Building a Perfect Match

He brought his gaze back to hers. “Not yet. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have family. I’m in business with my father here. I have an apartment in my folks’ house. I eat dinner nearly every night with them, my sister and her family. I wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world—except…” Glancing down at his toes, he rocked back on his heels, then suddenly he looked her squarely in the eye again and said, “Except for a wife, home and family of my own.” He smiled. “But that would just be adding to the family, wouldn’t it?”

He seemed so sure of his place in the world, so confident that his life was on the right track; it left Petra feeling bereft and uncertain when she could least afford to be. Managing a smile, she reminded herself that she was finally getting it together, finally on her way to…what exactly? Financial success? A brilliant career? Happiness?

Gulping away her sudden doubts, she said what seemed most obvious. “The Bowens sound like a close family.”

Dale nodded, clearly pleased. “We are. I always thought the Chatams were big on family, too. I mean, your aunts are so devoted to one another.”

Petra smiled with genuine brightness. “Yes. They are.” She felt her smile dim as she added, “Ours is just such a large family, though, that we all sort of go our own way.”

“Maybe that’s what it is then,” he told her lightly. “Both of my parents are only children. Other than my grandparents, it’s just us.”

“Are your grandparents here, too?” she asked conversationally, turning for the door once more.

He kept pace with her. “Grandma and Grandpa Bowen are. They live out at The Haven,” he told her, naming a private retirement complex. “Grandpa doesn’t get out much anymore, and Grandma won’t go anywhere without him. I try to visit them once or twice a week. Mom and sis are there nearly every day. Mom’s parents, Grandma and Grandpa Enderly, divide their time between here and Minnesota. They’re here in the winter, there in the summer.”

“Can’t take the heat,” Petra surmised distractedly, thinking about what her aunt had said about him being a “dutiful son.” Apparently, he was just as devoted a grandson. A family man, who wouldn’t want any job that took him away from those he loved.

As she knew too well, he didn’t have to travel the world for a job like that. Her parents had worked long, grueling hours; as children, she and her brothers and sister had often gone days without seeing one or the other of them. Oh, there had been many exciting vacations to some of those exotic places she’d mentioned earlier. Too often, however, they as children had been admonished, usually by one of their many nannies, not to bother their busy parents with the small, everyday things that meant so much to kids.

Petra remembered one occasion especially, her first dance recital at the age of six. She’d been so nervous that her stomach had reacted poorly to her dinner, but the nanny had refused to call her mom, a pediatrician, saying that she would be in the audience when Petra performed, just in case Petra became ill. But “Dr. Maryanne” had spent only moments there that night. She’d been called to an emergency, unaware that her own child was embarrassing herself on stage by vomiting all over her patent-leather tap shoes.

That and other events had led Maryanne Chatam to eventually adopt a personal mantra that she repeated often to her daughters. “We’ve come a long way, but no woman can have it all, at least not all of the time.”

“Or the cold,” Dale said, and for the second time Petra had to shake her head apologetically.

“I’m sorry. What were we talking about?”

“Grandma and Grandpa Enderly,” Dale informed her in an amused voice. “They don’t like extreme temperatures.”

“Right. Sorry,” Petra apologized again. “Guess I’m just a little distracted this morning.”

“Dumping project managers has that effect on some people,” he quipped.

She had to laugh. “Apparently so.”

They had reached the outside door at some point. A large, garage-type door on rollers, it stood open. She put out her hand. “Thank you for being so understanding.”

He wrapped his big, warm hand around hers. “I’ll be around when you need me.” Not if but when.

She said nothing to that, just nodded, flashed a smile and walked out into the blazing June sun, pulling her hand from his. As she drove toward the hotel in her little silver coupe, she mused that, all in all, this onerous chore had gone far easier than she’d expected. She could thank the Bowens for that.

When she arrived at the hotel a few minutes later, Jackie Hernandez was waiting for her, but they barely got to speak before she had to take delivery of an office-full of electronic equipment and rented furniture. She spent the remainder of the morning setting up her office. Thankfully, Garth had returned to the home office in Austin for the day, so Petra didn’t have to put up with him gloating about getting rid of Dale.

Maybe she was being unfair, though. Garth was a competitive sort, yes, but his business decisions were all about business. Usually. Nevertheless, Petra was glad that she didn’t have to deal with him in person that day.

Jackie Hernandez came in about midafternoon again to let her know that he wasn’t thrilled about his promotion.

“You’re making a mistake to cut out Dale,” he told her. “He is Bowen and Bowen now, and nobody knows these old buildings or BCHS like he does.”

“I’m sure we’ll manage,” Petra told Hernandez. “Just let me know immediately of any problems. Before you take them to Mr. Anderton.”

Hernandez glumly nodded his understanding. “Yes, ma’am.”

The problems began not half an hour later when the wrong supplies were delivered. Jackie pulled out the plans and argued with the deliveryman for ten minutes before the guy called Dale, only to concede afterward that Jackie was right.

“It’ll go smoother next time,” Petra told the new construction manager, praying that it would be so before hurrying off to begin setting up appointments to interview restaurant personnel.

Garth wanted the chef brought in on the ground floor, knowing that any chef worth his or her salt would insist that the kitchen be remodeled to personal specifications. They’d employed an agency to help them find likely candidates, and part of Petra’s job was to weed through them so Garth could make the final choice. It turned out to be no small task.

Owing to her delayed start on the day, she got home too late for dinner that evening—but just in time to join the aunties at midweek prayer service. Tired to the bone, Petra would have loved to beg off, but one look at Aunt Hypatia’s expectant face had her putting on a smile and trooping out the door again. She was glad that she went. Prayer, as the pastor reminded the congregation, is for the benefit of God’s children rather than God Himself.

“Your Heavenly Father already knows your needs and desires, after all,” he told them, “but by lifting them up to God, we gain strength in communion with Him, wisdom in His answers and much-needed perspective.”

Petra wondered how God could know her needs and desires when she felt so unsure of them herself, but listening to all the requests for healing and rescue certainly put her personal troubles into perspective. As she bowed her head, she couldn’t help thinking of Walt Bowen insisting that they pray together about Dale’s position that morning, or of Dale sitting beside her on that couch with his head bowed unashamedly as Walt had sought guidance.

“Very solid people,” Aunt Hypatia had called them, and she had been right.

Petra liked them. She wasn’t entirely sure that she understood them, but she did like Walt and Dale Bowen. She wondered what Dale’s mother and sister were like, then lost the thought in concentrated prayer. Afterward, she felt uplifted—but starved!

Hilda, bless her, had left a plate for Petra. She enjoyed the food in her room then left the remains in the old-fashioned dumbwaiter down the hall before climbing into the tall, four-poster bed. As she slipped off to sleep, she wondered if Dale had worked at Chatam House today. Very likely, he had. That meant he’d been right around the corner from this room. That seemed strange to her—and oddly significant.

His words drifted through her mind one last time.

“I’ll be around when you need me.”

She slept like the proverbial rock.

* * *

Petra arrived at the hotel early the next morning to find Garth already there. He asked right away how it went with Bowen. She replied simply that Jack Hernandez was the new construction manager.

“Excellent. Excellent,” Garth said, rubbing his hands together. “In that case, I have a little bonus in the works for you.” He rocked back on the heels of his Italian leather shoes and smiled. “It’ll be ready later this afternoon, so I’ll bring it by Chatam House this evening.”

Deciding that she couldn’t put him off any longer, Petra gave in graciously. “If you can be there by six, I’ll let my aunts know that we’ll be having company for dinner.”

His smile widened. “Six, it is.”

Petra turned the conversation to the pending chef interviews. By a quarter to five, exhausted from trying to stay a step ahead of Garth, she gratefully headed home to prepare for the evening ahead. She barely set foot on the landing upstairs when Dale appeared.

“I have something for you.”

“Oh?” What was this, she wondered, gift Petra night?

He waved her over to look at a picture on his phone. “A contact of mine found these fixtures in a Chicago retrofit. He even found extra shades in the original boxes. What do you think?”

Petra looked at the wall-mounted brass-and-glass light fixtures and lifted an eyebrow. “They’re lovely, but what are they for?”

He shot her a surprised look. “The missing hotel wall lamps. I counted fourteen.”