The Trouble with Angels (Angels Everywhere #2)(42)

"I so desperately want to help Paul,” Goodness said.

"What about your miracle idea?” Shirley asked.

"Scratch that.” Goodness hoped her friends would leave the matter at that. She’d rarely felt more foolish.

"Scratch a miracle?”

Unfortunately, Goodness’s response had only succeeded in rousing Mercy’s interest.

"All right, Goodness, you’d better tell us what happened.”

"Nothing much.”

"You didn’t think of a miracle for Pastor Paul?” Shirley asked.

Goodness’s nod revealed her reluctance to discuss the subject. "It didn’t work.”

"The miracle?” the other two asked in astonishment.

"No. Oh, I might as well tell you what I did,” she muttered. There wasn’t any way she was going to salvage her pride in this. "I revealed myself to Reverend Morris, full of God’s glory. Only…” Even now she could barely make herself say the words.

"Only…,” Shirley prompted.

"Only he didn’t notice me.”

"Didn’t notice you?” This came in whispered disbelief from Mercy. "How is that possible?”

"I don’t know,” Goodness confessed.

Her friends gathered at her side. "While you two attended the basketball game, I was left to face”—she hesitated and swallowed—"indifference.”

Shirley’s arm went about her waist. "Apathy is the worst.”

"Poor Goodness.”

"Now you understand why I’m so completely frustrated with this assignment,” Goodness managed. She wished now that she’d confessed her failure earlier. Her friends’ support and encouragement were just the balm her injured pride needed.

"I’m disappointed in his children,” Shirley said shortly. "I would think they’d recognize the signs. Both are intelligent adults with a good education. Their father’s in deep emotional pain. He needs help.”

"They do know,” Goodness said, coming to Bethany and Joe’s defense. "But they desperately want to believe everything is fine with their father. They wouldn’t know what to do if it wasn’t, so they ignore the obvious.”

"How true,” Mercy said thoughtfully. "Their father’s always been emotionally strong. He’s the one they turned to in times of trouble and need. The truth would upset them, so their father tells them what they secretly long to hear.”

"Friends,” Goodness said suddenly, and snapped her fingers. "That’s what Paul Morris needs right now. The companionship of good friends.” She smiled at her two compatriots. "Now all I need to do is round up a few.”

When Ted arrived back from lunch, there was a message on his desk from Joy. It was brief and to the point. She had to break their dinner date. No explanation. No excuses. No date.

He tried phoning her and each time was assured she’d been given his message. Sometimes Ted was slow, real slow. Hit-him-over-the-head-with-a-billy-club slow.

Joy Palmer was avoiding him. What should have been obvious after two phone calls didn’t hit him until he’d made four.

Ted was in sad shape. Real sad shape, not to have recognized that sooner. He’d kissed her, and it was as if his common sense had taken a flying leap out the proverbial window.

He’d liked Joy from the first. The woman enthralled him with her unabashed enthusiasm for life. The basketball game had cinched it. Even now he wasn’t sure what had prompted him to tail her to her father’s garage. From there the rest was history.

Unfortunately there was the small problem of Blythe. He needed to talk to her, but when he’d phoned she’d abruptly canceled their date without offering an explanation. He wondered if she’d heard about him and Joy but decided that was impossible. He would clear up matters with Blythe, but he’d wait for her to contact him. She would, he knew, and soon.

Ted left the office ten minutes late, trying to decide what he was going to do about Joy. From the office he headed directly to the Wilshire Grove Retirement Center. He smiled when he found Edith parked in her usual spot. On impulse he walked over and patted the Chevy’s hood.

"There’s no escaping me now,” he told the vehicle, and was confident that if Joy did decide to leave, her car would be most uncooperative. After all, Edith had brought them together.

Ted went directly to Joy’s office. He found her secretary in the outer office. "Joy Palmer, please,” he said as if he had a long-standing appointment.

His method worked as the young woman, who looked like a volunteer or a trainee, flipped through the pages of the appointment book. "I’m sorry, but Joy isn’t here.”

"May I ask where she is?”

Once again the assistant sorted through a variety of pages and then looked up with an apologetic expression. "It says here she’s meeting with the library committee, but—”

"Thanks.” Ted didn’t wait to hear the rest. It wasn’t necessary. With his grandmother as president, he knew more than he ever cared to about her precious committee. No doubt they were meeting in the library.

He found the committee members gathered around a table there. Since his grandmother loved her work so much, he recognized each woman in her small group by name. There was Emily and Thelma, Vera and Lois, Mary Frances, Justine, Dorothy, Joyce, Rachel, and a couple of others who had their heads turned away from him so he couldn’t see their faces.