A Ring and a Promise. Lois Richer
you can talk to Abby about it tomorrow, do some preliminary work. She’s been in charge of the department long enough, I’m certain she has ideas of her own. It shouldn’t take more than a couple of weeks to put together some kind of generalized plan, should it?”
Two weeks? That left him no opportunity to avoid Abby. Donovan searched for some excuse to explain the intricacies of his work to Winifred and realized there wasn’t any point. Only someone who had spent days, weeks and months knitting ideas together into one solid focus would understand that overnight successes of the marketing variety seldom happened.
“I think it’s better if you don’t put a time frame on it, Grandmother. I don’t know what ideas Abby might have, but I will need time to take a look at the department. I always like to allow things to percolate inside my head before I start planning a campaign.” Donovan watched her eyes narrow and knew what she was thinking. “I’m not trying to weasel out of this or to put you off. But I hadn’t really considered any kind of marketing plan for the jewelry department. I’ve been focusing more on the company in general.”
“And you need time to switch gears,” she murmured.
“Yes.”
Her stare was intense.
“You’re sure it’s not working with Abby that has you bothered?”
“Why should it be? I hope we can be friends again, but there’s nothing between us. We each have our own lives now and my focus is on Ariane.” Donovan forced out the image of Abby storming away from him.
Avoiding her shouldn’t be that difficult.
“However, I do think it would be better if you explained this idea to her, rather than me,” Donovan suggested. “After all, I’m the new guy and you’re the boss returning to work after a long hiatus. You should be pointing out the new direction for the company.”
Winifred said nothing as she studied him. But Donovan could almost hear her clicking over details in her mind.
“Fine. I’ll talk to her. I just hope your past isn’t going to cause problems.”
“You don’t have to worry, Grandmother.”
But as he sat in his room later, Donovan’s confidence slipped. Although he preferred to pretend the past was dead, it was obvious he and Abby both had issues that needed resolving.
Abby might prefer to pretend their breakup was his fault, but he knew differently and he didn’t understand why she tried to lay it all on him. A hard core of resentment balled a little tighter inside Donovan’s heart.
But bitterness did no one any good. George’s death had been God’s wake-up call, a challenge to stop wasting his life as a good-times guy, skating over the surface, reveling in the good times and avoiding the bad.
Donovan was determined not to ignore that call anymore. He picked up his Bible and read a few verses, hoping to ease the knot of anger at Abby’s pretense that he’d run out on her with no reason. But the words blurred together and he knew there was only one Person who could truly help.
“Father, you know how hard it was for me to come back. You also know how much I need help with Ariane. Please help me to look forward to the future you promised, and let go of the past and anger at Abby. Amen.”
As prayers went, it wasn’t fancy, but Donovan was learning that God preferred honesty over pretense.
He wished Abby felt the same.
“Abby, I can’t thank you enough for helping me decorate for Grandmother’s party.”
“My pleasure.” Abby attached the last swag to the corner of the dais and ignored a little voice inside her head that said she should be working on her contest entry. “How does that look?”
“Perfect!” Sara, Donovan’s youngest sister, stood back and admired their handiwork in the ballroom at Weddings by Woodwards. “Once Dad brings in his flowers and everyone’s here, the place will come alive. Don’t you think?”
“Absolutely.” Abby felt dumpy and dowdy, doubly so against Sara’s blond glistening beauty.
“Donovan took us all by surprise, coming home the way he did.” Sara grinned. “He’s always been so adamant about staying in Europe. But I’m glad he’s back. And I’m thrilled Grandmother’s well enough to return, too. My big sister is getting too intense,” she whispered as Katie pushed through the doors.
“I heard that, brat.” Katie made a face at Sara, then turned to her. “Abby, how is your mother?”
“She’ll be sore for a while. The osteoporosis has really left her bones weak which is why her vertebrae crushed so easily when she fell down the steps.” Which only added to the list of things on Abby’s already overly full plate. “Thanks for understanding about yesterday, Katie. I just couldn’t get in.”
“Of course not. Family comes first.” Katie scanned the room. “Wow! You two have done a wonderful job for our double celebration tonight. We’ll be a big group. I’ve given the kitchen staff the evening off so they can join us.”
“So who’s feeding us?” Sara demanded.
“Caterers. They should be here soon.”
“That’s my cue to get going.” Abby headed for the door.
“Going? But you’ll be here for the party, won’t you?” Sara’s big eyes probed.
“Won’t you, Abby?” Katie asked.
“Sure. I just have a few things on my desk to tidy up.” And then she’d quietly slip away.
“You’re always working overtime. Katie won’t care if you take the last hour to go home and change. Will you, Katie?”
“Of course not. You must be here, Abby. You’re part of Woodwards. Excuse me. I’m to check on a certain string quartet Grandmother loves.” Katie hurried away.
“Thank goodness she’s gone. My feet are killing me.”
“I wonder why?” Abby chuckled, glancing at the very high heels Sara wore. “You borrowed Katie’s shoes again?”
“My sister has such lovely shoes and they make me look elegant, which is not an easy feat, trust me. But they’re sheer torture. I can’t imagine how she wears them all day.” She kicked off the offending articles with great relief. “That’s better.”
“Sara, if you don’t like the way the shoes feel, why do you wear them?” Abby had always found Donovan’s youngest sister confusing.
“Because I want to look beautiful for my husband.” Sara’s flushed cheeks and eyes glittering with unshed tears gave her away. “Although if I trip and fall flat on my face, I guess I won’t be so elegant. And he’ll be furious.”
“Furious? That doesn’t sound right. Cade loves you.” A twig of envy sprouted inside Abby’s heart. “Very much. I can’t believe he’d be angry with you.”
“He does love me and I know it.” Sara sniffed inelegantly. “But in a little while I’ll be so huge I won’t be able to see my toenails, let alone fit into shoes like these. Just for now I want to be the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.”
“You’re expecting,” Abby guessed. “Oh, my.”
“You can say that again. I’m over the moon, but sick as a dog every morning. Not very romantic, you’ll agree?” Sara tried to smile, but frustration took precedence. “I feel horrible most of the time and I grouch at Cade about everything. Today I wanted to look extra pretty, but now my feet hurt so much I can hardly walk.”
She burst into tears.
As Abby patted her shoulder, she marveled at this beautiful Woodward daughter’s uncertainty. She had everything and yet she was still upset. Abby had to help.
“Come