Angels at the Table (Angels Everywhere #7)(24)

“Then get to it,” she muttered gruffly.

No sooner had he sat down at his computer than his cellphone buzzed. Distracted, Aren looked at it, didn’t recognize the number, and let whoever was on the other end of the line talk to his voice mail. He was about halfway through his review, which literally seemed to be writing itself, when Norm Lockett stopped by his cubicle. Norm did the reviews for Broadway shows.

“Norm,” Aren called out, stopping him. “Can I ask a favor?”

“What do you need, kid?”

Aren stood. Norm was thirty years his senior and well liked by everyone. “Is there a possibility of getting tickets for Angels at Christmas?” It wouldn’t do any harm to ask.

Norm grinned and slapped him across the back. “Let me see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Norm, I appreciate it.” Then, because he thought it might help, Aren added, “I don’t suppose you heard Doris Roberts is coming in to replace the lead in Angels at Christmas?”

“I did.”

The story had hit a few days earlier. Betty White had come down with a nasty cold and needed a break.

“I could write a short piece about Doris taking over the role,” Aren offered.

“No need,” Norm said and slapped him across the back a second time. “I’ll see what I can do, but no promises.”

“Thanks,” Aren said. “That would be great.”

He returned to his cubicle and was absorbed in his writing when Norm returned. “This is your lucky day.”

“You got tickets?”

“Two for next Thursday night.”

Aren didn’t care what night it was. “Thanks. You’re the best.” Aren was so pleased to get the tickets that he hadn’t even bothered to check his own schedule. Once he did, he discovered he had another restaurant review arranged for the same night. Dinner and a show. He could hardly believe his luck. Heaven was looking favorably down on him this fine December day. It would be even better if Lucie contacted him. If not, then he’d take his sister.

Norm returned to his cubicle and Aren went back to writing the review for Heavenly Delights. The words flowed effortlessly and he was humming right along when he paused mid-word. A thought struck him. The call he’d sent to voice mail earlier might have been Lucie.

Grabbing his cell, he played back the message. Sure enough, just as he’d suspected.

“Hello, Aren, this is Lucie. Mom said she explained why I didn’t meet you last January. I’m sorry you were left waiting. I’m hoping that you’d be willing to give me another chance. If you are, then give me a call, and if not … well, I understand.” Her voice dipped with dread or disappointment, Aren didn’t know which.

He couldn’t push the button fast enough to call her back.

She answered with, “This is Lucie.”

“Aren,” he supplied, but before he could get another word out, Lucie started jabbering away.

“Oh, Aren, you got my call. Obviously you did, otherwise you wouldn’t be phoning me. I sound completely redundant, don’t I? It’s just that I’m so very pleased to hear from you.” She paused as if embarrassed at how fast she’d spoken. “I’ll shut up and let you talk now.”

Aren smiled and a warm happiness settled over him. “You can keep talking as long as you like. I like the sound of your voice.”

“You do?”

“It’s providential that we should meet after all these months, don’t you think?” he asked.

“Yes … and providential is the perfect word, but then you work with words, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Mom said you were writing for the paper. I’d looked for your name—”

“I’m not exactly their ace reporter.”

“No, but you’re a wonderful writer … at least I think you must be, even if I haven’t read anything you’ve written.”

Actually, she had read one of his most significant pieces—his review of her restaurant. But Aren couldn’t tell her that, his contract at the paper stated as much and the managing editor had taken pains to remind him. Even if he was able, he wouldn’t. He didn’t want to end a promising relationship when it was just getting started.

Using this opportunity to change the subject he said, “I called because I was wondering if you’d be available for dinner and a show next week. I have two tickets to Angels at Christmas next Thursday.”

“Angels at Christmas! I heard it was impossible to get tickets for that musical.”

“I have two.”

“But, oh dear, I … don’t think I can. I’m cooking at the restaurant in the evenings.”

Of course she was. Aren couldn’t believe he’d forgotten that one key element. “Naturally you’d be working; I was so excited about the tickets I completely forgot.”

“Thursday night you say?” The question was followed by a short hesitation. “Listen, it doesn’t matter what night it is because I’m taking it off. We have a really wonderful sous-chef who can cover for me. I attended culinary school with Catherine—she’s really good. My mother’s been after me to take a break and this is important. Not to the world in general important, but important to me. Oh heaven, I’m doing it again. I probably don’t make any sense whatsoever, do I?”