Season of Joy

“How long have you been here?”

“Five years as director, about eight altogether.”

“And you don’t even have a plant?” She turned to him with a curious look.

To her surprise, he flushed. “I should make it a little homier, considering all the time I spend in here.”

Calista nodded. “I don’t know much about charities, but if you’re bringing donors through this hallway to get to the boardroom, you had better keep this door closed.”

He let out a sound that was more of a startled cough. “I don’t think it’s all that bad, personally.”

“It’s not bad. But it doesn’t look good. And donors will judge the entire mission on you and your space.” She surveyed the room once more. “Maybe a nice framed photo of the staff, right here, that you could see when you passed down the hallway.”

Grant frowned. Putting money into furnishings when there were people who didn’t even have shoes was unthinkable. And a photo? He hated anything done for show. It smacked of insincerity to have a photo taken of his staff, even though they were his friends, just to show it off to donors. But he tried to take a mental step back and look at her advice with a cool head. He knew better than anybody that donors saw him and the mission as inseparable. He was the human face they could put on the problems of hunger and homelessness in their community.

“I suppose I can see your point. I’ll look for something that might go in that spot. I appreciate the advice.”

People didn’t usually thank her for the advice she handed out. Probably because she made it a habit to break the cardinal rule of giving advice: wait for someone to ask. She turned, surprised and ready with a quick retort if she saw the faintest suggestion of sarcasm.

Their eyes met. Time seemed to slow as he stood very still. His gaze wandered down to her mouth. It had been so long since any man had looked at her like that and she read in his blue eyes exactly what was going through his mind.

He moved a half inch forward. Calista felt a thrill course through her and couldn’t stop her breath from catching in her throat. The tiny noise she made seemed to remind him where they were and what they were doing. He blinked, and his gaze flashed back to the empty spot on the wall.

He cleared his throat and stepped back into the hallway. “I’ll show you the filing room so you can see the mess we have in there.” His voice was rough.

Calista nodded, following his lead without comment. She really needed to get a grip. All of this talk about purpose and change, but here she was ogling the director. Of course, there were some major sparks flying, but the poor man had enough on his plate without adding a woman like herself to it. She trudged behind him down the hallway, barely listening while making appropriately interested sounds. Everything about Grant Monohan made her want to be a better person, and that meant learning not to indulge every wish and whim. Not something she was really used to, but she was determined to make herself useful at the mission...and stay out of his way.

* * *

Grant struggled to put words together as he led Calista down the hallway toward the file room. His mind churned as he pointed out stacks of loose files, gave her a quick tutorial and then made as quick an exit as was humanly possible.

He reentered his office and shut the door, leaning heavily against it. What on earth had just happened there? One minute she was giving him sound business advice, and then next he was about to make a move on the pretty new volunteer. He felt a shiver of fear run through him. Maybe all the stress of making their low funds stretch through the holidays was messing with his head. Maybe he needed to get some counseling to make sure he was staying on track.

And being seconds from kissing a woman in his office was about as offtrack as he could get.

He didn’t even really know much about her, except she was smart, bossy and emotionally vulnerable in a way that made him want to protect her from the world. But she didn’t need him to do that. Rich people just hired someone to protect them. Grant rubbed his temples and tried to corral his thoughts.

In a job like this, you had to understand the danger of becoming too emotionally close to the people who needed your help. It was okay to make friends, to give support and encouragement; it wasn’t okay to let attraction lead to actions. To be fair, it was definitely a mutual attraction. The way her eyes looked at him told him that.

And she wasn’t a resident or someone in need of counseling. But she had already said she was working her way back from some kind of traumatic past. Her faith was new, untested. He had no right to get in the way of what God was working in her heart. It was too much, too soon. The “new chick” was going to have to find her way without any of his attention. Plus, he had bigger problems on his plate, starting with a leaky roof and a Thanksgiving dinner for five hundred. After that, he had to take another look at the financials. If anything else went wrong, anything at all, their reserves would be tapped out.

Chapter Four

Calista’s usual morning routine began with two pieces of seven-grain toast, some orange juice and a long run on her treadmill. This Wednesday was no different, except that she pounded out a solid five miles with an overwhelming feeling of happiness. The awesome view of the Rocky Mountains never got old. She couldn’t wait for the next snowfall, a few days from now, if the forecast was right. Last year she’d been too busy to enjoy any of it, practically living at the office. But this year would be different.

It would be the perfect winter moment: watching big flakes drifting past her tenth-floor windows as she read in her favorite chair, wrapped in a cozy blanket and sipping hot chocolate. In her mind’s eye, there was someone new in the picture. Someone tall, handsome, caring. Calista shook her head and turned off the treadmill. Grant was never going to end up in her condo, sipping hot chocolate or not. To him, the luxury high-rise would be a disgusting waste of money.

Mimi wandered into the kitchen and surveyed her domain from the end of her squashed and furry nose. Cruella De Vil could have learned a thing or two from Mimi. The cat was bad to the core. Deceptively sweet on the outside, Mimi would wait for Calista to leave before she took her revenge, usually by chewing on her nicest pumps.

Calista put out a tentative hand, hoping for the hundredth time that they could be friends. The Siamese cat waited for her to get closer, then darted forward with lightning speed to nip Calista’s fingers with her tiny, sharp teeth. She yelped and snatched her hand back. Mimi made a slow-motion about-face and presented her fluffy behind before she sidled out of the kitchen.

Calista sighed, and headed for the master bathroom.

After her shower, she decided on a simple tailored white shirt and khaki pants. She let her blond hair dry naturally so it curled a bit and swiped on a light pink lipstick.

Calista took a long look in the mirror. She tilted her head and squinted, watching little crow’s-feet appear at the corners of her large green eyes. She had always taken care of her skin and watched her weight, but no more than most women. Calista knew she had a lot of spiritual work to do but at least she wasn’t obsessed with her appearance.

It was a strange feeling, looking at her own personality under the microscope. She’d spent so many years gliding by on power and position that she wasn’t even sure what her weaknesses were.

She closed her eyes for a moment, praying that God would reveal her faults to her. Just not all at once, please, she thought hastily. Maybe she could tackle one issue a month. And this month would be...being a better friend. She opened her eyes and grinned at her reflection. This would be the ultimate makeover, from the heart on out.

* * *

“Glad to see you this morning,” Grant said.

Calista knew it was just words, but she couldn’t help grinning every time he said it. “Thanks, I can’t seem to stay away.”

He reached out a hand and she responded, feeling the warmth and strength that she had missed ever since the first time they’d met. She struggled to sort her feelings, to narrow down the whirl of conflicting emotions. But all she could feel was the touch of his hand, and hear the steady beat of her heart against her ribs. As he let go, she noticed dark shadows under his eyes and there was a persistent frown line between his brows.

“Everything all right? You look tired.”

His shoulders straightened a bit and he glanced out the lobby window behind her, watching the residents filing in from the halls. “Fine. Just the busy season.”

“Does your family live around here?” As she asked the question, she wished she could snag back the words. He probably thought she wanted to know more about his alcoholic mother. Her cheeks went hot.

His gaze traveled back to her and he frowned, thinking. “My family...is here. At the mission.”

Well, that was clear enough. He could have waved a sign that said, “None of your business. Stop prying.” Calista nodded, biting her bottom lip.

“Mr. Monohan?” A young man with a long, lean face approached them. He was wearing one of the red polo shirts that identified him as a mission worker and it hung from his thin frame.

“Hi, Jorge.” Grant turned his attention to the mission worker. “What’s up?”

Deep brown eyes flitted to Calista and then away. He cleared his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Your girlfriend is on the phone.”

Calista’s stomach suddenly fell to her feet. There was no reason on God’s green earth that she should feel anything at those words. She looked around desperately for Lana, and pretended she couldn’t hear the conversation only a foot away.

“My what?”

“Jennie Close, that lawyer? She said to tell you that your girlfriend was on the phone.” His eyes flickered nervously between Calista and Grant again.

Grant opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of what he was going to say. “Tell her I’ll be right there.”

Jorge nodded and slipped back through the door to the offices.

“Lana should be here in just a bit. She has some projects she wanted to show you.”

Calista forced a bright smile. “Great. I’ll wait right here.”