A Season of Angels (Angels Everywhere #1)(65)

She wanted to make some flippant reply, some casual remark that they could both laugh away, but it wouldn’t work.

“If it’ll ease your mind,” she said, disliking even this small compromise, “I’ll make an appointment with Dr. Benoit right away.” The physician, however dear, produced a flood of unhappy memories. She couldn’t think of him and not remember the months of hormone shots, the ultrasound, and everything else they’d attempted over the last seven years.

“All right, call your doctor friend,” Andrew said, but he didn’t sound especially pleased. He wanted to know. The sooner the better.

Not so with Leah. She’d already received all the confirmation she needed.

Monica had been standing in the cold, sounding the bell for charitable donations, for nearly forty-five minutes. She was cold, her feet hurt, and she was almost convinced Chet wouldn’t show.

Not after her father had caught him walking out of their yard in the dead of night. Worse, she’d been left to speculate what had happened. Her father had remained uncharacteristically tight-lipped about the incident. She’d tried once to pry information from him, but to no avail. Any further questions and he’d guess that her interest was more than normal curiosity.

Monica felt Chet’s presence several seconds before he came into view. Her body was developing a kind of sonar when it came to locating him. Her spirits lifted immediately and she drew in a deep breath and whispered a soft prayer of thankfulness.

“Hello,” she whispered, when he strolled up to the bright red pot and slipped a twenty-dollar bill inside.

“We need to talk,” he murmured, not looking at her.

“I know.”

“Can you meet me afterwards?”

“Of course.” She was in love and a woman in love would do whatever was necessary to be with her man. “Your apartment?” she asked, loving to tease him.

“No.” The word was sharp and instant.

Monica couldn’t help it, she laughed. “Where?”

“Pier Fifty-six. I’ll be waiting for you at the restaurant. There’s a table way in the back, closest to the water.”

She nodded eagerly. “I shouldn’t be much longer.”

“I’ll see you there,” he murmured, and before she could say another word, he was gone. The man was like a magician. He could appear and disappear at the drop of a hat, or so it seemed.

Twenty minutes later, Monica was hurrying downhill, toward the Seattle waterfront. She raced across the street, promising herself she’d stop on her way to the bus stop and look at the Christmas display in Nordstrom’s window. She’d heard it was angels this year, perched atop a train set that circled a frothy cloud. Stars shone bright from above. Another window was the traditional Santa’s elves at the North Pole and Mrs. Claus baking sugar cookies.

Chet was sitting at the table, waiting for her. Puget Sound showed through the huge plate-glass window behind him. The sky was blue and clear and the ferry had just pulled away from the dock. The scene was lovely and for a moment she studied the tranquil waters.

“I’m so glad to see you,” she said. She slipped out of her coat and waited a moment, wondering how long it would take Chet to notice her new dress, but he seemed preoccupied and said nothing. Monica was a bit hurt, but let it pass.

“I’m dying for a cup of coffee,” she said.

Chet waved for the waitress, who carried the glass pot over to the table. “Do you want something to eat?” he asked Monica.

She shook her head. “Just coffee for me, thanks.”

“Me too.” The waitress refilled his cup and poured hers.

Chet smiled over at her and the same intense look was back, the one she’d noticed earlier. His frown deepened as if he’d become aware of a change.

“Something’s different,” he said, studying her.

Monica beamed proudly. He had noticed. “I’m wearing a little makeup,” she whispered, leaning toward him. “Out of the blue I got a call from Donna Watkins, a lady from church. She invited me to lunch. Donna’s wonderful with clothes and scarves and pretty pins. . . . I didn’t always think so, but that doesn’t matter now. She claimed she was getting dressed that morning and had the irrepressible urge to call me and invite me out.

“After lunch she took me shopping. I bought the dress and”—she tossed back her head to expose her earlobes—“these. They’re lovely, aren’t they?”

Chet’s eyebrows shot toward his hair line at the sight of the small gold earrings. “I thought you claimed jewelry was a tool of the devil.”

She might have thought that at one time, but would never have said so, at least not publicly. “Don’t be ridiculous. I said that if a woman opted to wear jewels, then whatever she chose should enhance a meek and gentle spirit.”

“Earrings do all that?”

He was teasing her, but she didn’t mind. “I think so. Donna did too, but then she had on these huge Christmas tree decorations. They’re wild. As far as I can see, each woman is left to her own interpretation of this.”

She took a sip of coffee, grateful for the warmth it offered her. “Do you like the dress?” She tried to make light of it, but her heart was dangling precariously on her sleeve. Everything she’d bought that afternoon had been with Chet in mind. Each time she stepped before the mirror, her first thought had been what he would think when he saw her.