Down from the Cross (5 page)

“And the rental car they brought you? Did it meet with your approval?”

There was no reason for her to avoid the truth here. “My approval? Oh, yes! It’s the nicest car I’ve ever driven. Much nicer than my Aveo, and way bigger.”

He laughed good-naturedly, stepping out of her way once they were inside. “Good, I’m glad you like it.”

Karen grabbed a magazine from a stack on the coffee table and seated herself on the sofa. “I’ll sit here while you two talk.”

Jane nodded. She was greatful her friend had come with her.

Keene’s condominium astounded her. The living room was large and filled with sunlight from the long stretch of sliding glass doors that opened onto a huge balcony overflowing with potted flowers and palms. Both the walls and the sculptured carpets were off-white, with the furniture upholstered in shades of green and burgundy, and highlighted with touches of royal blue and rose. A grand piano stood in the far corner, an oversized vase on it filled with fresh flowers. It reminded her of a room from a movie set or an architectural magazine. Far more impressive than any she had ever been in before.

“My place in New York City is a bit nicer, but this one will do. I’ll only be here for a few months. A friend of mine owns this condo, but he’s spending a year in Europe, so he’s been kind enough to loan it to me.” He clasped his hands together and raised his brows. “May I get you something to drink? Water, soft drink?”

Jane shook her head, feeling like a country bumpkin for the way she allowed herself to stare at both him and the room. She couldn’t help it. It was all so grand. “Nothing, thank you.”

He motioned toward a wide hallway. “Do you need to rest before I show you where you’ll be working? I’m sure it’s not easy getting around in that walker with your leg in a cast.”

“Oh, no. I’m fine, but…” Although she was eager to see her working quarters, she paused, wanting to give him another chance to change his mind. The idea of her, a nobody, working for a famous opera star was ludicrous. “You were very kind to offer me this job, Mr. Moray, but if you’d like to back out—I’ll understand. I’m sure in time I can find another job.”

He carefully nudged her on, his touch nearly melting her. “I won’t hear of it! You need a job, and I need an assistant. I’m sure we’ll have a pleasant working relationship.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to help me. I can make it on my own. In fact, in a few days I hope to completely rid myself of this walker.” She tried to escape his grasp, but he wouldn’t allow it.

“Just take your time. We’re in no hurry.”

“Remember, I don’t have any office experience,” she reminded him.

He stopped and stared at her, his demeanor light and teasing. “Office experience? How much office experience does it require to file things in alphabetical order?” He gave her a mischievous grin. “Didn’t you learn that little song when you were in kindergarten? You know the one I mean. A, B, C, D, E, F, G, and so on? The one that ends, ‘Now I’ve sung my ABCs. Tell me what you think of me.’ ”

Even though it was a silly children’s song, Keene Moray had just sung those few words for her—personally, an audience of one! The idea made her head swim.

“Well, did you?”

“Yes,” she finally admitted, “only I have another version I like better.”

“Oh? Sing it for me.” He moved to stand in front of her and waited.

She nearly fainted at the thought.
Me sing? For the great Keene Moray? Unthinkable!
“No! No, I couldn’t do that.”

He gave her arm a slight squeeze, sending icy chills through her body.

“Come on. I insist. You do sing, don’t you?”

“Yes, a little.”

He tipped his head, eyeing her. “I’ll bet you sing at church.”

“Yes.”

“In the choir?” She nodded.

“Then you must sing for me.”

He waited expectantly, and she knew he was not going to give up until she had sung the little alphabet song for him. She swallowed a lump that had suddenly arisen in her throat and sent up a quick prayer.
I promised You, God, I would be a testimony to this man. Make me brave enough to sing it for him.

“Jane. Sing. I’m waiting. Come on. I sang mine for you.”

“Promise you won’t laugh at me?”

“I promise,” he said, sobering and crossing his heart with his index finger.

She began, hoping she had started in the right key. “A, B, C, D, E, F, G. Jesus died for you and me. H, I, J, K, L, M, N. Jesus died for sinful men, a-men! O, P, Q, R, S, T, U. I believe God’s Word is true. U, V, W. God has promised you. X, Y, Z. A home e–ter–nal–ly.”

The ridiculing look she expected to see on his face did not happen. Instead, the faintest of smiles appeared as Keene seemed to be assessing her words. “That’s pretty cute. Great way to learn the alphabet. Did you make it up?”

She could not help but smile back. Every child who had ever attended her church had learned that little song. And they had sung it at every youth camp she ever attended. “No, I didn’t, but I wish I could take credit for it. Everything it says is true.”

“You have a nice voice,” he said, leading the way down the hall and pushing open the door that led to his office.

She couldn’t be sure if his compliment was sincere or merely polite, but she was grateful for it anyway.
Thank You, Lord!

“How long have you been singing in your church choir?”

She followed him into the room, trying to keep her mind on his question instead of the magnificent office that surrounded her. She had nearly forgotten about Karen waiting in the living room. “Since my first year of high school, but I’ve belonged to the junior choir since fifth grade.”

He motioned her toward an upholstered chair in front of a wide cherrywood desk and then seated himself in a chair next to it. “Ever done any solos?”

She sat down in the comfortable chair and swiveled it to face him, lifting her foot and resting it on the edge of a heavy metal wastebasket. “Yes, a number of them, although I’m not that good. They only call on me when they’re desperate or someone is out sick.”

He gave her an accusing grin. “I doubt that. I think you are just being modest. From the little bit I just heard, I’ll bet you’re very good.”

“Is… is this where I’ll be working?” she asked. This time it was she who wanted to change the subject. Discussing singing with Keene Moray was like racing a rowboat against a cruise ship, and it made her ill at ease.

“Yes.” He turned and pointed to a pile of boxes lined up along the wall. “Those are what I need filed. Most of it is sheet music. Some are contracts. The rest is a conglomeration of letters, clippings, research, and I can’t even remember what else. I had all that stuff shipped here to Providence, hoping to find someone like you who could go through it, sort it all out, and set up a filing system for me.” His finger pointed toward a row of boxes piled on top of one another. “Those boxes are all empty filing boxes. I figure once they are filled, it will be easy to ship them to my office in New York. And those boxes are filled with office supplies,” he said, pointing to a few boxes at the far end. “Mostly file folders, labels, envelopes, staplers, that sort of thing. If I missed anything you need, we’ll get it.”

He pointed to a big box on the credenza behind the desk. “That’s fan mail that needs to be sorted and answered. I guess I could write out a simple letter, have it duplicated, and send it to everyone, like many of my artist friends do, but I like to respond to my fan mail with a personal note to each person who has taken the time to write me. From the looks of things piled around here, you can tell I have gotten way behind. I’ll need you to take care of those for me, too.” He gestured again toward the stack of mail. “Maybe you could start with those fan letters. That way you wouldn’t have to walk around very much. I don’t want you overdoing it.”

She stared at the boxes, taking them in one by one. “What if I have questions? Will you be here to answer them?”

He threw back his head with a raucous laugh. “Oh, yes. I will be here, but you’ll probably wish I wasn’t! I’ll be learning and practicing a new opera for next year’s season, and I’m afraid at times I get very loud.” He sent her a toothy grin. “Perhaps I should provide earplugs for you.”

Earplugs? To block out that fabulous baritone voice? Never!
“I won’t need earplugs, Mr. Moray. I’ll love hearing you practice.”

A deep frown creased his brow, and she feared she had said something wrong.

“Look, if you and I are going to be working together, you’ll have to quit calling me Mr. Moray. Call me Keene. That is my name, you know. My real name, I might add. Not a stage name.”

Her flattened palm went to her chest and her eyes widened in awe. “I can’t—”

“Oh, yes, you can. You must call me Keene. I insist.” His smile returned. “And I can assure you I get pretty testy when I don’t get my way.” He pointed to her walking cast again. “By the way, when did the doctor say you could get rid of that thing?”

“Hopefully in five to six weeks. I’m ready to start work if you’ll show me what to do. But first I’d better tell Karen she can go on home.”

He rose, rubbing his hands together briskly. “Fine! Let’s get at it.”

“You’re sure you don’t need me to stay?” Karen asked when Jane hobbled into the living room. “Can you really trust that guy?”

Jane smiled. “Yes, I’m sure I can. Go on now, and I’ll call you tonight.”

“Good thing we each drove our own car,” Karen added with a nod toward the hallway. “Call if you need me.”

Jane assured her she would. Once the door closed behind her friend, she headed back down the hall, confident she was perfectly safe with her new boss.

For the next three hours, they worked side by side with Keene opening the boxes containing all the items he had mentioned, going over the contents in detail, and telling her how he wanted them sorted. At noon, he called for sandwiches to be delivered by a nearby deli. Although the sandwiches were delicious, Jane found it hard to swallow. Just being in the presence of this famous man made her stomach quiver and her hands shake with delight. His kindness toward her was amazing. He stopped her from doing anything that would hurt her leg or cause her discomfort.

They worked until three when Keene suggested they call it a day. When the door closed behind her, Jane leaned against the foyer wall and breathed a deep sigh. She had gotten through her first day of working for Keene Moray, and it hadn’t been half bad. It fact, it had been extremely pleasant. Now if she could just come down off cloud nine and get home without tripping over something.

As soon as Keene heard the door close, he moved into his office and phoned the garage where they had towed Jane’s car. “You are going to repair it as good as new, aren’t you?” he asked Biff Hogan, the job manager.

“Depends on how much your insurance company wants us to do,” the man said. “That’s a pretty light little car. That BMW of yours banged it up real good.”

“Perhaps it’d be better to replace it. From what the owner said, I assume it’s around six months old, and I doubt she’s put very many miles on it.”

“You’re right about that. She’s chalked up less than four thousand miles.” There was a pause on the other end. “I doubt your insurance company will replace it. They rarely do, but the costs to repair it back to its original state are going to be pretty hefty.”

Keene pondered his words carefully. Somehow it didn’t seem right to repair something that had been nearly new before he damaged it. “I’ll be right over. I want to take a look at it myself before you do anything, okay?”

“Sure. You’re the boss.”

All the way to the garage, Keene’s thoughts were on Jane and the misery and inconvenience he had caused her, and how sweet she had been about the whole thing. He thought about the time the two of them had spent together that day, going through the boxes, setting up the filing system, and eating lunch together. Although he regretted meeting her by running into her car and causing her injuries, it seemed fate had brought her to him. She was exactly the kind of person he’d hoped to find to fill the temporary assistant position during the time he would be in Providence. Even with that cast on her leg slowing her down, he knew she’d do the job efficiently, and it would be nice to have someone with her pleasant disposition around the condo, not to mention the strain it would remove by having someone to field his incoming calls.

He smiled to himself. Especially the calls from the many women he had dated while in New York and even those who often called from Paris—beautiful, well-educated women who knew and appreciated good music. He loved having a beautiful woman on his arm when he attended the many social functions required of him as a performer, but there wasn’t one among them he would ever want to marry. No. When, and if, he ever married, it would not be to some debutante who had more interest in maintaining her figure and keeping her artificial nails in perfect condition than in being a loving mate to her husband and bearing his children. It would be to a real woman. One who would put him first, and if God allowed—

If God allowed?
He laughed out loud.
God? There is no God. I merely quoted a figure of speech! Like talking about the tooth fairy or Mother Nature.