refused.”
“My daughter’s over twenty-one and makes her own decisions,” Dean informed him.
“As she should,” Roy murmured.
Dean met his eyes. “I’ve asked her to apologize for her behavior yesterday.”
This should be interesting. “And she agreed?” Frankly, Roy would be surprised if she did. He’d tried to talk sense into her over pizza and she’d been as stubborn as ever. Judging by her dogged refusal, Roy didn’t expect her to change her mind about his offer anytime soon.
“Julie said she’d give the matter of an apology some thought.”
Roy smiled. So she hadn’t ruled it out altogether. He admired her for that.
“Is there anything else?” Wilcoff asked, transparently eager to leave.
“Yes. Did I tell you my mother will be here at some point on Wednesday?”
“You did.” Dean stood. “You said she’d be painting the lobby windows.”
Roy stood, too. “I’ll check in with you later about Julie.”
“What about her?”
Roy saw that he’d spoken out of turn. “About … whether she decides to apologize or not.”
“That’s up to my daughter.”
“Yes, of course. No reflection on your job performance, Dean, which to this point has been excellent.”
“Thank you.”
Roy nodded, dismissing the other man.
Dean moved to the door, then turned and met Roy’s gaze. “Are you romantically interested in my daughter?”
Roy’s throat went dry. Romantically interested in Julie? Instinct told him to deny it immediately, but he wasn’t sure.
“Would it bother you if I was?”
“Again, that’s my daughter’s business. And yours.”
“Yes, it is,” Roy said. Theirs and nobody else’s.
Shirley and Goodness, hovering above the office, nudged each other. Mercy gave them a thumbs-up and a big grin. Kudos to Dean, they all decided, for having the nerve to ask. Romantically interested? Yes!
Eleven
Anne was enjoying herself. Paintbrush in hand, she stood in the large lobby of her son’s office building and spread the bright colors across the smooth glass, creating a festive greeting for all to see. She’d drawn the outlines with a felt-tip pen and was now filling in the figures, using acrylic paints.
This was the first Christmas season since the divorce that she’d felt like celebrating. It wasn’t an effort; nothing felt forced, least of all her happiness. She thanked the angel for that. The one who’d appeared to her. Everything had changed for the better that day. Her heart felt lighter, less burdened, and life suddenly seemed good and right again.
After all these years, her prayer request had apparently been heard. Even now, Anne couldn’t get over the glorious, wonderful sound of her son’s laughter. Such a minor joy had felt forever lost to both of them. Even more wonderful, a woman—the first one her son had mentioned in five years—had caused this spark of excitement.
“How does that look, Jason?” Anne asked the security guard. The young man certainly took his duties seriously. The entire time she’d been painting, Jason had watched her. He must’ve been told that no one was to bother her, and he made sure no one did.
Jason didn’t answer and Anne turned around to see him studying the parking lot.
“Trouble?” Anne asked.
“Perhaps it’d be best if you left the area, ma’am.”
Anne peered outside; the only person she could see was a young woman wearing what appeared to be a soccer uniform. She was walking toward the building. “Who’s that?” Anne asked.
“Julie Wilcoff,” Jason answered in a low voice. He moved from behind the desk and stood directly in front of the glass doors, his posture a warning in itself.
Anne watched as the woman paused outside the door and smiled at the security guard. “Jason, I’m here to talk to my father.”
“I’m not falling for that a second time,” he said. “Your father told me to keep you out of this building and he hasn’t told me anything different, so I’m keeping you out.”
The woman glanced impatiently at Anne and then back at the security guard. “Jason, please.”
“If you’ve got a problem with that,” the guard said matter-of-factly, “then I suggest you take it up with your father.”
Ms. Wilcoff promptly pulled a cell phone out of her pocket, punched a few numbers and held it to her ear.
Jason stood exactly where he was.
“Is this the girl who gave my son such a talking-to the other day?” Anne asked. If so, Anne was eager to meet her.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Her father banned her from the building?”
“I believe Mr. Fletcher gave his approval, ma’am.”
Anne’s spirits did an abrupt dive. “I’m sure he’s had a change of heart,” she said, praying she was right.
“Then he’ll need to tell me that himself, ma’am.” The guard wasn’t budging, not an inch. That much was obvious.
Julie Wilcoff seemed to have difficulty reaching her father. With an air of frustration, she clicked off the cell phone. “My father isn’t answering,” she called from the other side of the door.
“That isn’t my concern.”
“He asked to see me,” she insisted.
For a moment it seemed Jason might waver, but he held his ground. “He didn’t say anything to me about that. I don’t have any alternative but to do as I’ve been instructed. You aren’t allowed in this building. I’m sorry, Ms. Wilcoff, but I have my orders.”
Julie nodded. “I understand. Will you tell my father I was by?”
“If I see him,” Jason said.
Julie nodded again and turned around. She started back toward the parking lot.
Anne refused to let this woman leave.
Jason moved from his post and Anne rushed to the door. “Ms. Wilcoff?” she called. “Julie?”
Julie glanced over her shoulder.
Anne stood in the doorway and gave her
