As her son left with Pearlene, Elizabeth crossed the room and sat down on the edge of a green plaid love seat near its matching couch. Her softly gathered skirt puddled around her feet as she folded her hands in her lap. “I think we were set up,” she said.
Zachary grinned. “What gave you that idea?”
“Listen, about last week—”
“I enjoyed that.”
She looked up, startled. “Well, but … but you and I are on opposite sides in this town charter thing. And Nick is pretty confused about our relationship. I don’t like to have Nick confused. Plus, Ruby McCann saw us coming out of the mansion together, and that’s just not appropriate. So from now on—”
“From now on, I think we should go out on real dates. The movies. The Nifty Cafe. That kind of thing. Make it official.”
“Zachary, don’t be ridiculous.”
“What’s ridiculous about it? I like being with you. You like being with me. We have some good talks. We enjoy kissing each other.”
“Shh!” She practically jumped out of her seat. “For Pete’s sake, hush!”
“Nick already knows.”
“But it’s not going to happen again. I’ve done a lot of thinking and praying about this. Zachary, I’m going to go ahead and stand with Phil on the matter of the town charter. You’ll have to leave Ambleside.”
“Chicken.”
He leaned back on the couch and eyed her. Elizabeth Hayes was afraid of him. He could see it in her blue eyes. She was determined to maintain her little town’s integrity, and Zachary was the enemy. She was protective of her son’s fragile dreams, and Zachary was Nick’s hope for a father. Most of all, though, she intended to guard her own heart. And Zachary threatened the barriers she had so carefully erected.
He scared her half to death, and he relished it.
“I have a puffy little fur ball,” Nick announced, carrying a small black-and-white puppy into the living room. “Look, Zachary! You can hardly see her tail.”
“Be careful, honey,” Elizabeth said, coming to her feet. “The puppy’s just a baby. You have to be gentle.”
His small pale fingers forming a cup for the tiny creature, Nick ignored his mother and made a beeline to Zachary. “It’s a girl dog,” he said. “Bitsy is the mom, and Booger is the dad. They had five babies. They drink milk right out of Bitsy, but it’s not chocolate, because she only makes dog milk. Phil said he’s going to sell the puppies for a hundred dollars each. Do you want to buy this one, Zachary? You could keep her forever. You could love her and hug her and give her a home just like my mommy gave me a home.”
Zachary stiffened as Nick deposited the wriggling ball of fluff in his lap. He’d never had a dog of his own. There had been plenty of strays wandering around the trailer park where he’d grown up, but he’d never given them much attention. Most were dirty, hungry, flea-bitten. Some were downright dangerous, especially in packs.
“It’s bad to take somebody away from their mommy and daddy,” Nick was saying as he snuggled onto the couch beside Zachary and the puppy. “But Phil says that’s how dogs are. You have to take the puppies away and sell them if you want to make any money off your ’vestment. What’s a ’vestment?”
“It’s, uh …” He looked at Elizabeth. Her eyes had gone soft as she gazed at her son and the man beside him. “An investment is the money you pay for something. And if you’re good at business, you’ll earn back the money one day, plus a profit.”
“Did my mom pay for me?” Nick focused on his mother. “Did you pay for me? Am I a ’vestment?”
“No, sweetheart.” She knelt beside the couch on the green shag carpet. “You’re not an investment, and you’re not a dog either. You’re a boy. A very precious boy.”
“Yes, I am.” Nick reached over and stroked the puppy’s head. “Aren’t you going to snuggle her, Zachary?”
Feeling awkward, Zachary scooped up the tiny warm ball of fur and cradled the puppy in one palm. A life so small. Amazing. He touched the puppy’s little fuzzy ears and stroked his fingers down her back. She pushed against his thumb, seeking milk as she made small mewling noises.
“You’re supposed to cuddle her like this,” Nick said, arranging the puppy so that she was tucked under Zachary’s chin. “That way she feels warm and safe. Puppies need to feel safe, because they’re scared without their mommies and daddies. You have to protect them, see? When I was a baby, I didn’t have a mommy or a daddy, but now I have a mommy. Are you going to be my daddy?”
“Nikolai Hayes,” Elizabeth blurted out. “We talked about that already, and you know what I told you. Zachary has his own life, his own plans. You can be his friend, but you’re not to talk about his being your daddy anymore. Do you understand me, young man? You have a mommy, and that’s enough.”
“It’s not enough,” Nick said, his little chin jutting out.
“Yes, it is. Now take the puppy back to the garage.”
“Zachary wants it. He wants the puppy, and he wants me!” Nick grabbed Zachary’s arm. “Don’t you, Zachary? Don’t you want me?”
Wedged between the arm of the sofa and the little boy, Zachary lowered the puppy to his lap. Then he wrapped his arm around the child’s small shoulders. “You remember what you told me about surrendering, Nick?” he asked. “Remember how we’re supposed to surrender all to Jesus and let him be the leader?”
Nick nodded, his cheek soft against Zachary’s arm. “That’s how you get the presents.”
“Well, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I decided it’s time for me to surrender. I have to be willing to give up trying to be in charge, and I need to let God be the boss of my life. You told me I ought to do that. Now I’m telling you the same thing.”
“But I really want a daddy.”
“There are lots of things I really want, too. Things I’ve wanted and worked for all my life. But I believe Jesus knows what I need better than I do. So I’m going to let him take over.”
“When?”
Zachary swallowed. “Well … soon.”
“Well, when? You better do it right now before you forget.”
Looking into Nick’s earnest green eyes, Zachary pulled him into the cradle of his arms. The puppy burrowed into the crevice between the man and the boy. Zachary nodded. “All right.”
Turning his focus from small boys, tiny puppies, and the pretty Elizabeth Hayes, Zachary entered the presence of the Lord. “Father,” he prayed, “I surrender all control of my life to you. I trust you to guide me and to make your desires my desires. Lord, I believe. Please help my unbelief. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
“Amen,” Nick said. “Me, too, God. I’m going to surrender my wanting a daddy—”
“What a pretty picture!” Pearlene turned and hollered over her shoulder as she returned from the kitchen. “Phil, you should just see these three in here. Four, counting the puppy. Turn off that ball game, and get your hide in here, would you? If that isn’t something, inviting people over and then gluing yourself to the TV. Next thing you know, he’ll be showing off his World Series baseball. I’ll swan.”
In a moment, Phil Fox appeared in the living room. “Those Cardinals,” he said. “They’re at it again. Hey, Zachary, Liz, how are you folks? I couldn’t have been more surprised when Pearlene called me up this morning and told me she’d invited you all to dinner.”
Zachary stood and shook the man’s hand. He had a feeling this whole scenario had been preplanned, but he didn’t want to dispute his host. If Zachary had meant his prayer moments before—and he had—he needed to find out what God had in mind for the property he’d inherited. And dinner conversation with Phil and Pearlene would help.
“What are the Redbirds up to?” Zachary asked Phil.
“They need pitching, as usual. I used to get over to St. Louis to watch a game or two every summer, but now that my boys are grown and gone it’s easier just to turn on the tube. Liz, did I ever show you my autographed ball from the ’64 World Series?”
“Yes, Phil. I’ve seen it.” She smiled indulgently as he removed his prize from its place on the mantel. “Several times.”
“Those were the days, yes sir. This here is my pride and joy.” He displayed the trophy, though not so closely as to tempt anyone to touch it. “Ever seen anything like it?”
“It looks like a baseball to me,” Nick said.
“This is more than a baseball, boy. It’s a relic of the glory days. A real treasure. I wouldn’t sell this ball for anything.” He gazed at the ball for a moment. “How about this, Zachary?”
“That’s a valuable ball.”
“You bet your bottom dollar.” He set the ball back on the mantel and turned his attention to Elizabeth. “Pearlene tells me you got a big contract to furnish some old houses in Jefferson City. Congratulations.”
“Thanks, Phil.”
“Now, here’s to show you how little I know about interior design—but why would anybody want to go to all the trouble of modernizing some old buildings and then turn around and put antique furniture in them? It’d be like Pearlene going to the plastic surgeon and paying a small fortune for a face-lift and a tummy tuck, and then dressing in some old, wore-out getup her mama used to wear. Polyester double knit, you know what I mean? Seems to me if you’re going to go to the trouble and expense of fixing something up, you ought to outfit it in new duds.”
“Are you saying I need plastic surgery, Phil Fox?” Pearlene said, setting her hands on her hips. “You always said you liked how I looked. Was that just for show?”
“I’m not talking about
you,
Pearlene. I’m talking about those old, broken-down buildings in Jeff City.”
“Broken down? Well, if you don’t like how I look, why don’t you just come right out and say so? Comparing me to an old building, I’ll swan.” She gave him an icy stare before turning and heading into the dining room. “Come on, everybody, before the dinner gets cold. And Phil, put that puppy back in the garage before it wets all over somebody.”
Zachary found himself seated across the table from Elizabeth. He quickly decided that watching her was going to be the best part of the evening. The food was delicious, of course. Hearty Midwestern pot roast sat in a pot filled with gravy, onions, potatoes, and carrots. Elizabeth’s layered salad and his fresh bread topped off the meal that concluded with bowls of hot peach cobbler swimming in melted vanilla ice cream.
But if the food was nourishing, the conversation could have withered the hardiest vine. Pearlene, miffed over the imagined insult to her appearance, clammed up tight. Phil decided to offer a lengthy oration about the bus station he ran, lamenting the lack of passengers, the dwindling route system, the condition of the vehicles. Nick cut in on Phil’s monologue with his usual thousand and one questions, and Elizabeth was kept busy giving her son short, quick answers. Zachary was preoccupied, thinking about his surrender and what it would mean in his life.
“But enough about all that,” Phil said, leaning back in his chair and displaying his ample girth. “I’m as full as a tick. Pearlene, that was delicious.”
“I’m glad you appreciate something about me.”
“Listen to her. Would you just listen to my wife? If she isn’t the prettiest gal this side of the Mississippi River, I don’t know who is. And the best cook, too.” Phil patted Pearlene’s hand. “So, Zachary, fill us in on some of the buildings you’ve designed. I hear tell you are quite the architect. Always in demand, they say.”
Zachary laid his napkin beside the empty cobbler bowl. “I do commercial designs, mainly. Offices, stores, churches, that kind of thing. I’m working on a contract for a state office complex right now. It’s a big project.”
“So, did you design any of the buildings we’d know about? Something we might could recognize?”
“You’ve probably seen some of my work. I’ve been designing in Jefferson City for quite a while.”
“I love the architecture in the capital,” Elizabeth said. “Strolling along High Street and looking into all the shop windows is one of my favorite things to do. The buildings are so quaint. They make me feel like I’m somewhere in Europe.”
“It’s the German architecture,” Zachary said. “Although you’ll find some French influence, too—mansard roofs and iron railings.”
She nodded. “What bothers me is when someone plops a modern monstrosity right down in the middle of all that history. I once saw a funeral home that looked like it had been built in the sixties—but when I looked closer, I saw that the newer facade had been constructed right over the lower level of an old Victorian home. The architect had left the second floor intact with all its old brick and gingerbread.”
“Bizarre,” Zachary said.
“Exactly. It’s like people have no problem with erecting some kind of an I. M. Pei or Frank Lloyd Wright type of structure on a block lined with turn-of-the-century town houses.”
“Frank Lloyd Wright and I. M. Pei?” Zachary’s brows lifted. “You know your architects.”
“Buildings are sort of a hobby with me. It’s hard to study antique furnishings without developing an interest in architecture. But there are times when I just want to gag. For instance, there’s a church near the center of downtown Jefferson City that is the absolute worst kind of aberration. Wright’s buildings fit with the landscape. This church is just jarring. It rises up like some kind of homage to Picasso, or something. The stained glass is thick and distorted. It looks like it came off the bottom of broken Coke bottles. The bell tower juts off at a weird angle. And what is that horrible copper thing on the front?”
“That’s the awning,” Zachary said. “The church’s building committee asked for a facade that would work well with the slope of the hill, and the copper awning was the design they liked best.”
Elizabeth’s lips parted in shock. Pearlene dropped her fork. Phil gawked at Zachary for a moment, and then he began to chuckle.
“You
designed that church?” he asked.
“You
drew the building Liz hates the most in all of Jeff City? Good gravy, Pearlene, did you hear that? While we’re at it, Zachary, how do you feel about antiques?”
Zachary studied little Nick, who had paused in his last bite of cobbler and was clearly aware that something had gone wrong with the adult conversation. “I’ve never been much of an antiques collector,” Zachary acknowledged, hoping to calm Elizabeth’s fiery pink cheeks. “But I recently bought a white cabinet from Finders Keepers, and I think it’s about the best-looking thing in my kitchen. Great for holding my teacup collection.”