Rescued in a Wedding Dress (12 page)

Though he was now beyond weariness, he went back to his office, the one he would turn over to Miss Viv tomorrow.

There was a new stack of letters in defense of Prom Dreams. Just in case he wasn’t feeling bad enough, he read them all.

A picture fell out of the last one. It was of a beautiful young woman, at her university convocation. The podium she was standing by said Harvard.

He set the letter down.

No, he came from the very neighborhood her school had been in. He knew how hard it was to feel as if you were worth something.

He knew, suddenly, that was as important as having a full belly. Maybe more. Because filling a belly was temporary. Making a person feel as if they were worth something, even for a moment, that was something they carried in them forever.

He could not have Molly. He had decided that tonight.

But still, he could live up to the man she had hoped he was. It could be a standard that he tried to rise to daily. Even as it was ending, something in him could begin.

It could start with leaving a note to Miss Viv, telling her that Molly should lead this organization into its new future, that she had gifts greater than his to give Second Chances. The ability to analyze was nothing compared to the ability to love that she poured into this place.

It could start with a few prom dresses.

And it could start with an answered letter to his father.

I
T WAS
way too soon to love him, Molly thought, walking up the street toward the office the next morning.

But there was no doubt in her mind that she was in love. Totally. Irrevocably. Wonderfully.

The whole world this morning felt different, as if rain had come and washed it clean, made it sparkle.

He had brought her to the place of his birth, thinking he risked something by showing her everything. Instead, she had seen him so completely it made her heart stand still, awed to be in the presence of a soul so magnificent, so strong.

She smiled thinking of how he thought it said something
bad
about him that he had dispensed with that horrible young mugger so thoroughly.

She suspected she would spend the rest of her life performing alchemy on him, showing him what he thought was lead was really gold.

Molly shivered when she thought of him last night
protecting
her. Prepared to die to protect her if he had to. And then running that act of such honor and such incredible bravery through the warp of something in his own mind, and making it
bad.

He said he had lost control. But she didn’t see it that way. He’d stopped. If he’d truly lost control, “Jay” would never have gotten up and scrambled away.

Houston didn’t lose control.

If he did, last night would have ended much differently! Molly was aware of feeling a little singing inside of her as she contemplated the delightful job she was going to have making that man lose control.

She was pretty sure it was going to involve lots of lips on lips, and that she was up for the job. Even thinking about it, her belly did the most delightful downward swoop, anticipating seeing him today.

Maybe she’d dispense with the niceties, just close his office door and throw herself at him.

Wantonly.
There was going to have to be an element of taking him by surprise to make him lose control.

Then again, today was a big day for them, a milestone, the unveiling of the new Second Chances that they had created together, that they would continue to create together.

Maybe she would hold off taking him by surprise until the open house was over. But she’d tease him until then. The odd little touch, her eyes on him, a whisper when he least expected it.

Her life felt so full of exciting potential. She could barely believe her life had gone from that dull feeling of same-same to this sense of invigorated engagement in such a short time.

That’s what love did.

Brought out the best. Empowered. Made all things possible. And healed all things, too.

Molly could feel her heart beating a painfully quick
tattoo within her chest as she mounted the stairs, and went in the front door of the office.

Another day together. A gift. If things had gone differently last night they might not have this gift. It was a reminder to live to the fullest, to take the kind of chances that made a life shimmer with glory.

Tish was already at her desk. She looked up, beaming.

“There’s a surprise for you.”

Molly’s eyes went to the huge bouquet of pink lilies on Tish’s desk. She started to smile.

When she’d woken last night and found he had slipped away, she had thought maybe he planned to try to fight this thing. She put her nose to the flowers, and let subtle scent engulf her.

But no, they were on the same page. He was going to romance her. It was probably going to be hard for a realist like him, too! Because lovely as they were, flowers weren’t going to cut it. They were the easiest form of romance.

Tish laughed. “Those aren’t for you, silly. Those are from the next door neighbor congratulating us on our reopening. Your surprise is in Miss Viv’s office.”

He was waiting for her, then. Had some surprise to make up for the disappointment of a kiss not completed, of not staying the night with her.

She went to the closed office door, knocked lightly, opened it without waiting for an answer.

A sight that should have filled her heart to overflowing greeted her. Miss Viv sat behind her own desk.

Molly bit back the wail,
Where is he?
and rushed into the arms that were open to her. She had to fight back tears as Miss Viv’s embrace closed around her.

“My word,” Miss Viv said. “Isn’t this incredible? Isn’t the office incredible? You’ll have to show me how to use this.”

“I thought you didn’t like computers?” Molly teased.

“There isn’t anything here I don’t like,” Miss Viv declared happily.

“Where’s Houston?” Molly asked, casually.

“I’m not sure,” Miss Viv said. “I haven’t seen him. Do you press this button to put the camera on? Molly, help me figure this out!”

Molly complied, pulled a chair up to Miss Viv’s desk. Part of her was fully engaged in showing Miss Viv how to use the computer, hearing tidbits about her trip and the wonderful time she’d had.

Part of her listened, waited. Part of her asked,
Where is his office going to be, now that Miss Viv is back?

She waited for the sound of the voice and the footsteps that did not come. For some reason, she thought of the time he had told her about waiting at the concert for his mother. This, then, was how he had felt.

The waiting was playing with her game plan. She was not going to be able to contain herself when she finally saw him. She was surely going to explode with joy. Everyone was going to know.

And she didn’t care.

But by lunch he still had not come. Molly tried his cell phone number. She got the recording.

She listened to his voice,
greedily,
hung up because she could not think of a message to leave that could begin to say how she was feeling.

Eventually she and Miss Viv joined the rest of the office in getting ready for the open house. The flowers on Tish’s desk had only been the first of many arrange
ments that arrived: from friends of Second Chances, neighboring businesses, well-known New York business people and personalities.

The caterers arrived and began setting up food, wine and cheese trays, while Brianna went into a tizzy of last minute arranging and “staging,” as she called it.

At three, people began to trickle in the door. Invited guests, curious people from the neighborhood, the press. Information packets had been prepared for all of them: what Second Chances did, complete with photographs. Though no mention of a donation was ever made, each packet contained a discreet cream envelope addressed to Second Chances.

Molly felt as though she was in a dream as that first trickle of people turned into a flood. She was there, and not there. She was answering questions. She was engaged with people. She was laughing. She was enjoying the sense of triumph of a job well done. She was sipping the champagne that had been uncorked, nibbling on the incredible variety of cheeses and fresh fruits.

But she was aware she was not there at all.

Watching the door. Waiting.

Where was he? Where was Houston? This was his doing, the success of this gathering—and there was no doubt it was a success—was a tribute to his talent, his hard work, his dedication, his leadership. How could he not be here to reap the rewards of this, to see that basket on Tish’s desk filling up with those creamy white envelopes?

Finally Miss Viv asked for everyone’s attention. She thanked them all for coming, and invited them to watch a special presentation with her.

The lights were lowered, the voices quieted.

A screen came down from the ceiling.

Music began to play.

The office designer who had been in Molly’s office closet the first day stood beside Molly. “Wait until you see this,” she said. “Mr. Whitford always does the most incredible presentations.” Then she cocked her head. “Hey, he’s changed the music. That’s interesting. It was Pachelbel before.”

But it wasn’t Pachelbel now. It was a guitar, and a single voice, soulful, almost sorrowful, filling the room, as black and white pictures began to fill the screen, one melting into the next one.

“You told me,” the music said, “that I would know heaven.”

But the pictures weren’t of heaven. They were of dark streets and broken windows, playgrounds made of asphalt, boarded over businesses. They were of the places, that Molly had found out yesterday, where he had grown up.

The places that had shaped that amazingly strong, wonderful man.

The voice sang on, “You promised me a land free from want…”

And the pictures showed those who had newly arrived, the faces of immigrants, wise eyes, unsmiling faces, ragged clothes.

The pictures were breathtaking in their composition: a young man crying over the body of a friend in his arms, a little boy kicking a can, shoulders humped over,
dejection in every line of him, a woman sitting on steps with a baby, her eyes fierce and afraid as she looked into the camera.

Then the pictures began to change, in perfect sync with the tempo of the music changing, the lyrics suspended, a single guitar picking away at the melody, but faster now, the sadness leaving it.

The pictures showed each of the stores, Peggy laughing over a rack of clothes at Now and Zen, the ultra-sophisticated storefront of Wow and Then, a crowded day at Now and Again. Then it showed this office before the makeover, walls coming down, transformation.

And that voice singing, full of hope and power now, singing,
If we just come together, if I see you as my brother, Lord, there is my heaven, there is my heaven.

Now there was a photograph of the green space that Molly recognized as her garden project, the only color in a block of black and white, the children at the daycare, the Bookworms bus.

Emotion was sweeping the room. Brianna was dabbing at her eyes with a hankie. “Oh, my God,” she whispered, “he’s outdone himself this time.”

Something in Molly registered that.
This time.
Brushed it away like a pesky fly that was spoiling an otherwise perfect moment. Except it wasn’t perfect. Because he wasn’t here.

“Where is Houston?” Molly whispered to Brianna. She
needed
him to be here, she needed to be sharing this with him.

“Oh,” Brianna said, “he never comes to the final day.”

“Excuse me? What final day? He’s the boss here.”
We are going to be building a future together.

And hopefully not just at work.

But Brianna was clapping now, keeping time. Every one was clapping, keeping time as that voice sang out, rich and powerful, full of promise,
“There is my heaven.”

A final picture went across the screen.

It was that little girl, the princess, kissing Houston on the cheek.

And Molly thought, as that picture froze in its frame,
there is my heaven.

Over the thunder of applause, she turned to ask Brianna what she meant, about the final day. About Houston never coming to the final day.

Other thoughts were crowding her memory. She realized he had a relationship with all those workers who had come in, with Brianna. He hadn’t just met them when he took over, hadn’t just hired contractors and designers and computer geeks.

He’d known them all before.

He
never
came to the final day. He’s outdone himself
this time.

Houston Whitford had done all this before. That’s why he’d been brought in to Second Chances. Because he’d done it all before. And done it well.

The applause finally died down. Miss Viv stood at the front of the room, beaming, dabbing at her eyes.

As she spoke, Molly felt herself growing colder and colder.

“First of all, I must thank Houston Whitford for donating his time, his expertise and his company, Precision Solutions, to all of us here. I know his team does not come cheaply. His donation probably rates in the tens of thousands of dollars.”

The cold feeling increased. He’d been donating all
the renovations? He’d let her believe he was taking the money from Prom Dreams?

No, he’d never said that. He’d probably never told Molly an out-and-out lie. The more subtle kinds of lies. The lies of omission.

“Houston’s not here today,” Miss Viv said. “With any luck he’s back to his real job. Personally I wish Precision Solutions was consulting with the president of the United States about getting this country back on track.”

A ripple of appreciative laughter, only Molly wasn’t laughing. There. It was confirmed. He was not an employee, not the new head of Second Chances. He had never planned to stay, he had known all along they were not building a future of any kind together.

The only one, apparently, who had not known that was her.

Little Molly Pushover. Whose record of being betrayed by every single person she had ever loved was holding.

Miss Viv was talking about the holidays she had just gone on, and how it had made her rethink her priorities. She had decided to retire. Then Miss Viv was thanking everyone for their years of support, hoping they would all show the same support and love to the new boss as they had shown to her.

“I’d like to introduce you now to our new leader,” Miss Viv said, “the person I trust to do this job more than anyone in the world.”

So, he was here after all. Molly allowed relief to sweep over her. She must have misunderstood. He was leaving Precision Solutions to head up Second Chances. Molly could feel herself holding her breath, waiting to see him,
dying
to see him.

So relieved because as the afternoon had worn on and
he had not shown up, a feeling of despair had settled over her. She had known
exactly
what he had felt like at that Christmas concert when his mother had not come.

He would not make someone else feel like that. Not that he cared about. He wouldn’t. She thought of the look of fierce protectiveness on his face last night. He would never be the one to hurt her. He had almost died to keep her safe!

But now he was here. Somewhere. She craned her neck, waiting for Miss Viv to call his name. After the crowds had thinned, she would laugh with him about her misunderstanding. Kick closed that office door, and see what happened next.