A Ring and a Promise

“For the summer, you mean.” Just as he’d done, Donovan thought.

“From then until now. Abby’s never left Woodwards.”

Donovan sat up, confused.

“But what about when she went to college?”

“Abby didn’t go to college.” Winifred frowned. “She’s taken a number of courses over the past few years, of course. She’s fully qualified as a jewelry designer. But she never formally attended college. She’s always focused on her work.”

“Because her career is so important to her.” For five years Donovan had prayed hard for the bitterness to leave. Guess that needed more work.

“I’m not sure that was true back then. She seemed to need the work to give herself focus five years ago.” Winifred smiled. “But she’s certainly career-oriented now. Not that I’m complaining. Abby is the best thing to happen to our jewelry department.”

Something didn’t make sense. Abby had won a full college scholarship. Why hadn’t she gone?

Winifred set down her cup.

“Actually, Abby is why I wanted to speak to you, Donovan.”

“Oh?” Trepidation climbed up his neck.

“I know that girl is going places. She has the drive and she has the capability. Before she does, I want to use her skills, and yours, to make some changes in our jewelry department. I want the two of you to come up with some kind of campaign or revamping of ideas—something that will give Woodwards Jewelry a whole new look. In short, I want you two to work together.”

Donovan went cold.

“Grandmother, you’ve already asked me to put together a national campaign. I’m not sure I can manage that and—”

“Aren’t you the marketing guru who said he had a thousand ideas?” Winifred’s perceptive gaze narrowed. “I want the jewelry department modernized, Donovan. If two projects are too much for you, we’ll put the national one on hold.”

She was shrewd. Donovan knew there was no way to avoid this assignment without admitting to his grandmother that he’d never resolved exactly how he felt toward Abby.

“Unless there’s some reason why you can’t work with her.” Those all-seeing eyes dared him to argue.

“If that’s what you want, Grandmother, then that is what I’ll work toward. I can’t help thinking though, that Abby is already swamped. And now she’s entered this contest.” He told her what little he knew about it. “With her parents’ situation, I know she’s struggling to fit in enough time to work on her first entry.” Donovan slouched into his chair and fiddled with his shoelace, pretending nonchalance.

“I’m glad she’s entered it,” Winifred said with satisfaction. “She has talent. Loads of it.”

“Of course preparing for the New York contest will be on her own time, but still, it’s a lot to ask of her to help revamp her department right now, isn’t it?” Donovan said.

Winifred was not put off.

“You and Abby are both idea people. I’m sure that with your creative gifts combined you’ll come up with something fantastic.” Winifred sipped her coffee, closing her eyes to savor the last drop. Then she reluctantly set cup and saucer back on the tray. “One of the things I most regret about this old heart wearing out is cutting down on my coffee.”

Because he could see weariness creeping over her smooth porcelain face, Donovan stifled the other arguments he’d lined up.

“When would you like us to start?” he asked quietly.

“The sooner the better. Perhaps you can talk to Abby about it tomorrow, do some preliminary work. She’s been in charge of the department long enough, I’m certain she has ideas of her own. It shouldn’t take more than a couple of weeks to put together some kind of generalized plan, should it?”

Two weeks? That left him no opportunity to avoid Abby. Donovan searched for some excuse to explain the intricacies of his work to Winifred and realized there wasn’t any point. Only someone who had spent days, weeks and months knitting ideas together into one solid focus would understand that overnight successes of the marketing variety seldom happened.

“I think it’s better if you don’t put a time frame on it, Grandmother. I don’t know what ideas Abby might have, but I will need time to take a look at the department. I always like to allow things to percolate inside my head before I start planning a campaign.” Donovan watched her eyes narrow and knew what she was thinking. “I’m not trying to weasel out of this or to put you off. But I hadn’t really considered any kind of marketing plan for the jewelry department. I’ve been focusing more on the company in general.”

“And you need time to switch gears,” she murmured.

“Yes.”

Her stare was intense.

“You’re sure it’s not working with Abby that has you bothered?”

“Why should it be? I hope we can be friends again, but there’s nothing between us. We each have our own lives now and my focus is on Ariane.” Donovan forced out the image of Abby storming away from him.

Avoiding her shouldn’t be that difficult.

“However, I do think it would be better if you explained this idea to her, rather than me,” Donovan suggested. “After all, I’m the new guy and you’re the boss returning to work after a long hiatus. You should be pointing out the new direction for the company.”

Winifred said nothing as she studied him. But Donovan could almost hear her clicking over details in her mind.

“Fine. I’ll talk to her. I just hope your past isn’t going to cause problems.”

“You don’t have to worry, Grandmother.”

But as he sat in his room later, Donovan’s confidence slipped. Although he preferred to pretend the past was dead, it was obvious he and Abby both had issues that needed resolving.

Abby might prefer to pretend their breakup was his fault, but he knew differently and he didn’t understand why she tried to lay it all on him. A hard core of resentment balled a little tighter inside Donovan’s heart.

But bitterness did no one any good. George’s death had been God’s wake-up call, a challenge to stop wasting his life as a good-times guy, skating over the surface, reveling in the good times and avoiding the bad.

Donovan was determined not to ignore that call anymore. He picked up his Bible and read a few verses, hoping to ease the knot of anger at Abby’s pretense that he’d run out on her with no reason. But the words blurred together and he knew there was only one Person who could truly help.

“Father, you know how hard it was for me to come back. You also know how much I need help with Ariane. Please help me to look forward to the future you promised, and let go of the past and anger at Abby. Amen.”

As prayers went, it wasn’t fancy, but Donovan was learning that God preferred honesty over pretense.

He wished Abby felt the same.

“Abby, I can’t thank you enough for helping me decorate for Grandmother’s party.”

“My pleasure.” Abby attached the last swag to the corner of the dais and ignored a little voice inside her head that said she should be working on her contest entry. “How does that look?”

“Perfect!” Sara, Donovan’s youngest sister, stood back and admired their handiwork in the ballroom at Weddings by Woodwards. “Once Dad brings in his flowers and everyone’s here, the place will come alive. Don’t you think?”

“Absolutely.” Abby felt dumpy and dowdy, doubly so against Sara’s blond glistening beauty.

“Donovan took us all by surprise, coming home the way he did.” Sara grinned. “He’s always been so adamant about staying in Europe. But I’m glad he’s back. And I’m thrilled Grandmother’s well enough to return, too. My big sister is getting too intense,” she whispered as Katie pushed through the doors.

“I heard that, brat.” Katie made a face at Sara, then turned to her. “Abby, how is your mother?”

“She’ll be sore for a while. The osteoporosis has really left her bones weak which is why her vertebrae crushed so easily when she fell down the steps.” Which only added to the list of things on Abby’s already overly full plate. “Thanks for understanding about yesterday, Katie. I just couldn’t get in.”

“Of course not. Family comes first.” Katie scanned the room. “Wow! You two have done a wonderful job for our double celebration tonight. We’ll be a big group. I’ve given the kitchen staff the evening off so they can join us.”

“So who’s feeding us?” Sara demanded.

“Caterers. They should be here soon.”

“That’s my cue to get going.” Abby headed for the door.

“Going? But you’ll be here for the party, won’t you?” Sara’s big eyes probed.

“Won’t you, Abby?” Katie asked.

“Sure. I just have a few things on my desk to tidy up.” And then she’d quietly slip away.

“You’re always working overtime. Katie won’t care if you take the last hour to go home and change. Will you, Katie?”

“Of course not. You must be here, Abby. You’re part of Woodwards. Excuse me. I’m to check on a certain string quartet Grandmother loves.” Katie hurried away.

“Thank goodness she’s gone. My feet are killing me.”

“I wonder why?” Abby chuckled, glancing at the very high heels Sara wore. “You borrowed Katie’s shoes again?”

“My sister has such lovely shoes and they make me look elegant, which is not an easy feat, trust me. But they’re sheer torture. I can’t imagine how she wears them all day.” She kicked off the offending articles with great relief. “That’s better.”

“Sara, if you don’t like the way the shoes feel, why do you wear them?” Abby had always found Donovan’s youngest sister confusing.

“Because I want to look beautiful for my husband.” Sara’s flushed cheeks and eyes glittering with unshed tears gave her away. “Although if I trip and fall flat on my face, I guess I won’t be so elegant. And he’ll be furious.”

“Furious? That doesn’t sound right. Cade loves you.” A twig of envy sprouted inside Abby’s heart. “Very much. I can’t believe he’d be angry with you.”

“He does love me and I know it.” Sara sniffed inelegantly. “But in a little while I’ll be so huge I won’t be able to see my toenails, let alone fit into shoes like these. Just for now I want to be the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.”

“You’re expecting,” Abby guessed. “Oh, my.”

“You can say that again. I’m over the moon, but sick as a dog every morning. Not very romantic, you’ll agree?” Sara tried to smile, but frustration took precedence. “I feel horrible most of the time and I grouch at Cade about everything. Today I wanted to look extra pretty, but now my feet hurt so much I can hardly walk.”

She burst into tears.

As Abby patted her shoulder, she marveled at this beautiful Woodward daughter’s uncertainty. She had everything and yet she was still upset. Abby had to help.

“Come on, let’s go see what’s in the shoe department.” When Sara tried to slide her feet into the heels, Abby snatched them up. “Give me those,” she scolded.

When they arrived at the shoe department, Abby took the sales assistant aside and explained the situation.

“I know the exact thing. Keep her sitting there. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

Sara lay sprawled in her chair, eyes closed, obviously resting. Abby examined her own reflection in the mirror opposite and wished she hadn’t. She was dusty, part of her hem was loose and the shirt that had been pristine this morning looked tired.

Not exactly party material.

She caught sight of a rich red dress in the next department and longed to try it on. Just looking at it made her feel lighter, prettier, younger.

“How about these?” The shoe salesman held a pair of wedge-heeled shoes that, while flattering the ankle, didn’t have the wobbling height of Sara’s borrowed stilettos.

“Perfect,” Abby whispered. “Now how do we get her to wear them?”

“I can hear you talking about me, you know.” Sara tried on the shoes and asked to have them put on her account. “What are you staring at?”

Abby turned away, but she was too late.

“That dress is perfect for you, Abby. You haven’t got time to go home and change now anyway because of me.” Sara frowned. “Unless—do you have to do something for your parents about dinner?”

“No. It’s all taken care of.” Her parents thought she was working. And she’d intended to be. But she hadn’t known about the welcome-back party when she’d said that. She gave the dress another wistful glance.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful to wear a dress like that? But buying the dress would take a bite out of the savings she needed for gems for her project.

“I can’t afford it,” she said to quell Sara’s urging.

“Yes, you can. It’s on the forty percent–off rack. Come on, Abby. Tonight’s a celebration.”

Once she had tried the dress on, Abby knew she couldn’t give it up.

Sara agreed.

“It’s perfect.”

“I think so, too.” Abby giggled. “Stop pushing. I’ll take it already.”

“Good. You deserve to do something nice for yourself once in a while.” Sara’s phone pealed. “Hi, honey,” she said into it, her face a wreath of smiles. “I’m helping Abby pick out a dress. Yes, I’d love to go for a drive. Why don’t we take the twins? It would give Olivia a breather. In fact, tell her to trade places with me. Abby might try and put this dress back and she shouldn’t. Olivia will persuade her.”

Sara’s obvious joy in talking to her husband carved a little jealous hole in Abby’s heart. How wonderful to feel so loved, so precious to someone else without feeling you had to earn it. Sara wore the same glow that Abby saw in Reese Woodward’s eyes whenever he looked at Olivia, his new wife. Abby could only imagine what it was like to have someone with whom to share her life, to feel his support when you stretched to reach your goals.

Sara shut off her phone.

“I’m going for a ride with Cade and the twins,” she said, her voice breathless, as if she couldn’t wait.

“Congratulations again. You haven’t told anyone about the baby yet?”

“No, and we’d really appreciate it if you’d keep our secret for a little while longer, Abby. We’re going to tell the family tonight.”

“They’ll be ecstatic.” Amid the family’s excitement over this momentous event, no one would even notice what she wore, Abby was sure. But she refused to give up the dress. There was something about wearing it that made her feel as if she could fit in anywhere, as if she didn’t have to try so hard to prove herself.

A minute later, Olivia arrived, breathless and laughing as she hugged Sara first, then Abby.

“That is the most fantastic dress, Abby,” she enthused. “You’re a knockout.”

“Thanks. With this new project I’m working on, I might even get to wear it a second time.”

“What project?”

“I’ll show you, if you want.”

“Olivia! You’re supposed to take her mind off work,” Sara scolded. “I have to go.” She touched her lips to each of their cheeks, then hurried away in her new shoes, glowing like a bride.

“She looks so happy.” Jealousy tugged at Abby.

“She is. God did a wonderful thing when he put Sara and Cade together.” Olivia followed Abby to her office. “What are these?” she asked, looking at a tray on a cart.

“Beads. I sometimes fool around with them when I’m trying to come up with a design.” Abby pushed the cart against the wall, out of the way, before she showed Olivia her ideas for the contest.

Olivia oohed and ahhed over Abby’s preliminary sketches.

“Very ambitious. I know you’ll win.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s a lovely design for a ring. Is it for someone special?”

“Yes. A consignment that I want to use as my project centerpiece.”

“How do you come up with ideas like this?”

Abby had just begun to explain when she realized Olivia’s attention had drifted to something behind her.

“Hello.” Olivia’s voice softened. “I’m Olivia. This is Abby. You must be Ariane.”

A young girl stood in the doorway, dark head nodding. Abby caught a flash of interest in the wide brown eyes when they rested on the little cart full of beads. One slender hand reached out to touch the yellow ones.

“Would you like to make something?” Abby offered. She drew a roll of wire from the drawer and cut off a six-inch length.

Ariane frowned at her and backed away as if afraid.

“I’d like to make something,” Olivia murmured. She drew two chairs forward, one obviously for Ariane. She sat down, then picked up the wire. “What do you do now, Abby?”

“It’s very simple. Choose the beads you like and thread them onto the wire. Like this.” Abby demonstrated, peeking to see if Ariane was watching. She was.

“I can do that.” Olivia slipped two on the wire, but then hesitated. “I don’t know what to do next,” she said with a wink at Abby. “Should I choose red or blue?”

Abby remained silent, pretending to be perplexed. After a moment, Ariane stepped forward, picked up one red and one blue bead and slid them on, placing a white one between.

“You’re absolutely right. That’s perfect. Thank you, Ariane.”

Ariane nodded. She smiled at Abby, then turned and left.

“Well, that was interesting.” Abby put back the beading tray. “I guess she’s here waiting for Donovan.”

“She looked lonely. I’m going to see if she’s all right.” Olivia hurried away.

Abby stared at the little bracelet Ariane had begun. She added a few twists, some bigger beads and little closures on the end. She laid the finished product on the cart. It was too girly for Olivia’s twin boys. Maybe she’d give it to Ariane if she came back.

“Donovan has her. She’s a sweet child.” Olivia picked up the bracelet, shook her head. “I had no idea you could create something like this out of beads. It’s lovely.”

“I only embellished on the red, white and blue theme she started,” Abby demurred, an idea flickering through her mind for her own collection.

“Ariane looked so defenseless that I wanted to hug her and reassure her that she’s not alone. She has a great big new family now. Of course, that would overwhelm her and I don’t want to do that, but as soon as I can, I’m going to have a chat with Ariane. Maybe I can slip in a few words about God.”

“God?” Abby’s confusion must have shown.

“You know, how God is always on our side. That we can always count on him. That we’re never alone,” Olivia prodded.

“Oh. Yes. That might reassure her.”

“You’re not really with me, are you, Abby? I can see you’re itching to get your fingers working.” Olivia grinned. “Go ahead. I need to talk to Reese, anyway. See you later?”

“Sure.” But Abby didn’t hear her leave. Her brain was too busy rehashing Olivia’s words.

God is always on our side. We can always count on him.

Was Olivia right?

Abby decided to take another look through the Bible that Donovan’s mother had given her last Christmas.

It would be nice to have somebody on her side.

Chapter Three

“Waiting for someone special, brother dear?”

Donovan studied his baby sister. Sara sparkled with happiness as she flitted around him like a pesky mosquito.

“Like maybe—Abby?”

Sara’s husband, Cade Porter, lounged a few feet away, ostensibly listening to Donovan’s mother chatter about something at work. But the man’s protective stance told Donovan that the tall, lean cowboy would know exactly where his wife was at any given moment this evening. Cade and Sara had been flashing secret messages back and forth with their eyes ever since they’d arrived.

“Let it go, pest.” He’d never get a better time to apologize. “I’m really sorry I missed your wedding, Sara. I should have been here and I wasn’t. I let you down because I let business overwhelm me. That was a stupid thing to do and I wish I hadn’t.”

“I was very mad at you for a while, Donovan.” Sara pouted for a minute, then smiled. “Very mad.”

“I deserve it.”

“But Cade pointed out that you’d be coming home someday and then I could get payback at my leisure. Which I will,” she promised. “Cade is a smart man.”

“Yeah, he seems okay. A little too ready to pounce maybe, but nice.”

“He’s wonderful. I love him and we’re very happy.”

“I can tell. You deserve happiness, Sara, and I hope you and Cade get it in spades.” Donovan hugged her close, wishing he hadn’t missed everything. Which was odd for him. Regrets were not a usual part of his life.

“I like Ariane,” Sara said as she drew away. “She’s a sweetheart, but I wish she’d loosen up. She looks so scared.”

“If you had this family thrown at you all at once, you’d be a little scared, too. Give her time and she’ll be fine.” I hope. “In the meantime, I think I’d better rescue her from Brett and Brady. They make me afraid and I’m not a little girl.”

“No, when it comes to women, you’re a big chicken, brother dear.”

Sara’s laughter followed him across the room. Donovan gave his father the high sign and soon Brett and Brady, Reese’s rambunctious twins, had left Ariane to regale their grandfather with tales of their afternoon at Cade and Sara’s ranch.

“Everything okay, Ari?” he whispered.

She said nothing, simply nodded. He might have been a complete stranger for all the attention she paid him.

“Hey, everyone.” Fiona’s voice cut through the hum of noise like a paper shredder. His mother had never required amplification. “Abby’s here.”

It had been easy to avoid Abby on Thursday because she was away. Donovan had stayed away all day Friday out of sheer busyness. But he wouldn’t be able to keep it up forever. They would have to work together sooner or later.

But that wasn’t why he sought her out now. Tonight he was going to introduce her to Ariane because he wanted the little girl to meet all of the people who worked at Woodwards.

“There’s someone I want to introduce you to,” Donovan whispered.

Ariane grabbed his hand and held on, fear filling her expressive eyes.

“Don’t worry. You’ll like her.” He straightened, glanced toward the door and gulped as if he’d been swamped by one of the waves off Big Sur.

Abby had always been pretty, but tonight she was stunning. Her streaked hair usually fell to her shoulders, thick and straight. Tonight it was drawn up on her head, adding to her height. Slim and graceful in a red dress that hinted at her femininity and offered a glimpse of elegant legs, she looked like a fashion model. Sparkling stones nestled into her earlobes as if they’d grown there. On one wrist she wore the bracelet he’d given her on Thursday.

This was not his old school pal.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” Abby said to Winifred, right before she hugged her.

“Thank you, dear.” Winifred touched her chin. “You look lovely.”

“It’s one of your creations. How could I not?”

“I want to know about this New York project you’re working on.”

“Of course. Any time.” Abby turned, saw him. “Hello, Donovan,” she said, her voice as cool as an Arctic breeze.

“Hi, Abby.” His throat felt swollen, like a school boy’s. He drew Ariane forward to hide his sudden attack of nerves. “I want you to meet someone. Ariane, this is Abby.”

He’d been going to say, “my friend,” but dropped it at the last second.

“We’ve already met. Ariane stopped by a little earlier to check out my beads. Hello.” Abby stretched out her hand and gently shook Ariane’s. “Next time when you come we’ll make something really pretty. Okay?”

The little girl regarded Abby solemnly for several moments before nodding.

“You’re always welcome,” Abby told her with a smile, though it was clear she wondered why Ariane didn’t speak.

Brady and Brett came rushing up to invite Ariane to taste the punch. After a quick silent check with Donovan, Ariane followed, at a much slower pace.

“I hope she didn’t get in your way, Abby.”

“Of course not. She was just curious.”

“I should have told you this before but—” There was no easy way to say it. “Ariane doesn’t speak. She hasn’t since she witnessed her father’s accident. He was water skiing and another boat hit him. The doctors say it will take time before she feels able to talk again.”