The Bridesmaid Wore Sneakers. Cynthia Thomason
exactly. I...that is, we support many causes, but I always take into consideration whether I believe Paul would approve.”
“So your day is basically spent in an office while you decide which projects are worthy of foundation support.”
She laughed. “Do I look like a person who would be glued to a desk?” He couldn’t be more wrong. Jude’s day started at 6:00 a.m. By eight o’clock, it was time to rush Wesley to school, she’d fed one hungry boy and dozens of animals, checked fences, gathered eggs and milked a very large but thankfully docile cow. And that was if something didn’t happen to interrupt her.
“You’ve oversimplified what I do,” she said. “I try to be careful with the money that comes in. I analyze each proposal for its merit. And I have to answer to a board of directors, as well. So if you’re thinking that I’m a wealthy embezzler...”
“No, of course I don’t think that. But you did say you were the chief administrator, so the buck must stop...or leave the foundation’s checking account at your desk.”
Jude did make all the decisions about spending so she answered honestly, “I suppose that’s true.”
“Who is on your board of directors?” Liam asked. “Anyone I might know?”
“You know my father. Maybe you know my sister Carrie. My son, Wesley, is on the board, as well. I realize he’s just a child, but his insights are often spot-on. He has definite opinions about children’s issues. And I hope he’ll want to carry on after I’m gone.”
“And your father and Carrie aren’t active in helping with decisions?”
“Not so much. My sister works for the US Forest Service, and she’s sent all over the country. My father is a doctor, as you know. Neither one of them is a hands-on adviser.”
“I’m something of an economist, and I know a bit about how foundations work,” Liam said. “I might be interested in donating to one of your funds. It would be a needed tax break for me.”
“We’d be happy to have your money.”
“I’m cautious with it,” he added, “so I’d have to know more about the charities you contribute to.” He paused a moment before adding, “Maybe I can come out one day this week and take a look at the charities you fund.”
Suddenly suspicious, Jude wondered if Liam had an angle. Was he an IRS investigator? They weren’t usually so underhanded about their searches. And anyway, she had nothing to hide. Her father’s accountant had made certain she’d filed all the proper papers with the government. Maybe he was just interested in what she did, although that didn’t seem logical. The only people who paid attention to the Paul O’Leary Foundation were the ones who stood to benefit from it, or the handful of small philanthropists she counted on to keep going. Maybe Liam was hitting on her? No, impossible.
But if this educated, subtly charming “economist” wanted to see the foundation at work, why should she stop him? His money was as needed as anyone else’s. “I suppose that would be okay.”
She smiled to herself, thinking how Carrie would interpret this exchange. She would choose to believe that her hermit of a sister was finally encouraging a man. Nothing could be further from the truth. Other than the persistent clerk at the feed store and one of the construction workers over at Aurora Spindell’s bed-and-breakfast, no fella had shown an interest in Jude for a long time. Or, as Carrie suggested, she didn’t notice if one did. Jude didn’t date, and she’d all but forgotten the rules and wiles of flirting.
“When should I come?” Liam asked.
She bounced down from the railing. “You’re welcome to come anytime, as long as I know so I can be certain to be there. But if you come in the day, you’d best ditch the suit for a pair of jeans and some boots. And it won’t hurt if you can swing a hammer and walk fast to keep up with me.”
“I never knew running a foundation required such physical work.”
“Did you forget? I happen to run a farm, too. Nothing happens with the foundation until all the animals are fed.”
“Okay. I’ll be by on Monday a bit after noon. How’s that?”
“Works for me. Do you know where my dad’s property, Dancing Falls, is located?”
He indicated he did.
“Just come there and drive around until you see the barn.” She cupped her hand around her ear. “Did you hear that? Someone just called for Jude O’Leary’s toast to the bride and groom. Guess that’s my cue.” She crossed the portico but stopped in the doorway. “Thanks for the dance, Liam Manning. You’re very good at it, and I’m actually not as bad as I thought I’d be.”
He gave her another winning smile. “My pleasure, Jude O’Leary.”
There had to be a flaw somewhere in this man’s character, and on Monday, if he showed up, Jude would certainly look for it. But for the rest of the weekend, she might enjoy imagining a head-to-toe appraisal of Mr. Perfect. And if he didn’t show, which was more likely, no harm done.
* * *
LIAM IMMEDIATELY SOUGHT out Martin Foster. While he was trying to convince Liam to help, how could the good doctor have forgotten one vital piece of information?
“Well, how did it go?” Martin actually found Liam on the patio and put his arm around the younger man’s shoulders. “I saw you two out here getting close.”
Liam flinched. “Not half as close as your daughter is to the foundation she runs,” Liam snapped.
“What are you talking about?”
“You could have told me that her charities are all under the umbrella of her dead husband’s name! It’s almost as if she’s built a shrine to Paul O’Leary.”
Martin managed to look guilty as he dropped his hand to his side. “I didn’t think it was important. The name of the foundation has nothing to do with its financial problems.”
“Sorry, but I disagree. This is too personal now. You’re asking me to come between a woman and her deceased husband, a man who is probably regarded around here as a national hero.”
“Paul has been gone for more than five years,” Martin said. “It’s time for my daughter to move on. And it’s definitely time for her to be more sensible about this foundation.”
“Helping lonely widows move on is generally not the job of an economist.” Liam let the doctor’s words sink in. “But at least now I understand what this is about,” he said. “You want to heal your daughter’s heart as much as you want to curtail the spending.”
“I wouldn’t mind it.”
“Again, I feel I should remind you, I’m not a grief counselor.”
Martin sighed. “I only want your services as an economist. Jude has family to help her with the rest. You leave her heart up to us.” His voice mellowed. “We have an agreement, Liam. I’m counting on you. This is the first step, a vital first step in enabling my daughter to get on with her life, as well as putting a Band-Aid on the endless spending.”
“But I’m a stranger to her,” Liam said.
“Not really. She’s met you before...”
Right. Truly auspicious.
“And she knows you’re a family friend. She’ll listen to you. I know she will. Don’t disappoint me now, son. If you back out of the deal, I’ll just have to find someone else to examine those books and steer Jude in the right direction. And I don’t want anyone else. I want you.”
Liam sighed. This was a ticklish situation. Jude was doing her good deeds to honor her dead husband. That meant she wasn’t exactly impersonal or impartial about her decisions. She no doubt made monetary decisions based on emotion. What would Paul want? But still,