to the Paul O’Leary Foundation were the ones who stood to benefit from it, or the handful of small philanthropists she counted on to keep going. Maybe Liam was hitting on her? No, impossible.
But if this educated, subtly charming “economist” wanted to see the foundation at work, why should she stop him? His money was as needed as anyone else’s. “I suppose that would be okay.”
She smiled to herself, thinking how Carrie would interpret this exchange. She would choose to believe that her hermit of a sister was finally encouraging a man. Nothing could be further from the truth. Other than the persistent clerk at the feed store and one of the construction workers over at Aurora Spindell’s bed-and-breakfast, no fella had shown an interest in Jude for a long time. Or, as Carrie suggested, she didn’t notice if one did. Jude didn’t date, and she’d all but forgotten the rules and wiles of flirting.
“When should I come?” Liam asked.
She bounced down from the railing. “You’re welcome to come anytime, as long as I know so I can be certain to be there. But if you come in the day, you’d best ditch the suit for a pair of jeans and some boots. And it won’t hurt if you can swing a hammer and walk fast to keep up with me.”
“I never knew running a foundation required such physical work.”
“Did you forget? I happen to run a farm, too. Nothing happens with the foundation until all the animals are fed.”
“Okay. I’ll be by on Monday a bit after noon. How’s that?”
“Works for me. Do you know where my dad’s property, Dancing Falls, is located?”
He indicated he did.
“Just come there and drive around until you see the barn.” She cupped her hand around her ear. “Did you hear that? Someone just called for Jude O’Leary’s toast to the bride and groom. Guess that’s my cue.” She crossed the portico but stopped in the doorway. “Thanks for the dance, Liam Manning. You’re very good at it, and I’m actually not as bad as I thought I’d be.”
He gave her another winning smile. “My pleasure, Jude O’Leary.”
There had to be a flaw somewhere in this man’s character, and on Monday, if he showed up, Jude would certainly look for it. But for the rest of the weekend, she might enjoy imagining a head-to-toe appraisal of Mr. Perfect. And if he didn’t show, which was more likely, no harm done.
* * *
LIAM IMMEDIATELY SOUGHT out Martin Foster. While he was trying to convince Liam to help, how could the good doctor have forgotten one vital piece of information?
“Well, how did it go?” Martin actually found Liam on the patio and put his arm around the younger man’s shoulders. “I saw you two out here getting close.”
Liam flinched. “Not half as close as your daughter is to the foundation she runs,” Liam snapped.
“What are you talking about?”
“You could have told me that her charities are all under the umbrella of her dead husband’s name! It’s almost as if she’s built a shrine to Paul O’Leary.”
Martin managed to look guilty as he dropped his hand to his side. “I didn’t think it was important. The name of the foundation has nothing to do with its financial problems.”
“Sorry, but I disagree. This is too personal now. You’re asking me to come between a woman and her deceased husband, a man who is probably regarded around here as a national hero.”
“Paul has been gone for more than five years,” Martin said. “It’s time for my daughter to move on. And it’s definitely time for her to be more sensible about this foundation.”
“Helping lonely widows move on is generally not the job of an economist.” Liam let the doctor’s words sink in. “But at least now I understand what this is about,” he said. “You want to heal your daughter’s heart as much as you want to curtail the spending.”
“I wouldn’t mind it.”
“Again, I feel I should remind you, I’m not a grief counselor.”
Martin sighed. “I only want your services as an economist. Jude has family to help her with the rest. You leave her heart up to us.” His voice mellowed. “We have an agreement, Liam. I’m counting on you. This is the first step, a vital first step in enabling my daughter to get on with her life, as well as putting a Band-Aid on the endless spending.”
“But I’m a stranger to her,” Liam said.
“Not really. She’s met you before...”
Right. Truly auspicious.
“And she knows you’re a family friend. She’ll listen to you. I know she will. Don’t disappoint me now, son. If you back out of the deal, I’ll just have to find someone else to examine those books and steer Jude in the right direction. And I don’t want anyone else. I want you.”
Liam sighed. This was a ticklish situation. Jude was doing her good deeds to honor her dead husband. That meant she wasn’t exactly impersonal or impartial about her decisions. She no doubt made monetary decisions based on emotion. What would Paul want? But still, he could help her. As an outsider, he could keep an open mind, something she might have problems doing. He could influence her, help her to be rational. Liam could look at this assignment, this favor, as a profitable job, couldn’t he, despite pressure from both Dr. Foster and his father?
Martin smiled. “Does that look mean you’re going ahead with our plan?”
Liam closed his eyes a moment, took a deep breath. “Yes, I’ll give it a try.”
“Wonderful. So, again, how did the first meeting with Jude go?”
“We talked and it went fine,” he said. “She seems like a nice girl. In fact, I’m stopping at the barn on Monday to find out more about the foundation.”
“Good, good. Get her to show you the books, see where all my money’s going and give her some pointers.” Martin stared at his middle daughter as she picked up the microphone to speak. “Don’t intimidate her, though. That’s not what I want. I picked you for this job because there’s a gentlemanly quality about you that I like. Jude hasn’t been happy for a while, and I don’t want you making it worse.”
So besides throwing Liam under the bus, the good doctor was practically threatening him? But unknowingly Martin had just voiced Liam’s own concerns—that he might end up making Jude’s attachment to the foundation even stronger, her loneliness even worse, especially if she felt emotionally connected to every dime she gave out. “I’ll certainly try,” he said. “But remember, you said you would level with her as soon as possible. Monday wouldn’t be soon enough.”
“Not so soon, Liam. She won’t open up with me looking over her shoulder. She thinks I trust her judgment, and if she believes I’m questioning her ability, it will cause a rift between us. I know my daughter. This will work much better if she gets to know you, if she appreciates your expertise in this area. Then she won’t just be dealing with an interfering daddy.”
Liam didn’t like deception of any kind. He dealt with figures, and numbers didn’t
