to Pastor Brendan and that girl. Stacy’s battered face had refused to be dismissed from her mind. Even after she’d fallen asleep, the image had intruded on her dreams.
She pushed herself out of bed, toes curling into the plush carpet, and padded across to the bathroom. Those bad dreams hadn’t haunted her in a number of years, until last night. Her reaction to the girl had proved they weren’t banished entirely.
Fortunately, she didn’t have to be involved in the situation any further. Helping people like Stacy was Brendan’s business, not hers.
The only problem was that she could understand something Brendan never would about how that girl was feeling right now. He thought a safe place for the night and a good talk would change Stacy’s life.
He was wrong. She could tell Brendan that, but she didn’t intend to. No one in Suffolk knew about her past except Nolie, and that was the way she wanted it.
She showered and dressed for the day with quick efficiency, her morning routine down to an exact science. She’d never been late in all the years she’d been Harvey Gray’s assistant. She wouldn’t give her boss a chance to think he could get along without her.
She went down the steps, running her hand along the smoothly polished railing. The extra little touches of finely turned woodwork and custom fittings had sold her on the town house, and she hadn’t regretted that decision for a moment. A rising young executive needed a proper setting, and each time she made a mortgage payment, she reflected on the value accruing.
She glanced at her watch. She was early, and Brendan’s church was on her way. She may as well stop and see when they could meet again about the wedding. She could make a fresh start at persuading him she knew what she was doing.
The ten minutes it took to drive to the church was just long enough to make her wonder if that was really why she was going in person instead of calling. It wasn’t because she wanted to know what had happened to Stacy. And it certainly wasn’t because she wanted to see Brendan Flanagan again.
She parked at the curb and walked briskly to the office wing. She’d be quick and businesslike. That was the way to deal with him.
No one was in the outer office. Apparently Brendan’s secretary didn’t come in this early. She knocked on the door to his study and it swung open. Brendan sat tipped back in his chair as if he’d been there all night. He righted the chair at the sight of her, running one hand through disheveled hair that was the same glossy brown as the horse chestnuts children collected from beneath the tree in the town square in the fall.
“Claire. What brings you here so early?”
“Did you spend the night here?” She probably shouldn’t ask such a personal question. They weren’t friends. It wasn’t her business where he spent his nights.
He got up, stretching, the movement making her aware of the long, lean strength of him. “Only part of it.”
No, Brendan Flanagan was definitely not her image of a minister. His worn jeans and navy sweater, combined with that certain tough something about his jaw, made him look more like a firefighter, like the rest of his family.
“Ministers keep odd hours, then. Maybe you should have gone into the family business instead.”
“Firefighting? Some days I think it might be easier.” He shrugged. “That’s in my blood, anyway. I’m the fire department chaplain.”
“I didn’t realize.” Although she wasn’t surprised, now that she thought about it. All the Flanagans were involved in firefighting, and it seemed to be a source of family pride.
“Won’t you sit down?” Brendan gestured toward the black vinyl armchair that sat in front of his gray metal desk. His congregation certainly hadn’t put much money into furnishing the minister’s office. The wall of books behind him was undoubtedly the most expensive thing here.
“I’m on my way to work.” She reminded herself of why she’d come. “Let’s just set another time to get together about the wedding.”
“Sure thing.” He flipped open a desk calendar and slid on a pair of black-rimmed glasses to consult it. “But I still want to talk with Gabe and Nolie about this first.”
Obviously he didn’t intend to take her word for what Nolie wanted. “Fine.” She bit off the word. “I’ll give Nolie a call after I get to the office. Maybe we can get this cleared up today, so I can get going on things.”
She turned, then hesitated and reversed. It wouldn’t hurt to ask. “How’s Stacy? Did you find a place for her last night?”
“Yes. She stayed at my aunt and uncle’s house.”
She might have known. The Flanagan clan seemed to stick together on everything. “Have you had that talk with her yet?”
“Not exactly.” Something wary and cautious shadowed his eyes, making them look more gray than green.
She could interpret that look. “Something went wrong. What?”
“Nothing. Well, not exactly.” He so clearly didn’t want to tell her that it was almost funny. “Aunt Siobhan called. When they got up this morning, Stacy was gone. So was fifty dollars from my uncle’s wallet.”
She’d been that desperate once. The memory of it made her stomach churn. She forced the feeling away, angry at Brendan for making her remember. “I hate to say I told you so, but—”
He frowned. “Look, sometimes these kids have to test the boundaries. She’s trying to figure out if we’re people she can count on. She’ll come back.”
“I hope you’re right about that, Pastor.”
But she didn’t think he was. In Stacy’s position, she probably would have used the money to run. Or maybe she’d have gone right back into the bad situation. That had happened more often than she wanted to recall.
“But you think I’m wrong.” He studied her face intently, as if he’d looked beneath the skin to her inner heart. “Why are you so sure?”
The sick feeling was back. Being around Brendan brought out all kinds of strong feelings, and she didn’t want any of them.
“That’s just another situation where you and I don’t agree, I’m afraid.” She pushed the subject away. “I’d better get going.”
“Wait a second.” He held out one hand, smiling at her. “I’ll make a deal with you.”
She frowned, searching for immunity to the masculine wallop that easy smile contained. The Flanagan men seemed to have more than their fair share of male magnetism.
“What kind of a deal?”
“We both think we know what Gabe and Nolie want. If you’re right about Nolie really wanting a big wedding, I’ll help you pull it off.”
She looked at that. She didn’t see a catch. “A deal has to have two sides. What’s the other one?”
“If I’m right about Stacy, then you’ll give me a hand with my teens.”
She stared at him blankly.
