03_The Unexpected Gift (14 page)

As they bowed their heads, Morgan only half listened to the minister’s words. Her thoughts were on Grant instead. For the next two hours, she did her best to focus on Good Shepherd business, but as soon as the meeting was over she headed back toward Seaside, making a quick stop at the one restaurant in town that was open in the off season. Even though arthroscopic surgery wasn’t that invasive, she was sure Grant would be laid up for a couple of days. It would be a nice gesture to drop off a meal from the local café.

Morgan had never been to Grant’s house before, but he’d given her his address and home phone number when she’d first arrived, and she’d recorded them in her pocket organizer. She dug it out of her purse now, and asked the woman at the restaurant for directions to his street.

As Morgan made her way through the village, it occurred to her that she had never made a conscious decision to visit Grant. It had been an automatic, reflexive response—much like a knee jerk induced by the tapping of a rubber hammer. But as she approached his street, she grew uncertain.

Slowing the car, she considered retreating. But she’d already bought the food. And she couldn’t be more than a block or two from his house. So she might as well follow through. If he didn’t want visitors, she’d just drop off her care package and leave.

A couple of minutes later, she pulled up in front of his house, a tiny bungalow on the outskirts of the town, set back from the road amid a grove of pine trees. The clapboard siding was painted a light gray color, and sky-blue shutters framed the windows. The house and grounds were meticulous, Morgan noted, as she pulled into the driveway and parked behind his truck.

For a couple of minutes she just sat there. Then, taking a deep breath, she reached for the bag and headed toward the door before her nerve deserted her.

Morgan pressed the door bell, finding some reassurance in the lovely tole-painted welcome sign that hung on the front door. She suspected that it had been placed there by Christine, and she hoped the message still held true.

As the seconds ticked by with no response, Morgan pressed the bell again. Since his truck was in the driveway, she was sure Grant was home. But maybe he was confined to bed and unable to get to the door. She supposed she could try the back door, or ring him from her cell phone, or…

Suddenly the door was pulled open, and Grant, balanced on crutches, looked at her in surprise.

“Sylvia told us about your surgery. I figured you’d be laid up for a couple of days, so I wanted to drop off a care package.” Morgan held up the white sack, which was emitting enticing aromas.

Grant eyed it hungrily. “Is that by any chance the lasagna special from the café in town?”

“None other.”

He moved aside, wielding the awkward crutches as best he could, and swung the door wider. “Come in, oh bringer of food!”

“Just point me to your kitchen,” Morgan said as she stepped across the threshold.

He gestured toward the back of the house. “It’s not hard to find. Christine and I used to joke that someone with long enough arms could reach just about anything in this place if they stood in the middle of the living room.”

Morgan gave the house a swift perusal as she made her way to the tiny efficiency kitchen. Grant wasn’t kidding. The bungalow was minuscule. The living room, dining area and kitchen were just one long, open room that ran the entire length of the right side of the house. A small hall branched off to the left, where she assumed the bedrooms were—if there was more than one. She noticed a photo of Aunt Jo on a tiny table as she passed, and she paused to look at it.

“That was taken at the cottage a couple of years ago,” Grant offered.

Morgan lifted the silver frame and studied her aunt’s face. Though nearly eighty, she looked far younger. Her eyes were alive and vibrant, her smile warm and welcoming.

“She looks happy,” Morgan commented.

“She was. The cottage was her haven. She was always relaxed and at peace there.”

With sudden remorse, Morgan wished she’d taken time to get to know her great-aunt better. But regrets wouldn’t change the past. All she could do was focus on the future—an attitude she had a feeling Aunt Jo would approve of. And even if Morgan hadn’t known Aunt Jo as well as she would have liked, the older woman—through her bequest—had still influenced her great-niece’s life, changed it for the better. And for that Morgan was grateful.

“So how about that food?” Grant prompted hopefully.

Morgan turned to him with a grin. “Hungry, are we?”

“You might say that.”

She put the picture back on the table and walked toward the kitchen. As she removed the disposable container from the bag, Grant maneuvered himself toward a chair. “Can you stay a few minutes?”

“I didn’t plan to make this a social call.”

“It’s nice to have some company,” he assured her.

“It’s been pretty quiet around here for the past couple of days. Dad and Uncle Pete have their hands full at the shop with me out of commission, and the twins have the flu, so Kit has been busy nursing them.”

She busied herself setting out the food, debating whether to stay. In the end, she gave into the temptation. “Okay. What would you like to drink?”

“I think that’s my line.”

“Not today.”

“Thanks,” he acceded with a smile. “There’s soda in the refrigerator. Help yourself to one, too.”

While she retrieved the drinks, he lowered himself carefully into a chair.

“That looks painful,” she sympathized.

“It’s not that bad,” he replied with a dismissive shrug.

“So what happened?”

“I think I mentioned when you first arrived that I’d slipped on the ice a few years back. Well, I injured the cartilage then and, in hindsight, probably should have had it fixed right away. But I figured I could live with it. Then, last week, I twisted it again when Dad and I were moving a large breakfront. That pretty much finished off the ligament and locked up my knee. In my business, immobility is a problem. The good news is my orthopedic surgeon is an old school friend, and he got me in on an emergency basis. I should be up and around in a few days.”

He tackled the food with gusto while Morgan sipped her soda and took in the homey touches throughout the cottage. “You have a nice place.”

“It has a lot of happy memories. But it doesn’t have a great water view, like Jo’s cottage. And it’s too small. Christine and I never intended to stay here forever. Once we had children…” His voice trailed off and his hand stilled. Then, with an obvious effort, he made himself continue eating. “Anyway, at some point I expect I’ll sell it. So how did the board meeting go?”

“Fine. Mary said the invitations went out ten days ago, and they’re generating a good response. The dinner should be a huge success.”

At the mention of the dinner, Grant’s brow furrowed. Kit’s suggestion that he take Morgan had been on his mind a lot. But he was still hesitant. “Look, about the dinner…”

“Hey, Grant, it’s okay,” she cut him off. “I know Kit meant well, but I’ve gone to hundreds of those kinds of events alone. It’s no big deal. So don’t worry about it. By the way, I’ve also managed to line up some more coverage in area newspapers, in addition to the story in Boston.”

Her rapid change of subject made it clear that she didn’t want to discuss the dinner, and Grant was relieved. “That’s great. You’ve done a fabulous job. And speaking of jobs…any news?”

“Not yet.”

“But you’re still looking?” At her nod, he speared another bite of his lasagna. “I know Kit’s been sending work your way. I thought maybe you’d like the freelance life.”

“It has its pluses. But I’m not sure I could make enough of an income just freelancing.”

“How much is enough?”

“Enough to live on.”

He reached for a piece of garlic bread and took a bite.

“I guess it does take a lot of money to maintain the kind of life you lived in Boston.”

“Or just about anywhere.”

“Not necessarily. It depends on your needs. It doesn’t take a lot of resources to lead a simple life.”

She propped her chin in her hand. “Like yours, you mean. But even you need to make a living, Grant.”

“True. But I don’t need to be rich. At least not in a monetary sense. Making a lot of money has never been one of my goals.”

“You make me feel mercenary.”

He grew contrite. “Then I apologize. Especially since you’re here on a mission of mercy. And after you’ve given so much of your time to the Good Shepherd project.” He shrugged. “Maybe there’s a way to blend worldly success with simple values. I just never figured out how to do it. Nor did I want to.” A yawn snuck up on him, and he gave her a sheepish look. “Sorry about that. I didn’t sleep very well last night.”

“No apology necessary. Go get some rest.” She stood and reached for the empty lasagna container and soda can.

“I can clean that up later,” he protested.

“It’s already done. Can I do anything else for you before I leave?”

The swift darkening of his eyes made her heart hammer in her chest, and she turned away to rummage for her keys. By the time she looked back at him, his eyes were shuttered.

“I’ll let myself out,” she told him, hoping he wouldn’t notice the breathless quality of her voice.

“Okay. Thanks again for stopping by.”

“No problem.”

She made her way to the front door without delay, feeling anxious and off balance. She’d hesitated about coming over, afraid she might disturb Grant. But instead, he’d disturbed her.

With a look that had affected her in ways she didn’t want to think about.

And with his simple but fundamental question about money: “How much is enough?”

Grant’s probing question, his sincere convictions about his way of life, and his deep contentment made her wonder if a big-city job was what she wanted after all. Could she be content with a simpler life?

Morgan wasn’t sure yet. But she was beginning to suspect that she could be.

Especially if she shared it with the right man.

“Morgan, do you have a minute?”

At the sound of Bill Adams’s voice, Morgan stopped and glanced back toward the church door. The minister said something to the woman he’d been talking to, then made his way over to Morgan.

“I’m glad I caught you. I have a favor to ask. I don’t know if you’ve paid much attention to the teen program we have, but now and then we like to bring in speakers to talk about their careers. It’s good to expose young people to a lot of options as they plan their futures. We’ve never invited anyone from the advertising or marketing field before, and I wondered if you’d be willing to address the group. It’s a very informal session, and we like to allow lots of Q-and-A time. So you wouldn’t need to prepare much.”

Morgan had spoken to college classes before, and she still had all of her notes. So it would be easy to accommodate Bill’s request. “Sure. When do you want me to do this?”

“Would two weeks from Wednesday work? That way, we can publicize it in the bulletin for the next couple of Sundays.”

“No problem. My calendar isn’t nearly as full as it was when I lived in Boston,” she said with a smile.

“Are you saying that you lead a dull and boring life here in rural Maine?” he asked, grinning.

“No. In fact, I’m enjoying it. I can see why Aunt Jo loved it here. And I think Serenity Point is an apt name for her cottage. It’s very calm and peaceful there.”

“It’s a great spot,” he agreed. “So I’ll put you down for April 17. We meet at seven, at the town hall. The meetings are open to all the teens from the area, so there could be a good turnout.”

“I’ll be there.”

As Morgan turned to go, she caught a glimpse of Grant exiting the church. When he noticed her, he raised a hand in greeting, and she responded. Their paths hadn’t crossed since she’d stopped by his cottage, so she was glad to note that he was now walking without crutches.

She considered going back to speak with him, then thought better of it. She liked Grant. Too much. And he seemed to like her. But even though he was technically available now, she knew his heart still belonged to Christine. Maybe it always would. And even if he did one day find a way to open his heart to love with someone new, she wasn’t his type. Any attraction he felt for her was surely being triggered by nothing more than loneliness.

So it was better if they kept their distance.

Wasn’t it?

“G
rant? I need your help.”

Grant speared a forkful of broccoli from his microwave dinner and shifted the phone against his ear. “What’s up, Kit?”

“I was supposed to take the girls to the town hall tonight for the teen session. You know, the one where Morgan is going to speak about her career? Anyway, Bill went to Brunswick for a meeting, and his car died. So I need to go get him. I don’t think I’ll be back in time to take the girls. If you could drop them off, we can pick them up later.”

“Sure. What time?”

“They need to be there by seven.”

Grant checked his watch. He still wasn’t used to eating dinner this early, but since he wasn’t visiting Christine over lunch anymore, he was able to leave the shop at a more reasonable hour. “No problem. Tell them I’ll be by at quarter till.”

“Thanks. You’re a lifesaver!”

“Remember that the next time I need a favor,” he teased.

Forty-five minutes later, when Grant pulled up in front of Kit’s house, the girls were waiting. As they clambered into his truck, he grinned at their excited chatter. “You two seem pretty wound up.”

“This is going to be cool!” Nancy said.

“Yeah,” Nicki chimed in. “Morgan is a lot of fun. And Mom told me about her neat job in Boston. Did you know she’s been to Europe? Several times! And her company paid her way!”

“And she’s met a bunch of famous people,” Nancy added.

“A lot of kids from school are coming tonight,” Nicki told him. “Are you staying?”

“I thought this was just for teens.”

“It is. But lots of times the parents stay in the back, if we have a good speaker,” Nancy explained. “I think there will be a bunch of adults there tonight.”

“You should stay, Uncle Grant,” Nicki urged him.

“Morgan still doesn’t know that many people around here, and she’d probably like to see a friendly face in the audience.”

Grant wasn’t so sure Morgan would consider his face to be friendly. Not after he’d sidestepped Kit’s suggestion that he take her to the Good Shepherd dinner. Of course, that hadn’t stopped her from delivering the hot meal to his house a couple of weeks before. So maybe she didn’t hold his less-than-enthusiastic response against him.

And he
was
curious about what she’d say. He’d suspected she knew prominent people, based on her ability to line up such stellar entertainment for the Good Shepherd dinner. But he’d had no idea about the trips to Europe. And there must be a lot of other things about her job he didn’t know. He’d been so turned off by her obsession with it, and by the demands it made, that he hadn’t allowed himself to believe that it might have some appealing aspects. Maybe if he knew more about what she’d done in Boston, he would better understand why she’d focused on her work to the exclusion of everything else. And why she wanted to return to that world, albeit it with a different perspective.

Come to think of it, maybe it would be interesting to see what kind of picture she painted of her career. Morgan certainly didn’t seem like the same person he’d talked with by phone months ago, when she’d asked him to meet with her on Christmas Eve. But he could be wrong. Maybe her presentation tonight would give him a clue as to whether she’d undergone any fundamental change.

Not that it mattered, of course. Even if she had, even if she’d realigned her priorities, he was pretty sure that Seaside, Maine, was not where she intended to stay. He figured she regarded her time here as a brief sojourn, an opportunity to regroup and regain perspective. And he was fairly certain she’d accomplished that.

He was also sure that one of these days, Morgan Williams would leave just as unexpectedly as she’d come. It would just take the right offer. And now that he’d seen her diligent and creative work on the Good Shepherd project, and heard Kit sing her praises for the freelance jobs she’d done, he knew such an offer wasn’t a matter of if.

It was a matter of when.

So, even if circumstances were different, even if he one day felt ready to give love another chance, even if he thought that the attraction between them could lead to something deeper and more substantive, that was a major problem.

His life was here.

And it always would be.

Morgan gave her notes one final review as she waited to be introduced. It had been awhile since she’d addressed a group of young people, and she was looking forward to it. They tended to be an eager, interested audience, hungry for knowledge of the so-called glamorous world she inhabited, and in the past, she’d always painted a rosy and appealing picture. But she’d added some new content to her presentation over the past week, because it was important for young people to understand the expectations of careers they might choose—including what they would be asked to give up. When she finished tonight, they might still be awed by the glamour and prestige, but at least they’d have a more balanced, realistic view of the sacrifices required to achieve them.

She looked up and caught the eyes of Nancy and Nicki in the audience of about fifty teenagers. They waved, and she smiled and raised her hand in response. A number of adults lingered in the back of the room, and she wondered if they planned to stay for her talk. Though she scanned the group, hoping to spot Kit or Bill, she saw neither.

But she did see Grant.

He was talking to an older man, and her heart flip-flopped as she stared at his strong, appealing profile. It had never occurred to her that he would be here. And it rattled her. She knew he’d been turned off by her obsession with work and unimpressed by her priorities when they’d met. So why did he want to hear about her career now?

Morgan didn’t have time to ponder that question, because the director of the youth ministry had risen and was introducing her. So she forced her thoughts back to the presentation. Just ignore him, she told herself. Focus on the teenagers. Don’t look at the back of the room.

And that’s exactly what she did. For the next forty-five minutes, she told the young people about her trips to Europe, the black-tie dinners she’d attended and the celebrities she’d met. But she also told them about the long hours, the frustrations, the politics and the stress. She tempered the glitz and the excitement with the cold, hard realties of corporate life: the uncertainties, the intense competition, the sometimes unreasonable demands.

“So it’s a great career in a lot of ways,” she finished.

“But bear in mind, if you have your sights set on big-time success in a major market, you’ll have to give up a lot to attain it. However, there are also less stressful ways to practice in this field. Seaside, for example, is the other end of the spectrum. Since I’ve been here, my work has been on a smaller scale. In a lot of ways, though, it’s just as satisfying because I don’t have as many people giving me direction, or second-guessing me, or making changes. So I have more autonomy and an even greater sense of ownership in the work. Of course, there’s also a middle ground, where you can find an intensity somewhere between Seaside and New York. Bottom line, I wouldn’t discourage anyone from pursuing a career in this field. Just identify what arena you want to play in based on what’s required. Now, are there any questions?”

There were quite a few, and Morgan fielded them with humor, polish and savvy. She was disarming in her honesty, admitting her own career gaffes in a self-deprecating manner that produced a lot of laughs and endeared her to the audience. On a more serious level, she also acknowledged her fundamental mistakes, how she’d gotten so caught up in her job that she’d somehow lost her identity apart from it.

As Grant watched her interact with the young people, as he listened to her confessions and her balanced view of the world she’d once inhabited, he was impressed. He’d wondered, when he’d decided to stay for Morgan’s presentation, whether he’d learn anything new about her. And he had. Enough to know that she had changed. Dramatically. And though she hadn’t said it in so many words, he suspected that in her own mind she was aiming for that middle ground she’d referred to.

Which meant she wasn’t planning to stay in Seaside.

Grant wasn’t surprised. But he also experienced an unexpected and profound disappointment that sent his spirits into a tailspin.

“Okay, I’ll take one final question,” Morgan said as she wrapped things up.

A girl near the front stood. “If you could leave us with one last piece of general advice as we start to think about our careers, what would it be?”

Morgan’s gaze flickered to Grant, then just as quickly darted away. When she spoke, her voice was steady, sure and sincere. “It’s pretty simple, really. Do what you love. Pursue your dreams. But don’t ever let your career come before the things that matter the most. Namely, faith and family.” She smiled and gave the room a sweeping glance. “Thank you all for coming tonight.”

As the audience enthusiastically applauded, Morgan turned to shake hands with the director of the youth ministry. Grant glanced over at Nancy and Nicki, who had joined a cluster of friends and seemed in no hurry to leave.

“Hey, thanks for filling in tonight,” Kit said in his ear.

He turned as she sat beside him. “Have you been here long?”

“I came in about halfway through and took a seat by the door. I was surprised you stayed.”

His neck grew warm and he shrugged. “I didn’t have anything else to do tonight.”

“Hmm.” She left her cryptic response open to interpretation and moved on. “Well, I thought Morgan did a great job. And I like how she balanced the good with the bad. She sure has a different attitude than she used to about her work, doesn’t she? Remember how stressed she was at Christmas?”

“Yeah. That’s not much of a way to live.”

“I guess she came to the same conclusion. So, have you thought any more about taking her to the dinner?”

The abrupt change of subject disconcerted him, and his guard went up. “What brought that up?”

“I don’t know. I guess it’s been on my mind. So have you?”

“I still haven’t decided.”

“It would be a nice thing to do.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, okay, I won’t push. I’m going to collect the girls and head home. See you later.”

As Kit rounded up the twins and they left, Grant stood. Morgan was still at the front of the room, answering questions from the eager teenagers. Her copper hair glinted in the bright, overhead lights, and her face was animated as she spoke. She wore a classy, sophisticated outfit that he assumed was part of her business wardrobe. The V neck of the fitted jacket revealed the slender column of her throat, where a gold chain glinted against her alabaster skin, and the slim skirt was short enough to call attention to her shapely legs. She was a lovely woman, he acknowledged, who’d had her own struggles these past few months. Her world had been turned upside down, and she was still trying to discover where she belonged. Yet, despite her own problems, she’d thrown herself into the Good Shepherd project and developed a campaign that was reaping amazing results.

As he watched her interact with the young people, he realized that Kit was right. He should take her to the dinner. He owed her that, after all she’d done for the project that was so dear to his heart. The attraction he felt was his problem, after all. She’d done nothing to create it. So he’d just have to deal with it. He couldn’t let it get in the way of doing the right thing.

As Morgan turned away from the last student and reached for her notes, she glanced his way. He forced his lips into the semblance of a smile and made his way toward her, stopping a safe distance away. “You were a hit.”

She reached up to push the hair back from her face with a fluid gesture indicative of her natural grace. “Thanks. I was surprised to see you.”

“The twins needed a lift. Besides, I wanted to talk with you about the Good Shepherd dinner.”

Her eyes grew distressed. “Look, Grant, I’m sorry Kit put you in that embarrassing position. Like I said when I dropped off the food after your surgery, don’t worry about it. I understand why you’d prefer to go alone—or even skip it, in light of all that’s happened.”

Once again, he was touched by her consideration. And more certain than ever that Kit’s suggestion had been valid. “The timing could be better for me,” he admitted. “But Christine would have wanted me to go. She was as committed to the camp as I was. And it doesn’t make sense for us to take two cars. I’d be happy to drive you.”

When she hesitated, Grant pressed his case. “It’s a long drive, Morgan. And you’re not that familiar yet with the narrow, winding roads. I’d rather not have to worry about you having car problems or getting lost coming home at such a late hour. You’d be doing me a favor if you’d ride with me.”

Put that way, Morgan didn’t see how she could refuse him. Nor did she want to, if she was honest with herself. She hadn’t been looking forward to the long drive alone. And she enjoyed Grant’s company. “All right. But if you change your mind, or decide not to go at all, just let me know.”

“I’m committed to being there. We’ll work out the details later, but consider it a date.”

Even as he said the words, Grant wished he could take them back. This wasn’t a date. It was just a friendly gesture. And he didn’t want to give Morgan the impression that it was anything more.

As if she’d read his mind, Morgan gave him an understanding smile, though there was a hint of melancholy at the edges. “Hardly. It’s just one board member doing a favor for another. And I appreciate it very much.”

Her response should have reassured him. But instead of relief, Grant felt a disappointment that scared him.

Because if he looked deep in his heart, he knew that he’d harbored a secret hope that she felt something more for him than friendship—just as he felt something more for her.

Apparently he’d been wrong.

But it was better this way, he told himself. He didn’t want to hurt Morgan, and despite the attraction he felt for her, it was too soon even to think about getting involved with anyone else. To do so would dishonor Christine’s memory. He should be happy that Morgan viewed their relationship as nothing more than friendship.