LITMIR.BIZ

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grinned. “No, they won’t.”

      “If they do settle, you owe me for that parking ticket you managed to pick up on my car.”

      He found his luggage and wished he had thought to pack for a longer trip. He hadn’t been planning this trip to Los Angeles.

      “Is Rae going to come?” It was the reason Lace had met him, the reason they had been playing phone tag across the country for the last several weeks.

      “I got nowhere. You would think after twenty years, I would know how to convince her to budge, but the only thing I managed to do was make her cry.”

      Dave frowned. “Lace, you were supposed to be helping, not making matters worse.” He saw the look on Lace’s face and lightened up, fast. He was going to have Lace crying, and one lady in his life in tears was enough. “She’s having a down week, Lace, the markets turned, I bet it was nothing you said. She cried on me one time because I wore a tie like the one she had given Leo.”

      Lace blinked and put her lawyer face back on. “Good save, not great, but good. You’re her silent partner, you’ve got to do something.”

      “Give me a clue what to do, and I’ll do it. Anything,” Dave replied, frustrated at the situation, frustrated at not being able to help one of the two most important friends he had left. “But I’m just as much at a loss as you are.”

      Lace nodded. “She’s got to come on this vacation. That I do know.”

      Dave sighed. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do when I get back to town Tuesday.” He checked the monitors to find the gate for his next flight. “What are your plans for the rest of the week?”

      “Sports stadium zoning and salary cap contract language.”

      “Sounds like a whale of a good time.”

      She elbowed him in the ribs. “Beats playing divorce attorney. I thought you were going to get on the happy side of marriage for a change.”

      “I’m working on it, Lace,” Dave replied, tweaking a lock of her hair. “Want to have dinner Thursday before Rae’s game?” They were Rae’s acting cheerleader section on nights she bowled with the league. It gave them an excuse to try to make her laugh again.

      “Not Thai again, or Indian. I don’t mind spicy, but I draw the line at curry.”

      “Need some help?”

      The church nursery was busy with activity as one service finished and another prepared to begin. There were name tags to match with diaper bags and parents for children being picked up; new infants and diaper bags and instructions to write down for children being dropped off. Short-handed because two of the helpers were out with the flu, Rae was finally sitting down again. She looked up at the question and smiled.

      James.

      He looked good.

      The unexpected thought made her blush, which really confused her and changed her smile to a momentary frown.

      She looked down at the active infants she held. She had to grin. They were twins and she had her hands full. “Which one do you want?”

      She watched him step into the nursery, careful to avoid letting any of the toddlers get past him and out the door. His movements were stiff and she wished their prayers on his behalf would be answered. She hated to see someone in pain. His week back in the States had faded his tan slightly. He sat down in the rocker beside her. “Give me—” he paused to read the name tags on their sleepers “—Kyle.”

      Rae carefully handed him the infant, watched him accept the six-month-old with the ease of someone comfortable around kids. The infant was fascinated with a man to look at.

      “Patricia said I would find you here.”

      “I hide out here most Sundays,” Rae replied, tempting Kyle’s sister Kim with a set of infant car keys. She had been keeping up with infants and toddlers for the last hour and a half with her teenage helpers. She couldn’t believe he’d shown up here of all places. She pushed her hair back as Kim reached for it again.

      “Like kids?”

      “Babies,” Rae replied matter-of-factly.

      “They grow up fast. Emily was barely walking when I saw her last. Now she’s reading,” James commented.

      “Six years is a long time.”

      Rae snagged an infant who was in danger of falling backward and scooted him over to lean against her knee. James nudged a ball over to him with his foot.

      “Thanks.”

      “It is always this lively?”

      Rae smiled. “No one is crying so this is calm. But I normally do have two more adults to help keep order. They’re both out with the flu. Thanks for the offer to help.”

      “My pleasure. I wanted to thank you for the Chicago Bulls tapes.”

      She was surprised and pleased that he had sought her out for something so simple. “Kevin said you were a fan.”

      “Your packages would make my week and that of my entire crew.”

      She looked down at the infant she held, embarrassed. “I’m glad you liked them.”

      “I’m afraid I’ve been thinking about you for two years by your nickname,” James added.

      His remark made her look up. “Really?”

      He smiled. “We named you Rachel the Angel.”

      Now she really blushed. “They were just game tapes.”

      “They meant a lot to us. I promised the guys I would convey their thanks.” James set the rocker in motion.

      Rae had no idea what to say. “Should I apologize for not liking hockey?”

      Her question brought a burst of laughter.

      Rae left work Monday night after nine, stopped at the grocery store for a deli pizza and a six-pack of soda, and on impulse picked up a carrot cake. She needed to grocery shop to actually stock her cabinets but didn’t have the energy.

      She had decided she really, desperately, wanted a break. She was going to read a good book tonight, set her alarm to let her sleep an extra half hour and try to rebuild her energy. It was bad when she started the week exhausted.

      She put the pizza in the oven, forgot and then came back to set the timer, walked down to the den as she poured the soda over ice. She wrinkled her nose and chuckled softly as she tried to drink around the fizz. She was parched.

      Work would not be so bad if it were simply not so long. She had given up trying to record her hours in February; tracking her time had been one of her New Year’s resolutions. Knowing she was averaging 64.9 hours per week did not make coping with them any easier.

      The library shelves were packed with books she considered worth keeping—thrillers and suspense and mysteries intermixed in the fiction, medical texts, financial texts and law references taking the rest of the space. She had a hard time choosing, there were so many books she would like to reread. She finally pulled down a hardcover by Mary Clark.

      She settled into the recliner, kicking the footstand up. This was the way she liked to spend an evening.

      She opened the book.

      A small piece of red colored paper fluttered down between the arm and the cushion of the seat.

      Rae shifted in the seat, balancing her drink and the book in one hand to reach the item.

      A Valentine’s Day card.

      Leo’s bold signature signed beneath his “I Love You.”

      The sob caught her off guard, emotion rushing to the surface before she could stop it.

      No. No, she was done crying!

      She

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