For Her Son's Love

He resisted the urge to scan the dining room to see if Miranda was there. Not that he expected to see her. She’d worked the breakfast and lunch shift both times he’d eaten at the diner.

But a guy can hope….

It was worse than he’d thought. When had he become such a glutton for punishment? He had a knack for reading people and Miranda’s cool reserve stated loud and clear that she wanted to be left alone.

He glanced at the empty stools lining the counter. Tonight, he didn’t want to be the high-maintenance playboy. Not with Sandra and Isaac. “It looks like you’re closing soon.”

“Not for an hour. The grill’s still hot,” Isaac rumbled.

Andrew wondered what Chef François would say about the Starlight Diner’s gruff old cook. Tufts of white hair formed an uneven strip around the circumference of Isaac’s head and matched the eyebrows sprouting on both sides of a caricature of a nose. The stained, tarplike apron he wore didn’t quite cover the belly spilling over the top of his baggy pants. Pants held up by bright red suspenders.

He decided the two men would be trading recipes and good-natured insults within five minutes.

“Don’t mind us, we’re not usually this lazy,” Sandra said, patting the stool next to her as an invitation for Andrew to sit down. “The local news just ran a segment on our favorite hometown celebrity, Douglas Matthews. They’re saying his talk show has a shot at going national. That would certainly put Chestnut Grove on the map.”

“It’s already on the map,” Isaac muttered, but Andrew noticed his eyes were glued to the television and there was a hint of pride in his voice.

“Douglas is homegrown. I’m sure if his show is picked up by one of the big networks, we’ll be the first ones to know,” Sandra said. “Now, don’t be shy, Andrew. What can I get you?”

He decided honesty was the best policy. “Actually, I was hoping for a piece of your apple pie.”

“I think we have some in the kitchen—”

“I’ll get it.”

Andrew heard Miranda’s voice behind him and realized she must have been there all along. She wore her pink waitress uniform with her hair still scraped away from her face in a sedate twist, but now a pair of tortoise-shell glasses perched on her nose. On anyone else they might have looked severe, but on Miranda, they created a worthy frame for the velvet brown eyes. She looked beautiful. And fascinating.

“Thank you—”

Before he could finish the sentence, the doors between the kitchen and the dining room swished shut.

All right, then.

Even Isaac looked a little confused by her abrupt departure. With an apologetic glance at Andrew, he lumbered to his feet and followed her into the kitchen.

“Miranda was a finance major so she handles the books for the diner,” Sandra told him. “She’s covering for Darcy tonight but it’s been slow the last half hour so she’s juggling numbers instead.”

A finance major? Interesting.

“So the diner is part-time?” He deliberately kept his voice casual, not wanting to admit, even to himself, how curious he was about Miranda Jones’s personal life.

“No.” Sandra shook her head. “She used to work at a bank but she told me she prefers to waitress. That’s a blessing for me—she’s one of my best employees.”

Something about that bit of information struck Andrew as odd. Not the part about Miranda being a good employee but that she preferred to be a waitress. A bank definitely offered more in the way of advancement. Not to mention a higher wage. Before he could question Sandra further, Miranda returned with a slab of apple pie that sentenced him to an extra set of stomach crunches in the gym tomorrow.

Instead of looking directly at him, her gaze found a focal point over his shoulder.

“Would you like ice cream?”

“Sure.” Make it two sets.

She stood close enough for him to smell her perfume. It was a light floral fragrance, delicate and tantalizing. A totally unexpected bolt of attraction skidded through him.

Whoa.

He did what came naturally when confronted by a problem. He immediately turned to God to help him sort through it.

What is this, Lord? I don’t know anything about Miranda Jones. And she sure doesn’t act like she wants to get to know me….

“I’ll be right back.” She managed a polite smile and slipped behind the counter where a small freezer was located.

See what I mean?

Sandra leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Kelly told me about the documents Jonah found at the mansion yesterday. Ross started to sort through them today but it’s going to be a huge undertaking. He said the dates on some of them go back ten years.”

The ice-cream scoop in Miranda’s hand suddenly clattered to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, kneeling down to retrieve it.

Andrew frowned as he watched her. The color had drained from her cheeks, leaving her eyes huge in her heart-shaped face and dark with an emotion he couldn’t decipher. Embarrassment? That wouldn’t make sense. No. It had almost looked like fear.

Sandra’s hand covered his, pulling his attention back to their conversation. Tears gathered in her eyes before she could blink them away.

“Kelly has worked so hard to restore Tiny Blessings’ reputation after the damage Barnaby Harcourt caused,” she said softly. “I can’t believe she has to go through this again. Not to mention all the families who could be affected by these new documents Jonah found. I trust that God knows what He’s doing, but I can’t help but wonder why so many people have to suffer the consequences of one man’s greed.”

It didn’t surprise Andrew that Kelly Young Van Zandt had confided in Sandra. Kelly’s husband, Ross, was the private investigator Sandra had hired to find the child she’d given up years ago, so he was also the one who’d discovered that Kelly Young was Sandra’s biological daughter. The relationship between the two women had had a rocky start but now they were extremely close. Another testimony to God’s goodness.

“According to Eli and Rachel, Ben tried to find his birth mother but eventually he’d hit a dead end,” Andrew said. “If Ross has enough information to find her now, maybe Ben’s questions will be answered and something good will come out of this mess.”

“What man meant for evil, God meant for good,” Sandra quoted. Her eyes sparkled, but not from tears this time. “You’re right. Come to think of it, I’m living, breathing proof of that promise.”

So am I.

Andrew didn’t say the words out loud but the truth in them flooded him with a familiar sense of peace. The peace that had carried him through the most traumatic experience of his life.

“That’s what I’m going to pray for,” Sandra declared, striking her hand on the counter for emphasis. “That God is going to somehow shine His light into the darkness Barnaby Harcourt created.”

Andrew silently added some new names to his prayer list. Ross and Kelly. Ben. Especially Ben. Everyone had witnessed how shaken up he’d been by Jonah’s discovery. He was closer than ever to unraveling the mystery surrounding his birth and it would take a lot of strength to follow a path with no guarantee where it would end.

Miranda had unobtrusively deposited the pie and ice cream in front of him while he and Sandra had talked, but instead of going back to the booth in the corner to work on the books, she lingered behind the counter, straightening items on the shelves.

Even focused on Sandra, Andrew was acutely aware of her presence. Some of her color had returned but she still seemed fragile. What had upset her? The surge of protectiveness he felt startled him as much as that first jolt of mind-numbing attraction had.

Sandra must have caught something in his expression because she glanced over her shoulder and saw Miranda. A faint smile scooped out the dimple in her cheek.

“Oh, sugar, I should have been paying attention. It’s after nine. Let me and Isaac clean up. You have to get home.”

Andrew winced. Nine o’clock. He’d totally forgotten his dinner reservation. Forgiveness wasn’t exactly high on the temperamental chef’s list of qualities, either. Oh, well. Five minutes of drama spewed out in French was worth the unexpected bonus of seeing Miranda again.