Those Christmas Angels (Angels Everywhere #5)(31)

“Oh, thank you.” Anne looked up and saw Jason frowning at her. Julie hadn’t moved from her position outside the doors.

“What did he say?”

“I didn’t speak to my son, but Ms. Johnson is on her way down.”

Jason frowned even more fiercely and shook his head. “That isn’t good enough. It’s got to be Mr. Wilcoff or Mr. Fletcher himself. No one else. As I explained earlier, I have my orders.”

Anne ignored him and went back to the glass entrance doors. She opened one and said, “I phoned Roy, but he’s in a meeting. His assistant is coming down to see what she can do.”

“It’s all right, Mrs. Fletcher. I’ll just do this another time.”

Anne shoved one arm out the door. “No! Stay where you are. I’ll be right back.” She turned away and then immediately turned around. “Promise me you won’t leave!” If she was going to make a fool of herself, she wanted to be sure it was worth her while.

Julie grinned. “I won’t.”

“Thank you.”

Anne addressed Jason next. “When Ms. Johnson arrives, tell her I’ve gone to get my son.” She refused to let this opportunity—or this woman—disappear from Roy’s life. With a determination that astonished even her, Anne marched over to the elevators and pushed the button. When a car didn’t come fast enough to suit her, she pushed it again.

A high-tech buzzing finally announced an elevator. To her relief, it was empty, and she shot to the top floor in what felt like seconds. Stepping off, she hurried into the foyer, glancing around. Ms. Johnson, as Anne knew, wasn’t at her desk. Anne thought she heard voices at the end of the hallway and headed in that direction.

Sure enough, there was a meeting taking place in the conference room. Anne remembered seeing it when Roy had given her a tour shortly after moving into the building.

She hated to barge in, but there was nothing else she could do. Knocking politely at the door, Anne walked inside, her smock smeared with paint and her hair a mess. The room, which had been lively with conversation, went silent. Twenty or so men and women, all important-looking, sat around a long, rectangular table. Every one of them turned to stare at her. Anne smiled weakly and noticed that Roy was standing at the front of the room.

“Mother?”

“Could I speak to you a moment?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Now?”

Anne held her breath. “Please.”

Roy gestured apologetically at his associates. “If you’ll excuse me?”

They all nodded and Roy walked to the back of the room. “What is it, Mother?”

From the way his eyes flared and the even, unemotional tone of his voice, Anne could tell he wasn’t pleased. He guided her, none too gently, into the hallway.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt you,” she said, clasping her hands tightly.

“If this has to do with the Christmas scene on the windows, then—”

“Oh, no,” she insisted, “it’s not about that.” Her throat felt dry and it was difficult to concentrate. “This has to do with Jason…”

“And who is Jason?”

“The security guard downstairs. He tells me Julie Wilcoff has been banned from the building. I know it was her father’s doing, but Jason seems to believe you supported that decision. Did you?”

His demeanor changed, and his mouth and eyes softened. “I might have. Why?”

“She’s here.”

“Now?”

Anne nodded. “Jason won’t let her in to speak to you.”

“She came to see me, did she?” He folded his arms and seemed to consider this information with some amusement. Then the humor left his eyes. “Did she give you any indication why she wanted to speak to me?”

Anne shook her head. “Not really.”

His mouth twitched. Was that a smile trying to emerge? “Ms. Johnson did her best to talk Jason into letting her in, but he won’t budge.”

“I’ll call him myself,” Roy promised. “Go ahead and have Ms. Johnson bring Julie up to my office. Tell her I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” He glanced at his watch. “Make that twenty.”

“I hope I did the right thing,” Anne said.

“You did exactly the right thing,” he said, and to her complete shock, he took her by the shoulders and kissed her cheek.

Anne hurried downstairs. Jason was on the phone when she got off the elevator. He muttered something that sounded like “yessir,” replaced the receiver and walked over to the glass door, holding it open for Julie.

“You can come in now,” he told the young woman, who stood outside.

Julie walked into the building slowly, as if she expected alarms to ring the instant she stepped over the threshold.

“Thank you,” she said to Anne.

“Mr. Fletcher would like you to wait in his office,” Ms. Johnson told her.

“I’ll be up in a moment,” Julie said. She turned to Anne and the Christmas scene she’d started painting on the windows. “You painted these angels?”

“Oh…yes.” Anne had almost forgotten the reason she was in the lobby at all. She’d painted three angels this time, floating on a cloud and looking down at Bethlehem and the manger scene. The angels dominated the painting, their joy at the Savior’s birth evident.