Entertaining Angels (5 page)

She made it sound so simple.

“Okay, I’ll be your maid of honor, but just be honest with me. If things get … awkward, I’ll hand over my bouquet to someone else—no questions asked.”

“I promise. If that happens, I’ll speak up. But I need you to do something else for me.”

“What’s that?”

“Since I’m stuck over here until mid-May, you’ll need to do some of the footwork. We’d like a small, intimate wedding, and I don’t want my mom to get carried away.”

Uh-oh. Another potential crisis. There was no way Mrs. Delacourt would take a backseat on planning her only child’s big day. “I’m not sure I can help out there. Your mom is going to insist upon calling all the shots.”

“I know. And that’s what you’re going to help me prevent.”

Shana never had been able to stand up to her mother, and Cassandra Delacourt could be pretty intimidating when she put her mind to it. In fact, Kristy wasn’t looking forward to bumping heads with her, but she would—for Shana—if push came to shove.

So she relented. “All right, I’ll help. And I’ll keep you posted.”

“Good. Then I’ll let you get back to sleep. I’ll talk to you in a couple of days, okay? And thanks a million, Kristy. I really appreciate this.”

“No problem.” But as she hung up the telephone, a bevy of goose bumps shimmied over her, and she ran her hands along her arms to chase them away.

What had she gotten herself into?

Renee sat in the center of the old green throw rug she’d slept upon and yawned. She’d stayed awake for hours last night, until exhaustion chased away her fear of the dark.

Now she had a crick in her neck, and her back hurt.

As the rays of the morning sun peered through the cracks of the wooden walls, dust motes danced and glistened in the beams like fairy dust.

Weird, huh? And it was even weirder to think of a tree house as her home, but for a girl who’d never really had a bedroom to call her own, it was actually kind of cool. A memory she’d have to tell her baby about some day.

She wondered what time it was. Seven o’clock? Eight? Too bad she didn’t have a watch. She knew it was Wednesday, though.

Reaching into her backpack, she dug around until she found the last granola bar. She hoped it would be enough to take the edge off the hunger pangs she’d woken up with, but even if it wasn’t, she planned to be first in line when the church opened the soup kitchen at eleven. Then she would eat her fill, making it her big meal of the day.

After nibbling on the bar and making it last as long as she could, she grabbed a toothbrush, a nearly empty tube of paste, and a comb from her backpack. Then she shoved them into her pockets so she could use both hands while climbing to the ground.

She planned to freshen up in the park restroom, then hit the city streets, looking for a job. There were a couple of cutesy-looking shops and eateries on Applewood, across from the park. Maybe one of them was hiring.

As she began to climb out of the tree house, holding on to the doorway and carefully placing her feet on the wooden steps, a young voice sounded behind her. “Hey! What are you doing?”

She glanced over her shoulder, where two kids stood. The bigger one, a dark-haired boy about nine or ten, had his arms crossed. He nodded to a faded, hand-painted sign on the side of the tree house. “Can’t you read?”

Before finishing her descent, Renee glanced at the scrawled words she’d disregarded yesterday:
No Grils Allowed.

Great. Now she was getting evicted. If she had a quarter for every time that had happened to her, she wouldn’t be living in a stupid tree.

Once on the ground, she turned to face them. “Is this your fort?”

“Yeah.” The smaller boy, a younger kid with light brown hair, used his finger to push his glasses along the bridge of his freckled nose before looking her up and down. “Who are you?”

“My name’s Renee.” She offered him a smile. No need to make any enemies. In her old neighborhood, some of the kids could be really mean. “I was just checking this place out. It’s pretty cool—for a tree house.”

“Yeah, it is,” the smaller boy said. “That’s what we thought when we found it.”

“So you didn’t build it?”

“Nope. But it’s ours. And it’s got our stuff in it.”

Well, it had her stuff in it, too.

“You know,” she said, “I’ve been wanting to find a fort like this for a long time. Would you guys mind if I used it for a few days?”

“Heck, yeah, we’d mind.” The older boy, his thick dark hair in need of a trim, chuffed. “What good is a secret fort if people know where it is and can use it whenever they want to?”

“Besides,” the smaller boy added, “you’re a girl.”

There was that. She supposed she could figure out something else to do, find somewhere else to spend the nights until she got a job, but there was still the money issue. “What if I paid you to let me use it for a few days?”

“You mean you want to
rent
it from us?” the younger boy asked. “With
real
money?”

She nodded. “I guess you could say that. I’ll give you five dollars if you let me … uh …” No need to tell them she was
actually going to live in it. “… if you let me use it and keep my stuff in it for a while.”

The younger boy looked to the older boy for direction, his expression hopeful. “We could buy that kite we saw down at that store that sells beach stuff, Danny.”

“Not with five dollars. It’s not enough.”

What was this? A major real estate negotiation? Renee crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one foot. No way was she going to pay them more than that. Not when she might luck out and find a real place to stay in the next day or two.

They seemed to be at an impasse, so she came up with an idea that might please them all. “How about a dollar a day?” If she found a place soon, she’d spend even less than the five bucks she’d originally offered them.

“Hey, we could make thirty dollars if she used it for a month,” the younger boy said.

Renee grimaced at the thought. She didn’t even want to think about living in a tree house that long. “But here’s the thing,” she said, tossing out a stipulation. “You can’t tell anyone that I’m using it. If you do, the deal is off.”

The boys looked at each other. The older one—Danny—shrugged at his friend before nodding in agreement.

She kind of liked negotiating with them and wondered how far she could push. “You know, I’d throw in an extra fifty cents each day if the place was furnished.”

The younger boy seemed to be doing the math, while Danny narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean by
furnished?”

“Well, for one thing, I could use a blanket and pillow in case I ever need to … you know, take a nap or rest.” Again she thought about what might happen if they told anyone about this. “But like I said, if you can’t keep a secret …” She let the threat hang between them.

“No one is better at keeping their mouths shut than us,” Danny said. “Me and Tommy took a blood oath when we found this place. And if one of us breaks it, we’ll die.”

Renee figured it was in her best interest to let them believe in the dire consequences of breaking a blood oath, so she held her tongue.

Finally, the younger boy seemed to shake off the threat of death and spoke up. “Hey, you know what? My mom has a whole bunch of junk in our attic that we don’t ever use. She’ll never know it’s even gone.”

“What else do you need beside a blanket and a pillow?” Danny asked.

Renee bit back what she really wanted, like a front door with a deadbolt lock and a bathroom with warm running water, instead figuring she’d better take what she could get. “I’d like whatever else you can find that would make this place comfortable.” Then she had an Oh-wow! moment.

She had no idea why she hadn’t thought of it first. “You know, a flashlight and some extra batteries would be great.”

“All right.” Danny held out a hand for her to shake. When she took it, and the deal was cinched, he turned his palm up. “Where’s the money? You’ll have to pay us first.”

Apparently, the two little wheeler-dealers didn’t trust her. But hey. She couldn’t really blame them. Like her, they’d probably been burned before.

“You’ll never find anyone more honest than me,” she told them. She just hoped she could say the same thing about them when she was ready to move on.

She reached into her pocket and withdrew a dollar bill and two quarters.

She hoped her money wouldn’t run out before she landed a job and found a real place to live.

If it did, she and the baby would be in a real fix.

As Craig dressed for his meeting at Parkside Community Church, he looked through the open bathroom door and scanned the Delacourts’ den, where he’d slept the night before.

He’d been too tired to do anything other than give the room a cursory glance last night. But this morning, when he woke to the sunlight filtering through the cracks in the shutter, he took a better look at his surroundings and realized just how impressive the display of memorabilia actually was.

There were framed shirts and photographs hanging on the walls, as well as autographed balls—one by Hank Aaron and another by Babe Ruth—lining a polished oak bookshelf.

“I hope you like baseball,” Cassandra had said.

Craig did. Or, rather, he used to. Ever since his injury, he’d been hard-pressed to even watch a game.

A knock sounded lightly at the door.

“Pastor Craig?” Cassandra asked.

“Yes?”

“Breakfast is ready.”

“Thank you. I’ll be right out.” He tucked the tails of his pale blue dress shirt into his black slacks, then buckled and adjusted his belt. He also put on a tie, something he would have to get used to wearing.

Before leaving the bathroom, he took one last look in the mirror, making sure that, other than the piece of toilet paper
he’d stuck to his chin to stop the bleeding of a razor cut, he would be putting his best foot forward today.

His sports jacket was still hanging in the den closet, so he grabbed it and slipped it on. As he made his way to the door that led to the hall, he took time to make one last perusal of several old black-and-white photos, each matted and professionally framed, that were hanging on the wall. One picture in particular caught his eye, a shot of Lou Gehrig standing before a microphone at Yankee Stadium, giving his farewell speech.

As a kid, Craig had watched Gary Cooper’s portrayal of the baseball great in
Pride of the Yankees
over and over again. He could recite the poignant words by heart.

“People all say I’ve had a bad break,” Cooper as Lou Gehrig had told the solemn crowd back then. “Yet today I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth.”

Shoving aside thoughts about bad breaks and sad endings, Craig let himself out of the room he’d slept in and made his way to the living room. There Daniel Delacourt, one of the partners at a local law firm, sat in a wingback chair, reading the newspaper.

Upon hearing Craig’s footsteps, Daniel folded the paper, set it aside, and stood. “Good morning, Pastor. How’d you sleep?”

“Great. Thanks.”

“How about some breakfast?”

“Sounds good.”

As Daniel led the way to a modern kitchen with black granite counters and stainless steel appliances, he said, “My wife and I received some good news this morning. Our daughter, Shana, called to announce her engagement. She’ll be getting married in late summer.”

Cassandra, who was dressed in a linen pantsuit, stood beside a trendy-style coffee pot. She looked up and smiled, her green eyes bright and expressive, her makeup highlighting the best of her features. “You can’t imagine how delighted we
are. The young man is Brad Rensfield, and his parents are wonderful people.”

“Congratulations,” Craig said.

“Coffee?” Cassandra reached for a white mug before Craig was actually able to utter a Yes, please.

“Cream?” she asked. “Sugar?”

“Just black.”

Cassandra handed him a cup of the fresh morning brew. “I have muffins, too. Bran, blueberry, and banana nut.”

“Thank you. I’ll have the blueberry.”

Cassandra nodded, then pulled a small plate from the cupboard.

“The Rensfields own a chain of department stores,” she added, as she removed a muffin from the platter, put it on a small plate, and handed it to Craig. “So it’s nice to know that Shana won’t have any financial worries.” Then she addressed her husband. “I think I’d better talk to the special-events coordinator at the country club this morning. An outdoor ceremony will be nice in August. I just hope they aren’t completely booked.”

“Don’t forget about Kristy,” Daniel said. “Shana insisted that she be involved with the planning.”

Cassandra frowned, creating a furrow that marred her forehead. “I realize that. But there are a lot of things I don’t need help with. And certainly not her help.”

Daniel took a seat next to Craig. “Shana was adamant about not leaving Kristy out.”

Cassandra sighed. “I never have understood that friendship.”

Craig peeled the paper off the bottom of his muffin, wondering if he should be privy to the conversation and wishing he knew how to politely excuse himself. But before he could figure out a way to graciously do that or to change the subject, Daniel turned to him, drawing him in even further. “Shana and Kristy have always been close. In fact, when Shana had leukemia, Kristy used to come by every day to visit.”

Cassandra handed her husband a cup of coffee, then poured one for herself.

“You have no idea how much my wife and I appreciated that,” Daniel added.

Cassandra removed a quart-size carton of nonfat milk from the refrigerator, a huge built-in model that was fully stocked. She added a dab to her coffee, then put it away. “Her kindness came as a big surprise, though.”

Craig couldn’t refrain from asking why.

“The poor child had been living on the streets before moving in with her grandmother.” Cassandra carried her cup and muffin plate to the table, then took a seat across from Craig. “I would have expected her to be … Well hardened, I suppose. More self-centered.”

Daniel slowly shook his head and clicked his tongue. “I can’t believe she’s the same girl. Back then Kristy had been a gangly child with wild, leprechaun hair, big green eyes, and a chip-toothed grin. The first time she showed up at the front door, she was almost afraid to come inside the house. But I have to give her credit. She came every afternoon to visit Shana, bringing homework, notes from friends, and a bit of sunshine that lifted a worried father’s spirits, too.”