by Marta Perry
She certainly wasn’t going to give him any more ammunition to use against her.
“Well, if you’re sure, it would be lovely to have the shower here.” There. That concession would show Brendan how wrong he was.
Unfortunately, he didn’t look as if he’d just learned he was wrong. Instead he looked pleased, as if she’d gotten the right answer on a test.
“I can help with that, too.” Stacy beamed at the thought of more work, no doubt adding up the hourly wage Claire was paying her.
Claire didn’t mind, not when it made the girl look that happy. Stacy’s bruises had faded, and she wore a red sweater and an almost-new pair of jeans that she’d confided Gabe’s sister, Terry, had given her. Her face had lost its gaunt look, as if just a few days of cherishing by the Flanagan family had made a difference.
“You look as if you like staying here.” Brendan seemed to have been thinking along the same lines she had. “And working for Claire.”
“Yeah, it’s okay.” Stacy seemed to feel compelled to dampen her enthusiasm in the face of a direct question. “Claire’s showing me how to get ready for a job interview. I’ll bet I can get along on my own pretty soon.” Her tone wavered, just slightly, on the sentence.
Siobhan covered the girl’s hand with a firm clasp. “We love having you here. You don’t have to think about going anywhere until you really want to.”
Claire’s throat went tight. How much difference would it have made if someone like Siobhan had said that at a crucial point in her life?
“You know, that gives me an idea.” Brendan’s gaze was suspiciously innocent. “I’ll bet there are some other kids at the drop-in center who need to learn how to get ready for a job interview. Maybe Claire could help them, too.”
She’d like to say she’d more than fulfilled her end of their bargain by working with Stacy, but she could hardly let the girl know she’d only been helping her because she’d lost in her deal with Brendan.
Besides, that wasn’t really the case any longer, anyway. Stacy had become important to her, almost without her noticing it.
“I’m not sure anyone else would be interested in that.” She tried to get the subject across in the glare she sent Brendan. He smiled back, unperturbed.
“Sure they would be.” Stacy actually sounded excited at the idea, her blasé tone gone. “I could help, too.”
“Well.” She managed a smile. “I guess we’ll do that, then.”
“Cool.”
“Yes, cool,” Brendan echoed Stacy’s comment.
He knew exactly how she felt about this. When she got him alone, she’d—
Well, maybe it would be better not to get Brendan alone at all. She seemed to lose about as many battles as she won with him.
Nolie might have had a point about them, at that. She and Brendan did seem to share something that Nolie, always charitable, had called determination. Someone else might call it just plain stubbornness.
Whatever it was, she didn’t think she cared to share it with Brendan.
Chapter Five
“I can’t agree to that.” Brendan was at his most uncompromising, and Claire’s temper flared.
Really, why did the man have to be such an obstructionist? She’d arrived at the church for their meeting with the florist determined to be agreeable if it killed her. It looked as if it might.
She pinned a smile to her face, aware of the florist’s interested gaze. “The floral arch is the centerpiece of the floral decorations. Just think how it will frame Gabe and Nolie when they stand in front of you.”
She swung toward the florist, who leaned against the front pew, clipboard in hand. “Don’t you agree, Ms. Winslow?”
Marge Winslow knew who was paying for the floral decorations. She nodded brightly, happy to provide the expensive piece. “Absolutely. The arch ties the entire theme together.”
Brendan didn’t seem moved by the florist’s enthusiasm. “I’m sorry, but we did agree I’d have veto power on any decorations in the sanctuary.”
Claire’s good resolutions vanished like ice cream in the June sunshine. Unfortunately, the thought of ice cream just reminded her that she was missing lunch in order to be here in the middle of a workday. She glared at him.
“Why do you have to be so difficult?”
“I’m not.” His tense jaw belied the words. “I agreed to the flowers in the windows, on the pews, and on either side of the chancel.”
“Well, if you’ve given in on all that, what difference does the arch make?” She folded her arms across her middle, hoping to suppress any rebellious growl from her stomach.
“The sanctuary is going to look like a flower garden as it is. Don’t you think that’s enough?” Brendan seemed to be making an effort to sound reasonable, but a muscle twitched irritably in his jaw, suggesting he’d clenched his teeth.
Well, she could be just as stubborn as he could. “Look, can’t we resolve this? I don’t have much time before I have to get back to work.”
Mr. Gray had been surprised, almost affronted, that she didn’t intend to work through her lunch hour as she usually did. She’d had to explain where she was going and why, in order to soothe him.
“All the more reason to call it quits,” Brendan said. “We have enough flowers.”
She planted her hands on her hips. Audience or not, she was going toe-to-toe with Brendan on this. “The arch is an important part of the décor.”
“The arch will obstruct the view of the cross.”
She blinked. “What?”
He touched her arm, turning her to look at the front of the sanctuary. Deep burgundy drapes hung from a carved wooden pediment, centered with a large gold cross.
“The cross. It’s where every eye should be drawn, not toward any individual or any floral display. It’s why Gabe and Nolie are being married here, instead of by a judge.”
She’d like to argue. She couldn’t.
“You could have told me that to begin with. You didn’t have to inveigle me into thinking you were just being stubborn.”
The annoyance disappeared from Brendan’s eyes, and his mouth twitched. “So basically it’s my fault that you misjudged me.”
“I’d say that’s fair.” She felt an answering smile curve her lips.
Brendan leaned toward her, and she had the feeling he’d forgotten that the florist stood there. “We could just agree to begin with that I’m always in the wrong. That would save time.”
“It would.” She couldn’t seem to pull her gaze away from his. All that was alive in him sparkled in his eyes when he looked at her that way. She couldn’t—
“So, are we having an arch or not?” The florist gestured with her clipboard.
Claire swallowed, taking a step back. Though she was afraid it would take more than a few feet to erase the potency of Brendan’s gaze.
“Not,” she said.
“Not,” Brendan echoed.
Her smile seemed to tangle with his again.
“Okay.” The florist turned cool, making some final notes on her sheet. “I’ll work this up and get a price list to you later this afternoon.”
“Fine.” Maybe it was better to focus her attention on the florist. “I’m sure this is going to be beautiful.”
“Definitely.” The woman shook hands briskly, then scurried toward the side door.
Brendan quirked an eyebrow as the door closed behind her. “Did we scare her off?”
“I’m sure she’s dealt with worse.” Claire reached for the bag she’d tossed on a front pew. “I’ve got to get back to work.”
“One second.” Brendan’s hand on her arm stopped her. She looked up at him, and for an instant he seemed to forget whatever it was he wanted to say.
“What? I already agreed with you on the arch.”
And the cross. She might not share his beliefs, but she respected them.
“It’s not that.” He shook his head as he spoke, and that rebellious lock of hair tumbled onto his forehead again, gi
ving him a boyish look that contrasted with the serious expression in his eyes.
“What, then?”
“Have you considered what this is going to cost?” His fingers warmed her through the thin linen of her sleeve. “I’m sure Nolie doesn’t expect you to drop a fortune on this wedding.”
“It doesn’t matter. Really,” she added, when he continued to look doubtful. “I don’t have anyone else to spend the money on, and it’s well worth it to give Nolie a beautiful wedding. I’m not going to count the cost when it comes to my friend’s happiness.”
His hand slid down to capture her fingers. “You and Nolie have an unusual friendship.”
“I guess we do.” She didn’t intend to say any more about it, but somehow the warmth of his fingers on hers seemed to compel an explanation. “Nolie and I met when we were both at the lowest point of our lives. We helped each other through some rough stuff.” He’d never know just how rough.
“That built something strong between you.”
She nodded. “That kind of friendship doesn’t come along too often in a lifetime.”
He gave her that measuring look of his, as if wondering what that low point had been. There was so much sympathy and caring in his eyes that for a moment she almost felt her mouth open, almost felt the rest of the words come rushing out.
No. She drew back, horrified at herself. She couldn’t tell him. She didn’t tell anyone.
His fingers tightened on hers, almost involuntarily, it seemed. “If you ever want to talk, you know I’m here.”
“No. I mean, there’s nothing to talk about.” She managed a smile, then glanced at her watch.
She didn’t have to manufacture an excuse. She was going to be late no matter how she rushed. “I’m late.” She grabbed her bag. “I’ve got to fly.”
“Surely, Gray would give you a few extra minutes. You ought to get something to eat.”
“He would, but I’m not going to ask.”
Brendan didn’t understand, and she didn’t bother trying to explain. If she started asking for special favors, she’d put herself in a position of weakness, and there were several people who’d be only too happy to take advantage of that.
“I’ll see you later.” She bolted out the door.
No, Brendan didn’t understand. His job was a safe cocoon. Hers was a battle, where the weak got eaten. Somebody like Brendan could never understand that.
“No, no. Don’t look down at the floor. Look at the interviewer.”
Claire sounded exasperated. Brendan really couldn’t blame her. She hadn’t wanted to work with the other teens, and he knew she’d only agreed to this evening’s session because Stacy cared.
He glanced at his watch. He’d never have believed it could take over an hour just to get the approach to the interviewer and the handshake right. Unfortunately, his drop-in kids had a long way to go.
He shifted restlessly on the metal folding chair. The gym hadn’t seemed like the right setting for Claire’s work with the kids on job-interview tactics, so he’d moved them to Fellowship Hall. Unfortunately, that brought them into an area where they were far more likely to encounter other people.
So far, so good, though. No one had come in.
Right now Claire had one kid playing the role of the interviewer, sitting behind a table, while the others took turns coming up to the “desk,” introducing themselves, and shaking hands.
“Okay, not bad.” Claire finally let Gin Carter off the hook, and the girl slumped into a chair with relief. “Who’s next?”
Rick Romero, who’d been sitting in the back and making comments sotto voce throughout the hour, stood and sauntered to the front. “Take me, Teach.”
Rick’s words were just short of an insult, and Brendan tensed. Maybe this hadn’t been such a great idea after all. Claire probably didn’t encounter many Rick Romeros in her everyday life.
“All right, let’s see what you’ve learned.” Claire’s voice was crisp and businesslike. “I’ll take over as interviewer.” She slid into the seat behind the table.
Rick made a play of knocking on an imaginary door, raising a laugh and a few jeers. Then he slouched toward the table.
Claire didn’t let him get more than a few feet. “Stop right there.”
Instead of halting, Rick swaggered to the table and leaned across it toward Claire. “So, am I making an impression on the boss?”
Brendan’s muscles tightened. If he had to intervene, it would be bad for all of them.
Claire leaned back in her chair, her gaze so cool as to be almost insulting as she swept it over the boy. “You’re making an impression, all right.”
Rick smirked, leaning closer.
“A bad one,” she went on, voice dispassionate. “Everything about the way you approached the interviewer said you didn’t care about the job. You’ve already told the interviewer it’s a waste of time even to talk to you.”
Quick anger flared in Rick’s face. “Don’t you disrespect me like that.”
Claire stood, leaning forward until her face was inches from Rick’s. “Then don’t you disrespect me.”
He held his breath. He’d never have gotten right in the kid’s face like that, but Claire held her own. Any sign of fear and it would have been all over, but she wasn’t afraid. As far as he could tell, she wasn’t afraid of anything.
Rick glared back, hands clenched. Then his expression eased, and he shrugged.
Brendan let his breath out and then shoved back his chair. “Why don’t we take a break now? Cider and doughnuts are on the kitchen pass-through. Help yourselves.”
Any tension that was left in the room dissolved as kids surged toward the food. Teenagers always seemed to be hungry, especially these kids. Sometimes he wondered when, or if, they actually had a normal meal.
He caught up with Stacy as she headed for the line. No matter what else was wrong, at least she had lost that bedraggled-kitten look she’d worn since he met her. Nobody ever lacked for either food or love in the Flanagan house, that was for sure.
“How’s it going, Stacy?”
“Claire was great, wasn’t she?” Her voice was hushed with admiration.
“She was.” He certainly couldn’t argue with that.
“She always looks so great, too.” Stacy’s gaze lingered on Claire, who stood talking to one of her earlier victims.
Claire gestured as she made some point, the silver bangle on her wrist catching the light. She’d arrived in the same work clothes she’d had on earlier in the day— a deceptively simple gray suit and silk shirt—either because she’d wanted to impress the kids with proper attire or because she hadn’t had time to change. No matter what she wore, she always looked perfectly put together.
Stacy shot a look at him, as if he’d argued the point. “She does, doesn’t she?”
“Definitely.” He smiled at her.
She didn’t return the smile. “She looks like she belongs.” Stacy’s voice dropped, and her shoulders slumped. “I’ll never look like that.”
Her pain grabbed his heart. He touched her shoulder lightly. “You can if you want it, Stacy. I’m sure Claire would tell you that. But whether you do or not, you’re still precious in God’s sight. And mine. And a lot of other people’s. You have friends, don’t forget.”
Her shoulders straightened a little at that. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
She went on toward the doughnut counter, a little more life in her step.
It was easy enough to reassure Stacy. It wasn’t so easy to reassure himself. As welcome as she was, Stacy couldn’t stay with Aunt Siobhan and Uncle Joe forever. What was next for her? He had to talk with Claire about how the counseling was going.
“Why are you wearing that worried frown?” Claire sipped at a plastic cup of coffee, instead of indulging in cider and doughnuts. “If you’re not happy with the session, I’d be glad to quit.”
“No chance,” he said quickly. “You’re doing a great job. Even under pressure.”
; She shrugged. “He’s not as tough as he thinks he is. Although I’d hate to guarantee a job for that one.”
“There are no guarantees, in any event.” He shook his head, his gaze on Stacy as she joined a couple of her girlfriends. “I was thinking about Stacy, as a matter of fact. Praying that the right thing is going to open up for her.”
“I’m not a great believer in waiting for the right thing to come along. If Stacy wants a better life, she’ll have to go after it.”
He switched his gaze to Claire. “That sounds a little cold-blooded.”
She shrugged. “That’s me. I’m told they call me the Dragon Lady behind my back at work.”
“Seeing you with Stacy, I find that hard to believe.” And with Nolie, for that matter. Claire lost all her sharp edges when she was with her friend.
“I sympathize with her. I’m willing to help her.” There was a thread of defensiveness in her voice. “I just know the determination has to come from her.”
How do you know that, Claire? He didn’t think she’d welcome that kind of probing question now, maybe not ever. Still, she’d revealed a little something about herself when she’d talked about her bond with Nolie. She was probably regretting that now.
What had that low point of her life been? It was hard to imagine, looking at the polished, successful woman she was today, that it could have been anything very serious.
“I grant you, the pregnancy has made Stacy wake up and get a grip.” Claire apparently felt he’d been silent in disagreement. She let her gaze rove over the gaggle of teens. “I’m not sure anything short of that would jolt the rest of them enough to make a difference. They’re drifting, and they don’t care enough to swim against the current.”
“Maybe so.” He wished he could make her see what he saw when he looked at that gang of kids. “But there’s so much potential there. They’re not dumb. They could have good, productive lives.” He leaned toward her, intent on making her understand.