Saturday Morning (47 page)

“Shari.”

“Our neighbor, Shari?”

“That’s the one. She’s the employee I told you I’d hired.”

“So what’s it look like?”

“See for yourself.” She handed him the papers.
Okay, God. I need You right now. Really need You. Things have been going so well this last week. He’s been just like my old Martin, and I want him to stay that way. As
he read, Andy watched his facial expressions and sipped her tea. An eyebrow rose, then he frowned, then both eyebrows rose. She was just about to tear the papers out of his hands when he set them down on the desk.

“It looks to me like you can afford to either hire Shari full-time or hire someone else part-time. Either way, it means—” The doorbell rang. “That’s probably my boss. I’ll get it.” He started for the door.

Andy listened to Martin greet Brad Grandolay and heard their footsteps as they went up the stairs to the living room. While Martin hadn’t said anything about her being around while they talked, she didn’t think either of them would be comfortable with her nearby, so she went back to work.

She spent the next hour alternately thinking about what Martin had said, wondering what he would have said if the doorbell hadn’t rung, and trying to analyze Shari’s figures. To Martin the sales figures meant she could afford more help, which would free her up to spend more time in San Francisco with him. But to her, they meant the business was growing faster than any of them had realized and that they would have to plant the rest of the acreage this spring or turn down orders for lack of product. Planting the rest of the acreage
would barely yield enough lavender to keep up with current orders. And what with the online catalog business growing …

It was dark by the time Andy went back upstairs. Martin’s boss was gone, and Martin and Fluffy were sitting on the sofa staring out the windows at the lights.

“Don’t you want some light on in here?” she asked, heading for the switch. When Martin didn’t answer, she thought he must be deep in concentration. “I’m fixing salmon for dinner.” Martin loved salmon and usually made some comment to that effect, but not this night. “Martin, are you all right? Do you have pain?”

He turned and looked at her over his shoulder. “I’m fine. I’m just sitting here thinking, that’s all. Salmon sounds good.”

Andy decided two could play at the thinking game. She had every bit as much to think about as Martin. A half hour later, when she put dinner on the table, she’d made her decision. She wanted those thirty acres. Now that she’d had a taste of success, she wanted more. In that way, she supposed she was a lot like Martin. Hopefully, she would never get so involved with her work as to exclude the people most important her: her family.
Thank You, Lord for this opportunity. Now how do I tell Martin?

“I’ve got a surprise for you all as soon as we finish working on your résumés.” Julia smiled at their groans. Tonight they had ten girls, several of whom were ready to send out their résumés. She had a list of places for them to send to, knowing that the first time out would most likely be practice.

Fawna burst through the door. “I did it. I got a job.”

“With Peter’s chef?”

“Yes! No more fast food.” She pumped the air with a fist clenching a paper. “I am now an assistant chef.”

The others all clapped and cheered, squealed, ran up and hugged Fawna, and then all of them were in a circle, arms over shoulders, doing a kick dance around the ring. Once around and Clarice stopped, patting her chest.

“I never did a dance like that before.”

“You kick pretty good for someone your age.” Celia fanned her heaving bosom.

“Okay, back to résumés.” Julia raised her voice, then repeated her message louder.

“Slave driver.” A couple muttered but flashed her grins as they took their places again.

“Where’s Hope?” someone asked.

“She supposed to be lying down. Had a big day.”

“She’s right here. What’s the hoopla about?” Hope strolled through the door.

“I got the job!” Fawna rushed over to Hope and showed her the paper. “See, it says so right here. I’m their new assistant chef. Starting tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.” Celia groaned. “Now I’ll have to cook again.”

“And redo the schedule.” Hope hugged Fawna and patted Celia on the back. “Everyone’s gotten so spoiled with you doing most of the cooking. Fawna, you are on your way. Way to go!” They swapped high-fives.

“Okay, back to work, celebration is now on hold until we finish here.”

An hour later, with resumes critiqued, rewritten, read aloud, and cheered, Julia stood in front of them again and nodded. “Good job, girls. You’re dismissed.”

“What’s our surprise?” someone called.

“Surprise, did anyone ever mention a surprise?” She glanced around the eager faces.

“The boxes are in the office. We’ll need help getting them.” Celia and Clarice headed for the office. Two girls leaped up and followed them.

“What’s in them?”

“I’m not telling.” Clarice leaned over to help pick one up.

“Huh-uh, hefting boxes is for young backs.” Celia bumped her away with one hip. “You lead the way.” She started to pick up the box, grunted, and motioned for one of the girls. “Get the other side.”

“I’ll get it, Mrs. C,” Tasha said when Clarice tried to help again.

“Do you mind if I carry the box cutter?” Her question made the others giggle.

All the girls gathered around as they set the boxes up on one of
the tables. Clarice cut open the boxes, and a sigh of delight ran from girl to woman at the sight of all the clothes and accessories.

“Okay, let’s lay things out according to sizes.” Hope held up a jacket. “Good interviewing stuff here. Size 10.”

“Brand-new?”

“This would fit you.”

The next half hour, giggles, “ooh’s,” “aah’s,” and holding things up to say, “How does this look?” and “Whatja think?” bubbled and snapped, a girl party like none of them had ever had before.

Hope finally raised her hands. “Here’s the way I see it. Let’s pick out the best outfits for interviewing, in a range of sizes, and keep those in the closet in the office. You wear what fits you for your interviews, make sure they’re clean, and then hang them back up for the next one. When the rest are here, everyone can choose one thing. How does that sound?” She glanced to the others for approval.

Some of the girls drifted away, but some stayed to help, hanging skirts, jackets, shirts, and pants on hangers, then hauling it all into the closet in the office, where others had been pulling the office supplies out and stacking the boxes in a corner.

The door opened, and Hope looked up. “Hi, can I help you?” She caught her breath. “Cyndy?”

The girl nodded. “Is my grandma here?”

Now that Andy was fairly sure she wanted the property in Medford, how should she tell Martin? Before she opened her mouth and said all the wrong things, she decided to get some advice on what to say and how to proceed.

The next morning, she told Martin she had to go to J House for a couple of hours but would be back before lunch. He still hadn’t said much since after his boss left. Was he feeling overwhelmed by all the work he had to do? Had his boss said something to tick him off? Or had he started taking those pain pills again?

She clicked her left turn signal to turn into the parking lot of J House. She had to wait for a black Lincoln Town Car to drive by before she could complete her turn. As it passed, she caught a glimpse of three men. Recognizing the front-seat passenger as Martin’s boss, Brad, she waved. Evidently he didn’t see her, because he didn’t wave back. Either that, or he was intentionally ignoring her.

As always, J House was an anthill of activity. “Good morning, Celia. It’s hard to believe you’re still picking veggies in December.”

“They grow year ’round here if you keep plantin’.” Celia pulled a carrot, wiped it off on her pant leg, and handed it to Andy, top and all. “Could use a washin’.” She uprooted another carrot for Adolph,
who was sitting next to her, one paw raised. “Dumb dog. Likes carrots. If I don’t watch him, he pulls his own.”

“My dog at home likes carrots,” Andy said, fighting a jolt of homesickness at the thought of Comet. “She likes Jell-O, too. You should see her try to eat it.”

Celia shook her head. “Did you hear all the news?”

“No. Tell me.”

“Fawna got a job over at the lawyer fella’s building, being the assistant to the chef. And … ” Celia paused for dramatic effect. “Julia’s granddaughter showed up last night.”

“Thank You, Jesus,” Andy said in a whoosh. “That’s wonderful news. Thanks.” She opened the door and went inside. She couldn’t wait to see Julia and tell her how happy she was for her. She followed the sounds of conversation to find Julia, Clarice, and Hope in the kitchen. Andy gave Julia a big hug. “Celia told me the news. You must be overjoyed.”

“I’m still in a state of shock.”

“Did she go back to the hotel with you last night?”

Julia nodded. “She took a shower, washed her hair, and crashed on the couch. When I got up this morning, she was gone.”

“Oh no.”

“It’s okay. She left me a note saying she’d be back this afternoon.” Julia raked her hand through her hair. “Why now?” she wondered out loud.

“Maybe because we’ve been praying so hard,” Clarice said, pouring tea into mugs for all of them.

Julia heaved a sigh. “I’m singing thank-yous, but let me tell you, I have no faith that if she does show up this afternoon, she’ll stay around.”

Hope smiled. “It’s a good thing we don’t have to have faith in each other. Only in Big Dad.”

“True, but how many people would call this a coincidence?” Julia asked.

“As far as I can see, there are no coincidences; there are only God-incidences.” Hope sipped her tea. “Let’s talk about the things we need to pray for. Clarice?”

Caught off guard, she hesitated before speaking. “First and foremost, for the future of J House.”

“Thanks and true, but what about for you?” Hope asked.

“I’m off the prayer list. It looks like I’ll be getting my Social Security checks and maybe even part of Herbert’s. That’s all I need.”

“That’s not all you need,” Andy said. “If you plan on living here, you’re going to need a lot more than Social Security checks. We’d better pray that you get everything back.”