The Bridesmaid Wore Sneakers
Cynthia Thomason
It takes courage to fall in loveTo everyone in her rural Ohio community, Jude Foster O’Leary’s dead husband is a war hero. Yet how can she forgive him for choosing the military over his family when they needed him most? And now the charitable foundation she established in his name is in danger of going belly-up, until Liam Manning comes to the single mother’s rescue. But the financial adviser’s arrival in Dancing Falls wasn’t happenstance. Despite her attraction to the driven professional in his three-piece suit—and Liam’s winning way with her young son—Jude has to protect herself from this caring, contradictory man who takes dangerous risks. And from the treacherous feelings Liam’s awakening.
It takes courage to fall in love
To everyone in her rural Ohio community, Jude Foster O’Leary’s dead husband is a war hero. Yet how can she forgive him for choosing the military over his family when they needed him most? And now the charitable foundation she established in his name is in danger of going belly-up, until Liam Manning comes to the single mother’s rescue. But the financial adviser’s arrival in Dancing Falls wasn’t happenstance. Despite her attraction to the driven professional in his three-piece suit—and Liam’s winning way with her young son—Jude has to protect herself from this caring, contradictory man who takes dangerous risks. And from the treacherous feelings Liam’s awakening.
“Jude, I’m your man, financially speaking, if you’ll have me.”
She appeared uncertain, as if she was going to turn him down.
“I really do know what I’m doing. All you need to do is...give me a chance,” Liam finished.
And then she completely surprised him. “I guess I could.” She looked up into his eyes. “You really will try to understand, right?”
The question made her seem so vulnerable, as if she’d trusted before and her faith had disappointed her. Guilt stabbed him. He’d made a deal with her father even though he hadn’t been comfortable doing it. Liam didn’t like keeping secrets. And yet here he was, working undercover for Dr. Foster.
But why should he feel guilty? The foundation, and Jude, would benefit from his advice. And once he helped her, just maybe this normally strong, determined woman would accept an invitation for dinner.
An unexpected breeze kicked up from the woods. Strands of Jude’s hair tickled Liam’s nose.
Most likely she wouldn’t go out on a date with him. How could he forget that she loved another man?
Dear Reader (#ulink_54792226-3bfb-5347-bf5a-b8ea6a08dcae),
In my last book, I told the story of Alexis, the firstborn daughter in the series, The Daughters of Dancing Falls. As firstborn, much was expected of Alex, and she more than met expectations in grades and accomplishments.
In this book, I concentrate on Jude, the middle daughter, whose life was fraught with mistakes and risks. Writing this story, I thought a lot about middle children. Had my sister not died very young, I would have grown up a middle child. I discovered that middle children often act out, because they feel underappreciated or have a difficult time finding their niche in the family. But I also discovered one very interesting fact. If you look at pictures of three siblings, the middle child is usually in the middle of the photo. That should make the “middles” feel special. They are the center, the focus of the picture. “Middles” unite. You are the center of the family. You ground the others with your determination and will to stand out on your own merits.
I hope you enjoy this book about the middle child in the Foster family. I certainly enjoyed writing it for you.
I love to hear from readers. You may contact me at cynthoma@aol.com or visit my website, www.cynthiathomason.net (http://www.cynthiathomason.net).
Cynthia
Heartwarming
The BridesmaidWore Sneakers
Cynthia Thomason
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CYNTHIA THOMASON inherited her love of writing from her ancestors. Her father and grandmother both loved to write, and she aspired to continue the legacy. Cynthia studied English and journalism in college, and after a career as a high-school English teacher, she began writing novels. She discovered ideas for stories while searching through antiques stores and flea markets and as an auctioneer and estate buyer. Cynthia says every cast-off item from someone’s life can ignite the idea for a plot. She writes about small towns, big hearts and happy endings that are earned and not taken for granted. And as far as the legacy is concerned, just ask her son, the magazine journalist, if he believes.
This book is dedicated to Lisa Beaumont, my rugged and beautiful stepdaughter, who, like the heroine in this book, finds as much comfort in the company of four-legged creatures as she does the two-legged variety.
Contents
Cover (#u383c8053-0df4-58e8-9ef7-5d2e00d73e47)
Back Cover Text (#ua7245437-f1af-5f63-b3a4-feac215cd6e5)
Introduction (#u7cc4a725-0d68-57ce-8d42-a366e8322d02)
Dear Reader (#ulink_51f615c8-243a-5998-aec6-d3574754005d)
Title Page (#u449cd401-2923-5295-a1ff-209ec18b3231)
About the Author (#u4e85494c-fd29-58de-b17c-285c5dbafd5f)
Dedication (#u3ba6c654-e780-52f1-9c10-4418cc30a43b)
PROLOGUE (#ulink_8914a583-4dc4-5b58-b795-ff59561b3715)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_aed0489e-978e-56e0-8c65-3fea5d6e5fc4)
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_3b8fe857-c11a-54d4-8a84-63b411a86c21)
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_dabcb99a-62ef-51d3-929e-80fbb849cd52)
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_f44e1582-03b8-58bb-8182-6e3f35fc5b3c)
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_47c27475-e9a4-51d3-93a0-be5efbaa62ee)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
PROLOGUE (#ulink_f221f0e9-bfb8-53b4-b43d-941d23a7a979)
Eight years ago
“AN OLD SOUL with a fighting spirit.” That was how Jude Foster’s mother often referred to her. Well, if caring about people and creatures and causes made her an old soul, then Jude was happy to have earned the title. Just because she didn’t go out with friends a lot and chase guys...just because she didn’t care a bit for the community college courses her father had encouraged her to enroll in—none of that meant she didn’t have a fulfilling life.
True, she was twenty-three years old and had never been in love. So what? Her mother also told her that her heart would find its match eventually, and in the meantime she didn’t mind avoiding all the angst and heartache her sisters constantly talked about.
If she could just convince her dad that she wasn’t college material, that she truly hated the idea of cleaning teeth for the rest of her life. All she needed was a new goal, one she could present to her father as a viable alternative to scraping molars.
Jude left the medical associate’s degree building of Munson Community College and released her usual sigh of relief. Somehow she’d managed to muddle through nearly three semesters of training in the dental hygienist school, doing just well enough to keep from flunking out.
She certainly couldn’t attribute her modest success in college to her own drive and purpose. Jude simply wasn’t a student, never would be. No, she was doing this for her father, who’d spent the first two years after Jude graduated from high school trying to interest her in a field that required higher education, while she worked the cash register at Winnie’s Western Wear. They’d settled on this path, or more accurately Martin Foster had settled on it, and the rest had been a history just short of drudgery. If she finished this semester and got through one more, she could clean teeth. Wow, the prospect excited her not at all.
She came around the corner of the student union building and decided to skip lunch today. She could be home in thirty minutes and spend her afternoon at the barn with her docile and delightful mare, Honey. Maybe they’d ride on the property. Maybe they’d go all the way to Bees Creek. Either way, the thought of a gallop through the countryside made Jude forget uppers and lowers that hadn’t been flossed in months.
She was about to cross the paved road that ran between the union and the students’ parking lot when she noticed an old pickup truck broken down on the side of the asphalt. The hood was up, and a frantic hand waved the air where smoke was billowing from the engine. She couldn’t see the man’s face, but he was dressed in old jeans, work boots and a long-sleeved T-shirt that showed off admirable muscles.
Never one to pass by a trouble spot if she thought she could lend a hand, Jude went up to the truck. “Can I help?” she asked.
The man rose from the hood, wiped steam from his forehead and grimaced.
Jude’s mouth almost watered, probably from a lack of lunch, she told herself.
He was gorgeous. Long, dark hair that reached nearly to his shoulders. A strong face with storybook masculine features that included a square jaw, high cheekbones, a slightly crooked nose. The only part of that face that didn’t blend well with the other features were dark, curling lashes that immediately captured Jude’s attention.
“Have you got a cell phone?” the man asked. “I need to make a phone call.”
The guy didn’t have a cell phone? Wow, maybe she’d entered a time warp and had been transported back a few decades. The truck, at best a relic of the eighties, fit the scenario in her mind. She fished her phone out of her backpack and handed it to him. “Do you know how to use this?”
He gave her a questioning look. “Of course. I just forgot mine when I left the house this morning.”
He punched in a number. “Richie, it’s me. Tell Pop the truck broke down again. I’m going to need a tow.” He paused, listening. “I know. I tried that.” Another pause. “Yes, I made it to the college, but I’m going to have to unload all this produce by myself and carry it into the kitchen.”
For the first time Jude noticed a plastic tarp covering the cargo area of the truck. Between the rope tie-downs she could see assorted vegetables and fruits.
“Don’t bother,” he said to the person on the phone. “By the time you could get here, I would already have it mostly delivered. Just tell a tow to be here in an hour.”
He handed Jude her phone. “Thanks. Can’t believe I left my phone at home.” Glaring at the truck, he added, “I should know to keep it handy when I’m forced to drive this piece of...” He stopped, looked at Jude. “Sorry.”
She’d noticed his left hand when he gave her the phone. No ring.
“No problem,” she said. “I heard you tell that other guy...”
“My brother, Richie.”
“Okay, Richie, that you would unload this produce. I assume it’s going into the building next door to us here.”
“That’s right. My family farm furnishes fresh vegetables to the cafeteria. Usually I drop it off at the loading door in the back. Looks like I won’t be doing that today.” He frowned at the truck. “She conked out on me and won’t go another inch. Can’t let the stuff sit in the truck and spoil.”
“No, you wouldn’t want to do that.” She dropped the backpack from her shoulder and tossed it into the truck cab. “This should be safe here.” And if it wasn’t, she really didn’t care.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to help you carry this produce to the union. Me and anyone else I can draft to give us a hand.”
“You?” His facial expression was less than confident. “I can do it, really. I don’t want you straining anything.”
She knew her slight figure belied her strength. And she also knew her strength. A girl didn’t haul hay bales and water buckets without building up some muscle tone. She began untying the knots in his tie-downs. When she’d cleared a bushel basket of tomatoes, she hoisted it easily from the truck. Staring at the man’s shocked expression, she smiled and said, “Come on, let’s go.”
Jude succeeded in nabbing a half dozen volunteers she knew from hygiene classes. The entire truck was emptied in a half hour.
“Wow, thanks everyone,” Mr. Gorgeous said when the job was done. The other students left, but Jude, gratefully accepting an apple, munched and waited for the tow to arrive. When it did, she asked the man what he intended to do to get back to his farm.
“I’ll ride in with the tow driver. My brother will pick me up.”
“I might be able to take you,” she said. “Where is your farm?”
“Bees Creek Township,” he said.
“Amazing,” she said. “I’m going right by there.” Never had a lie come so easily.
“Well, then, I appreciate the lift. You’ll really save me some time.” He stuck out his hand. “I don’t think a young lady should offer a ride to a stranger, though. My name’s Paul O’Leary.”
“Jude Foster. Nice to meet you.”
They rode to Bees Creek in Jude’s trusty Volkswagen with its ragtop and five-speed transmission. By the time they pulled into the driveway of an old farmhouse, which bore the signs of many coats of paint, Jude was in love.
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_316e66b8-02bd-5e85-b50d-a8301d412784)
DESPITE BEING A WIDOW, Jude Foster O’Leary was content with her life most of the time and even happy on occasion. Unfortunately she’d only experienced a very short period being happily in love. And on this last Saturday of November, at her sister Alex’s wedding to the love of her life, Jude had to work at keeping a smile on her face. That was because she’d only been married to Paul O’Leary for two years before he was killed in Afghanistan, and while she was truly happy for her sister, she couldn’t help being miserable for herself.
Paul had left her with an infant son who just turned six a few weeks ago. Jude adored Wesley, even though his appearance was enough like his father’s that sometimes her eyes hurt just looking at him. And she loved the animals she cared for. She loved and respected her father, and she’d always been close to her two sisters, Alex and Carrie. But as anyone who’s ever been in love, or suffered the loss of love, can attest, all that isn’t enough.
Alex was the one in white today, while Jude and Carrie, along with Alex’s daughter, Lizzie, wore floor-length shimmering pink dresses, perfect for the other two ladies, not so much for Jude, who never chose to shimmer for any occasion. Now that the ceremony was over, the bridal party occupied a banquet-length table affording a view of the guests at Fox Creek Country Club. The Fosters had lived in Fox Creek, Ohio, for three generations, so Jude knew most everyone in attendance.
Except the tall guy in the perfectly fitted three-piece suit whose sandy blond hair was meticulously styled in an I-don’t-have-to-try-to-look-like-this way. Jude normally didn’t fixate on men, but when this guy had walked by the table earlier, Jude noticed several details, including the overhead chandeliers reflecting their twinkling lights in his polished shoes. She picked him out of the crowd again as she played with her shrimp cocktail.
“Hey, Carrie,” she said, gently jabbing her younger sister in the arm. “Who’s the slick reality show bachelor sitting at the farthest table to the left?”
Carrie adjusted the glasses that made her look like an adorable nerd. “I’ve seen him before,” she said. “Also that man next to him.” She drummed her fingers on the table. “I know now. That’s Lawrence Manning. He’s a dermatologist at the hospital where Daddy works. They’ve been friends for years.”
Jude coughed. “That young guy is a friend of Daddy’s?”
“No, silly. I’m talking about the older guy. I think the younger one is his son. I remember meeting him a couple of years ago when Daddy and I were at a restaurant near the hospital. His name is Ethan or Liam, or...something old-fashioned.”
Liam Manning. The name raced to the forefront of Jude’s mind, but not in a good way. “It’s Liam,” she said. “I remember him, too. We were at a party together when we were kids, maybe ten years old. He was a horrid little monster back then.”
Carrie exaggerated fanning her face with her hand. “Well, he doesn’t look like a monster now.”
Unless monsters came with too-perfect bodies, perfect bronzed skin and aristocratic noses.
“I think you should ask him to dance, Jude,” Carrie said.
“Me? I don’t think this orchestra knows any Western line dances. And I’d only fall over my feet trying to do anything else.”
“Don’t be silly,” Carrie said. “You’re graceful on a horse, why not the dance floor?”
“Because grace isn’t a transferrable quality,” Jude answered. “I think you should ask him to dance. You’re the one with light feet.”
Carrie gave her the cute, conniving smile that Jude had admired for years. “You saw him first.”
“I don’t care. I don’t want him. I was mostly admiring his shoes. Besides, he’s probably married.”
“I don’t think so. I believe I heard Daddy say that Lawrence’s son got a divorce.”
“Oh.” Jude continued looking Liam’s way.
“Doesn’t matter, anyway. Looks like neither one of us will get the chance to dance with Mr. Charming,” Carrie said. She watched her father approach the young man. “I wonder what Daddy’s up to.”
Her father walked up to the Mannings’ table and put a hand on Liam’s shoulder. Martin leaned over, spoke to Lawrence and then into the younger man’s ear. Liam nodded, stood and followed Martin out of the room.
“Now, where could they be going?” Jude said, suddenly suspicious of her father’s motives. “What does Daddy have in common with that guy? He must be thirty years younger than Daddy.”
“I’m sure it doesn’t have anything to do with any of us,” Carrie said. “Are you going to eat the rest of that shrimp?”
Jude wasn’t so sure. Most of what her father did outside his office was about his family. She absently slid the shrimp bowl over to her sister. Martin Foster was a wonderful, generous, supportive father, but she’d bet her sister Alex’s shiny new diamond ring that Martin was up to something. And when Martin Foster was up to something, one of his daughters was usually the reason.
* * *
“NICE PARTY, SIR,” Liam said as he allowed himself to be led toward a quiet alcove away from the festivities. He had a pretty good idea why Martin Foster was taking him away from his table. His father had warned him that Martin wanted to talk to him today about a business matter. The whispered message in his ear confirmed that when Dr. Foster said he needed a few minutes of Liam’s time.
“Thank you, son. It’s nice to see my Alexis so happy.”
Liam sat in a comfortable wing chair and thought about the prime rib he’d signed up for. Though he wasn’t friends with any of the Foster daughters, and didn’t socialize with Dr. Martin Foster, he’d driven down from Cleveland to accompany his own father to the wedding. He figured the prime rib would be the best part of the afternoon and he didn’t want to miss it.
At first Liam didn’t know why his father had insisted he come. Dad had lots of friends among this crowd. Liam was an outsider to Dr. Foster. He recalled only one brief meeting at a restaurant with Martin’s youngest daughter, Carrie. But when his dad mentioned that Dr. Foster might need his services, he donned his best suit and showed up. Liam was good at what he did, and if Dr. Foster needed financial advice, Liam didn’t mind charging for his expertise.
Martin took a seat next to Liam. “Did you know I asked your father to bring you today?” he said.
“Yes, he told me something about your concerns when I got here today. I don’t know a lot, and frankly I was confused because I don’t know Alex, and I’m not part of the medical crowd.”
“This isn’t about Alex. Your father tells me you can do more with a dollar than most people can do with a hundred,” Martin said. “Is that so?”
Liam smiled. “I’m not a magician, sir. A dollar can only go so far today, and there’s not much any of us can do to stretch it. But I like to think I know a bit about managing money.”
“Of course you do! A person doesn’t graduate with honors from the Wharton Business School without having a great deal of economic savvy.”
So Dr. Foster knew something of Liam’s background. “Is that what this is about, Dr. Foster? Do you need some financial guidance?” Liam knew that Dr. Foster was taking care of his ailing wife. Perhaps his insurance was running out and funds had become limited. He took out his wallet and fished out a business card. “You’re welcome to call my office anytime, and we can set up a meeting.”
Martin absently took the card and slipped it in his shirt pocket. “I won’t be coming to your office, Liam. And I don’t need help with my finances per se. But someone in my family certainly does.”
“Oh?”
“Do you remember my daughter Jude?”
“No, sir, I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Well, you have, but it was twenty years ago. You don’t remember a young blonde with her hair in pigtails?”
Liam could almost picture a rangy preadolescent in braids, but he wasn’t sure.
“She doesn’t look much different today,” Martin said. “Still has the pigtails. She’s the sister in the middle up on the dais. The one who looks as though she’d like nothing better than to get that dress off and get into a pair of jeans.”
“I’ll be sure to notice her when we go back inside. Does this meeting have something to do with Jude, then?”
“It does, and I should warn you. Jude can be headstrong, stubborn. I can count the times she’s taken my advice on the fingers of one hand.”
“I don’t follow, sir. I don’t know about children, since I don’t have any.”
Martin gave a wise nod. “Count your blessings for now, son. Here’s the thing. I want you to take her in hand, Liam. She’s the CEO of a private charitable foundation, and every year the foundation’s bottom line gets worse. Jude is penny-wise and pound-foolish if you get my drift. If I let things go on as they have been for the last few years, working to keep her afloat, I might be facing bankruptcy.”
“Bankruptcy?”
“Well, maybe that’s an exaggeration.”
Liam knew Dr. Foster’s reputation. He was the best cardiologist in the Cleveland district, and patients came from the tristate area to seek his advice. Bankruptcy? Liam didn’t think so. “Foundations are supposed to exist on donations and grants. Are you telling me your personal finances are mixed up in this particular charity?”
“I funded it when Jude set it up. I gave her a considerable amount and a credit line to use while she was getting started.”
Naturally any creditors would be happy to accept Martin Foster’s IOU. “And you’re still backing Jude up when she needs it,” Liam said.
“Nothing I can’t handle yet, but you know how it is, Liam. This wedding cost a pretty penny. I have expenses because of my wife’s illness. I was hoping to retire soon, but until Jude’s project is under control, I can’t.”
“What do you think I can do, Dr. Foster?”
“Teach her how to manage money.”
He said it like he was asking Liam to teach her the multiplication tables.
“It’s not like she spends it on shoes or purses or any of the fineries other women get so excited about,” Martin said. “She barely spends a dime on herself. But she’s quick enough to spend hundreds, even thousands on other things, all the dang projects and causes she’s supporting.”
“What kind of causes?”
“It’s hard to keep up. There’s stray animals, wounded vets, physically challenged children. She’s even supporting a local radio station that she claims is vital to the rural farming community around Fox Creek. And the bills that keep all these charities running end up in Jude’s mailbox, or mine, and often require large chunks of money from my personal account to pay them. The worst is the animal upkeep. I’ve paid for more hay, animal feed and vet services than I care to think about.”
Liam knew the answer to his next question before he even asked it. “Why doesn’t she pay the bills out of the foundation’s funds? Doesn’t she get donations?”
“Oh, she does. Some. But that’s where you come in, Liam. I don’t know the true answer except to say when bills come due, there is often no money.” Martin shook his head. “She’s a wonderful girl, don’t get me wrong, but she doesn’t have a head for numbers and accounting.”
And Liam had no desire to get himself in the middle of what was obviously a Foster problem. “Excuse me for saying so, Dr. Foster, but this seems like a family matter to me. Have you tried talking to your daughter?”
Martin sighed. “You don’t know how difficult that is for me. You see, Jude lost her husband over five years ago. He was killed in the Middle East fighting for his country. Since then, she’s been kind of like a lost soul, always running from one needy cause to another. Besides her son—and she’s a good mother—all those good works have become her life. It’s not easy for me to get in the middle of all that suffering and try to change things.”
“That’s tough, I’ll agree,” Liam said. “But I still don’t see what I can do. What makes you think she’ll listen to my financial advice if she doesn’t listen to yours?”
“I’m trying to tell you...I haven’t given her any!”
“Maybe if you sat her down...”
“I don’t have the heart, Liam. She’s my baby. I love her. Oh, I’ve made a few suggestions, tried to guide her, but things don’t seem to improve, and I don’t want to drive a wedge between Jude and me. That wouldn’t help either one of us. I believe there’s a lot of hurt inside her, and I’m her father, the one who’s supposed to help her, encourage her.”
“With due respect, sir, I’m not sure I can help her. I don’t even know your daughter.”
“That’s true right now, but I’m hoping you’ll introduce yourself into her life and you, as an outside party, can show her how to manage her money better, or at least cut back on the spending. After all, son, you’re the expert, and even Jude can’t argue with an expert.”
“Well...”
Not letting Liam finish, Martin said, “Your father can’t brag enough about you. You can be a voice of reason for Jude. You don’t have the problem of emotion to deal with. Once you’ve gained Jude’s trust, I believe she’d listen to you.”
“I don’t know how true that is, Dr. Foster. My clients come to me willingly. I don’t seek them out to try and get them to listen to reason as you’re suggesting. And anyway, I have a full-time job with a financial planning firm in Cleveland. I can’t take time away from my regular clients to counsel your daughter, especially when you’ve hinted that she’s not the type to be counseled.”
“You don’t have to give up your clients, Liam. Just come out here on weekends and maybe once or twice during the week. Show an interest in what she’s doing, get her to trust you and—”
“While I secretly examine her books?” Liam said. “That’s dishonest, Dr. Foster. If not downright impossible.”
“Not if you show interest in what she’s doing. Don’t you first try to gain the trust of anyone you educate about money? Isn’t that the first step?”
“Well, yes...”
“Then this is no different. Besides, once you two meet, once the groundwork is set, I intend to tell her why I’ve brought you in. But it wouldn’t do for me to divulge that until she trusts you. Jude is a trusting girl. She just doesn’t like to be pushed around. I think she’ll like you right off.”
Liam didn’t have any reason to believe that.
“Think of me as another client, Liam,” Martin said. “I’ll pay you whatever your hourly rate is.” Dr. Foster held up his index finger. “Just don’t bully her, son. She may be trusting, but once her mind is stuck on something, she won’t let anyone tell her what to do.”
Slightly offended, Liam said, “I don’t think I bully anyone.”
“No, I’m sure you don’t. You seem like a nice young fellow. Now, just go on out there and have your dinner and then ask Jude to dance. She’s a pretty girl, and aside from scoot-booting around a Western bar once in a while, I don’t think she’s danced with anyone since Paul left for the service.” Dr Foster chuckled. “You may decide this is the most pleasant job you’ve ever had.”
Even though Liam believed Dr. Foster truly loved his daughter but just felt inadequate to help her, he doubted that this assignment would be easy. During this conversation Liam had conjured up one very clear image of an afternoon twenty years ago at a doctors’ picnic. He remembered a curly-haired pigtailed girl shoving him onto the ground when he was poking a snake with a stick. He hadn’t been hurting the snake, and besides, it was a snake... But the pigtailed girl obviously decided the snake needed a champion.
That was the only contact Liam had ever had with Jude Foster, Jude Something-Else now, and he’d ended up covered in mud, and hating girls for the next six months.
“Now, go on before your dinner gets cold,” Dr. Foster said. “It cost me twenty-four ninety-five a plate, and for that price, you should eat it while it’s hot. And remember my involvement with you is a private matter between you and me, for now. Jude doesn’t need to know yet.”
Uncertain about this plan, Liam returned to his table, sat next to his father and ate his tepid prime rib.
“So you talked with Martin?” Dr. Manning asked.
“He wants to hire me for a short while,” Liam said. “But I guess you already know that.”
“I hope you agreed,” Dr. Manning said. “There’s not a better man than Martin Foster, but he’s a pushover when it comes to his daughters. And Jude, the middle one, is tougher to handle than the other two. According to Martin, if left alone, without some solid, timely advice, she’ll run that foundation of hers into the ground and Martin along with it.”
“But I don’t feel right about this whole thing. Dr. Foster wants me to keep our relationship a secret until I’ve gotten closer to Jude, until she trusts me.”
“Sounds to me like a good way to approach this,” Lawrence said. “Why alienate the girl right at the start?”
Liam frowned. “What do you know about her?”
His father smiled in a guarded way that made Liam uncomfortable. “Martin doesn’t criticize his daughters for the most part, but I know he’s not used to opening up to Jude. That’s where you come in. And since Martin is likely to pay you well for this assignment, I wouldn’t want to prejudice you with idle gossip about the girl.”
“So without telling me some of that gossip you’ve heard, you’re warning me that if I work with Jude, I might be better off to use a whip and a chair rather than a mechanical pencil and spreadsheet.”
“You should talk to her tonight, see what you think for yourself. Women have always liked you, son. You’re clean, cultured, honorable...”
“Staid? Boring?” An image of his ex-wife came to mind, and he realized she might add other adjectives that could describe an Eagle Scout.
“No! I didn’t mean that at all. Could be Jude will take to you like a mama bear to honey.”
The analogy was not a comfortable one. Didn’t bears eat honey? And besides, Lawrence’s facial expression suggested that he truly might have no faith in his son being able to get along with Jude.
“You’d be doing this as a personal favor to me, Liam,” his father said. “Martin and I go all the way back to medical school. I don’t suppose I have a better friend than he is, and he needs help with this situation. It’s gotten out of control.”
“I guess I believe that,” Liam said.
“Besides, you want to go to that economic conference in Stockholm this spring, don’t you?” Lawrence added. “If you straighten Jude out, Martin will be so grateful, you’ll be able to afford a first-class plane ticket.”
Dr. Manning patted his son’s back. “At the end of the night, if you want them, I’ll give you my impressions about Jude. There probably are a few things you should know. Combined with what you learn yourself, you can decide what you want to do. But if it makes any difference, I’m counting on you, son. Friendships mean a lot to me.”
Nothing like putting on the pressure, Liam thought. He owed his father for sticking by him during his divorce. Lawrence had called his son every day to ask how he was, and Liam didn’t know how he would have gotten through those difficult days without his dad’s concern. And Liam figured he could straighten out this foundation in a matter of a few visits. He was that good. Besides all that, Dr. Foster had promised he’d tell his daughter about their alliance soon.
The wedding cake had barely been cut when Liam stood in line to get his piece. He chose a small slice and turned to go back to his table. And ran into Jude.
No time like the present to get to know Martin’s middle daughter.
“Excuse me,” she said, stepping out of his way.
Liam stopped her by placing his hand on her elbow. She turned toward him and he stared into the softest, bluest eyes he’d ever seen. She didn’t look like an obstinate, my-way-or-the-highway girl. “My fault,” he said, giving her his brightest smile. “My name is Liam Manning. I don’t really know many people here. Would you like to share our cake together?”
“I really can’t,” she said. “I have to give a toast soon.”
He tried again. “We’re actually not strangers. We met at a picnic years ago.”
“I remember. You were tormenting a defenseless snake.”
Was she kidding? “Tormenting?” he said. “I was doing no such thing. Besides, it was just a snake.”
“Yeah, and if a snake bit you, one of his buddies would say, ‘Don’t worry about it, pal. It was just a human.’”
Oh yeah, she wasn’t kidding.
“Anyway, snake torture is enough to make me wonder about you now. Like for instance, what did you and my father talk about in the hallway?”
So she’d seen them leave the party. He tried to speak, to come up with a convincing stall, but his jaw seemed to tighten up. He put down the dainty china plate that held his cake and reached for Jude’s hand. “Let’s dance.”
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_fd629c9a-ed58-576b-9e31-7b4446c248ca)
JUDE PULLED HER hand back. “I’d rather not.” She glanced down at her elegant so-not-her dress. “I’m part of the bridal party. I have duties.”
“But you do dance?” he asked. “And I’m sure the bride won’t mind if you have a little fun.”
Truthfully, except for a modest skill at line dancing, she wasn’t much of a dancer. Her mother had paid for the same ballroom lessons for all three of her daughters. The glides and swishes and dips had looked great when executed by Alexis and Carrie. When Jude tried to do them, she looked like a horse who’d thrown a shoe.
“Everybody dances,” she said. “But it’s not my proudest achievement.”
Refusing to take the hint, he suddenly had her hand tucked into his, and they were walking toward the dance floor. “Forgive me, but I feel the need to convince you that I’m not the snake torturer that you believe I am.”
“And dancing will do that?”
“Among other things, I hope.” He continued on a path to the dance floor. “These are all your friends and family, right?”
“Yes.” She made a quick summary of the guests in the room. How many could she actually call friends? “Most of them.” She frowned. “Some, anyway.”
“Then no one will be critical of your dancing.”
She stared into glimmering brown eyes that seemed lit from within by tiny gold sparklers. What man had eyes that perfect? She shouldn’t trust this guy. “Don’t count on it,” she said.
They stopped on the fringe of the dance floor. Jude couldn’t think of a way to escape.
“Everyone’s having fun,” he said. “And you just pointed out that you’re an important member of the wedding party. Joining in and adding to the general spirit of the occasion is part of your job, isn’t it?”
She couldn’t argue. Alex had told her, “It’s just one day, Jude. I’m counting on you. You can at least pretend to have fun.” If spinning around the dance floor one time would endear her to Alex, she could do it. Besides, pretending to have fun was what she did. She was good at it. Liam held up one hand to hold hers and slipped his arm around her back. And then, when he should have been gliding or whatever, he just remained still, staring into her eyes.
“What?” she said.
“Weren’t you taller?” he asked. “When I watched you walk down the aisle a while ago, I could have sworn you were tall. Now I wouldn’t peg you at more than five and a half feet.”
“I was tall then.”
“What?”
She raised the hem of her gauzy, satiny concoction of shiny pink, showing her bare legs almost to her knees. Laced securely to each foot was a simple but expensive running shoe. She almost laughed out loud when she saw his shocked expression.
“If you want me to put the stilts back on, you’ll have to walk me over to my table where they’re hidden under the drape. But then I won’t dance, so it’s a catch-22.”
He fidgeted with the layers of dress in her hands, trying to smooth the fabric so it covered her legs again. Was he embarrassed to be seen with a woman who’d abandoned her high heels? Too bad. Jude had never enjoyed the fashion sense of her two sisters, even though they’d tried. The shoes for the wedding had cost her fifty bucks, and they would end up gathering dust in the back of her closet.
“No, no. It’s fine. The shoes are fine,” he said, returning his arms to dance position. “We’ll dance a few minutes and then adjourn to the tennis courts outside where we can play a couple of sets.”
She almost smiled. After about thirty seconds of keeping time to the five-piece orchestra, Jude had decided that maybe she was a dancer after all. Or maybe Liam Manning was so accomplished at leading that she didn’t feel like the wallflower with two left feet. His arm pressed with authority on her back, and her hand felt light as a feather in his. His feet seemed to move with precision, stepping around and between her own so that her toes were protected while she managed to follow his unspoken directions.
At one point, he grinned down at her. “See? You’re dancing like a pro,” he said.
She chuckled. “Let’s not get carried away with the flattery, Liam.”
What is this guy’s game? she wondered. He seemed to be a mixture of propriety and charm, and Jude still didn’t trust him. She had a hard time trusting anyone who didn’t smell a little musty and have straw stuck to his boots. Although Liam Manning could possibly change her mind about all that.
She didn’t ask to sit down after the promised spin around the dance floor. Instead he slowed the pace to an easy-breathing, conversational level. “You never told me,” she began. “What’s going on between you and my father?”
“We’re back to that, are we? I hope my explanation won’t make you angry.”
“I suppose we’ll have to see about that.”
Liam cleared his throat. “Your father just asked me if I remembered you from an outing twenty years ago. I told him I didn’t, but then you reminded me of the snake incident. He mentioned how pretty you are and said I should ask you to dance.”
She grimaced. “Oh, Dad.”
“It’s okay,” Liam said. “You are pretty, and I would have asked anyway.”
Some women might have ruffled feathers after hearing such an admission. Obviously Martin Foster didn’t believe Jude could snag her own dance partner, so he decided to fix her up. But Jude wasn’t terribly upset. Making certain his daughter enjoyed a dance or two was the kind of goal Martin Foster would try to achieve on a day like this. Jude hardly ever lost patience with her father. Everything he did was from love.
She nodded, accepting that she was the daughter least likely to have dance partners lined up. “I see. And are you sorry you got stuck with the job?”
He smiled again, showing a row of perfect white teeth. If she ever found herself with Liam in good lighting, she was going to study that face until she found a flaw. There had to be one.
“Not at all. Despite your reluctance to dance with me, I think we’ve done quite well.”
So did Jude. He stopped dancing and walked with her out the door to the country club portico. “I could use some fresh air,” he said. “It’s unseasonably warm for November, but in that dress, you might be too cold.”
“No. I’m okay.”
“Good. Let’s find a place where we can sit and get acquainted.”
“This is as good a place as any.” She hopped up on the concrete railing surrounding the patio, pulled her skirt to her knees and dangled her sneakered feet as if she were anticipating plunging them into a cool stream.
“Aren’t you worried about your dress?”
“I am worried—about the next person who’ll have to wear it once I drop it off at Goodwill.”
He jumped up beside her. “I take it you’re not a, what do they call it these days? A fashionista?”
“I suppose I’m not. I buy most of my clothes at Winnie’s Western Wear, and I get my son’s school uniforms at Target. Everything else I buy online. I don’t have time to traipse through malls.”
She clutched her hands in her lap and lifted her face to catch the breeze coming through the fall maples and oak trees. There was no place more beautiful than northern Ohio in autumn. When a strand of hair whipped across her face, she tucked it behind her ear. The elaborate French something-or-other the hairstylist had perfected for her this morning was probably hanging on by a few last-gasp pins.
She and Liam sat on the railing without speaking for a moment. They both looked into the country club where wedding guests were still dancing and lining up for cake. Wesley, who was probably as uncomfortable in a tux as she was in her pink fluffy dress, was dancing with his aunt Carrie. His head only came to her chest, but they were keeping perfect time to the music. The photographer was busy snapping everyone in the throes of Alexis’s marital bliss.
“The kid in the tux who was ring bearer,” Liam said. “That’s the son you mentioned?”
“It is.”
“Cute kid.”
This guy seemed to say all the right things. Jude sighed with unexpected contentment. She felt more like herself outside, away from the festivities. And she was happy for Alexis. She deserved this wedding and this fairy-tale beginning of a new life. She and Daniel, the state’s newest young senator, were perfect for each other, and despite many problems, they’d found their way back together to share a life and a daughter.
Amazing, Jude thought. Two of the three Foster daughters had been widowed at a young age. Alexis had lost her beloved Teddy almost a year ago, and Jude had lost her Paul. Well, life had turned around for her Allie-belle today, and sitting next to this dark blond, good-looking guy, Jude had the first warm flickering of hope for a happy ending for herself one day. But the feeling was just a flicker, nothing upon which to base a future. Paul was gone. He was never coming back. Part of her would never forgive him for that. Part of her knew she would never experience the same love again.
“So, what do you do?” The voice that came from beside her and interrupted her thoughts was low and just slightly scratchy as if this dressed-up man put hot sauce on everything he ate, just like she did. No way. He had to be a hollandaise kind of guy. She didn’t answer right away because explaining what she did was difficult for some people to understand, so he added, “I mean, you don’t like walking malls...”
“I said I don’t have time for shopping,” she repeated. “But you’re right. I don’t like it, either.” She turned her head to be able to read his reaction when she said, “Actually I run a small farm. In addition, I’m the CEO of a charitable foundation.”
“No kidding?” Liam said. “That’s interesting. Is it a national or a local foundation?”
“Local. Really local. We benefit mostly people from this area. I started the foundation five years ago and named it after my late husband, Paul O’Leary. He was killed in Afghanistan.”
His eyes widened as he drew in a quick breath. “The foundation is named after your late husband?”
“That’s right.”
“So you’re continuing work that Paul started when he was alive?”
“Not 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, he could help her. As an outsider, he could keep an open mind, something she might have problems doing. He could influence her, help her to be rational. Liam could look at this assignment, this favor, as a profitable job, couldn’t he, despite pressure from both Dr. Foster and his father?
Martin smiled. “Does that look mean you’re going ahead with our plan?”
Liam closed his eyes a moment, took a deep breath. “Yes, I’ll give it a try.”
“Wonderful. So, again, how did the first meeting with Jude go?”
“We talked and it went fine,” he said. “She seems like a nice girl. In fact, I’m stopping at the barn on Monday to find out more about the foundation.”
“Good, good. Get her to show you the books, see where all my money’s going and give her some pointers.” Martin stared at his middle daughter as she picked up the microphone to speak. “Don’t intimidate her, though. That’s not what I want. I picked you for this job because there’s a gentlemanly quality about you that I like. Jude hasn’t been happy for a while, and I don’t want you making it worse.”
So besides throwing Liam under the bus, the good doctor was practically threatening him? But unknowingly Martin had just voiced Liam’s own concerns—that he might end up making Jude’s attachment to the foundation even stronger, her loneliness even worse, especially if she felt emotionally connected to every dime she gave out. “I’ll certainly try,” he said. “But remember, you said you would level with her as soon as possible. Monday wouldn’t be soon enough.”
“Not so soon, Liam. She won’t open up with me looking over her shoulder. She thinks I trust her judgment, and if she believes I’m questioning her ability, it will cause a rift between us. I know my daughter. This will work much better if she gets to know you, if she appreciates your expertise in this area. Then she won’t just be dealing with an interfering daddy.”
Liam didn’t like deception of any kind. He dealt with figures, and numbers didn’t lie, but he had to agree with Dr. Foster in this case. Family situations were often delicate. Jude actually might accept criticism and advice from someone like him much more readily than she would her father. Or she might not.
“I know a lot about how foundations work, and I can help her, but I’ll be more comfortable if we don’t let this game play out for too long. You’ve got to be honest with Jude once I’ve set the groundwork for improvement.”
“I’ll tell her everything soon enough,” Martin said. “But the first thing we need to do is pinpoint the problems, get her to see where mistakes are being made. And I’ll step in and tell her I hired you when the time is right, a few days, maybe a week at most.”
A week? Liam supposed he could play along with the doctor’s plan for a week. Like Martin, Liam believed that the spending was out of control and Jude did need sound guidance. Her father obviously cared for her. Liam had promised his father, and he definitely wanted to go to that world economic conference in Stockholm... “Okay, Dr. Foster. One week. And then no more charades.”
Liam was met by his father when he came back into the dining hall. “You met Jude?” Lawrence asked.
“I danced with her,” Liam said. “And then we talked outside for a few minutes.”
“And you’re going to help Martin with this problem?”
Liam nodded. “We’ll see how it goes.”
“Okay, then,” Lawrence said. “I told you I’d fill you in on a few details I’ve learned about Jude through the years. Have a seat.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Liam said. This arrangement was already tinged with deception. He didn’t want to add gossip to the mix. “I don’t anticipate any big problems.”
“Okay, but one word of warning. This is a business deal, son. Martin is paying you handsomely. Don’t get interested in Jude romantically. Go after that pretty little one, Carrie. Martin wants her to stick around home anyway.”
“I’m not interested in anyone, Dad,” Liam said. “It was just a conversation. But even if it were more, I don’t think I’m in need of romantic advice. Neither one of us has been very successful in that arena.”
“No, I suppose not. But your mother never approved of that daughter. Always thought she was wild and daring, even going so far as to get in scrapes with the law. She’s nothing like the other two. She’s not your type, son. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Good, because I don’t think I’d like it if you were saying anything else.”
He walked away from his father and tried to tamp his irritation. Suddenly he felt the oddest urge to defend a bridesmaid in running shoes.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_8a612bbb-c4d6-51fd-8073-8ab10b09be01)
“GOOD MORNING AGAIN, MAGGIE.” With a breakfast tray in his hand, Martin Foster crossed the soft plum-colored carpeting and stopped at his wife’s bedside. He set the tray on a nightstand and fixed Maggie’s tea the way she liked it—a little cream, one sugar.
“Rebecca is going to be late this morning,” he said, explaining why he would feed Maggie instead of her nurse. “But that’s fine with me, gives us a chance to talk more about the wedding.”
He glanced over at the twin bed situated close to his wife’s larger one. Martin slept in the narrow bed every night now that the master bedroom had been converted to a sickroom. The sheets were still rumpled, but the weekend nurse would see to light housekeeping chores.
He tipped a teaspoon of tea toward Maggie’s mouth. She opened, swallowed and seemed eager for more.
“Later today, I’m going to make some large prints of photos I took with my phone so you can see how grand the wedding was, how happy our Alexis is with her new husband.” He hoped the pictures would stir some reaction in his wife. Maybe in some deep, quiet place that the Alzheimer’s had taken her, she would recognize the family who still loved her. But probably not.
He dipped a toast corner in tea and offered it to Maggie. She chewed automatically, swallowed. He followed that bite with scrambled eggs. So far, his Maggie was eating well this morning. He wouldn’t feel so badly about leaving her to go out for a while to run errands.
“Carrie’s leaving tomorrow,” he told Maggie. “This time, the forestry department is sending her to Michigan for an assignment. We’re lucky Carrie’s employers are so understanding about her asthma. They try to send her places where the triggers are seasonal so she can avoid them. The cool temperatures in Michigan this time of year should be beneficial.
“I wish I could think of a way to persuade her to change careers and find a job that is safer for her but you know how determined she is. She’s so much like you in that respect. She thinks she can take on the world, one tree at a time. Our Carrie only seems to flourish in the outdoors where every breath can threaten her health. But I’ll load up her duffel bag with medications and call her every week to be sure she’s taking them.”
Martin raised his wife’s head and put the teacup to her lips. She blinked rapidly while taking several long swallows.
“Now, Jude is another matter,” he said, scooping scrambled eggs onto a spoon. “I took a big step with regard to her yesterday. I’ve hired a crackerjack financial planner to look at the foundation’s books. Lawrence Manning’s boy, Liam.”
He searched Maggie’s face for some sign of disapproval. If Maggie hadn’t been ill, she probably would have chastised him for putting any part of Jude’s future in the hands of a relative of Alicia Manning’s. Maggie had never gotten on well with Lawrence’s now ex-wife, whom Maggie referred to as “Fox Creek’s self-appointed royalty.” When Lawrence and Alicia divorced, Maggie had privately congratulated Lawrence.
“Liam is going to take a look at the books, see if he can’t curb some of the spending.”
He paused as if waiting for Maggie to say something. Realizing his foolishness, he said, “I know what you’d say to me if you could speak. You’d tell me I should just talk to her myself. Well, I can’t. You were always the one who disciplined the girls. And as far as Jude is concerned, you always saw an inner spiritual strength in her that I never fully appreciated. ‘Our little fighter,’ you called her. Our Old Soul.” He chuckled. “You didn’t even seem upset when we drove to the police station to pick her up after some bit of nonsense, though you grounded her for weeks.
“I know she’s strong. I know her heart is as big as Dancing Falls. But to me she’s wounded, Maggie. Her hurt goes deep, and I can’t take a chance that something I say will drive us apart.” He sighed. “But I can’t let her continue spending as if there’s no end to the money, no matter how worthy the causes are.”
Martin stroked Maggie’s curly gray hair. The girls insisted that a beautician come once a week to wash and style their mother’s hair. “Liam is coming over tomorrow sometime,” he said. “Supposedly the kid has a brilliant mind. He’ll be able to steal a quick look at the books and figure out where Jude’s going wrong. I know the simple answer. She’s giving away more money than she’s bringing in. But telling her to let some of the charities go would be nearly impossible for me, hopefully not for Liam. Once Jude sets her mind to helping someone, she won’t quit. I guess that’s the fighter in her. And she finds it just as hard to say no.”
His phone rang and he took the instrument from his pocket. Checking the screen, he said, “It’s Aurora from next door. I’m going to bring her up here to meet you soon. The girls like her a lot.”
He connected. “Hello, Aurora. I can almost smell your cinnamon rolls from here. Save me one...” He held the phone away from his ear and grimaced. “What’s that? A goat is eating your fern?”
Background noise kept him from hearing Aurora’s words clearly. Her parrot was squawking up a storm. A lady guest was screaming that the goat tried to eat her skirt. And the goat—Martin didn’t know which one, but he was certain it had a name, since Jude named all her animals—was braying with enthusiasm.
“I’ll pick up Jude and be right there,” he said. Remembering Aurora’s penchant for using anything as a weapon, he said, “For heaven’s sake, Aurora, don’t hit the goat with a toilet plunger. Jude will never speak to us again.”
Martin called his housekeeper upstairs to sit with Maggie until the nurse arrived in a few minutes. Then he dialed Jude’s number as he sped to the barn. She and Wesley were waiting in front when he circled to pick them up. When Martin stopped, the two piled into his SUV. “Would you rather I take my truck?” she asked her father. “After eating ferns and skirts, the goat might—”
“No, there isn’t time.” Martin glanced back at his pristine SUV. “Let’s just hope his breakfast didn’t upset its stomach.” He stared across the seat at his daughter, who was still buttoning her jacket. “And I hope to heck this goat doesn’t have a hankering for parrot.”
“I think the culprit is female—Eloise,” Jude said, winding her long hair into a knot on top of her head. “I took a quick look around and didn’t see her with the herd. She likes to wander anyway and might have discovered a new hole in the fence.”
Dollar signs danced in front of Martin’s eyes. He’d just repaired the fence a few months ago when Jude’s dog, Mutt, invaded Aurora’s property. The incident had not been a particularly favorable way to meet his new neighbor who was setting up her bed-and-breakfast business. Thank goodness Aurora hadn’t held a grudge, and in fact, had become a considerate and helpful neighbor. Martin didn’t know how she would react to a full-fledged goat invasion.
* * *
BY THE TIME they’d entered Aurora’s property and driven around back, the situation had calmed. A middle-aged man had corralled Eloise with a cotton rope and was keeping her from further dietary damage.
Jude was the first out of the SUV. She skidded to a stop in front of her goat and placed a hand on each side of Eloise’s face. “You are one naughty goat,” she said. “Look at the trouble you’ve caused.” She took the end of the rope from the man. “I’m sorry about all this,” she said. “I’ll remove the nuisance right away.”
“No problem,” the man responded. “Gives me something to talk about at the golf club when I get home to Florida.” He handed his camera to Jude. “Do you know how to take a picture? I’d like to have proof that I tamed this mighty beast. Can you get one of me and the goat?”
“I should be able to,” Jude said.
“And another one with you in the picture. It would be nice if it looks like you’re praising me for my bravery and quick thinking,” the man added.
“Sure.” Martin watched in awe as Jude took the first picture and then squeezed close to the man with Eloise between them. The adults smiled. Jude smiled at the man. The goat contentedly chewed whatever had last gone in her mouth. Jude snapped a photo. Then as if realizing she’d thrown on yesterday’s barn clothes in her hurry to get downstairs this morning, she backed away rather than offend the man’s sense of smell. Her jeans had chicken feed stuck to the legs, and her shirt wasn’t even buttoned below her waist. She quickly tied the ends of the shirt into a makeshift bow.
Aurora came across the yard and stopped in front of Jude. “I’m sorry for the panic, dear,” she said. “The situation has been under control for the last few minutes.”
“No problem. You are definitely within your rights to expect an absence of goat on your property.” Realizing she was still the object of attention for Aurora’s guests, she walked Eloise toward Martin’s SUV. “Hey, Wes,” she called to her son. “Help Grandpa and me get this monster into the back.”
Wesley ambled over as if the last thing he wanted to do was lift the hindquarters of a goat. He’d probably been sleeping off wedding festivities when his mother woke him with an urgent call to “Get up!” this morning. Jude lowered a pair of ramps from the back of the SUV to the ground, and the three of them got Eloise inside. Then she and Martin went over to apologize once more to Aurora.
“Looks like we’ve got another hole,” Jude said. “But don’t worry, Aurora. I’ll keep Eloise on a leash until it’s mended.”
“And you get that helper of yours, Johnny Ray, to fix it, Jude,” Martin said, knowing he sounded unnaturally irritable. “I’ve spent enough on fence mending for one season.”
“Sure, Daddy. I’m on it.” She gazed around the now serene backyard scene. “Any damages, Aurora?” she asked. “Did Eloise eat someone’s smartphone or chew off a finger?”
“No, nothing so bad as that,” Aurora said. “Why don’t you have some tea and a cinnamon roll?”
Jude looked like she was about to accept the offer, but a pointed glare from her father followed by a nervous glance at the goat-filled SUV changed her mind. “Thanks, Aurora, but I think I’ll get Eloise home,” she said. “Dad, you can stay and I’ll pick you up in an hour.”
He agreed to the plan, watched his daughter and grandson drive his vehicle around to the front of Aurora’s home and then allowed Aurora to lead him inside her sunroom to a table set with a floral tablecloth and a pitcher of autumn wildflowers. His irritation suddenly vanished. Sometimes there was nothing so sweet as a glass of tea and a moment’s rest at Aurora’s Attic Bed-and-Breakfast.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do with that one,” he said to Aurora. “Her projects are getting out of hand. She must have two-dozen goats over there.”
“Besides you, Wesley and the girls, Marty, those animals are Jude’s family. You can understand her attachment to them.” She smiled. “Not that I’m looking forward to another goat trespassing on my property anytime in the near future.”
“You’ve been very patient, Aurora. The girls are lucky to have you as a friend.” In the short time she’d lived next door, Aurora had managed to defuse several difficult situations in the Foster family. And Martin had found solace in being able to communicate with someone near his own age.
“And I’m lucky to have them,” Aurora said. “Now sit down and have some tea. I want to ask you about that young fella I saw Jude talking to at the wedding yesterday. They looked so cute together. If you ask me, a little love affair is just what that girl needs to get her mind off goats.”
“Aurora! A love affair?”
She laughed. “Don’t be such an old fuddy-duddy, Martin. You know what I mean. Jude needs romance in her life. Do you think it might happen?”
No, Martin hadn’t thought that could happen. He’d point-blank told Liam that Jude’s heart was a family matter. Besides, Jude was still in love with her husband, probably always would be. Was that a healthy way to live her life? Probably not. But Liam Manning hooked up with his wild, good-hearted Jude? No way. Three-piece suits did not go well with chaps and boots. And he wasn’t at all sure how he would feel if they were somehow attracted to each other.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_27b1d9e3-986f-53e0-9639-33448a2ee49e)
LIFE WAS FILLED with too many bittersweet moments. That was how Jude felt almost every day. Those moments happened when she visited her mother and remembered when Maggie Foster was vibrant and brilliant and loving. Or when she waved her sister Alexis off in a limousine to begin her honeymoon. Or when she thought of Paul, as she so often did, in so many ways. The freshest of the bittersweets occurred Monday morning as she shared a last cup of coffee with her sister Carrie before the airport shuttle came to get her.
“Don’t forget to take your meds,” Jude said. “I saw Dad stuffing your duffel with them this morning.”
“I won’t forget.” Carrie smiled over the rim of her mug. “Does everyone in my family think I enjoy having asthma?”
Jude chuckled. “Point taken.”
“Now, let’s get back to the subject of Liam Manning.”
“What do you want to say about Liam?”
“He’s gorgeous. How’s that for a start?”
“He’s decent looking, I’ll agree with that. But I’m not interested in him, gorgeous or otherwise.”
“So why are you so upset that he might not show up at the barn today?”
“Upset? I’m not upset.” Jude had confided in her sister this morning about the possibility of Liam coming out to the farm. Jude didn’t believe he would and had admitted this to Carrie. Since leaving the reception on Saturday night, she’d tried to put the entire incident out of her mind. Meeting someone on a starstruck night of love and having it actually materialize into something was not Jude O’Leary luck.
“Besides,” Jude said. “He was just being polite at the wedding. Dad coerced him into asking me to dance, and I guess small talk was a part of the deal.”
“But he said he was interested in your charities,” Carrie reminded her.
“I can’t believe that’s true. Oh, here, Liam. Here are my goats. Aren’t they adorable?” Jude mimicked her own voice. “Come on, Carrie, any interest he may have shown was just small talk.”
“All right. Maybe he’s not interested in your charities,” Carrie said, her eyes twinkling. “Maybe his interest has everything to do with you.”
Jude snorted, one of her unladylike habits. “Care Bear, be reasonable. If Liam wanted to date a Foster girl, he’d sure as heck pick you. Cute, petite, soft-spoken and smart. You’d be Liam’s dream girl.”
“According to who?” Carrie said. “He never even spoke to me at the wedding.”
“Because, unlike me, you were never lacking a dance partner! The poor man never had a chance to whisk you onto the floor.”
“I’ll bet he shows up,” Carrie said. “And just in case, I think you should put on a bit of makeup...” She held up her hand as if she believed Jude were going to protest the notion. “Not a lot, just a touch. A little blush, some eye shadow.”
Jude leaned back in her chair and threw her hands up. “Will you look at me for once, Carrie? I mean really look! I wear makeup. I have some on now, and you can’t even tell.”
Carrie tried to appear guilty. As usual, the expression came across as Care Bear cute. “Oh. Now I see it. Maybe a little more blush...”
“I am not going to any fuss for a man who’s not going to show,” Jude said.
“Okay, have it your way. Be stubborn and negative and don’t take advantage of this opportunity if it should happen today.”
“I’m not stupid, Carrie. Even I recognize that Liam is a good-looking guy with a lot going for him. If he comes by, I’ll try to be all girly and sweet.”
“And phony.”
Jude rolled her eyes. Pleasing Carrie was not easy.
“Just be yourself, Jude. That’s the person he talked to at the wedding.” Carrie got up and looked out the kitchen window. “The shuttle is coming up the drive, so I’ve got to go. I’ll call you tonight. Let me know if you hear from the honeymooners.”
Carrie slung her duffel over one shoulder, her purse over the other, and picked up her suitcase.
“Let me carry those things for you,” Jude said.
“Stop it! I can manage my own things. Quit babying me, Jude. And get a life, will you? I worry about you. Try some positive thinking for a change, and good things will happen.”
“I suppose you know of a magic potion for that, don’t you, Carrie, or a crystal I can wear around my neck?”
Carrie fingered her own good luck talisman around her neck. “You’re impossible. Why do I even try?”
Jude hugged her sister over all her gear. “Don’t worry about me, sis. I’ve got everything I want out at that barn with my cozy apartment above just right for me and Wes.”
“You live with horses and noise, and...”
“You’re wrong, Carrie. I live in peace and solitude. Remember when we had a full-time groom in that apartment? We had six horses. Now we have three and taking care of them is a piece of cake. My life is full. The only thing that would make it more perfect is if I’d have you here for more than a few days at a time.”
Carrie leaned back and stared into her sister’s eyes. “And Liam Manning. He might make it more perfect.”
“You don’t give up, do you?”
“Not where you’re concerned.” Carrie gave her sister one last smile. “Take care of yourself. Talk to you tonight.”
The shuttle taking Carrie to the Cleveland airport was soon just a cloud of dust. Jude missed her already. Less than two years apart in age, they’d always been close. Jude couldn’t imagine her life if Carrie weren’t in it. So, yes, of course she worried.
She took the mugs to the sink, rinsed them out and decided she’d go up and visit her mother for a few minutes. Then she’d head back to the barn where she was comfortable.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was hers and the familiar smells of hay and leather and the tasks and nonhuman company would surround her whether Liam Manning showed up or not. Most days, that was all the positive thinking she needed to get her through.
* * *
JUDE KNEW RIGHT away that the BMW coming up the drive had to belong to Liam. It was a corporate-looking car and it only made sense that it was owned by a corporate-looking guy. She wondered if he would park next to her pickup or leave some space so his shiny sedan wouldn’t be inflicted with old Dodge Ram barnyard dust.
She leaned on the rake she’d been using to spread chicken feed and waited for him to get out of the car. He’d actually shown up. If Carrie were still here, she’d be gloating big-time. And he’d even remembered her fashion advice and had on a pair of jeans. Despite the denims having a “just pressed” look, at least they were barn appropriate. His close-fitting, long-sleeved T-shirt was a common Pittsburgh Steelers variety, faded from washing. His sandy hair, unencumbered by a ball cap like hers was, was neatly combed, proving that the executive still existed alongside the cowboy.
She took off her cap and squinted into the sun. “Well, well, look who’s here. Did you bring a hammer?”
He came toward her. “In the trunk. You’ll have to show me how to use it.”
She harrumphed before tossing her cap to a nearby bench and flicking her braid over her shoulder to stream down her back. Untamed wisps of curls swept around her face as usual. Jude figured she looked okay. She wasn’t a complete fashion dolt. She bought denims that fit, shirts that hugged in the right places and tucked into her twenty-four-inch waistband without a struggle. And from the way Liam was looking at her, maybe he thought she looked okay, too.
“Did you have any trouble finding the place?” she asked.
His answer was lost in a riot of barking as Mutt, the family dog, raced from the barn and ran directly toward Liam. Jude expected her guest to run back to the safety of his Beemer. Mutt was a large, furry, Bernese mountain dog, a rescue who was so grateful for two squares a day and a comfy spot at the foot of Jude’s bed that he loved everyone. But Liam wouldn’t know that.
“He won’t hurt...” Jude started to explain. But Liam was down on one knee, his fingers scrunched into the layers of fur around Mutt’s face. Mutt lapped his chin with his scratchy tongue.
“Friendly dog,” Liam said, standing again and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Almost too friendly,” Jude said. “Sorry about that.”
“I like dogs. It’s okay.”
Jude wasn’t sure that Liam liked big, sloppy, licking dogs, but to his credit, he was handling the situation. “How do you feel about goats?” she asked.
“Goats? Can’t say that I’ve ever sorted through my feelings about goats.”
Jude snapped her fingers and pointed to the side of the barn. “Mutt...goats! Goats!”
The Bernese trotted off gleefully around the corner of the barn. A minute later the Dancing Falls goat herd appeared in all its braying, furry splendor. Two dozen of them. At least half tried to get a curious sniff of the newcomer.
“I trained Mutt to open the latch that releases the goats.”
Liam frowned. “Did you also train him to put them back again?”
She laughed. “No. That’s my son Wesley’s job.” She handed Liam a bucket filled with feed and carried two buckets herself to a pair of troughs. “Feeding time. Most of these guys will walk around the yard and nibble at leaves and grass, but my vet concocts this pellet food to add bulk. Just dump your feed into the bin.”
He did and seemed grateful that lunch distracted the beasts from making a meal of a guy in creased jeans. She had to give the man credit. He was trying to fit in, though his heart wasn’t in it.
“Are the goats a permanent fixture at Dancing Falls?” he asked.
“Nope. They are temporary. This is just a stopover until they reach their new destinations.”
“Which is where?”
“Central America, most likely. The goats are part of the foundation. I got the entire herd about three months ago from a farmer out in Bees Creek Township. He’d been raising the goats for their milk and to use in petting zoos, but he hadn’t figured that a few goats would cost so much to maintain. He couldn’t pay the feed bills to keep the herd healthy, so he applied to the foundation for assistance.”
“And the goats all ended up here?”
“They did. Actually I didn’t trust the farmer to keep them healthy, and I figured I was much better equipped to deal with them. Dancing Falls was a good choice. We have pasture land here for them to roam.”
“You haven’t found someone else to care for them?” Liam asked.
“I haven’t tried. I did some research and discovered a charitable organization in Central America that provides goats to families in need. Most of these goats are milk goats. Just one can keep a family in dairy products for a long time. With my plan, I’m helping the goats as well as people who need it.”
“So, why have the goats been here three months? Shouldn’t they be on their way to Central America where they’ll do some good?”
“I’m fattening them up. Some of them were in bad shape when they came here. Hoof disease, ribs showing. But they’re healthy now. A good dairy goat gives sixteen cups of milk a day, and as soon as they’re completely healthy I’m shipping them to Costa Rica probably.”
“But in the meantime, you’re paying the bills to feed and care for them.”
She squinted her eyes at him. “Somebody has to, and the foundation is willing. By the way, you’re out here because you said you might want to donate to one of the foundation’s causes.” She gazed over her herd of hungry goats. “How about this cause? Right now we’re somewhat strapped for cash. As you might imagine, being a whiz kid and all, it costs a lot to keep two dozen goats fat and happy.”
He picked up his feed bucket. “I’ll think about it. Where does this bucket go?”
“In the barn. Why don’t we go inside? You can meet more of the family.”
* * *
TRY AS HE MIGHT, Liam couldn’t manage to feel more than a passing interest in Jude’s goats. They were odd-looking creatures with their sloping foreheads, awkward gait and continuously moving jaws.
Ruminate. He recalled the word from his high school biology class. These animals pulled up roots and plants from the soil, chewed it, swallowed, brought it back up and chewed again. Hardly Liam’s idea of fine dining. At least he’d never eaten goat, and didn’t have to hide any guilt in case Jude asked him if he had.
“We have three horses in here,” Jude said, leading the way down the central aisle of the barn. “They are all offtrack thoroughbreds.”
“You mean racehorses?” Liam said.
“That’s right. My husband loved horses. He was an expert rider, quarter horses mostly, and when I learned of these horses being at risk, I immediately brought them to Dancing Falls. That’s what Paul would have wanted. You can’t imagine their condition when they were brought here.”
She stopped to rub the nose of one large beast. “These horses gave so much when they were in training. It’s a shame that they aren’t rewarded with a nice retirement when they are no longer financially important to their owners.”
Liam didn’t know much about horses. His mother had made him take riding lessons when he was a kid, since so much of this part of northern Ohio was horse country. He’d learned what he’d had to, mastered a few dressage techniques on multi-thousand-dollar animals and considered his education complete. He was surprised by what Jude had just said. He always thought racehorses were put out to pasture and allowed to fill their last days with peace, contentment and a diet of rich green grass and hay.
He walked down the aisle, stopping to look into stalls. “These guys don’t look so bad,” he said.
“Not now. I have a vet tech come out once a week to check their vitals and adjust their feed.”
“That must be expensive.”
She gave him a skeptical look. “Knowing we’re a charity, the tech at least gives me a reduced price.” Jude took a carrot from her pocket and gave it to a horse that had to top sixteen hands. “This guy is twenty-one years old. He probably doesn’t have too long, and he deserves to live out his life in comfort.”
Liam continued to the end of the barn, where a stall was occupied by a large bay. When he approached the horse, the animal reared up on its hind legs and pawed the stall gate. Liam jumped back.
“Don’t go near Titan,” Jude said. “He doesn’t like strangers. Actually he doesn’t like anyone.” She went to the gate and spoke softly to the agitated animal. Slowly the horse calmed but still pawed the ground and whinnied in some sort of equine frustration.
“This animal had suffered the worst case of abuse I’ve come across,” she said. “He was skin and bones when he got here. He’d been whipped and beaten, drugged and hit with electrical charges while he was on the race circuit.”
Jude took another carrot from her pocket and held it for Titan. “Is it any wonder he’s a bit cranky?”
Liam tried to feel for these animals something of the sympathy Jude obviously did. Yes, it was a shame that animals could be treated so cruelly, but the bills for caring for these creatures had to be enormous. Liam thought of Dr. Foster and was reminded that he was here to find ways to cut some of these expenses. “I can’t even imagine what it costs to take care of these animals, Jude,” he said.
She narrowed her eyes again. “That’s the third time you’ve mentioned the cost. You really are a money guy.”
He shrugged.
“But again, to respond to your comment, it’s not cheap. Thank goodness my dad supports my efforts to fund the foundation. He’s our biggest contributor, and he knows how important these causes are to me, how important they would have been to my husband.”
Liam shook his head. If she only knew. Dr. Foster was no doubt a patient, kind man, a good and loving father, but no one who wasn’t a multimillionaire could carry this burden forever.
She turned away from the stall and started back down to the barn opening. She stopped along the way, adjusted tack on the walls, hung a water bucket on a hook for a horse. Each movement was smooth and natural, and not wasted. Jude O’Leary was in her element in this barn. Her plaid shirt was dusted with hay. Her jeans were coated with feed and goat spit. Liam felt out of place, like the quintessential rhinestone cowboy, a phony in clean jeans.
“So, what do you think, Liam?” she asked as they came into the barnyard.
He wanted to say, “I think you’re amazing,” because a big part of him truly believed it. Liam would be reluctant to even take in a stray cat, and here this woman devoted her life to creatures who needed help. He wondered how many hours of her days were spent taking care of these needy animals and how many hours she spent helping other causes. She might not be the most practical woman he’d ever met, but she had to be one of the kindest.
But he was here at her father’s request so Jude’s good works didn’t send the poor doctor into bankruptcy. It shouldn’t matter that Jude’s hair was the color of summer wheat in the sunshine, or that her slim body was muscled and toned from hard work. Liam liked looking at Jude. She had hard angles and soft curves, and she was nothing like the starvation-diet women he saw in the offices in Cleveland or that his mother introduced him to. She might come from money, she might have been raised on Dancing Falls, but there was nothing debutant about Jude. She was pure, unspoiled, raw, in an unembellished-beauty sort of way.
“Do you want to contribute to any of the causes you’ve seen so far?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts.
“I might,” he evaded.
“What do you do, anyway?” she asked. “Are you an accountant?”
“Partly,” he said, knowing she was understating his expertise. “I have a master’s degree in economics, and I currently work for the firm of Baird and Picard, financial planners. I basically monitor trends, study performance graphs, try to separate sound investments from riskier ones.” He paused before her eyes completely glazed over.
“Oh. Maybe you can help me cut some expenses. I’m not much with a pencil and calculator.”
She couldn’t have given him a better opening. “I’d be glad to try,” he said.
“I can’t pay you,” she added.
“No problem. If I can help you, consider that a donation to one of the causes.”
“Sounds fair. I actually do a lot of bartering to keep the foundation going. Thanks.”
A dated Toyota pulled up to the barn and a kid got out. Liam recognized him as Jude’s son, Wesley. Jude gave him a quick hug and waved to the woman driving the car. “Thanks for picking him up at the bus stop, Rosie,” she said.
The Toyota left and Jude gave her son the typical mom attention. “How was school? Did you eat all your lunch?”
“Okay. Yes.” Wesley stared at Liam. “Hey, you were at the wedding, weren’t you?”
“I was. It was quite a party.”
“Yeah, it was cool. What’s your name?”
Liam told him.
They actually chatted about the wedding and some of the guests as if they were old friends. The kid was easy to talk to.
Jude postponed any further conversation when she reminded her son of his chores, “Hey, Wes, you want to round up the goats and put them back in their pen?”
“Can I do it in a minute, Mom? I’d like to show Liam my science project.” He flashed Liam a hopeful grin. “It’s in the house upstairs. Do you want to see it?”
Liam looked to Jude for approval. She shrugged. “Sure. Okay with me.”
They both followed Wesley up the stairs to the family’s living quarters. Liam wondered if the faint smells of the barn would follow them into the house. He was surprised to enter a small but neat home with no earthy odors. He smiled. Of course the windows were closed.
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_b3cc33ed-07c2-582e-971d-dd5fa4c42871)
WITHIN A COUPLE of minutes, Wesley had the dining table covered with magazine cutouts, Magic Markers and a large piece of poster board. Jude filled glasses with sweet tea for her and Liam and gave Wes some fruit juice. She probably should have had a snack on hand. She figured most mothers had cookies, sodas and chips, but Jude’s pantry only held healthy goodies. Wes ate enough junk food at his grandfather’s house.
Magazines, mostly farm and husbandry journals, covered the old pine coffee table, a castoff from her parents. A throw depicting galloping mustangs hung loosely from the back of a plaid sofa, another freebie from her parents’ early marriage days.
Now that Jude actually studied her surroundings, she realized that there were very few pieces in her apartment that she could call her own. She’d purchased a quality bedroom set, which she still owned. A Seth Thomas clock above the fireplace had been a wedding present, as was an artist’s sketch of Dancing Falls in winter. A wedding picture of her and Paul sat on the end table.
She’d readily accepted donations of furniture when she was setting up the apartment, thinking herself frugal and clever. Now, with Liam in her living quarters, the term stubborn came to mind. Her sisters had offered to update the apartment at different times, but Jude had always turned them down, insisting, “I don’t need anything. Wesley and I are fine.” She ended by suggesting instead that they donate to the Paul O’Leary Foundation.
She handed Liam a glass of tea and hoped that maybe he wouldn’t notice the eclectic jumble of objects that made up her life. Maybe her space was cluttered, but underneath all the minutiae of her and Wesley’s existence, her world was polished and waxed.
Liam took his tea and pulled a chair from underneath the dining table. He sat down and gave serious attention to the items Wesley had spread out in front of him.
“My project is about constellations,” Wesley said, sliding over the four-syllable word with ease. “I’m making a chart to show what constellations look like and what they’re called.” He looked into Liam’s eyes as their guest nodded slowly, showing what had to be exaggerated interest.
“Did you know the constellations have names that look like things?” Wesley asked. “There’s one that’s called the Big Dipper. One is called the Great Dog, and another the Swan.” As he recited the names, Wesley placed a matching picture cutout on the poster board. Soon the white cardboard became a microcosm of the night sky with streaks of white against a dark blue background.
“Some constellations you can only see some times of the year,” Wesley said. “Like Andy Meade.”
Liam smiled. “Andy Meade?”
“I think that’s what it’s called.”
“Aren’t you thinking of Andromeda?” Liam offered.
Jude stood at the entrance to the kitchen, her hand on her hip. So the accountant knew a bit about astronomy. Maybe his interest in Wesley’s project was genuine. “Tell Liam when he can see that one,” she said.
“Only in November and December,” Wesley said. He grinned. “That’s now! The stars will be really bright around Christmas.”
“I’ll definitely have to take a look,” Liam promised.
Jude glanced out the window. “Johnny Ray is here, Wesley. No more stalling. You have to go down and help him with the goat herd.”
“Aw, Mom, do I have to? Liam and I are just getting started.” He looked at Liam. “You really like constellations, too, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“Maybe we can persuade Liam to stay until you finish with the goats,” Jude said.
Wesley looked to Liam for confirmation. Liam nodded. “My pleasure.”
“Now go on,” Jude said. “There are three of you to help. You, Mutt and Johnny Ray. You’ll have the goats in their pen in a few minutes.”
Obviously understanding his part in the process, Mutt stood at the front screen door, his paw scratching the metal frame, his tail wagging.
“Okay.” Wesley grabbed the jacket he’d hung on a hook and trudged to the door to open it for Mutt. “I’ll be right back, Liam.”
“I’ll be here.”
Jude waited for the sound of Wesley’s footsteps to fade before she turned to Liam and said, “Thanks for being so attentive to Wesley.”
“It’s no problem,” Liam said. “I’ve been interested in astronomy since I was his age.”
“Before you got interested in numbers and finance?” she said.
“Way before. When I was a kid studying the stars, I probably never pictured myself as a bean counter. But now I find financial highs and lows fascinating.”
Jude carried his glass to the sink. “I don’t know what Wesley will choose to be when he grows up. He flits from one thing to another. Now it’s astronomy.”
“How does he handle himself around the goats?” Liam asked. “He’s so young for such responsibility.”
Jude tried to detect a note of disapproval in Liam’s voice. Finding none, she said, “I train him carefully for everything he does around the farm. And besides, goats have a herd instinct. All Wes has to do is basically open the gate and they all go through. And Johnny Ray is there if anything goes wrong. It’s an easy job but gives Wes a feeling of accomplishment.”
Liam nodded, leaned back in his chair. “Why don’t we use this time to talk about some of your foundation issues?” he said.
“What do you mean by ‘issues’?” she asked.
Liam frowned. “I didn’t mean bad issues,” he said. “It’s just a figure of speech.”
“Okay. Where should we start?” She brought a ledger to the table and sat next to Liam. When she realized their shoulders nearly touched, she scooted her chair to provide extra room. Liam smiled at her, making her feel just a bit foolish. He couldn’t have thought she was flirting by sitting so close, and yet she’d behaved self-consciously. Well, why not? It had been a long time since she’d had any practice at male/female relationships.
“Why don’t you show me a list of the charities you fund?” Liam said.
That was easy. Jude was proud of the people she helped in the county. All of the charities that benefitted from the Paul O’Leary Foundation were in Geauga County. That was what Paul would have wanted. He’d been a proud country boy, and a well-liked Bees Creek Township native.
Jude showed Liam the names of veterans’ kids who’d received scholarships to the junior college. She also explained how monetary gifts were awarded to wounded warriors. “It’s not much, but the families need a lot of help, so we do what we can,” she said. “Families of soldiers who don’t make it home get a onetime death benefit check from the government, but very little is done for wounded vets.”
“So you received a death benefit when Paul died?”
“Of course, but I didn’t want it for myself. Besides, I’m very lucky. I’ve lived here on my father’s property since I was born, and I had no plans to move away.”
“So you’re saying you didn’t keep the money?”
“I’m saying it was a moral issue for me. Morally I didn’t think I should accept that money because I have other means. I know many survivors need it, but I didn’t.”
Liam’s eyes widened. “So, what did you do with the money? You didn’t turn it down, did you?”
“No, of course not, but I wanted to use it as a tribute to my husband. I used my hundred thousand to start the foundation.”
“The whole thing?” Liam seemed surprised.
“Most of it. I kept some out for the expenses of Paul’s memorial service.” She cleared her throat as an image of that bleak, rainy day invaded her consciousness. “I figured the bulk of the money would do more good as a legacy to Paul than just sitting in my checking account.”
“What about Wesley’s education? Did you start a savings account for him?” Liam asked. “I’m sure that’s the kind of usage the Veterans Administration has in mind when they issue checks to widows.”
Jude wasn’t sure she appreciated the inference in Liam’s question, as if she were a negligent mother. “Wesley will be just fine,” she said. “Who knows if he’ll even want to go to college. Not everyone is born to achieve higher education. I was forced to go and stuck it out for three semesters until I quit.” She gave Liam a lingering stare. “Are you questioning my decision about the money, Liam?”
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