“Thank you, Pastor,” Christy said.
It took only a moment before Christy and the pastor were chatting like old friends.
David stiffened when she mentioned how much she’d loved teaching Sunday school. He wished he’d thought to warn her not to give the pastor the impression she was interested in being active in the congregation. Getting involved didn’t make any sense. It would just be harder on everyone when the year was up and she left.
“…I’d really like to get involved.”
It was as if she’d spoken his worst fears out loud. He tried to shake his head, but she was too intent on her conversation to notice.
“Perhaps I could stop by the church office sometime this week and we could talk some more?”
“That would be wonderful.” Pastor Foster shot David an approving look. “You’re a lucky man.”
David smiled at Christy. “That I am.”
“Your pastor seems really nice,” Christy whispered as they sat down.
“He is,” David said. “And he’s also a friend of the family. So I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention our little arrangement. I know he wouldn’t approve.”
Christy lifted her gaze from the church bulletin. “Arrangement?”
He lowered his voice until it was barely audible, careful to make sure that only she could hear. “The needing to stay married for a year thing.”
She dropped her gaze back to the folded paper in her lap. “I would never think of telling anyone about that.”
“Good.” David squeezed her arm. Christy was a good woman. And a beautiful one. She’d make the right man a wonderful wife. It was too bad they were so different. Otherwise he’d be seriously tempted to give this marriage his best shot.
Christy stared down at the list of dates Tom had faxed to her this morning. Though she’d specifically told Tom she wanted to minimize any overnight travel, he obviously hadn’t listened.
She tossed aside the paper in disgust, leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. Though she had a million things to do, lately all she’d wanted to do was sleep. It was definitely avoidance behavior at its best. The stress of the move must finally be getting to her.
Leaving Chicago had been hard. Though she loved St. Louis with all the beautiful trees and friendly people, she had to admit she was lonely.
David had been extra busy since his grandfather had begun the process of turning over the operation of the business to him. His grandfather planned to function as the CEO until next year, when the business would be signed over to David.
Tying David’s ownership to a marriage didn’t make any sense to Christy. Though she didn’t know David’s grandfather well, she knew he and his wife had been very much in love. Why wouldn’t he want to give his grandson the same opportunity? The old man would have had to know that David couldn’t let the company go to Blake, not with his plans to dismantle it and sell it off piece by piece.
Christy brushed back a strand of hair. It was all too confusing and too exhausting to think about. For now, she needed to finish her e-mail, revise some notes on a presentation and then start supper.
David had made it clear that he didn’t expect her to cook and clean, but it was something Christy wanted to do. She wanted to make this house their home.
Her parents had both been busy professionals, but they’d done their best to make mealtime special for her and her sister. In their house, the china wasn’t reserved for special occasions, and candles and a linen tablecloth were standard fare. The evening meal was a time set aside to share the events of the day and a time to give each other support and encouragement.
Christy was determined to carry over that practice in her own family. But for the past two weeks David had worked late and eaten takeout on the way home. But this morning he’d said he’d be home by six. And she’d told him she’d have dinner waiting.
Tonight they’d begin their own tradition. She hurried through her work, determined to make this meal, and this evening, the best ever.
Chapter Seven
“Good night, Mr. Warner.” Joni Thompson, David’s administrative assistant, stuck her head inside his office door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
David glanced up. “Don’t tell me it’s five o’clock already?”
He’d set aside the entire afternoon to review financial reports and he’d hoped to get through them by the end of the day. He still had half the stack sitting in front of him.
Joni smiled. “Actually, it’s almost five-fifteen. I have to scoot. Caleb hates it if I’m late picking him up from the sitter.”
“Get going, then.” David waved her out the door. “Don’t keep him waiting.”
Joni’s life as a single parent was far from easy and her job often demanded long hours, but David had never heard the woman complain. Since he’d become her boss, he’d vowed to do what he could to minimize her overtime. Consequently, he’d had to assume some of the tasks he would have normally delegated to her. Now he was the one with the late hours. But as soon as he had a firm picture of where the company stood financially, he’d be hiring some extra support staff.
But until then…
David picked up the computer report and shifted his gaze to the tiny rows of numbers.
“Hey, buddy. What’s shakin’?” Rusty strolled into the office and plopped into a wing back chair directly in front of David’s desk. He still wore his company shirt—a gray polo with “Rusty” stitched in burgundy letters above the pocket. His shift ended at three, but David wasn’t surprised to see him still at work. Rusty had been with Warner Enterprises since he got out of high school and he took his job as production crew chief seriously. “What are you still doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question.” David shoved the financial reports into a folder and placed them in his top desk drawer.
“Jon Phillips called in sick. I stuck around to make sure the second shift got going okay.”
“And?” David lifted a questioning brow.
“Under control.” Rusty grunted, giving David a thumbs-up. “Tom Berryman is covering.”
“Well, then I think it’s time we both call it quits and head for home.” David glanced at the clock. He didn’t have much time. He’d told Christy he’d be home by six.
“Home? You’re not going home.” Rusty looked at him as if he’d suddenly grown an extra head. “You and I are going to Adolph’s and help Lauren celebrate her birthday.”
“Oh, no.” David stifled a groan. Lauren had told him more than once to write the date and time of her party on his calendar, but he never had. “Be sure and tell her happy birthday for me.”
“Don’t tell me you’re thinking of not going.” The look on Rusty’s face would have been comical if the man hadn’t been so serious.
“I told Christy I’d be home for dinner.” The excuse sounded lame even to David’s ears.
“Lauren has been your friend forever.” Rusty’s unflinching gaze met David’s. “You know how much you mean to her.”
David wanted to say that was precisely one of the reasons he shouldn’t go.