by JoAnn Durgin
“I was right. You are a snob.”
“I beg to differ. Snobs don’t have serious brawn. Take a look.” He raised his arm and flexed. “I beat your husband in racquetball twice this week alone. Handily.”
“Impressive, but anyone who uses the word brawn is a snob,” Amy said, laughing.
“And that last game you won by default,” Landon said, his tone laced with amusement. “I got summoned into an important meeting.”
“With your wife, Warnick, so it doesn’t count. Man up and admit you lost that game and fly the plane already.” Glancing out the window, he chuckled.
“I’d like to hear what Mr. Twain would say about your love life,” Amy said. “No doubt he’d have some pithy advice.”
“You journalists and your fancy words.” Relief slowly began to seep through his senses. “See, that’s exactly why I like Twain. He uses plain and simple language, but he’s funny and ironic as anything.”
“Agreed, but he could also be acerbic. Sour, bitter, critical,” she added when he gave her a look. “I’m sure the two of you would be fast friends if he were alive today and living in New York. But in terms of your love life? Fine. Let me make it plain and simple for you. You make poor dating choices, never mind trying to have any kind of ongoing, lasting relationship. You choose women who are beautiful on the outside but empty on the inside. You’re tired of being alone and—deep down—you desperately want a woman to share your life. But for whatever reason, you steer clear of the type of woman you need. More than that, you know they’re wrong for you, and I suspect that’s exactly why you choose them.”
“Is that a fact?” He tried to find a rebuttal but came up short. She had him pegged. “I’m not desperate,” he finally said. “And the women I date aren’t empty. They’re just. . .” For once, words failed him. Vapid. That was certainly an appropriate word, but one he would not say. Pretentious was another, but maybe he should stop there.
“They might not be empty in some respects, but in the ways that matter, or at least the way they should matter? Yes, they are, and you know it,” Amy said. “I’m sorry if that sounds heartless, but do you need me to spell it out?”
Mitch raised his hands. “I think you just did. I surrender. I’m your captive here, so you might as well lay it all on the line. Have at it.”
“Honey, I know you’re still hurting about Brad.” At least Amy’s tone had softened. “I don’t mean to sound insensitive, but ever since he died, you’ve erected this shell around your emotions and your heart. You choose relationships you consider safe where there’s no real danger of giving away your heart, including that dalliance with Brad’s widow.”
“Felicity—”
“Sure, you were a huge help, an important lifeline for her,” Amy said. “That was a great thing. You fixed things around the house. You held her hand through the rounds of insurance claims and 9/11 memorial services. Basically, you helped her adjust to life without a husband. I can only imagine how much your strength and support meant to her. You helped her find a well-paying job in Manhattan even though she had little experience. But I suspect your feelings for Felicity—genuine though they might be—were based on mutual grief.”
“Sometimes grief draws people together, Amy. It doesn’t mean it’s necessarily a bad thing, and I’ve already conceded on that point. I’ll never regret being there for Felicity as a friend. Okay, you want the truth? We never kissed or anything else, and it was never any kind of dalliance. Give me a little credit. I only let you think it was to get a rise out of you. Anything romantic with her would have felt like a betrayal to Brad.” Shifting in his seat, he stared her down. “Nothing happened that shouldn’t have.”
Amy sat back with a puzzled expression. “You don’t say. Glad to hear it, and I’m proud of you. You know what it is, Mitch? I think you’re afraid of losing someone you care about again. You choose women you know you can’t possibly fall in love with for the long term. I mean, it’s understandable after what happened to Brad, but that’s coasting.” Her gaze zeroed in on him. “You’re meant for better things than simply coasting through life.”
Coasting? Hardly. Interesting she’d said better things as opposed to bigger. Amy always chose her words carefully, so that was no random off-the-cuff statement. After his once promising medical career crumbled, he’d somehow managed to build a successful and respected career as a broker. His life consisted of trading by day for high-profile clients and schmoozing them by evening.
As Brad’s death illustrated, you don’t always get what you want. His friend would never have the opportunity to grow old and raise children with his bride of only a few years. Because sometimes terrorists hijack planes and slam them into office towers full of people doing their jobs in order to provide for their families.
Not that he’d ever fully resolve the loss of his best friend, but he’d finally stopped blaming God. As a volunteer at the remains of the World Trade Towers, he’d cried buckets with the sheer magnitude of the horror. As it always did, the thought of it made Mitch shudder. Dusting off the remnants of unfulfilled hopes and sacrificed lives, he’d finally gotten on with his own life as a tribute to Brad. Not much more he could do or he’d get sucked into the pit of self-despair. He’d been there, and no way would he scrape and crawl his way out of that hole again.
“What are you thinking?”
Amy’s question startled Mitch back to reality. He’d really zoned out on her, but there was no sense in wallowing in the sadness. “How I’ve expressed my undying affection to a number of women, but sadly, they haven’t reciprocated. Shocker.”
“My guess is they can tell your heart’s not in it.” Her gaze bore into him. “That’s not fair to you or any woman you date.”
Perhaps subconsciously, he’d led himself into that one. “I do believe Mom and Dad lied to us all these years.”
One brow shot upward. “Explain.”
“It seems you can read my mind. You tell me.”
“Haven’t a clue.”
“I’m thinking you and Landon lead the charmed life.”
“Not charmed. Blessed.” She picked up the magazine again. “Lest you accuse me of being holier than thou, you’re blessed, too, but you’re too blind to see it. When you find the right woman, you’ll understand. You just need to know where to look and then open your eyes and mind to the possibilities. I’m still holding out hope.”
“Keep holding, please,” he said, his voice quiet. “And praying.”
Her eyes softened and she appeared to hover on the verge of tears. “You know it. I’m always praying for you. I don’t want to swell your head with compliments, but beneath all your sarcasm, deep down, you have one of the softest, kindest and most giving hearts I know. When you find it, love’s going to grab hold of you, and I guarantee it’ll be a beautiful thing to watch. You’re going to make some woman a terrific husband one day.” Amy’s gaze met his over the top of her magazine. “I can hardly wait to see what might develop in Houston.”
Lost in thought, Mitch closed his eyes when Amy returned her attention to her magazine. His sister had planted a seed of hope in his mind whether he liked it or not. As much as he tried to deny it both to himself and Amy, he looked forward to the weekend even though he’d be in for some fancy tap dancing around Cassie. He seriously doubted she was the type of woman to indulge in a weekend of no-strings romance followed by a have a nice life parting, never to see one another again. As it was, he’d participated in more of that kind of behavior than he wanted to admit.
He was tired of pointless flirtations. The aimless relationships were all in the past. He’d made a personal vow—to himself, but more importantly, to the Lord. Sure, it’d taken him a few years to come around, but he was back. He could almost envision his dad’s smile when he’d made that vow and sensed his approval.
Thank you, Dad, for always being an example of how to live for the Lord. You proved you can have it all—a career you loved and a faithful wife and mother of your children
by your side. I hope you’re enjoying all the riches Heaven has to offer. You deserve them. Still, I miss you every day. I’m doing the best I can to watch over Mom, Amy and Celeste, but it’s not the same without you.
Amy was wrong about one thing. He was finally growing up. Now, he had to act like it.
Chapter 4
Rebekah gave Cassie an approving smile. “I think we’re as ready as we’re ever going to be. Time to go downstairs, grab some snacks and greet the little lords and ladies in the Lewis kingdom.”
“Lead the way.” Relieved for the change of subject, Cassie gathered the voluminous skirt of her gown in both hands as she started down the front steps behind Rebekah. “I can hardly wait to see the guys dressed in their costumes. How you bribed your husbands to wear them, I’ll never understand. That’s quite an impressive feat.”
“It’s called the power of persuasion,” Rebekah said as they carefully descended the staircase. “Goes to show you what these guys will do for their kids. And their wives.”
“As long as you don’t call us wimps.” Rebekah’s twin brother, Josh, passed them on the first floor landing, carrying his six-month-old sleeping son over one shoulder. Cassie hid her grin at his court jester costume and elaborate face paint.
“Never,” Rebekah said, running a hand over her nephew’s blond hair. “Luke couldn’t handle all the excitement, huh?”
“Guess not. I’m going to put him down for a late nap and hope we don’t regret it later tonight.” Josh paused on the bottom step so Rebekah could plant a kiss on her nephew’s flushed-with-sleep rosy cheek. “Hey, Cass. You look great. Are you excited about Mitch coming?”
Cassie’s pulse sputtered. “Excited about Mitch. . .what?” Narrowing her eyes, she stared at Rebekah and resisted moving her hands to her hips. “Right. I should have known better.”
“My job here is done. I’ll see you later. Have fun!” Josh bounded up the stairs two at a time with a tight hold on Luke.
“Chicken!” Rebekah called after him. Turning to Cassie, she shrugged her shoulders but had the grace to offer a sheepish smile. “What can I say? Amy and Landon are bringing Mitch for the weekend.”
Cassie resisted crossing her arms. “You could have told me he’s coming without resorting to that whole Mitch is so great discussion upstairs. Is that why you took such pains to braid my hair and add the fresh flowers? To get me all gussied up so you could parade me in front of some man who could probably care less?”
“Guilty to the gussied up part.” Rebekah said. “Sweetie, you look absolutely spectacular in this gown. If a certain Wall Street broker doesn’t take notice and fall madly in love with you, then he doesn’t deserve you.”
“Not helping. Who says I want a man to fall madly in love with me? Do I have a say in this. . .this fantasy romance or whatever you have planned in the mind of Rebekah? Why not Marta or Gayle? Why am I the chosen one?”
Rebekah slid one arm around her, squeezing her shoulder. “You know how Amy’s always thought you and her brother would make a fabulous couple. Her instincts are very good, so I have no reason to doubt her. We’re all kind of hoping you two will. . .click.”
Cassie groaned. “All? You’re all in on it? Wonderful. Don’t even plant a kiss on my cheek, Judas.”
She couldn’t be mad at Rebekah. Not really. Irritated, yes, but never mad.
“Fine. To humor you, I’ll play nice with Mitch this weekend, but please give up hope for anything more, okay? You can tell everyone to forget about it. Like you said, the man works on Wall Street. I could care less about anything to do with money or corporate greed.”
Her mother’s words from years ago floated through her mind. “God doesn’t look at status in life or how much money or power someone has, Cassie. He looks at what’s in a man’s heart, his soul. Whether it’s pure or corrupted. Seek His will first in your life, and you won’t ever go wrong.” Mama had curled her fingers over her heart as she’d quoted from her beloved scriptures, “But the Lord said to Samuel, ‘Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.’”
Rebekah frowned. “Mitch works in the financial industry, but from what Winnie says, he’s a genuine guy. I mean, look at Amy. She might come from money, but she’s as giving and unpretentious as they come. Money doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing.”
“True,” Cassie said, headed for the kitchen. “There’s also more than a thousand miles separating us. I’m not only talking geography.” She’d raised her voice when it appeared as though Rebekah might interrupt. “Harbor illusions if you must, but anything more than friendship with Mitch is impossible.”
“Ah, but God is the God—”
“Of the impossible, I know. Look, believe in your fairy tale if you must, but please leave me out of it. Not going to happen. End of story.” Moving as fast as she could in the floor-length gown, Cassie pushed the swinging door and walked into the kitchen with Rebekah close behind.
“You both have hearts of gold. He’s incredibly witty with a hint of sarcasm. Not the stinging, put down kind, but the intelligent, amusing kind.”
Cassie swallowed her frustration. Rebekah wasn’t giving up on the whole let’s get Cassie fixed up with Mitch campaign anytime soon. Maybe she should revisit the subject of babies.
“Who’s witty?” Winnie worked at the butcher block island in the middle of the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on dozens of cupcakes. “There, that should do it.” She grabbed a dishtowel from the counter and wiped her hands, appearing pleased with her efforts.
“Mitch Jacobsen,” Rebekah said, dabbing her finger in a paper liner with pink frosting. “Your husband let it slip that he’s coming with Amy and Landon.” She glanced at the clock on the far wall. “Their plane should be landing any time now.”
“Amy’s supposed to call when they’re on the way to the house,” Winnie said.
Following Rebekah’s lead, Cassie sampled the lavender frosting, savoring the homemade buttercream taste. She licked her lips. “Yum. This tastes great.”
“Thanks.” Winnie waved her hand at the cupcake-covered table. “I know it looks like a rainbow exploded in here, and these ridiculous sleeves are going to be the end of me.” Pushing them to her elbows, she blew a long strand of blonde hair away from her eyes. “I should have dressed like a cook or scullery maid—whatever they’re called—instead of a lady in waiting. It’d be a whole lot easier to work in the kitchen.”
Cassie retrieved the dishrag from the sink. She’d always admired Winnie’s devotion in making her culinary creations a work of art, especially since they were devoured in seconds. Holding Winnie’s sleeve out of the way, she wiped frosting from the countertop. “Tell us what else you need.”
“Right. Put us to work,” Rebekah echoed. “What’s next?”
“If you want, you can fill the bowls over there”—Winnie angled her head toward the back counter—“with pretzels and chips. The bags are on the kitchen table. Sorry Josh spoiled the surprise, Cass. And Mitch is adorable although he’d probably hate that description. He’s a terrific big brother for Amy. In a lot of ways, he used to remind me of an overgrown kid, but I’ve noticed some pretty significant changes in him in the last year alone.”
Cassie couldn’t resist. “How so?”
“He’s more serious and settled, more focused on his career.” Winnie shrugged. “Poor guy. I can’t begin to imagine losing his best friend in such a tragic way.”
Cassie’s heart skipped a few beats. “What happened?”
“He died on 9/11.” Rebekah’s voice was quiet. “His office was in one of the Twin Towers.”
“Oh, no. How awful,” Cassie said, lowering her gaze.
Winnie began adding blue rosettes on cupcakes. “After his friend died, Mitch wanted nothing to do with the church or ministry. Amy and Mitch’s dad died of a stroke a few years before that, and both losse
s were really hard for him. A couple of months after Amy and Landon’s wedding, Mitch started volunteering with some inner-city TeamWork projects. I guess he had to work his way through the tragedy and come back to the Lord in his own way and time.”
Finished with one tray of cupcakes, Winnie started on another. “Mitch is one of the smartest men I’ve ever met, but he also has a great sense of humor. From what Amy says, he’s every bit as handy with a hammer as he is trading stocks. He pours his heart and soul into a project and loves kids. You’ve got to admire a guy like that.” Pausing in her task, she glanced up at Cassie with a grin. “Wouldn’t you say?”
“Of course,” Cassie said. “I’d be a fool not to fall madly in love with the man. I’ll try to be at my wittiest even though I know less about a hedge fund than I do a hedgehog. Which isn’t saying much.”
Rebekah laughed. “Maybe that should be your opening line.”
They chatted about the party and plans for the weekend as they worked together. Cassie volunteered to make a salad and a peach pie for the picnic the next day. Those were two things she could prepare easily enough without ruining them.
They all turned as Lexa rushed into the kitchen, face flushed. “Sam! Oh,” she said, putting one hand over her heart. Her royal blue gown was fit for a queen and she wore a jeweled crown. “Sorry. I didn’t know you all were in here.” Sam came into the kitchen so close behind his wife that he bumped into her when she abruptly stopped. Lexa dipped her head, unsuccessful in hiding her grin, and dislodged her crown.
After catching the falling crown, Sam repositioned it for his petite wife. “Forgive us our youthful folly, ladies.” His smile lines deepened as he tugged on Lexa’s long braid.
Goodness, Sam even sounded like a royal. Their tall, dark-haired TeamWork leader wore a king’s costume complete with black tights and a maroon, faux-fur trimmed cape. Not many men could pull off such a costume with dignity nor deign to wear it in the first place. Sam managed it with aplomb and looked as handsome and masculine as ever. The touches of silver at his temples only made him more distinguished. Judging by the adoration in Lexa’s expression, Sam would be duly rewarded. Cassie suspected that was a huge reason he agreed to wear the costume in the first place.