Flirting With Disaster

Duty done, Maggie was out the door and down the stairs at a clip an Olympic runner would envy. With her visit to Juliette behind her, life already looked brighter.

Maggie’s improved mood lasted only until she walked into Images and took a good look around at the displays that had been created in her absence. They were chaotic. Of course, she had no one to blame but herself. She was the one who’d gone off and left the decision making to her employees. She could hardly expect a twenty-one-year-old who dressed all in black and had pink streaks in her hair, or an art-school dropout whose mind tended to wander when she wasn’t in front of a canvas, to arrange the gallery with the same expertise and attention to detail that Maggie would. She was probably fortunate that they’d even bothered to uncrate the new shipments and price them.

“You’re back!” Victoria exclaimed when she stirred from reading her book. Judging from the cover, it was something dark and depressing, suitable for a woman in black.

“Indeed, I am,” Maggie said. “I see the new shipments came in.”

“Last week,” Victoria acknowledged. “I didn’t want to touch them, but Ellie said we probably should. The gallery was starting to look kinda empty, like we were going out of business or something.”

“Ellie was exactly right,” Maggie said. “Is there coffee made?”

Victoria stared at her blankly. “Coffee?”

“Yes, coffee. We make it every day in case a customer would like a cup.”

“Oh, I thought it was just for you, and since I didn’t know you were coming back today, I didn’t make any.”

“Never mind. I’ll make it, and as soon as I have a cup you can tell me what business has been like while I’ve been gone.”

“Actually, you’ll need to ask Ellie. I have an appointment at eleven, so she’s coming in early. Since you’re here, I’ll go now so I won’t be late.”

Maggie had always given her employees a lot of flexibility in scheduling, but usually she expected them to work longer than an hour before taking off. “When will you be back?”

Victoria shrugged as if the concept of time was of little importance. “How should I know? It depends on how long Drake can get away.”

“Drake?”

“My boyfriend,” Victoria explained impatiently as if Maggie should know that.

Maggie searched her memory. “I thought your boyfriend was named Lyle.”

“He split, like, three weeks ago, so now I’m seeing Drake.”

“In the middle of a workday?” Maggie said, subtly trying to suggest that there was something inappropriate about that. The notion apparently was utterly foreign to Victoria.

“It’s when he’s free,” she said reasonably. “After work, he has to go home to his wife.”

Maggie stared after Victoria as she fled to keep her “appointment” with her new, married boyfriend. And Juliette thought Maggie made bad choices. Her mother should spend an hour or two with Victoria. Maggie would begin to seem downright traditional after that.

A few minutes later, as Maggie was sipping gratefully on her first cup of very strong coffee, Ellie came in. In comparison to Victoria, she looked thoroughly professional in her tan slacks and white blouse. Her hair might be short and carelessly styled, but it was a perfectly normal shade of golden blond.

“Where’s Victoria?” Ellie asked, obviously startled to find Maggie behind her desk. “You didn’t fire her, did you?”

“No, though the thought has crossed my mind. She went to see Drake.”

Ellie grimaced. “Can you believe it? She’s dating a married man. And he must be having some kind of midlife crisis or something. Why else would he pick somebody as flighty as Victoria? He’s old. He must be thirty-five, at least.”

Maggie herself had issues with men that age. Warren was thirty-five. “Maybe you could sit here and tell me what’s been going on. Has business been good?”

Ellie looked vaguely disconcerted by the question. “I guess,” she said eventually. “The deposit slips are all in your desk.”

Maggie sighed. She should have known better than to expect any kind of overview of the gallery’s business the past month from either Victoria or Ellie. She was lucky they’d managed to keep the place from burning to the ground in her absence.

Ironically, the customers loved them. The two young women, with their off-beat quirkiness, seemed to fit the artistic stereotype people anticipated when shopping in a gallery. Her own contribution, she supposed, was class, necessary to assure the customers that the works and antiques on display were genuine and worth every penny of their exorbitant price tags.

“Thanks for looking after things,” Maggie said, meaning it. “I really appreciate the way you pitched in.”

“Sure. No problem. You know me. I can always use the extra cash.” Ellie’s expression brightened. “But I did sell two of my paintings while you were gone.”

Maggie beamed at her. What Ellie lacked in business skills, she more than made up for as an artist. “Congratulations! I told you it was only a matter of time. I think we should talk about having a real show one of these days. You’re ready for it, don’t you think?”

Ellie’s joy faltered. “Maybe you should come by the studio and take a look before you decide,” she suggested worriedly. “Maybe there aren’t enough good paintings yet. I don’t want you to be embarrassed.”

“You could never embarrass me. You’re the most talented artist I’ve discovered yet,” Maggie assured her with total sincerity. “I can’t wait to really give your work a big splashy show. Why don’t I come by one evening after we close and take a look. Then we can decide. I’d love to schedule something for this fall.”

“Really?” Ellie said, her eyes shining.

“Sweetie, you’re going to be showing in the Museum of Modern Art in New York before you know it, and I’m going to be bragging that I knew you when.”

“Don’t even tease about that,” Ellie said, bright spots of color in her cheeks.

“Who’s teasing? Don’t you know how good you are?” She could see by Ellie’s doubtful expression that she did not. “Don’t worry. You’ll see. I promise you.”

In fact, seeing Ellie’s career take off the way a few of Maggie’s other discoveries had before her was exactly the kind of achievement that kept Maggie in business. It was reassuring to know that in one area of her life, her judgment was impeccable.

3

There were at least forty people milling around in the church parish hall when Josh arrived there on Saturday morning. A long folding table was loaded down with a coffee urn, pottery mugs and trays of doughnuts and pastries. He wasn’t convinced there was enough caffeine or sugar in the world to get him through the weeks to come, but he filled a cup to the brim and grabbed a couple of glazed doughnuts before going in search of Cord.

He found him in an alcove, deep into what sounded like a very serious conversation with an unfamiliar man. Josh was about to back away when Cord spotted him.

“Hey, there you are,” Cord called. “Josh, get over here and let me introduce you to Caleb Webb. He’s the minister here and the driving force behind this project.”

Surprised, Josh took another look at the man dressed in worn jeans and a polo shirt. He didn’t look like any preacher Josh had ever known. For one thing, he was built as if he’d been working construction all his life. For another, he was young. Certainly no older than Josh’s age, thirty-four.

The few preachers Josh had encountered in his brief brushes with religion had all been old and mostly crotchety. They’d spent a lot of time talking about fire and brimstone, which had been pretty scary stuff to a kid. Caleb looked like someone you could enjoy a beer with at the end of the day. He also didn’t seem like the kind of man who’d try to frighten a youngster into behaving.

“Sorry for interrupting,” Josh told them. “I just wanted to let Cord know I was here.”

“Not a problem,” Cord assured him. “Caleb was just filling me in on a couple of problems that have cropped up.”

Josh should have guessed this project wouldn’t be the picnic Cord had promised him. “What kind of problems?”

“Nothing for you to worry about,” Caleb assured him. “I just have a little rebellion in the ranks among my parishioners. Some of them don’t approve of what we’re doing. It’s gotten a little ugly, but I’ll get it straightened out.”

“Ugly in what way?” Josh asked, trying to imagine why anyone would disapprove of building a home for someone in need.

Caleb gave him a wry grin. “There’s a camp that thinks I ought to be run off for doing this for Amanda O’Leary. They’re very vocal.”