Angels at the Table (Angels Everywhere #7)(9)

“He wants me to meet him on the seventh at the top of the Empire State Building,” she blurted out, unable to stop herself. Eventually her mother would drag it out of her one way or another.

“Then you should go.” Opening her eyes now, Lucie’s mother frowned as though confused.

“The thing is, Mom, the timing is all wrong,” Lucie whispered.

“So? If you wait until everything is perfect you might lose Aren, and I don’t want that to happen.”

“I don’t either. We decided to give it a week. We’d been up nearly all night and the sparks were there but, like I said, the timing couldn’t be worse for me. Aren’s starting a new job; I’m already overwhelmed with the restaurant and—”

“My goodness, Lucie Ann, don’t you know by now that falling in love is never convenient? I met your father just a short time before he shipped out for the Vietnam War. We had a single day together and then we wrote to each other. Your father wrote the most amazing, beautiful letters.”

Lucie had heard the story a thousand times and never tired of it. “A year passed,” she continued for her mother.

“Thirteen months. I was in my sophomore year of college and one day out of the blue your father showed up on campus.”

“A man in a uniform wasn’t exactly the most welcome sight in those days, especially at the university.”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“But you loved him.”

“I did, but I had health issues and I wasn’t entirely sure I’d be able to have children.”

“And Daddy batted down every objection because he loved you.”

“He was determined, all right,” Wendy said, her eyes gleaming with the memory.

“And Daddy gave you a deadline.”

“Just the way Aren is doing.”

“This is different, Mom.”

“Not so different, my dear girl. Not so different at all. Like I said, finding the right person doesn’t fall into a tidy, neat schedule. You don’t turn twenty-one and instantly meet the man of your dreams. It happens when it happens.”

Lucie knew that was true from her parents’ own love story. Her father had to work hard in order to convince her mother that they should marry. Wendy resisted, and insisted George didn’t know what he was getting himself in for. Although the circumstances were different, this was like history repeating itself.

“Promise me you’ll meet this young man.”

“Mom …”

“I know this is what your heart is telling you, Lucie. You can’t fool me, sweetheart. You never could.”

That was true. Lucie found deceiving her mother impossible and she disliked it intensely when others deceived her. “Give me time; I’ve got an entire week to decide.”

The morning of January 7, Lucie woke convinced she knew what she wanted. Her mother had worked on her the entire week, talking up the romantic aspect of the meeting. Repeatedly she reminded Lucie of her own starry-eyed courtship with the young army officer who became Lucie’s father.

“This afternoon is the date,” Wendy casually mentioned over breakfast.

“Yes, Mother, I know.”

“Tell me you’ve decided to meet Aren, because if you don’t, I swear I’ll go to the Empire State Building to meet him myself.”

“Mom.”

“Well, okay, I probably wouldn’t, but Lucie, I wish you could see how your eyes light up every time you mention him. I felt that way about your father, and sweetie, we had all those wonderful years together. I want you to find that same happiness.”

“I know, Mom …”

“Set my mind to rest—just tell me your decision.”

Lucie had tried to keep this low-key but clearly she couldn’t. “I’ll be there at four and Aren will be waiting for me.”

Wendy rubbed her palms together as though it was impossible to contain her joy. “You let that young man know I want to meet him, will you?”

“Of course, Mom. You’ll have plenty of opportunity to meet Aren.”

Lucie loved her mother’s enthusiasm.

“I’ve arranged to get off work early,” Lucie explained. “I’ll take the subway into the city.”

“Perfect. You’ll call once you’re there, won’t you? I refuse to be left in the dark. I want to know what happens when he sees you, okay?”

“Give me a few minutes to at least greet him.” She’d phone after that kiss Aren had promised her. Lucie had trouble holding back a smile. After all, it’d all started with a simple kiss. Well, in truth, it hadn’t been that simple. Things rarely were.

Lucie had never been a clock watcher, especially on the job. That day, however, her gaze bounced against the wall several times as she counted the hours away. At three o’clock, a full hour before the scheduled rendezvous, Lucie changed clothes, refreshed her makeup, and headed out the door to the subway station. She was just about to descend the stairwell when her cellphone rang.

“Is this Lucie Ferrara?” a woman’s voice asked.

“Yes.”

“This is New York Methodist Hospital. We have your mother here. She took a bad spill and broke her arm. I’m afraid she’s going to need surgery …”