Matthew's Choice

by Patricia Bradley

  “So I see.”

  Matt cleared his throat. “Actually, sir, I’d like to talk with you about your daughter.”

  Winthrop puffed his stogie once more. He blew the smoke toward the ceiling, and a series of small O’s floated above his head. “That’s why I brought you in here. How long have you been with the Winthrop Corporation, Matt?”

  He blinked. “Seven years, sir. Right out of college.”

  “If I remember correctly, you started on the front desk, and now you’re director of food and beverages. I understand you’ve gone after the J. Phillip Bradford account. You’re ambitious. I like that.” He fixed a hard stare on Matt. “I want that contract, even if we have to lose money on the Valentine’s Day banquet.”

  Lose money? Matt adjusted his collar. “I don’t understand.”

  “Do you know how many years I’ve tried to get Bradford’s accounts? Did you know he doesn’t always take the lowest bid? I know. I’ve had the lowest bid.” Winthrop rubbed his jaw with his thumb. “No, he weighs the services offered against the cost. Whoever comes up with what he’s looking for, wins. I’ve never been able to figure out exactly what he wants. I hope you’re up to the challenge.”

  Great. Nothing like more pressure. “You can quit worrying, sir. I will get Bradford’s business, starting with the Valentine’s Day banquet.” He spoke the words with more conviction than he felt.

  Winthrop stared at the end of his cigar. After a long minute he shifted his gaze back to Matt and seemed to measure him. Matt sat a little straighter and waited.

  “Matthew, how do you feel about family?”

  “Sir?”

  “I’ve never heard you discuss your family. And naturally, as I watch this growing relationship you have with my daughter, I want to know a little more about you beyond your business side. Family is very important, don’t you agree?”

  “Yes, sir. Unfortunately, the only family I have is my sister and her son.” What would Winthrop say if he knew Matt had never met the boy? Maybe after he closed the deal with J. Phillip Bradford, he’d take a day off and drive to Cedar Grove and look them up. “We haven’t been close in some time. She married and moved away.”

  “Perhaps you could bring them to dinner some night.”

  Matt’s palms sweated. Mariah had been stoned at his mother’s funeral, and he doubted she’d cleaned up her act. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good.” Winthrop wafted O’s toward the ceiling again, then leveled his gaze at Matt. “Just so you know, my daughter is very precious to me. She’s my only child, and I’ll admit, more than a little spoiled. I even have in mind buying the house next door for her and her future husband.”

  Matt swallowed. If Jessica agreed to marry him, he was not living next door to the Winthrops. Even if it was a mansion. But that discussion could wait until another night.

  Her father stared at the white ash on the end of his cigar then stubbed the cigar in an ashtray. “Matthew, if you in any way hurt Jessica, I—”

  “I can assure you, Mr. Winthrop, I will not hurt your daughter. With your blessing, and if she’ll have me, I want to marry her.”

  * * *

  ALLIE CAUGHT HER breath as Peter Elliott walked toward them, his light blue eyes fixed on her. He’d joked about them going out last week, but she hadn’t a clue he was serious. With his blond good looks, the broad-shouldered director of social services in Cedar Grove could date any number of women.

  “You could’ve told me,” she muttered.

  Clint laughed. “And have you say no?”

  Not necessarily. But probably. Since the fiasco with Matt, she’d been reluctant to risk her heart again. Besides, she and Peter had been buddies since grade school, and she’d simply never thought of him in a romantic way. Maybe it was time to rethink their relationship.

  Peter gave a slight bow when he reached them and took her hand. “I hope you don’t mind that I invited myself to your New Year’s Eve celebration.”

  “Mind?” She shook her head. “Just a little surprised.”

  Clint touched her arm. “I’m going to our table, over there in the corner.”

  She followed his gaze to an empty table just below a huge TV that played images of New Year’s Eve celebrations from all over the world. Allie glanced around the room, counting ten TVs interspersed around the gold and silver streamers that hung from the ceiling.

  “May I have this dance?” Peter said.

  She hadn’t even heard the music and glanced toward the front of the room, where a string ensemble played “Moonlight Serenade.” Dancing seemed preferable to making small talk at the table. “As long as you don’t step on my toes, I’ll try not to step on yours.”

  “I’m sure you won’t.” Peter held his hand out.

  Allie wrinkled her nose at him. “You haven’t seen me dance.”

  She accepted his hand and followed him to the dance floor, where he took her lightly in his arms. It never entered her mind that he might actually trample her feet. No, it would be the other way around. Peter Elliott came from old money in Cedar Grove, and his social graces were impeccable, as were his clothes. The black tux had high quality written all over it, and she’d bet he even tied his own bow tie. The memory of Matt holding his out to her brought a quick smile to her lips.

  “Did I say something funny?”

  An oops shivered down her spine, and she looked up into his questioning blue eyes.

  “No...it was something that happened earlier tonight.”

  Peter tightened his hold on her. “I’m sure Matthew Jefferies did any number of things that were amusing. I couldn’t believe it when your brother told me he and Jessica Winthrop were an item.” He leaned her back. “Weren’t you sweet on him once?”

  “Once.” She almost stumbled, then concentrated on following Peter as he whirled her around. When the music ended, the ensemble slipped into a tango, and she shook her head at the invitation written on his face. “I think I’ll sit this one out.”

  She allowed Peter to lead her through the crowd to their table, where Clint sat alone. Hopefully, with this many people at the party, she’d be able to avoid Matt and his girlfriend. Correction, make that his almost-fiancée. At the table, Peter offered to get her something to drink.

  “Lime water,” she said. After he left, she turned on her brother. “Just how did this date come about? And why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Last question first—I can count on one hand the number of men you’ve dated since you and Matt broke up. I figured you’d say no and so did Peter, so we decided not to tell you.”

  “Why were you even talking to him?”

  “Last week a sixteen-year-old girl from Cedar Grove showed up at my Boys and Girls Club. One of my older girls had dragged her there after finding her living in her car. Since Peter is head of social services in Cedar Grove, I called him so he could notify the parents and ended up inviting him to the party—I knew Jessica wouldn’t mind if I brought a few extra people.”

  Allie traced the fleur-de-lis pattern on the linen tablecloth. “How...do you like Jessica?”

  “She’s great. You’d like her if you met her. She volunteers at the club, teaching etiquette and art—the kids all love her.”

  Allie swallowed the lump that suddenly clogged her throat. She licked her lips. Good. Matt had someone worthy of him.

  “Your drink, ma’am.” Peter set down a crystal water glass with a wedge of lime adorning the rim.

  At eleven on all the screens around the room, the ball dropped in New York City and confetti rained from an overhead vent as a rousing cheer went up. The evening was flying by. And without a glimpse of Matt.

  “So, you forgive me for going behind your back to get a date with you?” Peter brushed confetti from her shoulder.

  Allie tilted her head. “Why me?”
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  “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “About—?”

  “Allie, you’re a beautiful woman. I’m surprised you’re still single. When Clint called and mentioned the party, I jumped on it. At least I’d have one night to convince you to date me.”

  His confession stunned her into silence. Before she could recover, he touched his chest, frowning.

  “It’s my cell, it must be important given how late it is. Excuse me,” he said and turned toward the wall as he fished his phone from inside his tux. “Elliott speaking.”

  He fell silent, listening to whomever was on the other end. Allie turned her gaze to the dance floor, not wanting to eavesdrop. Even so, she couldn’t help overhearing his end of the conversation.

  “I see.” Silence followed again. “No, you did right by calling. Take the boy to the shelter, and I’ll look into the matter in the morning.”

  He touched her arm. “I’m so sorry for the interruption.”

  “Don’t worry about it. And I couldn’t help overhearing. Trouble?”

  “The usual. An overdose, with a nine-year-old child involved. Apparently there is no family for the child to stay with. Thank goodness for the shelter.”

  Chill bumps raced over her body. Nine-year-old. The age of her third-grade readers. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Dance with me again.”

  She cocked her head. The band had fired up the old Johnny Mathis song “Chances Are.” She could do that.

  On the dance floor, Peter held her lightly, both of them moving to the music. Once she scuffed against his shoe. “Sorry.”

  She focused on recapturing her rhythm as he leaned closer. “Have breakfast with me in the morning.”

  Allie almost stumbled. “I...need to get back to Cedar Grove. School starts Tuesday, and I have a lot to do.”

  “You would turn down the person who expedited your home study so you could become a foster parent?”

  Peter had been responsible for her application being fast-tracked?

  “That is blackmail,” she said as the song ended, and they walked back to their table.

  “Just joking. The paperwork should be completed next week.”

  They both turned as Clint called to them. “Look who I found!”

  Matt and the girl in the photo trailed Clint.

  “Matt...” Allie shifted her gaze to the girl who smiled at her. “And you must be Jessica.”

  Her smile faded. “Have we met?”

  “Earlier tonight, at the elevator in Matt’s building.”

  Recognition flashed in her hazel eyes. “Ohh...”

  Clint spoke up. “Jessica, this is my sister, Allie Carson and her date, Peter Elliott.” He punched Matt. “You remember Peter, don’t you?”

  “Oh, yeah. Peter would be hard to forget.”

  Whatever was wrong with Matt? He looked like he had indigestion.

  “Clint mentioned you’d returned to Cedar Grove,” Matt said. “Something about working for the state?”

  Peter’s lips pressed together. “I’m director of social services. Clint keeps me informed as well—he says you’re doing quite well. In sales of some sort?”

  “You could call it that. I put together this little soiree. In fact, there are a couple of details I need to attend to.” He nodded then looped his arm through Jessica’s. “Come with me?”

  Jessica turned toward her and smiled. “Happy New Year, in case I don’t see you all later.”

  “Yes...” Matt glanced around, and his eyes settled on Allie. “Happy New Year.”

  “You, too,” Allie said.

  As they walked away, Peter raised his eyebrows. “Another dance?”

  She lifted her gaze, and her breath quickened at the warm twinkle in his blue eyes. “You are a glutton for punishment, but yes, that would be nice.”

  * * *

  THE NIGHT SKY detonated in bursts of light and window-shaking explosions. In the backseat of a patrol car, Noah counted as church bells tolled in the New Year. The cop had stuck him there after Noah had tried to escape. He kicked the back of the driver’s seat in a steady rhythm. “I want to go see my mom.”

  “Sorry, kid. My orders are to take you to the shelter.”

  Tears burned the backs of Noah’s eyes. He didn’t know what would happen there, but no way was he going there.

  “But my mom, she’ll need me when she wakes up.” He tried to keep the whining out of his voice. Whining just made adults mad.

  “Someone will come and get you, probably Monday, and take you to see her.”

  Monday? That was three days away. She might be dead by then. He was going tonight. A plan popped into his mind. “You promise?”

  “Kid, if nobody comes, you call the station, and I’ll come personally and take you. Just ask for Jason.”

  Yeah, he knew those kinds of promises. His mom made them all the time. Besides, if the cop could take him Monday, he could take him right now. “Thanks.”

  The cruiser turned into a dark drive and pulled up to an equally dark house. The cop spoke to him over his shoulder. “I’m going to open the door, and if you run again, I’ll catch you, and I’ll put handcuffs on you. Understand?”

  Noah pressed his lips together to keep them from trembling. The cop’s eyes were kind, but Noah knew he was serious about what he said. “Y-yes, sir.” He’d just have to make sure the cop didn’t catch him.

  At the back of the house, a light glowed in the window, and the door opened before they reached it. A thick black woman met them at the steps in her bare feet and ushered them into the kitchen. The door clicked shut as butterflies fluttered in Noah’s stomach. The door had some kind of box beside it that the black lady punched. Had to be a lock. His breath hung in his chest. He was trapped.

  “Jason,” she said, nodding at the cop. Then she held out her hand. “I’m glad you made it, Noah.”

  She knew his name? He gazed up. And up. She must be ten feet tall. He swallowed, and she knelt in front of him, making them eye level.

  “I’m sorry, son.” She chuckled and the warm sound washed over him like a gentle rain. “Sometimes I forget that I can scare little people. My name is Miss Sarah.”

  He stood a little taller. “I wasn’t scared.”

  She still had her hand extended, and he stuck his out. Immediately it was swallowed in her dark one.

  “Are you hungry?” She widened her eyes like adults did sometimes when they talked to kids. “Could you eat some scrambled eggs and biscuits?”

  His mouth watered, but he shook his head, remembering the last time he’d been put in a shelter in another state. That lady was all nice as long as somebody was around, too. Probably as soon as the cop left, this one would do the same thing—get mad ’cause she had to clean up his mess.

  She ruffled his hair, and her knees popped as she stood. “Well, maybe you don’t want anything, but I bet Jason here does. Right, Jason?”

  “Some of your biscuits, Miss Sarah? Yes, ma’am.” The cop took off his hat and laid it on the table. “Noah, you sit there in the middle, and I’ll just take the end chair.”

  Noah did as he was told. The kitchen was warm, and his eyelids drooped. If he weren’t so hungry...

  Something smelled so good...he woke with a start. Jason and Miss Sarah were laughing, but not in a mean way.

  “Didn’t know whether to let you sleep or wake you up.” Miss Sarah scooted him closer to the table, then slathered butter on a biscuit and put it on his plate beside a mound of scrambled eggs.

  “I thought he was going to fall out of the seat,” Jason said. He leaned back in his chair. “Thank you, Miss Sarah. That was really good.”

  The food tempted Noah. The last he’d eaten was the couple of slices of ham he’d found at the
Dumpster, and before that, it’d been a bowl of ramen noodles. That’d been lunch, yesterday. Don’t be taking any handouts. We don’t ask anybody for anything. Butter oozed from the middle of the bread. Maybe just one bite...

  The cop stood and picked up his cap.

  “You gonna tell him about your phone call?” she asked.

  “Oh, yeah.” He smiled down at Noah. “I called the hospital, and they told me your mom was doing better.”

  Noah swallowed the lump that threatened to choke him. “Is she awake?”

  Jason hesitated. “Not yet.”

  “Then she’s not all right. I gotta be there when she wakes up.” His voice cracked, and he fought the tears that threatened to spill.

  “What you need to do, son—” Miss Sarah cupped his face in her huge brown hands “—is to eat so you can keep your strength up. You won’t be able to help your momma if you get sick. Okay?”

  He stared into her chocolate-brown eyes.

  “Trust me, Noah. I won’t steer you wrong, and I won’t ever lie to you.”

  Something inside him said she was telling the truth. At last, he nodded.

  “Good. Now eat your food, and then we’ll get you into bed.”

  He attacked the eggs, keeping his eye on Sarah and Jason as they walked to the back door. She punched in something on the box before Jason left, but he couldn’t see exactly what she did. He’d have to watch if he wanted to get out of here. He figured there were bars on the windows like the last place. The door was probably the only way out.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “SO YOU’RE GUARANTEEING me you can pull this off for this price?” The silver-haired building magnate drew a line under the dollar figure Matt had quoted for the Valentine’s Day banquet. “That’s all-inclusive?”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Bradford,” Matt said. “Except for the entertainment, and I can provide you with a list of bands and ensembles I’ve worked with in the past. I can even contact them for you, unless you want to bring in a comedian from Las Vegas. Then you’re on your own.”