Touched by Angels (Angels Everywhere #3)(18)

“You’re freezing.” He rubbed her right hand between his own two hands. “You should be wearing gloves.”

She felt completely out of her element. Pride prevented her from making up some excuse and rushing away. “I . . . I didn’t know,” she whispered.

Josh led her to a comfortable brown leather sofa and sat her down. “Didn’t know what?”

Hannah held her tongue rather than blurt out the truth. When they’d met at the parade he was a familiar face, someone she recognized. In this office, he was the epitome of the kind of man her father distrusted.

“I’ve been thinking about you all weekend,” he said. “How was your Thanksgiving?”

Now was the perfect opportunity to tell him how close she was to becoming engaged to Carl. She could bring Carl’s name up naturally and explain the situation. She could tell him how Carl had joined her family for dinner. How Carl and her father had talked. How Carl had kissed her good night. How they’d met on the Sabbath, after services in the synagogue.

“It was very nice,” she said instead, wanting to kick herself. “How about you?”

“I ate with my mother and grandmother.”

That started it. Within a matter of minutes he had her laughing over something his grandmother said, and they were immersed in conversation.

Twenty minutes slipped by, and it seemed like only five. “I have to get back,” she said, unable to disguise her regret. “Thank you for the tea . . . for everything.” She wouldn’t indulge herself again. Not with Joshua.

Whatever made her so bold, Hannah would never know. She stood, prepared to walk away, and before she left, she pressed the palm of her hand to Joshua’s clean-shaven face.

“Good-bye, Joshua,” she said, and not giving him time to answer, she hurried from his office.

Her mother eyed her wearily when Hannah arrived back at the deli. “What took you?” she asked.

“I got sidetracked,” Hannah admitted.

“Next time don’t visit so long,” her father warned her. “We needed you here.”

“I’m sorry I’m late. Do you need me to make another run?”

“Don’t worry, Louise was able to do it.” Her mother rattled off a list of tasks. Hannah was grateful to work in the kitchen the rest of the afternoon.

“Hannah,” her father called two hours later. “A package’s been delivered for you.”

“For me?” Drying her hands on a linen towel, Hannah stepped out to the front of the deli. A freckle-faced delivery boy held out a small, flat box. “Hannah Morganstern?”

“That’s me.”

“Sign here.” He thrust a clipboard at her.

Hannah penned her name and then, with her parents watching, unwrapped the flat, oblong box.

Inside were a pair of expensive leather gloves and a note from Joshua.

“I’ve never heard you sing better,” Michelle said as she and Jenny returned to their shared apartment. “Oh, Jenny, this is the break we’ve been waiting for. We’re going to sing and dance on Broadway. I can feel it in my bones. We’re really going to make it.”

They often built each other up after an audition. Casting directors weren’t known for lavishing potential stars with positive feedback, so they gave it to each other.

“Your voice . . .” Michelle hesitated as though she had trouble finding the words. “It’s different now. There’s a depth and maturity that wasn’t there six months ago.” Michelle set the mail on the kitchen table. “Don’t misunderstand me, you’ve always been good, but this afternoon you were nothing short of brilliant.”

Jenny rolled her eyes.

“I’m not blowing smoke out my ears, either.” Michelle sounded slightly offended. “I mean it, Jenny. I really think you’re going to get a part, maybe even one of the leads.”

Jenny knew otherwise. She sang her heart out the way she did for every audition. Nothing was going to change. She refused to build up her hopes again.

“This looks interesting,” Michelle said, holding up an envelope and tossing it to her. “It’s addressed to you. It might even be a Christmas card. Already? Good grief, it’s not even December yet.”

Jenny examined the envelope, her gaze scanning the return address. She recognized it immediately, and her breath jammed in her throat.

“Jenny? What is it?”

“It’s from Trey,” she whispered.

“Trey who?”

She stood and walked around the table while motioning with her hands, unable to formulate the words. “Trey LaRue . . . my neighbor, or rather my parents’ neighbor.”

“You’ve never mentioned him before,” Michelle said.

“I haven’t?” That seemed impossible. He was an integral part of what she considered home and family.

“Well, open it and find out what he has to say,” Michelle encouraged.

That seemed the most logical thing to do. Jenny’s hand trembled as she peeled back the flap and withdrew a card. A colorful turkey decorated the front, its plumage fanned out across the top. She opened the card and found Trey had written only one short sentence: “I’m eager to see you this Christmas.” His name was signed below in smooth, even strokes of the fountain pen.