A Ring and a Promise

“Oh, the poor thing.” Compassion glittered in Abby’s pretty eyes. “I wish there was something I could do to help her.”

Donovan frowned. A five-year-old conversation returned.

Abby detests kids. She puts on a good front, but she’s not interested in the things other girls are, like family. She’s totally focused on her future.

Could she have changed that much?

“We checked out her school this afternoon. She’s to start Monday morning.”

“I’m sure she’ll fit in beautifully.” Abby’s cool look was back. “You’ll do fine, Donovan. Excuse me. I want to speak to Sara.”

“Sure.”

Abby hurried toward his sister. The two shared a laugh before Cade offered them each a glass of the cranberry punch Winifred adored. Donovan felt as if Abby deliberately avoided looking at him when she turned to speak to Olivia.

“You’re frowning, Donovan. Is something wrong?” Winifred studied him with the same eagle eye she used to employ when he was a toddler in her Sunday school class. Her glance tracked to Abby.

“Nothing’s wrong.” One look told him she wasn’t satisfied with that response. “It’s just a bit awkward with Abby.”

“Bound to be, I imagine. You asked the girl to marry you, after all.” Winifred gave him a dark look. “Then you welshed on the deal. Still, you’re both adults now, pursuing your own careers. I’m sure you can get past it. Can’t you?”

The real question was, would he let the past influence the future?

“She seems so different.”

“Five years changes everyone. Including you. Now come over here. I want you to meet someone.” Her voice softened. “This is Art Woodward. He’s your grandfather’s stepbrother.”

“I didn’t know he had one. Nice to meet you, Art.” Donovan shook the older man’s hand and noticed how quickly the man’s other palm encircled Winifred’s waist.

“Neither did we know until recently. But we’re so glad Art’s here. He owns part of the local television station. He’s just come back from buying another in Tucson,” Winifred said.

“Well, that may come in handy for my publicity campaign,” Donovan teased. But his brain filed the look on his grandmother’s face, the way Art smiled at her, the sense of togetherness the two projected.

“Let me know what you need, Donovan, and I’ll aim to provide it,” Art told him. “But not tonight. This is a party and I want the first dance with this beautiful lady.”

Art and Winifred walked to the dance floor and slid into each other’s arms as if they’d been a couple for years. As they glided around the room, Donovan couldn’t help but admit they looked good together.

“What do you think of him?” Reese asked quietly.

“I don’t know what to think. Is he always that…friendly with Grandmother?”

“Pretty much. They’ve seen a lot of each other ever since he arrived and more so since she had her operation. She seems to adore him.”

“Who’d have thought?” Donovan looked for and found Ariane. She stood in a corner, sipping punch, her attention on Abby who was smiling and gesturing as she talked.

“Made your amends there yet?” Reese asked.

“I apologized. Abby said it didn’t matter, that she’d moved on.”

“You believe it?”

“I don’t know what to think. She’s changed a lot. More focused. Harder.” Donovan shrugged. “Not that it matters. I don’t have time for anything but my work here and Ariane.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Reese held up a hand. “I don’t need an answer. But if you want to talk, I’m available. It’s good to have you back, little brother.”

“Thanks, Reese. I hope I can share some of the burden for this place.”

“Just don’t make the same mistake I did in thinking work is the panacea for pain.” Reese clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Take it from me, it isn’t. Think I’ll go dance with my wife.”

“You do that. Olivia’s a beautiful woman. You’re a lucky man.”

Reese shook his head.

“Not lucky,” he said firmly. “Blessed.”

Donovan watched him nudge Olivia, then murmur something in her ear. She smiled and inclined her head toward the twins who were staring at the welcome-back cake that sat on a stand at the front of the room. Reese looked as if he’d go and get them, but Olivia shook her head and lifted her hand to his shoulder. They stepped onto the floor with the comfort of two people who understood each other.

Winifred, with Art in tow, touched Donovan’s shoulder, drawing his attention to his parents. He watched his laughing mother tease his grimacing father, who was not following her lead on the dance floor.

“Everyone seems to have a partner but you,” Winifred murmured. “Why don’t you ask Abby to dance?”

“She doesn’t dance,” he said, and then wondered if that was still true. So many things he’d thought he knew for certain had changed. Abby dancing was probably the least of them.

“Even if that’s so, it would still be nice to ask her.”

“It would be a little awkward, don’t you think, Grandmother? Dating isn’t in my future and I’m pretty sure Abby’s focused on her contest.”

“You don’t have to date her,” Winifred sniffed. “But it might be nice if you two could get rid of the barriers.”

“We’ve done that already.” Because he was watching Winifred so closely, Donovan saw the slight rose flush that colored her delicately powdered cheeks. “Don’t matchmake, Grandmother. Whatever was between Abby and me in high school died five years ago.”

“I wouldn’t dream of matchmaking,” Winifred sniffed. “I know you’re trying to be responsible. I know you’re working hard to be a good father to Ariane and I applaud you. But being a father can’t and shouldn’t become your whole life. Reese can tell you about that.” Winifred asked Art for some punch, then threaded her arm through Donovan’s and drew him toward a table where he helped her sit.

“Are you all right?” he asked, worried by her pale color.

“I’m fine. Listen to me. Abby’s become as precious to me as if she was my own granddaughter. I want her to achieve all of her dreams. I believe she has the capacity to reach great heights.”

“So do I,” he agreed.

“I don’t want her to feel awkward about working here just because you’re back, Donovan.”

“I don’t think Abby’s that easily upset,” he murmured, watching as she danced with the twins, laughing at their antics. So she did dance.

Abby detests kids. It hadn’t rung true then and it didn’t now. Her eyes sparkled with fun, her smile spread across her face.

“Abby hides her feelings. She’s had to. Talk to God, Donovan. Find out how he wants you to respond to Abby.”

Having said her piece, Winifred signaled Katie who asked everyone to have a seat. Donovan beckoned Ariane to sit beside him as the others all found places. Art sat next to Winifred.

When the room was silent again, Katie took the microphone.

“Welcome to our welcome-back party,” she said, grinning. “It is our greatest pleasure to have Grandmother with us tonight and my special pleasure to tell you that come Monday morning, she expects to be seated behind her desk, making sure we’re all hard at work.”

The room erupted in cheering. Katie waited until there was relative silence.

“Dad?”

Thomas Woodward rose, lifted his glass.

“I’d like to propose a toast to my mother. May she be behind that desk for years to come. Welcome back, Winifred.”

“To Winifred.”

Donovan tinkled his glass against Ariane’s and waited for her to taste the apple cider. She wrinkled her nose after a sip, but gamely gave it another try. Katie turned to him.

“My brother Donovan has at long last returned from Europe to head up our own in-house marketing department. We’re glad he’s back and thrilled he brought his goddaughter Ariane with him. Welcome home, Donovan and Ariane.”

Slightly embarrassed, Donovan rose, bowed and promised he’d do his best for Weddings by Woodwards while Ariane stared at everyone with her huge dark eyes. Finally, Fiona rose to say a blessing over the food. When Donovan looked up, Abby had slipped into the seat across from them.

“There wasn’t anywhere else,” she apologized in a whisper.

“No problem.”

“I saw Winifred talking to you earlier. Is she all right?”

“She’s fine.” He waited until their salads had been served. “Ariane’s been admiring you.”

“Oh.” Abby blinked, then glanced at his goddaughter. “Why?”

“I think it’s your earrings. She loves all that sparkles. Your design?”

Abby nodded.

“They’re lovely.”

“Thanks.” She averted her eyes and concentrated on eating.

“Abby makes lots of jewelry, Ari. She’s a quite-famous jewelry designer.”

“Not yet, but soon, hopefully.” Abby smiled at Ariane who seemed intrigued by the bracelet Donovan had given Abby. “Do you like jewelry, Ariane?”

The little girl nodded eagerly and after signaling that she needed a pen from Donovan, she drew an altered picture of the bracelet she’d helped Olivia form.

“Ah, I see you’ve had a change of idea. That’s what we designers do.” Abby smiled at her. “The bracelet’s in my office, waiting for you.”

Ariane seemed happy to hear that and settled down to dinner, like everyone else. Donovan couldn’t reconcile the easy camaraderie she and Abby shared, with what he’d been told. As the meal drew to a finish, his suspicions about that conversation multiplied, but Donovan stuffed them away and focused on enjoying the evening.

Reese took his turn as MC. Sara sang a song about homecomings and Cade announced their pregnancy. Once congratulations had died down, Katie had her parents act out a charade about the Chicago store.

Donovan took it all in like a bystander and realized that his sisters, his brother, Grandmother, his parents were all genuinely enjoying life, friends and family. Only he felt as if he had to work to smile. Even though Ariane was beside him and Abby across from him, even though the room was full of his family, he suddenly felt lonely. In that moment, he realized something else.

Abby wasn’t the only one with a pressing goal.

He wanted to be an integral part of his family’s lives now. He wanted to be the one they turned to when they needed to talk things over, the one they called on when they needed a shoulder to lean on. He wanted to be the son they counted on.

The prospect both terrified and tantalized Donovan. He’d never been good with long-term anything, especially commitment, although he’d wanted to try with Abby. A few hours talking to God might help him figure out how to become more than the carefree role he’d always defined for himself.

Maybe then Abby wouldn’t look at him with that funny little smile that clearly said she felt sorry for him for having missed so much.

Chapter Four

Monday mornings were always hectic.

Today leaned more toward crazy.

Anticipating the furor, Abby had arrived early. She filed her approved sketch for a newly commissioned diamond engagement ring, made changes another customer had requested on an anniversary ring and released the delicate tiara she’d created for a local fashion show.

Then she allowed herself a coffee break and a few moments to study the ring she wanted to send in for her contest entry. It was almost ready. A tweak or two and—

A child’s wail erupted from the front of the store. Assuming it was Brett or Brady, both of whom knew exactly how to create disaster at Weddings by Woodwards, Abby hurried toward the sound. She found Donovan kneeling in front of Ariane, his face taut with worry.

“It’s okay, Ari. Just tell me what’s wrong? Are you sick?”

One negative head jerk.

“Is it your clothes? But this is the school’s uniform.”

Ariane wailed a little more. Only it wasn’t really a wail. More like a soft, mewling cry.

“Honey, if you’ll just tell me what’s wrong, I’ll fix it. Do your shoes hurt?” Another shake of that dark glossy head left Donovan looking completely mystified and adorably uncertain.

Although she longed to ignore them both, Abby had to help.

“Hello, Ariane. Donovan. Can I help?”

“I don’t think so, thanks, Abby. Something’s wrong, but—” He stopped as Ariane walked over and threaded her hand into Abby’s. “Oh.”

“I have some drawing crayons in my office,” Abby mused. “Why don’t you come and draw me a picture while we figure out what’s got you so upset?”

Ariane nodded and after a reproachful look at Donovan, walked beside Abby to her office. Seated in a chair, she waited until Abby handed her crayons and some paper. Then her eyes moved to Abby’s ring for the contest. She poked at it curiously, picked it up and slid it on her finger.

Donovan stepped forward as if to stop her, but Abby rested a hand on his arm.

“Wait,” she murmured.

Ariane studied the ring for several moments. Then she put it back and began drawing a representation of it but with added swirls that resembled a flower circling the stone. It took Abby several moments to recognize a gardenia—Winifred’s favorite flower. Did the girl know Art had commissioned the ring for Winifred?

Ariane held up the paper for her to see.

“It’s lovely. May I use it in my design?”

Ariane nodded.

“Good. Now, tell me what’s wrong.” Judging by Ariane’s frown, this was touchy territory. Abby got the ball rolling. “Today’s your first day of school, isn’t it?”

The little girl nodded while big tears dripped down her cheeks.

“But that’s not a sad time. School is fun. You’ll see.” Abby hunched down beside her. “There are lots of books. Do you know how to read?”

Ariane nodded, sniffed.

“She loves stories,” Donovan added.

“And there’s playtime. And craft time. You’ll be good at that.” She touched the girl’s cheek, dabbed at her tears. “You’ll learn lots and lots of new fun things. I did.”

Ariane grabbed another paper. Did you wear a uniform? she printed in a childish scrawl.

“Yes. So did Donovan.”

Ariane tilted her head to see if it was true.

“Abby’s was always clean. Mine got a little dingy.” His funny face made Ariane giggle.

“I suspect you’ll be very popular at school, Ariane. Just like Donovan was.”

“Abby always got the best marks. She beat me in spelling. But I beat her in baseball.” Donovan winked at Ariane who glanced from him to Abby, her confusion evident.

“We got to be friends. When you go to school, you’ll find a friend, too. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

Ariane’s bottom lip thrust out. Abby glanced at Donovan. But he was clearly confused by the girl’s distress and couldn’t help. Abby tried again.

“Wouldn’t you like to go just to see who’s there?” She crossed her fingers.

Ariane shook her head.

“But how can you know what might happen if you never try something?” Abby wasn’t sure how to approach this. Being an only child didn’t offer a lot of knowledge about kids.

“Keep going,” Donovan urged.

Abby shot him a glare. As if she didn’t have enough to do. But suddenly she had an idea.

“Do you like ice cream, Ariane?”

Ariane nodded eagerly.

“You had to eat an ice-cream cone first to know you liked it, right? It’s the same with school,” Abby said.

Ariane’s glowering glare said she wasn’t buying Abby’s train of thought.

Abby looked to Donovan for help. Worry colored his eyes and spread fine lines over his forehead. He would be no help.

“What flavors of ice cream do you like?”

Ariane drew a cone with ice cream with brown dots.

“Chocolate chip?” Abby grinned when the child nodded. “What other kinds?”

Ariane frowned, poked at the cone she’d drawn.

“Yeah, I know. But there are lots more ice-cream flavors than that. I often try a new one, just in case I might find something better than butter pecan. It’s my favorite.” Abby picked up a crayon and drew a cone with a pink top. “Strawberry. Peach. Fudge, they’re all pretty good, but butter pecan is the best. Do you like these flavors?”

Ariane pointed to the fudge and the strawberry.

“You don’t like peach?”

Ariane’s shrug said she’d never tried it.

“I like peach. And pistachio. That’s my favorite.” Donovan was getting into the game. “Do you like pistachio, Ari?”

She frowned, thought about it then half shook her head no.

“How do you know?” Abby asked. “Did you try some?”

The little girl crossed her arms across her thin chest, leaned back and glared at them both. She wasn’t going to be easily persuaded. Abby didn’t want to alienate her, but she had to emphasize what she might miss, so she pressed on.

“I know two boys, your cousins, who love bubblegum ice cream. Lots of kids do. You probably would, too,” Abby mused, “if you tried some. Just as you’d like school, if you tried it.”

The dark head gave a very emphatic negative shake.

“Really? You’re sure about that?”

Ariane wasn’t backing down.

“You’re positive? You won’t change your mind and love it later?”

Ariane’s head moved from side to side as her jaw tightened.

“I don’t think that’s true. I think you’re afraid.”

Donovan caught his breath and shifted, but Abby stepped sideways so Ariane couldn’t see him. She kept speaking.

“I think you’re terrified, Ariane. And I don’t like that. You know why?” She waited a moment. “Because being afraid isn’t a good enough reason to miss out on stuff. So here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to dare you to go to your first day of school. I’m going to double dare you to go and meet the other kids and the teachers and go to all the classes. What do you think of that?”

It was a gamble that the child would understand the concept of a dare, but it paid off. Clearly Ariane got it. She glared at Abby, but her face showed she was listening. Abby crouched down in front of her and took one hand, folding it into her own.

“I can’t imagine someone who comes to Denver all the way from Paris can possibly be afraid of school. You have schools in Paris, don’t you?”

Ariane nodded.

“And I bet some kids wear uniforms to them, too, don’t they?”

Another nod.

“In fact, you’re pretty experienced and school isn’t such a big deal for you at all.” Abby let the words drop away in the room’s silence watching as Ariane’s shoulders lifted in growing confidence.

Her big brown eyes studied Abby for several moments more. Finally, Ariane pulled her hand from Abby’s, walked over to Donovan and put her tiny hand in his.

“So you’re taking my dare?” Abby kept her face impassive as Ariane nodded. “Okay. So if you’re wrong and you do like school, I win a huge ice cream cone. Butter pecan. And you have to buy it, right?”

Ariane glanced at Donovan and rolled her eyes as if to say “Adults are so lame.”

“Yep, that’s the deal.” Donovan winked at Ariane.

“And if I’m wrong and Ariane doesn’t like the school, I’ll have to buy her a different flavored ice-cream cone for the next four Saturdays. Agreed?”

Donovan nodded, but Ariane’s confidence was clearly wobbling.

Abby faked a frown.

“You know, just to make sure you two don’t try and pull one over on me and pretend you win, I think I better go along and see for myself. Buying so many ice creams could be costly and I don’t want to work any more overtime.”

“Abby, that isn’t necess—”

Ariane grabbed her backpack. The thunderclouds dissipated from her face.

“I don’t believe this.” Donovan shook his head. “Now you’re ready to go?”

She nodded, grinned.

“Never turn down a dare, huh?”

She scribbled I like choc’lat ice cream.

“Tell me something I don’t know.” He sighed, shook his head. “If you’re sure you can spare the time, Abby, let’s go. School starts soon.”

No backing out now. Abby grabbed her purse and followed them after locking her office door. On the ride to the school, she told silly jokes she’d overheard Brett and Brady regale their sister Emily with. That seemed to help Ariane forget the miles for a time.

She glowered when they pulled into the parking lot, but with one little hand firmly embedded in Donovan’s and one in Abby’s, she climbed the stairs, determination written all over her face.

The teacher had been well apprised of Ariane’s situation and used a creative and unusual way to involve the little girl in the class activities. So engrossed did Ariane become that half an hour later, when Donovan tapped her on the shoulder to tell her he’d see her later, she simply fluttered her fingers and went back to work assembling the puzzle she’d been given, although she did spare a big smile for Abby.

“You owe me a double butter pecan.” Abby brushed a hand against the glossy dark hair, then followed Donovan from the room and to the car.

“That went well. Where did you learn to deal with little girls?” he asked as he pulled out of the parking lot. He made it sound as if she inhabited Mars where children weren’t allowed.

“I was one, remember?” Abby frowned. “I had second thoughts about the first day of school, too.”

“What did your parents do to reassure you?”

“Told me about all the lovely science courses I could take.” She deadpanned a look at him. “I chose the painting corner.”

“Were you good at painting?”

“Better at getting paint all over myself. Not a good thing.”

He chuckled at the image she’d created. Silence stretched until her nerves screamed a protest. She had to break it.

“How’s your work going?”

“It’s different than I expected.” Donovan frowned for a minute. “Everyone is so used to the agency’s way of handling our PR that trying to spring new ideas is hard work. But I’ll get there.”

“I’m sure you will. What kind of ideas?”

His face altered as if he hesitated to say what was really on his mind.

“Donovan?” Her stomach clenched. Something was up.

“Grandmother is supposed to be the one to tell you this, but I’m guessing she hasn’t gotten around to it yet.”

“To what?” Her forehead pleated in a frown. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. She just wants us to work together and come up with a new image for the jewelry department at Woodwards.” He held his breath, hoping Abby wouldn’t flatly decline.

“Work together? Us?” She frowned. “I don’t know anything about marketing.”

“But you know a lot about the jewelry department.”

“True.” Abby had been itching to make changes for ages although there’d been no opportunity to do much with Winifred out sick. “But I’m up to my ears right now. Especially with the contest. I can’t fit another thing into the day.”

“It doesn’t have to take a lot of your time. Maybe you could tell me what you envision and I could come up with something. I’ve already done a survey of our client base. Age, income, all those variables that go into a wedding. I needed the info for the national campaign I’m supposed to get rolling.”

“I see.” This sounded like it would entail a lot of contact with Donovan, something Abby wanted to avoid.

“The thing is,” he paused to turn a corner. “In all our departments, we miss a large demographic. People think of us only as a bridal store or as wedding planners.”

“And Woodwards has more to offer than that.” She nodded, intrigued in spite of herself. “It’s true of jewelry, too. Who would you target first?”

“Middle-aged to seniors, baby boomers, folks with disposable income who want to celebrate their past or look ahead to the future.”

“Actually, the ring I’m working on now is for someone in exactly that group.” Abby wasn’t sure how much to tell him and whatever she did say had to be held in strictest confidence.

“Senior or baby boomer?”

“Senior. He’s a wealthy man who has spent his life making money and now he realizes that the only joy it brings is in sharing it with someone he really cares about. That’s what I want to show in my ring.” She huffed a sigh of frustration. “That’s what I thought I was showing until Ariane drew that gardenia.”