeks went hot.
His gaze traveled back to her and he frowned, thinking. “My family...is here. At the mission.”
Well, that was clear enough. He could have waved a sign that said, “None of your business. Stop prying.” Calista nodded, biting her bottom lip.
“Mr. Monohan?” A young man with a long, lean face approached them. He was wearing one of the red polo shirts that identified him as a mission worker and it hung from his thin frame.
“Hi, Jorge.” Grant turned his attention to the mission worker. “What’s up?”
Deep brown eyes flitted to Calista and then away. He cleared his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Your girlfriend is on the phone.”
Calista’s stomach suddenly fell to her feet. There was no reason on God’s green earth that she should feel anything at those words. She looked around desperately for Lana, and pretended she couldn’t hear the conversation only a foot away.
“My what?”
“Jennie Close, that lawyer? She said to tell you that your girlfriend was on the phone.” His eyes flickered nervously between Calista and Grant again.
Grant opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of what he was going to say. “Tell her I’ll be right there.”
Jorge nodded and slipped back through the door to the offices.
“Lana should be here in just a bit. She has some projects she wanted to show you.”
Calista forced a bright smile. “Great. I’ll wait right here.”
As Grant walked away, Calista felt her face grow hot. No wonder she was at her best in the boardroom. She was a total failure at normal conversation.
“Hey, Calista, did you want to grab some coffee with me in the cafeteria? Then I can show you the filing system.” Calista turned her head in surprise, then readjusted her gaze downward.
“Lana, that sounds great, actually.”
Lana wheeled past her, leading the way to the cafeteria. She handed Calista her badge on the way. “Here’s your ID. Go ahead and slip it on. You should have it visible at all times, especially since you don’t have a uniform.”
Calista took the square badge and slipped the lanyard over her neck. She was thankful she didn’t have to wear that awful uniform. Then she squashed the feeling down, irritated with her own shallowness. At least the shirts weren’t yellow. She looked awful in yellow.
They swiped the badges at the front and went to the coffee bar. Lana balanced her cup on a tray settled on her knees. Calista hovered, undecided, then said nothing. Lana had lots of practice carrying her own cup. She should probably just back up and let her do it.
Lana stopped at a table, scooted a chair to the side, then wheeled into place. “You’re a godsend for the mission, you know.”
Calista choked, the bitter liquid burning its way up her throat. She took a few seconds to clear her airway, her mind spinning. Of all the things she had expected
Lana to say, this was close to last on a very long list. “Why do you say that?”
“Your business background. We’re in big trouble here and I think someone with your experience could get us back on track.”
Calista stared into her cup, watching the overhead lights shimmer on the black surface. “I hadn’t heard that. I don’t know anything about nonprofits. I wish I did, truly, but—”
“How different can it be? We need money, you know how to make money.” Lana leaned forward, her usually pleasant expression now serious. “Grant doesn’t want to alarm anyone, but this is the worst situation we’ve been in for years. Our funds have been low, but this is scraping the barrel.”
“What’s the problem? Did you have a big donor back out?”
Lana sighed. “The day-care area needed to be updated to keep in line with federal standards. Then we had to widen all the doorways and bathrooms for handicapped access.” She glanced up. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for being able to get to the bathroom. But the board thought we should widen everything, not just have one designated exit or bathroom on each floor. That was early this year. Right after that, the classrooms had to have all the electrical redone to be up to code. Then the state recommended every public space have an emergency contact system put in, so we had to put in a PA system.”
Calista nodded. Sometimes things snowballed and there wasn’t anything you could do about it. “So, how bad is it? The financial situation, I mean.”
“Bad. The roof is leaking, so it has to be fixed, and soon. We’ve got another four months of snow. We’ll have to close that building if we can’t fix the roof. Thanksgiving is a huge expense, and then winter comes right on top, so we’ll be full to the brim. If it was June, we could probably make it through. But as it is right now...” Lana’s light blue eyes dropped to her cup, her lips thinned out in a line. “Even with Christmas donations on the way, we won’t make it into December at this rate.”
A woman appeared behind Lana, her round face pocked with acne scars but her dark eyes were bright. “Lana? Jose needs you at the desk. There’s some question about the switchboard. They can’t transfer a call.”
Lana nodded. “I’m coming.” She motioned to her cup. “Finish your coffee. Come on back when you’re done.”
“Thanks,” Calista said and watched Lana push herself with powerful arms toward the doorway. She couldn’t shake the sense of alarm that threaded through her at Lana’s news. The mission had serious money issues and they thought she could help? How? A for-profit company sold stock or got investors and promised some kind of return. What kind of return was there in giving cash to a homeless shelter? No wealthy person she knew would be willing to donate the kind of money they needed. There was nothing in it for them.
Calista’s shoulders straightened. She would just have to figure something out. But first she needed to get a specific idea of what kind of numbers they were talking about. She glanced around, feeling like the new kid in junior high who had to eat lunch alone. The cafeteria had emptied considerably in the few minutes they’d been talking and the kitchen staff had come out to wipe down the tables and collect trays.
Marisol directed several groups in aprons as they cleared the food trays out of the warming areas. The small Hispanic woman was a blur of movement as she bustled between workers. She spotted Calista sitting alone at the table and paused, frowning. Seconds later she was standing before her, hands on hips, lined face creasing with displeasure.
“Did they go and leave you alone?”
Calista considered her options. She could rat out Grant and feel a little satisfaction after being dumped for Jennie-the-lawyer-but-not-girlfriend. Or she could be honest.
“Lana was here, but they needed her back at the desk.” She tried a placating tone, hoping for an undercurrent of nonchalance.
“That’s no excuse. Where Mr. Monohan?” If anything, Calista’s explanation made the frown even deeper.
“He got a phone call. It was Jennie, the girl you were asking about.” She had no idea if that would be helpful, but she felt as if she’d been called to the principal’s office.
The noise that came out of Marisol’s mouth made her think of an angry goose. An angry mama goose. “So! He leave you to go talk to the girl who says he love Jesus too much!”
Calista felt her face start to flush. The cafeteria crowd was sparse, but there were still a few curious looks being cast in her direction. “It’s fine, really. I don’t mind.”
Her dark head was cocked slightly, eyes appraising Calista. “Oh? You think he is too religious, like that crazy girl?”
Calista’s gaze swept the cafeteria for any sign of rescue in the form of Jose. “No, he’s perfect the way he is. And I don’t mind eating by myself.” Or she didn’t until the cafeteria matron came to give her a hard time.
As if someone had flipped a switch, Marisol dropped her fists from her hips and slid into the seat across from her. “I’m sorry if I make you feel upset. I want him to have a family, a wife who love him, but he is so busy.”
At least she knew when to back down. Her cheeks still felt hot but Calista said, “That’s all right. I can tell you care about him.”
“Oh, yes. Mr. Monohan save my life.” She said this as if she was simply giving the time of day.
* * *
Grant laid the phone in its cradle and dropped his head in his hands. What an awkward conversation. He never wanted to repeat anything like it, ever. Jennie wanted to give it—them—another shot and well, he didn’t.
Jose peeked in the door and gave him a sympathetic glance. “Looks like that went about as well as I thought it would.”
“Yeah, you called it.” Grant stared at the desktop, shoulders slumped. “I’ll have to call Eric and tell him he’s banned from setting me up with anyone, ever again.”
“It’s not his fault. You have to admit, she’s pretty good-looking.”
Grant frowned. “So, how did you know that she...?”
“Wasn’t your type?” Jose sidled a glance at him and then chuckled at his boss’s irritated expression.
“Right. Did you give her a personality test when I wasn’t watching?”
“She wasn’t interested in the mission. Just you. And that was never going to work.”
“Not interested? Why else would she be here? I’m pretty good at spotting the fakers and the takers.” He’d spent close to ten years at the mission, on and off, and after awhile he could smell a user at fifty yards. Not a drug user, but a people user. Although he’d gotten pretty good at spotting the addicts, as well.
“Simple.” Jose’s black eyes were restless, like a bird’s, as he glanced around the lobby. “She never tried to talk to anybody else but you. Not the kids, not the staff, not Lana or Michelle or Lissa, or the residents.”
“I can’t believe that she never talked to anybody. There are hundreds of people here every day.”
“I didn’t say she didn’t talk to them. I said she didn’t try.”
Grant frowned, trying to remember. “Well, make sure you use your superpowers the next time, okay? You can save me some time.”
He turned to see a huge grin spread over Jose’s face. “Now what?”
“You sure you want me to put on my cape and tell you who to ask out?”
Grant rolled his eyes. “Sure, why not? Just don’t make the list too long. I’m not made of money, you know.”
“How about the new volunteer?”
“Oh, right.” Grant paused, struggling to come up with a reason that Calista was not his type. He decided not to argue with the type just yet. “Well, I don’t think it’s a great idea to be using the new volunteers as my personal dating pool. Eric introduced Jennie and me, so it was all right for us to go out socially.”
Jose continued to grin. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his slacks and
rocked back on his heels, looking like a man who knew more than was good for him.
“And then there’s the matter of faith.” Grant wouldn’t normally share that kind of conversation, but Jose was killing him with that smug expression. “She just said that she’s new to all of this. That’s how she said it. All of this.” Grant waved a hand, indicating the cross on the wall, the lobby, everything.
“That’s a bad thing? I’d rather have a fiery convert than a lukewarm cradle Christian.”
Grant had to admit he agreed with him there. He tried a new tack. “I really don’t think someone who wears Ralph Lauren to a homeless mission is my type.”
The smile slipped from Jose’s face. He crossed his arms over his chest and said, “Lana and I were talking about that. What? We weren’t gossiping.” Grant had opened his mouth to remind Jose that the mission was a “no gossip” zone. There was too much real drama without creating any of their own. “She was wondering if she should mention it to her, just ask her if she could dress down a bit since some of the residents might feel uncomfortable.”
Grant nodded. That was one of the reasons they wore the red-polos-and-khaki-pants outfit. Of course, they were easy to identify, but it also took some of the pressure off the staff. It was hard to wear nice office clothes when you worked with people who only had one pair of pants to their name. He should know, because he’d been on both sides of that fence.
“She makes me think of myself, when I first came to Denver.” Jose’s jaw tensed as he spoke those last words and Grant remembered clearly how troubled the young man had been. “All I knew was how to be tough and I dressed the part. Almost everybody I knew back in El Paso dressed like that, even my family. I knew it made people think twice about messing with me, but I didn’t know it made them think twice about giving me a job or being friendly.”
Grant had thought more than twice about being friendly. Jose had been positively lethal-looking. He had been fighting his way out of alcohol dependency and he’d radiated anger.
“What I wore didn’t mean the same thing to me as it did to everyone who knew me here. But I gradually learned to let the gang clothes go.”
Season of Joy Page 5