The Blessing Read online

Max gave her a nod, then looked at his pinwheel as a breeze made it twirl around.

  Taking another deep breath, Amy walked up the stairs, Max beside her. At first it was too dark in the room to see anything, but as her eyes adjusted, she saw that the workmen were nearly finished. They were removing scaffolding and leaving behind clean white plaster walls ready for her murals. She could see that she was to paint across the front of the checkout desk, then up the side of the wall, over and down again. There was a great blank wall in the reading area, and she assumed that this was where the main mural was to go.

  As she was looking at the walls, thinking how what she’d planned to paint would fit, out of the back came a man, a pretty blonde woman following him. As soon as she realized it was Jason, Amy stepped back into the shadows and stayed quiet. He was looking at a set of plans, the woman seeming to be content to stand beside him silently.

  Now Amy stood where he couldn’t see her and watched him. He looked a bit older; the creases that ran down the side of his mouth seemed to be deeper. Or maybe it was just a trick of the light. His hair was the same though: a great thick gray mane of it that grazed the back of his collar.

  Damn! He was more handsome than she remembered. Damn, damn, and double damn!

  When the curvy blonde leaned over him, Amy wanted to snatch the woman bald. “But I have no right,” she whispered to herself, causing Max to look up at her in question. Smoothing back her son’s hair, she smiled down at him, and he turned away to stare at the man standing a few yards in front of them.

  Amy tried to give herself a pep talk. She was here to do a job and nothing more. A job that she needed very much. A job that . . .

  Okay, she told herself. Get over it. Get over Jason. Remind yourself of what a trick he played on you. Remember every photo you’ve ever seen of him with a gorgeous woman draped across his arm.

  She took a deep breath, tightened her grip on Max’s hand, and stepped forward. Before he turned to see her, she said, “Jason, what a pleasure to see you again.”

  As he turned around, she held out her hand to shake. “You haven’t changed at all,” she said, nodding toward Doreen, who stood close beside him. “Still the ladies’ man, I see.” She gave a wink at Doreen as though they were bosom buddies in on some secret.

  Amy was afraid to stop talking for fear that she might collapse. Jason’s eyes on hers were almost more than she could bear. She wanted to throw her arms around him, and—

  “Where have you been?” he demanded, sounding as though she’d gone to the grocery and hadn’t come back for five hours.

  “Oh, here and there. And where have you been? As if I needed to ask.” She knew she was making a fool of herself, but the blonde was everything she wasn’t and it bothered her. Of course it couldn’t be jealousy. But Amy did wish she had a boyfriend whose name she could drop.

  “It looks as though you’ve done all right,” he said, nodding toward her cashmere coat with the paisley scarf about the neck. Under it she wore a cashmere sweater, trousers of fine wool, and boots of the softest kid leather. Gold glowed warmly from her ears, neck, wrists, and belt buckle.

  “Oh, quite well. But as . . .” Frantically, she looked about, then saw a bag of Arnold potato chips. “As Arnie says, I take well to nice things.”

  Jason was scowling and, inside, Amy was smiling. Her heart was racing at her lie, but then she looked at Doreen and couldn’t seem to prevent herself from continuing. “Max, come here and say hello to an old friend of mine. And yours.”

  She picked up Max, who was staring at Jason with intense eyes as though he was trying to place him. Jason wanted to take the boy in his arms, but instead his pride took over. What had he expected? That Amy would someday come back into his life, sobbing, telling him that she needed him, that the world was a cold, cruel place and that she must have his arms to protect her? Is that what he’d hoped for? Instead, it was just as everyone had said; she’d gone on with her life while Jason had stood still and waited.

  So now was he to tell her that she meant everything to him? That while she was having a mad affair with some guy named “Arnie,” he had thought of her every minute of every day? Like hell he would!

  Suddenly, just as he was formulating an appropriate response to Amy’s introduction, Doreen flung her arm around his waist and grabbed him in a shockingly intimate way.

  “Oh, honey, isn’t Max just the cutest little thing?” Doreen gushed, ignoring Jason’s murderously bewildered glare. “I just can’t wait until we have one of our very own.”

  “Honey?” Amy said, and Jason was amazed to see that she looked a tiny bit shocked.

  Again, the overly helpful Doreen jumped in. “Oh, that. Well, Jason doesn’t like it when I call him ‘honey’ in public, but I keep telling him that it’s okay—engaged people call each other silly names all the time.”

  “Engaged?” Amy barely whispered the word.

  Jason started to remove Doreen’s arm from his waist, but she caught his fingers in hers, then leaned against him as though they were Siamese twins joined at the hip.

  “Oh, yes,” Doreen purred. “We’re to be married in just six weeks’ time, and we have sooooo many things yet to buy for the house. In fact, we haven’t even bought the house yet.”

  Jason had to stop himself from staring at Doreen in flabbergasted awe. He supposed Doreen thought she was helping his cause by concocting this story, but this time she’d truly gone too far. How in heaven was he going to explain his way out of this? And would Amy even believe him?

  “I’m sure that Jason can afford any house you want,” Amy said softly.

  “Oh, yes, and I know just the house I want, but he won’t agree. Don’t you think that’s mean of him?” She poked Jason in the arm and ignored his furious gaze.

  “Dreadfully,” Amy said, her voice low.

  “But then I guess your Arnie would buy you the best house in town,” Doreen said.

  Amy straightened her spine. “Of course he would.” She flipped the wool challis scarf about her coat collar. “The biggest and best. All I’d have to do is hint and it would be mine. And I’m sure Jason will do the same for you.”

  “Well, when I do get him to agree, you must help me pick out all the furniture.”

  “Me?” Amy asked dumbly.

  “You are the artist, aren’t you?”

  For a moment both Jason and Amy stared at her.

  “I am, actually, but how did you know?” Amy asked.

  “You look like an artist. Everything on you matches. Now me, I have trouble matching black and white. Isn’t that so, sweetheart? But Jasey loves me just the way I am, don’t you, honey bunch?”

  Jason tried again to move out of Doreen’s grip, but she was holding on tighter than a set of lug nuts to a wheel rim. It did occur to him to hit her over the head with a lunch box that was sitting nearby, but he decided it would be best to explain to Amy once they were alone.

  “You, ah, you’re to paint the murals?” Jason asked while his hand slipped behind his back so he could try to peel Doreen away from his side.

  “Yes,” Amy said solemnly, no longer effervescent. “Mildred said there was a mix-up about dates and what was to be painted, so she asked me if I could help out. I brought some sketches that maybe you’d—” She broke off because Jason had given a muffled grunt as though something had hurt him. “Are you all right?”

  “Sure,” he said, his free hand rubbing his side as though he were in pain. “I’d like to see your sketches. Maybe we could get together tonight and—”

  “Now, honey, you promised me that tonight we’d pick out china and silver. We’re getting Noritake and real silver,” she said to Amy. “Jason, darling, is so very generous, aren’t you, my dearest? At least about everything except a house, that is.”

  “Perhaps there are limits to every man’s generosity,” he said pointedly, glaring down at Doreen with murder in his eyes.

  “Gee, I bet Arnie is generous, isn’t he? I mean, look at that coat you’re we