Those Christmas Angels (Angels Everywhere #5)(29)

“I’ll see to it right away.”

“Thank you.”

She hesitated as if she’d never heard him express his appreciation before. “Will that be all, Mr. Fletcher?”

“Yes.” He hung up the phone and leaned back in his soft leather chair, folding his hands. Something was in the air, something he couldn’t explain. He didn’t know what was different, but there was definitely a change, and it wasn’t just him.

The meeting, concerning the launch of a new line of security software for home computers, ran smoothly. Roy hurried back to his office when it ended, and Dean Wilcoff came a few minutes later. “You asked to see me?” the man said as Ms. Johnson showed him in. He certainly didn’t waste any time, Roy observed. He got right to the point.

“I did. Sit down.” Roy gestured to the chair across from his desk. He wanted to talk to Wilcoff, but the matter wasn’t business-related. Julie had been on his mind from the moment he’d left her last night, and he realized he knew very little about her. They’d talked, but she wasn’t one to dwell on herself, unlike a lot of women he’d known. Most wanted to impress him. Julie had surprised him in that way, too.

Dean sat close to the edge of the chair, apparently ill at ease.

“Did Julie mention we had dinner together last night?” Dean had called Julie to say he’d be home late, and Roy had left before Dean’s return.

“She did,” Roy’s head of security answered stiffly.

“How old is Julie?” Roy had never thought to inquire, not that it was important.

Dean stiffened. “You should ask my daughter that, sir.”

Ever respectful, Roy noted, and unwilling to mingle his personal life with his professional one. He tried another tactic. “While we were having pizza, Julie told me she’s a twin.”

Dean nodded but volunteered no additional information.

“I gave her a ride home from the office last night,” Roy said, testing the waters, wading in a little deeper this time.

“So she said.”

“I tried to get her to accept my settlement offer.”

Dean didn’t respond.

“She refused.”

“My daughter’s over twenty-one and makes her own decisions,” Dean informed him.

“As she should,” Roy murmured.

Dean met his eyes. “I’ve asked her to apologize for her behavior yesterday.”

This should be interesting. “And she agreed?” Frankly, Roy would be surprised if she did. He’d tried to talk sense into her over pizza and she’d been as stubborn as ever. Judging by her dogged refusal, Roy didn’t expect her to change her mind about his offer anytime soon.

“Julie said she’d give the matter of an apology some thought.”

Roy smiled. So she hadn’t ruled it out altogether. He admired her for that.

“Is there anything else?” Wilcoff asked, transparently eager to leave.

“Yes. Did I tell you my mother will be here at some point on Wednesday?”

“You did.” Dean stood. “You said she’d be painting the lobby windows.”

Roy stood, too. “I’ll check in with you later about Julie.”

“What about her?”

Roy saw that he’d spoken out of turn. “About…whether she decides to apologize or not.”

“That’s up to my daughter.”

“Yes, of course. No reflection on your job performance, Dean, which to this point has been excellent.”

“Thank you.”

Roy nodded, dismissing the other man.

Dean moved to the door, then turned and met Roy’s gaze. “Are you romantically interested in my daughter?”

Roy’s throat went dry. Romantically interested in Julie? Instinct told him to deny it immediately, but he wasn’t sure. “Would it bother you if I was?”

“Again, that’s my daughter’s business. And yours.”

“Yes, it is,” Roy said. Theirs and nobody else’s.

Shirley and Goodness, hovering above the office, nudged each other. Mercy gave them a thumbs-up and a big grin.

Kudos to Dean, they all decided, for having the nerve to ask.

Romantically interested? Yes!

Eleven

Anne was enjoying herself. Paintbrush in hand, she stood in the large lobby of her son’s office building and spread the bright colors across the smooth glass, creating a festive greeting for all to see. She’d drawn the outlines with a felt-tip pen and was now filling in the figures, using acrylic paints.

This was the first Christmas season since the divorce that she’d felt like celebrating. It wasn’t an effort; nothing felt forced, least of all her happiness. She thanked the angel for that. The one who’d appeared to her. Everything had changed for the better that day. Her heart felt lighter, less burdened, and life suddenly seemed good and right again.

After all these years, her prayer request had apparently been heard. Even now, Anne couldn’t get over the glorious, wonderful sound of her son’s laughter. Such a minor joy had felt forever lost to both of them. Even more wonderful, a woman—the first one her son had mentioned in five years—had caused this spark of excitement.

“How does that look, Jason?” Anne asked the security guard. The young man certainly took his duties seriously. The entire time she’d been painting, Jason had watched her. He must’ve been told that no one was to bother her, and he made sure no one did.