Finding faith on the road to maturity had given Trevor a purpose and had helped straighten him out. How anybody managed to cope day-to-day, let alone face trauma, without an abiding belief in God amazed him. Personally, he didn’t know what he’d do if he didn’t have his strong beliefs to fall back on when the going got tough.
And speaking of tough going, he mused, it was time to enter the lion’s den. Squaring his shoulders, he pushed open the main door to the Administration building, strode in and proceeded directly to Alumni Relations.
Stephanie was seated behind a desk piled high with stacks of paper and files when he knocked and entered.
She stood and extended her hand in greeting. “You’re prompt. I like that.”
Trevor considered making a wisecrack, then stifled the urge. This was business, not playtime in the quad. “I take my work seriously.”
He shook her hand as briefly as he dared. He didn’t want to offend her, but he also didn’t want to be tempted to stand here holding her hand and gazing into her beautiful, violet-blue eyes like a lovesick teenager. It was bad enough that she was wearing a pale silk blouse that enhanced those eyes and tailored slacks that looked as if they’d been made just for her—which they probably had, he added, disgusted with himself for noticing.
“So, show me the wall you want remodeled,” he said, taking a pencil and pad from his shirt pocket and unclipping a tape measure from the waist of his jeans.
“Sure. Over here.” Steff pointed. “See all the wasted space? I thought, if there was a bookcase recessed into the wall behind the door, I could take advantage of every inch of this cramped little office.”
“You probably grew up with clothes closets that were bigger,” he said wryly.
“As a matter of fact, I did.” She watched him measuring and making notes. “What do you think? Can it be done?”
“Anything can be done,” Trevor said. “It’s a question of how difficult or expensive it may be. I can have an estimate for you in a few minutes. There’s no obligation. If you decide you want the work done, I can start right away. If you put it off and call me later, I’ll do my best to squeeze you in, but I can’t guarantee when.”
“Fair enough. How long to you think the whole job will take?”
“If I can have access to the office day and night, probably less than a week. If I can only work while you’re here, it’ll take longer. You won’t like being around during the sanding or varnishing, believe me.”
She reached for the scratch paper he held out to her. “Wow. Is that all? I’m amazed. Okay. Let’s do it.”
“Don’t you have to get approval from higher up?” Trevor asked, frowning.
“Actually, this is one of the perks of being a Kessler. If I don’t exceed my budget, I can do whatever I please.”
“Okay. I’ll write up a formal agreement for you to sign and bring it with me when I come back this afternoon. Might as well get started while I’m waiting for some back-ordered materials for another job.”
“You won’t quit halfway through my bookcases and leave a mess, will you? I really need my office. The new quarter starts soon.”
“No, I won’t quit until this job is finished. When I make a commitment, I keep it. You can count on me.”
When Steff sobered and quietly said, “I know,” the sound of her voice and the suddenly charged atmosphere within the cramped office made the hair at the nape of his neck stand on end.
It looked as though working when she wasn’t present was going to be more than advantageous, it was going to be critical. Especially if he hoped to finish the job and also keep what little was left of his sanity.
Stephanie had cleaned off her desk and draped a sheet of plastic over her computer station by the time Trevor returned.
“Do you want me to get lost or stay here?” she asked. “I’m curious to see what it looks like inside a wall, if you don’t think I’ll be in the way.”
“Suit yourself. Just don’t breathe the dust. I remember you used to have allergies.”
“I still do.”
“Then you’d better wear a disposable mask so you don’t sneeze yourself to death. There are extras in my toolbox. Help yourself. And hand me one, too, will you?”
He began spreading a tarp on the floor. “I doubt this will be very interesting. About all I usually find is abandoned wasp nests and dead mice.”
“Terrific.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from the vermin. That’s what this tarp is for, to catch all the dirt.”
He put on one of the masks, took a pry bar and popped the baseboard off as if it were a toothpick. The wall itself proved more stubborn. Finally, he worked an opening large enough for a handhold, grabbed the plasterboard and gave it a yank. White powder filled the nearby air and made a cloud around his head.
Stephanie retreated. She’d never noticed how cramped her office was until she’d been shut in there with Trevor. She would have left then if he hadn’t had to close the door to gain access to the wall he was demolishing.
Trapped by circumstances she should knew she should have considered earlier, she waved her hands. “Phew! You weren’t kidding, were you?”
“I never kid about my work. You okay?”
“I suppose so.” It seemed a waste of time to just stand here and watch so she began to relieve him of the small, flat pieces of chalky board as he broke them loose. If Trevor was surprised, he gave no indication of it, although she suspected he might be grinning behind his mask.
“Where shall I pile all this trash?” she asked.
“Any place out of my way. Just keep it on the tarp. It’ll make cleanup easier.”
“Right.” She had dragged several slivers of board aside and was lifting a larger one when she stopped. “Trevor?”
Sweating in spite of the air-conditioning, he swiveled in her direction. “What? Did you find a dead mouse?”
“No. I don’t know what this is. It looks like writing of some sort.” Steff steadied the board fragment with one hand and used the other to brush away the powdery dust. “Do you think it’s important?”
“I doubt it. One of the men who built the original wall probably drew his initials for fun. My guys do it all the time. You know, like the old ‘Kilroy was here’ notes the soldiers used to leave during World War II. It’s nothing.”
“Are you sure? I mean, I’d like to be positive. It looks to me as if it was written by a small finger dipped in something. And look. Are these spatters of blood?”
“What?”
“Never mind. I don’t know why I said that. I guess these drops at the edges reminded me of blood.”
“Your imagination is working overtime, that’s all.”
“I suppose so.” Her brow knit as she studied her find. “Do you think this initial was meant to be a P or an R?”
He leaned closer and squinted. “Can’t tell. The way it kind of trails off at the end it could be either.”
“I know. I suppose we should notify the police, just in case, but my father is friends with the chief and if it winds up to be nothing important, as you say, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Plus, if there’s an investigation, your office may look like this for weeks or maybe even months while they poke around.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
“It’s happened to construction projects more times than I care to remember,” Trevor said. “Now, forget that piece of trash and let me do my job. Okay?”
“Okay.” She pulled a face. “I know it’s foolish to cause a stir, especially since my father already acts as if he thinks he’s the only one capable of logical reasoning. I’ve been trying to prove myself to him since he first helped me get this job and I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll ever succeed.”
Trevor turned away to hide his reaction. Stephanie didn’t make any bones about the fact she’d been born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Even now that they were both in their thirties, nothing had really changed between them. They
might be professionals in their respective fields but he was still blue collar and she was still acting the part of royalty, a part she’d been born and raised to play. That was what had caused him to start teasing her by calling her Princess in the first place, back when she and his sister had been college roommates.
He gave a long, loud sigh. “Look, Princess, you do whatever you want with that old piece of plasterboard. Keep it or junk it or tie a ribbon around it and give it to Daddy as a gift. I couldn’t care less.”
“Don’t be absurd.” Steff rolled her eyes and arched her brows. “I told you, I have no intention of involving my father.”
Backing off, she studied the scrawled letter, then began to sort through the other rubble to see if she could find more writing. That one letter and its accompanying splatter seemed to be all there was, which was probably a good sign.
Now that she’d had time to think about it she supposed the marks could just as easily have been made with mud or paint or even chocolate, as dark brown as they were. Why she had assumed it might be blood puzzled her. Maybe she’d been reading too many mystery and suspense stories lately.
Of course. That had to be the reason. There was no need to preserve the board. After all, that wall had been built ages ago and if there had been any mayhem committed on campus her family would have known about it. Plenty of tales concerning the founding and growth of Magnolia College had been told and retold so often that she was sick of hearing them. None had involved bodily injury, unless a few broken bones on the football field counted.
She stared at the board fragment one more time, shivered slightly, then laid it on the pile of refuse with all the others.
There was nothing important or ominous about the initial. There couldn’t be. Magnolia College was a safe haven and always had been. She’d stake her life on it.
The frightening incident prior to the reunion gala flashed into her mind and made her reconsider. She’d been unusually jumpy ever since that night and nothing she did seemed to erase her lingering, prickling sense of dread.
The more Trevor thought about Steff’s notion that the letter scrawled inside the wall might have a sinister origin, the more the whole idea bothered him. It was probably ridiculous to take her suggestion seriously, but if he didn’t at least look into the possibility of foul play, he’d always wonder. Once he had a chance to sort through the rubble in private, he’d locate the supposedly bloody writing and put it aside until he could decide what to do with it—if anything. If he did take it to the cops, not only might the job be stopped, he might also have to tear up more of Steff’s office looking for further clues. And for what? A silly suspicion of foul play? The idea was ludicrous.
He made several trips out to a Dumpster he’d placed nearby for construction waste, then began to roll up the tarp containing the bulk of the chalky dust.
“Can I help you with that?” Steff asked.
Trevor laughed as he eyed her. “I think your main job should be cleaning yourself up. You’re a mess, Princess.”
“I wouldn’t talk if I were you.” She dusted her hands together before she took off her mask and handed it to him. “At least I’m a blond to start with. Your dark hair is practically white.”
“I probably turned gray because you were trying to help me,” Trevor quipped. He was growing more and more aware that they were both beginning to engage in the witty verbal sparring that had been such a big part of their relationship many years ago and it pleased him.
“Oh, thanks a lot. I sacrifice my manicure for you and what do I get? Sarcasm.”
“Sorry about your nail polish. You should have taken my advice and stood back where you weren’t in the way.”
“I wasn’t in the way. Even if you’re not willing to admit it, I helped you a lot.”
“Yes, you did.” He laughed. “But that doesn’t mean I’m offering you a job on one of my crews.”
“I don’t need another job. I have plenty to do already,” Steff replied. Looking at her dust-coated desk and chair she shook her head and sighed. “I knew remodeling would be messy but I had no idea it would be this bad.”
“I warned you.”
“Yes, you did. I thought just putting my files away, clearing off my desk and covering my computer would suffice, but I can see I underestimated the problem.” She started brushing off her slacks, then stopped. “I’m just making things worse. I’d better go outside to do this. Excuse me?”
As she sidled past, Trevor gave her as much room as possible and finished gathering up the folded tarp. It amused him to see the perfect Ms. Stephanie Kessler as dirty as a common worker, yet, even covered with dust, she was elegant and graceful.
“Get a grip, Whittaker,” he muttered to himself. “You have no business even noticing that woman, let alone wasting energy thinking about her.”
For the first time since he’d accepted this job he wondered if it was actually a gift from God or a test of his faith instead. He supposed it could be either, or even both, although at that moment it felt more like a big, big mistake than anything else.
Steff rejoined Trevor as he disposed of the last of the refuse. “In case I haven’t already said so, thanks for agreeing to do my little job,” she said. “I know it’s too small to be worth much to you and I do appreciate it.”
“No problem. My sister would have had my hide if I’d turned you down.”
She stifled her urge to snap at him. Not only did Southern manners preclude taking offense at his implication, her pride refused to allow her to express hurt feelings.
“Then I shall definitely have to thank Alicia,” she said sweetly.
If Trevor sensed anything insincere in Steff’s words he gave no indication of it. “You’d better get whatever you need moved out of your office before tomorrow morning,” he said. “I intend to start back to work very early.”
“Then you’ll want keys to the building. I have an extra set in my desk, but…”
“But what?”
“I need to ask you something first. It’s been bothering me ever since the night of the reunion. It’s about your shoes.”
“My shoes?” He began to scowl. “I rented the monkey suit so Alicia wouldn’t be embarrassed. Wasn’t I well-dressed enough for you, Princess?”
“It’s not that. It was the mud on your heel.” She hesitated, nervous, then blurted, “Were you poking around outside the library earlier in the evening?”
“Me?” Trevor’s frown deepened. “No. Of course not. Ask Alicia. She was with me the whole time.”
“I won’t need to ask anyone else. Your word is good enough for me. Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
When she returned, he thanked her for the keys, then climbed into his pickup and drove away without further small talk.
Steff stood in the shade of the oaks and watched him disappear into the distance. What was it about Trevor that made her feel so unsure of herself? He was the only person she knew who could fluster her all the way to her toes, the only one who could rattle her with a simple arch of his eyebrow.
And those dark, brooding eyes. She took a deep breath and released it as a sigh, relieved that he hadn’t been the man she’d encountered near the library.
Penitent, she realized she should have known that without asking. Granted, when Trevor looked at her she still got the same chills she’d felt when she was in her late teens, but there was nothing malicious or frightening in his gaze. Quite the contrary.
Nevertheless, she was grateful for her ability to hide her innermost feelings, to behave as if she didn’t care what he, or anyone else, thought of her.
The only thing better would be if it were true.
THREE
T revor ended up at Burt’s Pizza for supper. The brick oven pizzeria on Main Street had been a local hangout for as long as he could recall and stepping inside always reminded him of his college days.
His favorite booth in the back corner had been removed but Trevor could still picture the cracked, red, leatherlike
seats and the marred tabletop. He had never taken Steff anywhere on a date but he had managed to catch her and Alicia at Burt’s quite often.
He’d sauntered up to their booth one day, years ago, when he’d spotted them dining there. Giving his best impression of a notorious bad boy, he had been greeted by an exaggerated roll of Steff’s beautiful eyes.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” she had drawled.
Trevor remembered giving her a lazy smile. “Hello to you, too, Princess. Are y’all holding court or can a commoner like me join you?”
Alicia had quickly scooted over to make room for him. “We have a slice of pepperoni left, if you’re hungry.”
“No thanks. Save it for the princess. She looks like she could use a square meal. A guy could get bruised trying to hug her.”
“That will never be a problem for you,” Steff had countered. She’d arched an eyebrow and given him a disparaging once-over. “It’s a good thing for you Burt doesn’t have a dress code. Those worn-out jeans are really disgusting. You look like a bum.”
“Oh? And how would you know? Do you know any bums?” The moment he’d said it he’d realized he’d left himself open to a witty retort. Steff didn’t miss the chance to take another clever jab at him, either.
“Only you,” she had said, smiling sweetly. “But bless your heart, I don’t think you have a clue how disgusting you look.”
Recalling the exchange, Trevor had to smile in spite of himself. He’d been positive, until very recently, that the Lord was simply using him to help his family, but now that he’d spent more time around Steff he was beginning to wonder more and more often what else might be going on. Visions of her and memories of their relationship in the old days kept popping into his mind.
Trevor quickly and flatly denied that Steff had any place in his life other than as his sister’s friend. The best thing he could do was finish the bookcases in her office and distance himself from the entire situation as soon as possible.
Thirteen or fourteen years ago he’d have boxed up his pizza and hauled it over to Alicia’s dorm room at Edith Sutton Hall to share with her and Steff. There wasn’t much about his rowdy, younger years that he missed except that kind of casual socializing.
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