Bad Heiress Day

Doug paused a long while before he asked, “What did he tell you to do with it?”

Darcy hedged. The Paul Hartwell Memorial Parking Lot and Hospitality Wing played across her vision. But Pastor Doug didn’t seem to be waxing predatory in front of her. She was gaining a sense, unfounded or not, that she could trust him. After all, Dad had.

Well, to a point. Which was as much as he’d been with her. Why not tell him?

“He told me to…he asked me to give it away. It was money won from a lawsuit over my mom’s accident. He didn’t want the money, but he’d promised her he’d keep it. It’s complicated. Anyway, he promised he’d keep it, but since I never made a promise like that, he says I can give it away like he always wanted to.” Darcy felt an odd, nervous laugh slip from her lips. “Death’s a good way to pass the buck, it seems.”

She felt stupid for laughing, uncomfortable at revealing something he could so easily pounce on. Darcy waited, watching for dollar signs to appear in his eyes like some Looney Tunes cartoon. But he kept looking at her. At her. Not mentally calculating the tax benefits of a major donation, just looking at her. It was the weirdly warm smile on Pastor Doug’s face that stumped her most. “Literally,” he quipped.

He quipped.

Darcy was so surprised, it took her a full thirty seconds to get the joke. A joke. Not at her, but with her. Yes! she thought, another person who found the situation absurd enough to joke about. Maybe Doug wasn’t so bad after all. Perhaps the Paul Hartwell Memorial Parking Lot and Hospitality Wing and Community Baptismal Pool wasn’t such a bad place to dump a fortune. Maybe it wasn’t so bad he knew.

He pulled his hands down over his chin, shook his head a bit, and chuckled. “Your dad was a surprising man. Every time I was sure I’d figured him out, he’d throw me a new curve. I have to admit, though, this is a good one—even for him.” Doug looked up at her. “Darcy, I haven’t the foggiest idea what I’d do in your place. What are you thinking you’ll do?”

I’m sure I know what I’d be doing if I were in your place, Darcy thought. I give it ten minutes tops. “Well, Jack and I have been discussing the issue practically nonstop. Everybody seems to have an opinion. And there are a lot of options.”

Doug pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he got a “Say, I’ve got an idea” look on his face. This guy was good. Not even three minutes, and it looked genuinely spontaneous. Darcy decided she didn’t really blame him. He probably had a furnace on the brink of death, stained nursery carpeting, two dozen committees to fund and all those poor hungry souls to feed.

“Darcy, I have an idea for you.”

Darcy smiled. Not even a month into Little Orphan Heiress and she could smell ’em coming already.

“We have a couple in our church…”

…Who feed tribes in Africa and teach them fractions, Darcy finished in her head.

“…who deal with this sort of thing every day. They are quite wealthy, but they seem to know how to handle it well. Ed’s a self-made man—grew a fortune going from selling newspapers to buying printing companies. I can’t help thinking you’d like them. And I’m sure they’d like to meet you. Maybe they can help.”

Darcy fought the urge to shake her head. “Huh?” was all she gulped out.

“Okay, it was a bad suggestion. I’m sorry to pry, I was just thinking—”

“No, wait, back it up a minute. You just…um…surprised me. Who are these people again?”

“Ed and Glynnis Bidwell. A couple—an older couple, actually—from our church. They have sizeable financial resources, but in my estimation they seem to know how to keep it in perspective. It was just a hunch…I’m sorry if I—”

“He’s not Chairman of the Contributions Committee or anything?”

“Ed? No, he’d never—Wait…Darcy, did you think I was going to ask you to give your dad’s money to the church?” He was putting the pieces together right in front of her. Astounding. Truly, the idea hadn’t entered the guy’s head yet. What kind of pastor was this guy?

Darcy shut her mouth, realizing that it was hanging open. Do you tell a white lie to a pastor?

“Ugh. Of course you did. Why wouldn’t you? Oh, Darcy, I’m so sorry I gave you the wrong impression. I don’t know what your dad told you about me, but in truth I am the most abysmal fund-raiser in history. Please, please believe that I knew nothing about what he left you. Oh, I’ve botched this.”

“No, really,” Darcy said, just because he looked so mad at himself.

“No, I should have said something right off the bat when you told me. I was just so…so…dumbfounded.” Doug stood up, pacing the room. Honestly, he looked like he was going to walk over to the wall so he could pound his head against it. “No, look, Darcy, I want you to know—right now—how I see things. If Paul had wanted our church to have that money, I know he’d have told you so. Paul himself used to lecture me about how I need to be more aggressive in seeking funds for the church. No, Paul’s got something else in mind for you. He’s—he was—a man who never left things to chance when he had an idea. If he didn’t tell you where to donate the money, then I truly believe he wants you to go through that decision process. And, even though my Stewardship Committee would probably boil me alive if they heard me say it, I’ve a good guess that it’s not Ohio Valley.”

“I don’t really know what I’m—we’re—going to do yet. Really.”

Doug sat back down. “I don’t think you can know what to do yet. That’s a huge, broad issue. Darcy, I really think the Bidwells could be helpful to you. Will you let me give them your phone number? If you don’t like them or they’re not helpful, you can never see them again, but I don’t think it will go that way. You’ll really like Glynnis. Please, Darcy, will you let me do this for you? After I’ve been such a jerk?”

Who could say no?

The pastor left after a dozen more apologies, not one sentence of Christianese, and not a single plea for money. Who’d have thunk it?

Chapter 6

Heiress Lessons

Jack practically craned his head out the window to take in the snazzy sports car in Ed Bidwell’s driveway. It was small and shiny—a take-no-prisoners red color—and slick enough for its own Bond movie. “Wow. Getta load of that thing, will you?” Jack had been none too keen on keeping this brunch date, but Darcy smiled to herself at Jack’s sudden change of heart. Evidently Pastor Doug knew just how to get Jack Nightengale’s attention. Or Someone Else did.

Not quite ready to chalk it up to divine intervention, Darcy surmised that all well-to-do men indulged in fancy cars. A testosteronized version of the three-stone, multi-carat ring every well-to-do woman seemed to own. The rings in the magazine and television ads, with adoring husbands shouting their affections in Italian streets and other wildly romantic venues.

Her brain flashed a quick, unlikely scene: Jack, in black turtleneck—unheard of—and leather sport coat—fat chance—and hair with just a touch of gel to make it look truly dashing—possible but not likely—by the Tuscan seashore. Crusty bread and Brie replacing Doritos and onion dip, a deliciously small black velvet box in his hand. Surging waves of violin music filled the air. With an elegant flair and a twinkle in his dark eye, he flips the lid to reveal one of those anniversary rings that are supposed to let you know he’d marry you all over again. Three whopping stones, cuddled next to each other in a bed of gold. Dazzling. Adding elegance to any hand, even one picking Play-Doh off the couch cushions….

“Dar?”

Jack was already out of the car, standing outside her door, hand ready to knock on the window if that’s what it took to get her attention. How long had that little daydream gone on?

“Oh, I get it,” Jack said, “I’m supposed to open the door for you and such now. This is a high-class affair.”

Darcy fumbled with her purse. “No, I just…My mind went somewhere.”

“No kidding.” Jack actually looked a little nervous. Darcy had to admit she felt the same. The whole setup felt odd and unnatural. Jack nudged Darcy with his hip, a gesture he’d done when they first dated. “Can I get one of those?” he said, pointing to the four-wheeled wonder.

“A two-car garage? Sure, hon.” She nudged him back. Wow. She couldn’t even remember the last time they’d done that to each other.

“Very funny.” Jack ran a fidgety hand through his hair as they started up the walkway to the Bidwells’ front door. “This feels weird. I don’t know about this. I mean, we don’t know these people from Adam.”

“I know. But it’s one brunch. Maybe they’re really nice. It couldn’t hurt. Besides, if you behave, maybe Ed will let you near that car….”

Jack rubbed his hands together in a let-me-at-’em gesture just before he pushed the doorbell button. “Think there’s a butler?”

Darcy giggled just a bit. “Jack…”

The door swung open to reveal Ed Bidwell. Or a man who Darcy guessed was Ed Bidwell. He didn’t look anything like she was expecting. He looked more like everybody’s favorite grandfather than a printing magnate. He had a round, jovial face framed by a balding wreath of white hair. Gold wire glasses, hosting a pair of rather thick lenses, gave his water-colored eyes an oversize, magnified appearance. He had on an ordinary-looking plaid shirt and khakis, but Darcy noticed his belt and shoes were of a thick, soft, expensive-looking leather. He held his hands out.

“Jack. And Darcy. Saw you come up the walk. Ed. Ed Bidwell. Come on in. Come on in.” He called down the hall as he took Darcy’s coat. “Glyn, honey! They’re here!”

“I can see out the windows just the same as you, Bid. I’m coming.” Both their voices held the tint of a Southern upbringing, but softened from what sounded like years in the Midwest. Glynnis Bidwell came down the hall, tossing a dish towel on a side table as she did.

She was the pepper to her husband’s salt—all dark but graying hair and wide brown eyes, her skin olive-colored to his fair skin. They were like a pair of ceramic salt shakers, the two of them: same size, same jovially heavy build, same sparkle in the eyes. They looked like the kind of couple you’d ask to play Mr. and Mrs. Claus at the church Christmas bazaar. That is, if Better Homes and Gardens ran your church Christmas bazaar.

“Darcy, so nice to meet you. I’m Glynnis Bidwell.” She reached out a friendly hand. Well manicured, still damp, and boasting a one-stone ring. It was, however, a rather large stone. Darcy chided herself for even looking.

“See you’ve met Ed. And you must be Jack. Glad to meet you, too. Don’t think I didn’t see you eyeing Ed’s baby out there in the driveway. Go on, Bid, show your toys off. I’d much rather have the two of you out of my hair than in the kitchen anyway.” She shooed the men off as if telling her grandsons to go play in the yard.