Joy in His Heart (18 page)

J
oy drove under the iron entrance arch of Laurel Glen Horse Farm hardly noticing the picture-perfect setting of crisscrossing white fences, rolling green hills, quaint stone and brick stables or its famous octagonal barn. She knew why this view wound up in every pictorial done of rural Chester County, Pennsylvania, but today she didn’t care. This was not her usual reason for being here.

This evening, as the sun sank behind the distant tree covered hills, the tranquil scene did nothing to calm Joy’s jangled nerves. Laurel House loomed larger than ever on the hill overlooking the horse farm and for the first time she thought it looked a bit forbidding.

She could have said no to this dinner party, of course, but something had told her she needed to do it. What had she been thinking? she asked herself now. She drove on and once again she demanded to know what she was afraid of. But it did no good. Her stomach muscles had knotted to the point of nausea, so before she
disgraced herself she turned to the one thing she knew would help. The one
person.
She turned her mind and heart to prayer knowing it would do a lot more than any of her self-directed pep talks had.

So, by the time she’d driven the mile in from the main road, her thoughts were less scattered and her nausea was all but gone. As she’d been told, she stopped at the foot of Laurel House’s stone steps and turned her car over to a waiting valet.

She turned and faced the house. Rather than find a forbidding and imposing set of stone steps, some clever designer had softened the hardscape. The house was encircled by three terraces and the steps between each level were randomly offset. The arrangement invited the visitor to stop and enjoy the profusion of potted plants on each of the terraces and the wonderful scenery beyond. At the second level Joy did just that, and God’s beauty, placed in the hands of a family of believers, nearly finished the job her prayer had begun.

Calmer than she’d been in days, Joy turned away from the perfection of the view and began the last part of her ascent. Meg Alton met her there, her ready smile welcoming as always. She was lovely in an ice-blue long skirt and a beaded top. Her striking platinum hair, always so surprising with her dark eyebrows, was swept up on top of her head completing a look of cool sophistication. Joy knew the impression didn’t reflect the older woman’s warm personality at all. She found a bit more confidence, seeing from the formality of Meg’s attire, that her own sleeveless Chinese-inspired dress would fit in just fine.

“You look beautiful tonight, dear,” Meg said, leading the way into the lovely foyer of Laurel House. “That’s such a wonderful shade of teal.” She turned to Joy and took her hands, her own cool and a little jittery. “Did you get time to look over the packages for the auctions?”

Joy nodded and handed her shawl to a man stationed near the sweeping staircase. “I was surprised by the list. You certainly beat the bushes for contributions,” she told Meg.

“A little too well, I’m afraid. Ross has been teasing me, as only a brother can, about one package I put together.” Meg grimaced. “And though I hate to admit it, he may be right. How on earth are we going to approach any woman and sell her a makeover? ‘Pardon me, dear, but you just don’t look your best. Perhaps you’d like to bid on this makeover.’ I’m completely out of practice I’m afraid. It’s a disaster.”

Joy laughed. “And if a man bought it for his wife he’d be implying she needs help with her appearance. Talk about World War Three on a small scale.” Yet when she’d heard about the package she’d thought of her sister-in-law, who could use a day of pampering but who already had a wonderful sense of style. Since giving birth to Emmy, she doubted Crystal had had an hour just to herself with no responsibilities to worry about.

“I have an idea,” she told Meg as they moved together into a room full of milling guests. “With tomorrow being Mother’s Day what if we don’t call it a makeover, but a Mother’s Day gift? An afternoon of pampering topped off with a free shopping expedition and fashion tips from a local designer.”

Meg clapped her hands together. “Oh, thank you, thank you. I knew you’d be really wonderful at this. After all, you’re an accomplished businesswoman—what’s a little silent auction to someone with so much experience in negotiating and public relations?”

It was a lightbulb moment for Joy. She looked around the dazzling room. Of course she could do this. Why had she doubted herself? She grinned, feeling better than she had in weeks. Still, she sensed there was more significance to the moment than she had time to discover right then. She had a job to do. “Suppose I see what I can do about getting a bidding war going between all the new fathers in the neighborhood,” Joy suggested. “For instance, I see your nephew Cole over there with CJ. She could certainly use a little pampering. I doubt she gets much downtime between her job as Laurel Glen’s trainer and looking after their son.”

“CJ at a spa?” Meg looked at Joy askance. “That I’d pay to see.”

Joy looked away from the expression of adoration in Cole’s eyes as he inclined his sable head toward CJ and bussed his tiny blond dynamo of a wife on the cheek. It was hard, she thought with a pang, to be around so many couples who were so clearly in love. But knowing CJ’s reputation when it came to primping, she managed a chuckle. “Okay, CJ wasn’t the best example. But Ross could give it to Amelia. Surely she could use some down time from chasing after Laurel and Rose.”

“Well, yes, and my brother never skimps when it comes to Amelia.”

“And considering that the school year is winding
down at Lavender Hill, Jeff Carrington could certainly indulge your niece.”

Meg crossed her arms, considering the idea. “Hmm. This was a hard year for Hope, what with being pregnant with Jason and having Faith break her leg so severely on the ice.”

“We should be able to get the bidding up to a nice figure. And there are sure to be other harried mothers here that neither of us even know about yet.”

Joy saw her brother across the room. “And speaking of new parents, I see my inspiration right now. I’ll check in and see how the rest of you are progressing.”

Joy walked up behind Jim and Crystal and stepped between them. “How was Emmy when you left her?”

They turned to her, wearing identical grins. “Wrapping her sitter around her tiny finger,” Crystal said. Jim’s dark-haired wife was the only woman Joy had ever met she could look straight in the eye. Right now though, Crystal looked down at her watch instead and worried at her lip. “Could you keep your brother out of trouble while I call home? I just want to check on how she’s doing?”

Jim grinned. “Go. You’ll feel better. I’m sure Joy can keep me from arresting anyone and embarrassing you.”

Joy watched Crystal for a moment as she hurried away toward the foyer, her dress a long slash of scarlet that contrasted beautifully with her long dark hair. She pulled out her cell phone as she stepped out the front door.

Joy turned her gaze on her brother, who had also followed his wife’s progress across the room. Much as she
loved both of them it had become difficult to be around them since she got back. They had everything she longed for and feared she would never have.

Forcing her mind to another track, Joy tapped Jim. “And that call she’s making wouldn’t happen to ease your mind as well, Daddy?”

“She’s just so little and helpless,” Jim said in his own defense, no less worried than the new mother.

“Yes, she is. And Crystal could use a break from supplying those needs 24/7. So could you pay attention here, brother mine? This event is not only your first time leaving Emmy with a sitter but it is also a
fund-raiser, capiche?”

“I know. And I understand it’s your job to rope me into spending some of my hard-earned money for your pet charity but you could give your own brother a break.”

She grinned. “Ah, but you got me into this so I’m showing no mercy. But I can also make you a very popular husband. Believe me, you want to bid on the day at the spa and the boutique shopping trip. You can give it to Crystal as part of her Mother’s Day gift. And good sister and aunty that I am, I promise to babysit with you, or for you, if you have to work on the day she wants to go.
If
you win it, that is.”

Jim grinned. “Which means I’m not the only one you’re offering this advice to this evening.”

“Hey.
Fund-raiser,”
Joy reminded him with the exaggerated patience only a sister feels toward her brother. “It’s my job to drive up the price. Now if you’ll excuse me—”

“Wait,” Jim ordered and stopped her from leaving with a hand on her arm. “You’ve been avoiding me since you got back. Are you okay?”

She squeezed his hand. “I’m fine.”

“Joy.”

“Okay,” she sighed, “I’ll
be
fine.”

Jim looked at her with narrowed eyes. “Do I need to take Peterson apart?”

Joy felt her protective instinct rise to the surface and she didn’t even think of what her instant defense would say to her brother. “You leave Brian alone. He’s been through a lot. He could have lost his career, not to mention his life. You don’t know what it was like on that ledge. All that rock covering him.”

Her brother put his arm around her. The expression in his usually calm brown eyes was just this side of fierce. “But he didn’t die and neither did you, thank the good Lord. I like Brian. Always have. But if he hurts you again, he and I are going to have a long talk.”

“Brian can’t help who he is anymore than I can help who I am. Leave him alone. I mean it,” she warned, poking his chest.

“Okay. Okay. Just don’t sell yourself short. All right?”

She stared at him but didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. Still, his watchful gaze made her want to squirm. She nodded in agreement just to put an end to the subject. “I have to circulate, big brother. Don’t forget to bid on that day at the spa.”

Still wondering how Jim knew Brian had ever hurt her when she’d hidden her feelings behind a show of an
ger, Joy moved through the crowd and spotted the couple who had sold her the carriage house. They were her nearest neighbors, and relatively new parents. “Adam. Xandra,” she said. “How’s the baby?”

Xandra smiled broadly. “Wonderful. Luke’s at home with Mark babysitting. I miss him but it’s nice to be out with adults. I honestly forgot how to do more with my hair tonight than just pull it up in a ponytail. I’m trying to talk Adam into bidding on the makeover for me.”

“Then I arrived in time. It’s a wonderful package,” she told Adam Boyer.

“She’s perfect the way she is,” Adam, a tall ex-navy SEAL, all but growled.

Joy just managed not to wince, envying Xandra more than usual. She wished just once she’d heard those words from Brian. Ruthlessly, she banished the thought. She did not need Brian Peterson’s stamp of approval on her or the way she chose to live her life.

“Are you all right?” Xandra asked.

Joy forced a smile. “I was just distracted,” she said, then centered her attention on Adam. “Tomorrow is Mother’s Day and this is what your sons’ mother wants. How can you deny her? Besides, Adam, it’s a day of pampering
not
of plastic surgery. I promise you’ll still recognize her. And since she’ll also get a new outfit, you’ll have a great excuse to pamper her even more with a lovely dinner afterward. The Black Orchid has an intimate dinner for two up for bid,” she hinted. “Remember, Angel Flight helps kids not as lucky as Mark and Luke.”

“Oh, all right,” Adam conceded, tucking Xandra
against his side. “Let’s go place a bid. If we lose I’ll still send you to the spa. All right, honey? But they’d better not go cutting your hair. I like it long.”

Joy faded away. They had eyes only for each other anyway. Smiling at how fiercely tender Adam had sounded, she moved off toward Meg’s nephew, Cole Taggert and his wife CJ on the off-chance she could push the bidding upward. Halfway across the room someone called her name. She turned to find herself looking down at Snow White.

“Linda Haversham,” Snow said by way of a reminder of their meeting. As if Joy could forget. Every second of those eye-opening moments were burned into her brain.

“Nice to see you again,” Joy said, determined to be kind. After all, what could she say?
I hate your guts, especially because you’re so nice!

“Joy. This is my husband, Rick. Rick this is Joy Lovell. Joy was the pilot Brian was in the plane crash with.”

Doctor Haversham, a short, thin runner-type, took her hand and shot her a wicked smile. “I rarely get to see the news but now I understand. Brian’s a lucky man.” Joy was surprised to see Linda elbow her husband. “Huh?” He blinked. “Uh…I mean…lucky you bought enough time for him to bail out.”

Joy didn’t want to think about Brian or their time in the preserve. If she did, she’d never get through the night, so she turned again to her purpose for being there, clinging to it like a lifeline. “The day we met your wife she joked about the trials of being a parent. I’ve sug
gested to a few husbands that the day at the spa would be an excellent Mother’s Day gift.”

Even though Linda was perfectly put together, she latched onto the suggestion like a drowning person onto a life preserver. “That sounds like a unique experience. Let’s go bid on it,” she said, taking Rick Haversham’s arm and beginning to pull him toward the auction table.

He allowed himself to be led away but a surprised, “Linda, I bought you a membership to that spa for Christmas,” floated back to Joy. She frowned. She must have misheard because that made no sense at all. Why would the woman want a day at a spa she could go to anytime she wanted?

“Joy Lovell?” a voice behind her said. It was a highly cultured voice. She turned to find a gray-haired man in his sixties who was impeccably groomed and wore a dinner jacket that had to have been tailored for him. “I’m Harold Hawkins. I’m chief of staff at Memorial. Doctor Peterson is on staff there, as well as having been a patient.”

“I thought he was still hospitalized.”

Hawkins frowned and shook his head. “No. And we were not pleased when he signed himself out. It doesn’t look good when one of our own refuses sound medical advice. Sends a bad signal.”