a tall, painfully thin blonde in a short-sleeved, lilac print dress winding her way through the tables in a half crouch. When she reached Ivy’s side, the two embraced warmly. Ivy pulled the blonde down onto the chair that Ryan had occupied earlier.
Ryan couldn’t help wondering who the woman might be and what connection she had to Ivy. That the two were fond of each other was obvious. They clasped hands, whispering back and forth and exchanged grins. Ivy beamed, and for the first time since he’d laid eyes on her that evening, she seemed relaxed and happy. He watched as she whispered apparent introductions to her sister and brother-in-law while Cotton Carlson, the retired superintendent of schools, announced from the dais that door prizes would now be awarded.
The blonde stayed to chat with Ivy throughout the dispensing of such donated items as flower arrangements, a free alignment from Froggy’s Gas &Tire, bottle openers that played a tune every time a top popped and a fifty-dollar gift certificate from Booker’s Grocery Emporium. When the program finally ended, Ryan rose to shake a few more hands and greet a few more familiar faces, while Ivy and her companions melted into the crush.
The crowd had begun to thin by the time Ryan came across his old buddy Matthew Barston. An algebra and Spanish teacher, Matt had worked for years at the small school district in Hilltown, a neighboring community some dozen or so miles to the east.
“Matt! I didn’t know you were here. Why wasn’t your name called tonight?”
Matthew flushed as red as his copper hair and shoved the hand that Ryan had just gripped into the pocket of his tweedy brown jacket. He cleared his throat before saying, “I asked them not to read my name. Call me odd, but I prefer not to stand up and have it announced that I’m out of a job.”
Startled, Ryan seized his friend by the arm, demanding, “How could this happen? When did it happen?”
“As to when,” Matt said, snorting with disgust, “Monday morning, less than forty-eight hours after I got married.”
“Married!” Ryan exclaimed. There seemed to be a wedding epidemic going around.
“Why I’m out of a job is the real issue, though, isn’t it?” Matt went on, grumbling, “Sanctimonious snobs.”
Just then the skinny blonde Ryan had noticed at Ivy’s table came into view, halting at Matt’s side. Matt immediately straightened and slid an arm around her waist, his smile wiping all traces of anger from his face.
“Honey, this is my buddy Ryan Jefford, I’ve told you about him. Ryan, my wife, Devony.”
Devony Barston’s beautiful smile brightened her otherwise rather plain face, and her enormous green eyes regarded Ryan with warmth. “It’s so nice to meet you. Matt has told me what a good friend you are.”
Surprised, since he and Matt didn’t talk all that much anymore or see each other outside of work but a few times a year, Ryan just nodded and smiled.
Matt gave Devony a squeeze and said, “Honey, could you give us another minute? Won’t take long, I promise.”
“Sure.” Devony smiled again, nodded at Ryan and moved away.
Ryan realized that he should have told Devony congratulations on their marriage, but it was too late for that.
“Sorry,” he muttered to Matt. “I seem to be a step behind. Congratulations on your marriage. Please give my best wishes to your wife.”
“Thanks. I hope you’ll still feel that way after I ask you a favor.”
“Well, sure, Matt,” Ryan answered readily, “anything I can do.”
“I’m getting ready to look for another job. Will you write me a recommendation?”
Ryan opened his mouth, then shut it again before carefully saying, “My impulse is to give you a flat yes, but I make it a policy to pray over every decision.” That happened to be absolutely true, as far as it went, but said nothing to the fact that Ryan sensed more to Matt’s story than his friend had revealed.
Matt ducked his head. “Sure. I understand.”
“Give me a call in a few days,” Ryan went on with a smile. He didn’t have the faintest idea what had happened, whether Matt had been let go or why Matt should ask him for a recommendation; he only knew that he needed more information before he committed himself. On the one hand, Ryan could not imagine that Matt had done anything to get himself fired. On the other hand, this was not the time of year when normal budgetary constraints would dictate layoffs. A clash of personalities perhaps? He prayed that it wasn’t something worse. Educators, after all, held positions open to public censure. Christian educators, especially, should aim to be above reproach.
Ryan watched with a heavy heart as Matt walked away. What a rotten break, Ryan thought, just married and out of a job. He bowed his head to say a quick prayer for his friend. A moment later, he found himself scanning the room for Ivy. How, he wondered, did she know the new Mrs. Matthew Barston? And why had Ivy’s eyes been shadowed with pain?
Chapter Three
Night still blanketed the town when Ryan knocked on the door of Ivy’s room early the next morning. He hunched his shoulders beneath the nubbly, caramel-tan fabric of his sport coat. The jacket, worn with a pale yellow shirt, dark brown slacks and a patterned tie in rich tones of gold, provided little comfort from the early morning chill, but he trusted that the temperature would soon warm.
The door opened to reveal Ivy in a pale pink knit sheath with fitted, three-quarter-length sleeves and a straight neckline. Her dark, lustrous hair hung straight down her back.
“Hello,” she said, smiling broadly. The warmth of her welcome went a long way toward wiping out Ryan’s nebulous regret at having offered to escort her this morning. He was too busy to get involved with anyone, no matter how much he liked Ivy.
“You’re looking very pretty,” he told her truthfully, “especially for such an early hour.”
“Why, thank you. You’re turned out quite nicely yourself.”
He tugged on the cuffs and lapels of his jacket, preening comically and enjoying her laughter. She interrupted his performance by asking, “Do I need a coat?”
“Something light, I’d think. It’s not cold but still a little cool out.”
Ivy went to the suitcase atop the nondescript dresser, picked up a silky, oversized shawl in a pastel paisley print and tossed it about her shoulders. “Will this do?”
“Perfect,” Ryan decreed. “You look like a spring morning.”
Laughing again, Ivy retrieved the key and stepped down out of the comfortable room, pulling the door closed behind her. She locked the door and handed the key to Ryan, saying, “I don’t have any pockets and would prefer to leave my purse here. Would you mind holding this for me?”
“No problem.” Palming the key and the hard plastic tag attached to it, he slid his hand into his coat pocket, then ushered her along the row of rooms, each one separated from the next by a parking bay open on one end. Her perfume wafted on the still, cool air, a combination of spicy cinnamon and sweet camellia well matched to the woman who wore it.
The barest glimmer
