“She has, and he’s head over heels crazy about her.”
Shirley assumed this would be good news. “I thought that was what you wanted.”
“It is.”
Shirley remained puzzled. “The last thing you told me was that Hannah had agreed to break off her engagement with Carl.”
“That’s what I thought, too,” Goodness said with a disgruntled sigh, “only it didn’t happen that way. Instead her family pressured her into setting a wedding date, and before she knew what to do, it was all decided for her. She’s scheduled to marry Carl Rabinsky in June.”
“Oh, poor, poor Hannah.”
“Hannah nothing,” Goodness cried. “What about Joshua? He trusted her. She’s supposed to be in love with him, remember? The fact is, I don’t trust Hannah to do the right thing by Joshua.”
“There’s plenty of time yet,” Shirley said in an effort to placate her friend. “Just because Hannah and Joshua’s relationship has gone slightly off course doesn’t mean you should do anything so drastic as disrupt the best-known New York landmark.”
Goodness didn’t agree or disagree with her. “I’m so frustrated with these humans, I could scream.”
Shirley was about to suggest just that when to her great relief Mercy arrived, looking serene and happy.
“What’s happenin’?” Mercy asked as though she hadn’t a care in the world.
While Goodness went into a short explanation about Hannah and Joshua, Shirley studied the other angel. Then it came to her in a flash. Mercy had been up to something herself.
“Mercy, I’m shocked at you,” Shirley cried. Oh my, what would Gabriel do if he learned about this?
“What?” Mercy asked, but wasn’t able to hide a guilty look.
“Tell me where you’ve been!” Shirley asked, her eyes narrowing.
“Me?” Mercy had perfected that look of innocence. She might even be able to fool Gabriel.
Although she asked, Shirley knew. “Don’t tell me, please don’t tell me you’ve been riding the escalators again?”
Mercy shifted her gaze away. “Just for a little while.”
“Mercy.” Shirley was outraged. One of them had to show a little responsibility. Why oh why did it have to be her?
“I can’t believe you’d jeopardize our entire mission by doing anything so silly.” She closed her eyes and shook her head.
“Actually, I’m in the mood for a little fun myself,” Goodness said.
“Goodness, no,” Shirley cried.
“You wanna have some fun?” Goodness asked Mercy.
“Oh, I have been, but after what happened this afternoon, I’m game for just about anything.”
Shirley opened and closed her mouth. At this point her protests would fall upon deaf ears, and she knew it.
A twinkle sparked from Goodness’s eyes as she smiled over at Shirley. “Are you coming along or not?”
“You’re headed for trouble.”
Goodness laughed. “So what else is new? There’s only so much of this being on my best behavior that I can take.”
Mercy released an exaggerated sigh. “Boy oh boy, do I identify with that. I can’t remember the last time I slid down an escalator railing. By golly, it felt good.”
“If you want the truth, I would have thought you’d have discovered the Holland Tunnel before now.”
The corners of Mercy’s mouth started to quiver.
“What did you do?” Shirley asked suspiciously.
Mercy gave an innocent shrug. “Remember that traffic jam all the newspapers reported not long ago?”
“You caused that?”
Mercy grasped her hands behind her back and shook her head. “Not me. I didn’t have a thing to do with it.”
Goodness’s eyes lit up brighter than a Fourth of July sparkler. “If Mercy can mess around with the Holland Tunnel, then no one’s going to mind if Lady Liberty takes a short stroll.”
“Goodness, no.”
“Oh, come on, Shirley, let your feathers dangle a little. Gabriel isn’t going to hear about this.”
“I don’t think we should risk it,” she said cautiously. “Really. Shouldn’t we talk this out?”
Goodness shook her head. “Are you in or out, Shirley? It’s time to separate the wheat from the chaff.”
“Ah . . .”
Goodness and Mercy started to pull away. “I’m in,” Shirley said hastily. “I just hope I don’t end up playing a harp for all eternity.”
The talk filled the deli all day, until Hannah was sick of hearing about it. Some people, obviously tourists, claimed that the Statue of Liberty had done a 360-degree turn. It was by far the most ridiculous thing Hannah had ever heard.
Someone from the financial district claimed he’d watched the grand lady make the complete rotation. There were said to be news tapes of it as well.
Hannah remained skeptical. Years earlier, some magician claimed to have made the Statue of Liberty disappear. All this talk now didn’t impress Hannah. Besides, she had other matters on her mind.
She needed to see Joshua and had been unable to reach him all afternoon. Making phone calls during business hours was difficult for her. Privacy was always at a premium in the kitchen, and she didn’t dare risk someone listening in on her conversation.
When she had a free moment, a rare commodity this busy time of the year, she raced upstairs and phoned Joshua’s office. Unfortunately he was out, but his secretary promised to give him the message as soon as he returned.
But Joshua couldn’t return her call, and they both knew it, so Hannah was left to fret. When she did see him, she wasn’t sure she could tell him about what happened.
December was the busiest month for the deli. Her father’s meat and cheese trays had a reputation that was citywide. After the normal lunchtime rush, Hannah was left to deal with people who stopped by to order the trays.
She was busy with a customer when she saw Joshua. Although she was desperate to talk to him, this was the worst possible place.
“I think I’ll change that from slices of cheddar cheese to Monterey Jack,” Mrs. Synder, a longtime customer, was saying.
Hannah bit into her lower lip and watched as Joshua made his way to the counter where her father was making thick pastrami sandwiches.
“Monterey Jack,” the woman repeated, louder this time.
“Oh, sorry,” Hannah said, and quickly made the notation.
“Do you have Greek olives?”
“Yes. No,” she said quickly, correcting herself.
“Do you or don’t you?” came the impatient question.
“No, I’m sorry.” Hannah forced herself to concentrate on completing the order form.
“How much will that be?”
Grateful that she was close to finishing, Hannah quickly tallied the figures.
“Really? I expected it to be much more than that,” Mrs. Synder said, looking pleased.
Hannah immediately refigured the total. She was prime for making a mistake.
“Do you still serve that fantastic cheesecake?” the woman asked.
A male voice answered the question for her. “It’s the best in New York.”
Joshua.
Hannah’s head snapped up. “Thank you,” she said, her gaze connecting with his. “My mother makes it herself.”
“Throw one in for me, then,” Mrs. Synder said, grinning broadly.
“I’ll be happy to.” Hannah added the cheesecake to the tally. “Everything will be ready for you the afternoon of the twenty-second.”
“Thank you for your help.”
Hannah’s gaze moved past Mrs. Synder to Joshua. His eyes were warm and tender as they met hers.
“Can I help you?” she asked, turning the page on her ordering pad. She could feel the color creep up her neck. Anyone who knew her well would realize that Joshua wasn’t just any customer.
“Hello, beautiful.”
“Joshua,” she mumbled under her breath, “be careful, someone might hear you.”
“That doesn’t bother me. You are beautiful.”
“Thank you. I think you are, too.”
He laughed then, but not loudly enough to attract attention. “You phoned me?”
She nodded and chanced a look in her father’s direction. She was grateful to see that he was otherwise occupied. Her mother was busy in the kitchen but could appear at any moment.
“You talked to Carl?”
She hesitated, then nodded. “But I wasn’t able to break the engagement.”
Even from her side of the counter, Hannah could sense Joshua’s frustration.
“I couldn’t tell him, not then,” she hurried to explain. “When I arrived, I learned that he’d been fired from his job. He got in an argument with the headmaster. Carl was depressed and miserable. I couldn’t add to his distress.”
“What do you plan to do, marry him and make him feel better?”
“Of course not.”
“That’s what it sounds like, Hannah.” His voice was gentle, but she knew he was disappointed.
“I’d never marry Carl. I promise you that. Please, you’ve got to believe me.”
He said nothing, as if placing his faith in her were something he wasn’t certain he should do. Hannah fought to keep from blurting how much she loved him.
“Young man, is my daughter helping you?”
It was her father. Hannah tensed, and her eyes pleaded with Joshua’s not to reveal their secret. It would only be for a while longer, she promised him silently.
He pulled his gaze away from her. “She’s been very helpful,” he answered.
“Are you ordering a meat tray?”
“I thought I might give it a try.” He reached for a brochure and began to leaf through it. “You’re Mr. Morganstern, aren’t you?” he said just when it seemed her father was about to turn away. Hannah didn’t understand why Joshua didn’t let him leave. Certainly he felt as awkward about all this as she did.
“Yes.” Her father’s warm smile came through on the lone word.
“Joshua Shadduck,” Joshua said, extending his hand across the counter.
Her father hesitated before peeling off the protective plastic glove from his fingers and exchanging handshakes.
“This is my daughter, Hannah.”
“Actually, I’ve met Hannah before,” Joshua said, his gaze resting on her.
Hannah tensed, afraid Joshua had completely lost his patience with her and was about to reveal the truth.
“She’s delivered lunches to my office a number of times. Hannah’s a wonderful young woman.”
“Thank you. Naturally her mother and I share your opinion.” Her father placed his arm affectionately around her shoulder. “Where’s your office?”
Joshua told him.
“So you’re an attorney.”
Hannah noticed that her father’s voice had gone a shade cooler and wondered if Joshua had sensed the difference himself.
“I was recently made a partner in the firm,” Joshua explained proudly.
“Congratulations.”
“I’m rather pleased myself.” Joshua’s gaze returned to Hannah.
It must have been the warm way in which he regarded her that prompted her father to continue the conversation.
Generally he didn’t spend a lot of time chatting with customers.
“We have reason to celebrate as well,” he said, gently squeezing Hannah’s shoulder. “Our daughter was recently engaged.”
Joshua’s smile dimmed somewhat. “Then congratulations are in order.”
“Thank you,” she said without emotion.
“My wife and I feel truly blessed to have our daughter. She’s our greatest joy.”
“Dad, please, I’m sure Mr. Shadduck doesn’t want to hear all this.”
“Nonsense. You do my heart proud. The world is a better place because of you.”
Hannah was embarrassed, and she was certain Joshua found all this amusing.
“She’s a lovely girl,” Joshua told her father.
“She’ll make a beautiful bride, don’t you agree?”
“Oh yes,” Joshua was quick to concur.
“I’m sure my wife and I will be sending out wedding invitations to a select few of our most valued customers. Now that the date’s been set we can start making up the guest list.”
Joshua said nothing, but his eyes narrowed fractionally.
“Daddy, I don’t think—”
“The wedding date for your daughter has been set?” Joshua interrupted.
“Yes, we decided that only last night, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
Hannah nodded miserably.
“June sixteenth,” her father informed him.
Joshua’s gaze didn’t leave hers. “Congratulations, Hannah,” he said. “I’m sure you and your young man will be very happy.” Having said that, he turned and walked out the door.
Fifteen
Trey didn’t dislike New York. If anything, he was pleasantly surprised. He’d expected it to be the concrete jungle he’d read about, with treeless, crime-ridden streets. He was confident there was plenty of crime, but he hadn’t seen any. And even in the heart of Manhattan he’d noticed an abundance of trees.
If he had any complaints, it was the noise. He wondered how a man was supposed to sleep through all that racket. The traffic outside his hotel never ceased—horns honking, brakes screeching. And he was bombarded by an array of sounds he could never hope to identify; he heard them all, even twenty stories up in his hotel room.
The city had its own clamor, nothing like the sounds in the country: the cry of a lone wolf, the hoot of an owl as it flew with the moonlight bouncing off its wing . . . Trey imagined that given the opportunity, he’d become accustomed to city noises. But there was a snowball’s chance in hell of his ever living in New York City. No, he was a country boy, and like John Denver, he thanked God for that. Too much more of life here and he’d have men with nets chasing him through Central Park.
An early riser by nature, Trey was up and out the door just after dawn, heading for the hole-in-the-wall doughnut shop across the street from the hotel. The hotel served a decent cup of coffee, but there was no way he was going to pay a buck fifty for a two-bit cup of coffee. The doughnut shop was more to his liking, although he couldn’t say that anyone had been all that friendly. He’d been coming in for coffee and a doughnut every morning since he’d arrived, and no one had said much of anything to him.
The same people were there every morning, too. Some businessman who drank his coffee and shared his company with the financial section of the newspaper. A lady who came in wearing tennis shoes and walked out in high heels.
Trey sat at the counter, sipping his coffee and watching the short-order cook, a rotund fellow with a prickly disposition, fry an order of hash browns. A waitress who looked to be in her forties bustled around refilling coffee.
Actually, Trey realized, he wasn’t in the mood for company this morning. He had some heavy-duty thinking to do.
Twice he’d asked Jenny to leave New York and come back to Montana with him. Twice she’d told him no. The time had come for him to play his trump card, give her some incentive to return to Custer.
He planned to ask her to be his wife.
Generally when a man proposed to a woman he was fairly confident of her response. Trey figured his chances with Jenny were less than fifty-fifty. Although he’d worked hard to build up his herd, he didn’t have a whole lot in the way of material wealth to offer her. A few hundred head of cattle, a run-down house that badly needed a woman’s touch. And a heart so full of love that he nearly burst wide open every time he thought of Jenny and himself raising a family together.
Trey was a realist, and he was well aware that he couldn’t compete with the bright lights of Broadway. He didn’t have any diamond ring to offer her, either. Not yet.
The fact was, he hadn’t thought about asking Jenny to marry him until after they’d kissed that first time. He’d always dreamed it
would be like that with them, but the reality had knocked him for a loop. Jenny’s kisses gave him hope that she might harbor some tenderness for him.
Never having proposed to a woman before, Trey had no idea how to go about it. Did a man of the nineties get down on one knee? Should he remove his hat and place it over his heart? None of those things sounded right to him. But since he was asking Jenny the most important question of his life, he didn’t figure he should do it without showing some semblance of respect.
On impulse, Trey slipped off the stool and looked around the doughnut shop. The place held the same five or six people who frequented the place every morning.
“Can I have your attention, please,” he said in a loud voice.
The businessman lowered the newspaper. The cook turned around, the spatula raised in one hand.
“My name’s Trey LaRue,” he said. “I’ve been having coffee here every morning since I arrived in this city, and it seems time I introduced myself. I take it you folks all know each other.”
The five other customers stared back blankly.
“You don’t know each other?”
“No.” It was the woman with one high heel and one tennis shoe.
“Well then, don’t you think it’s time you introduced yourselves to one another? I’m Trey, and I’m visiting from Montana.”
“Hello, Trey,” the waitress responded. “I’m Trixie.”
“I’m Bob, and I’m in advertising.”
“I’m Mary Lou, and I’m an assistant editor at a publishing house.” She waved one shoe in greeting.
The others went around the compact space and introduced themselves and told what they did for a living. Trey acknowledged each one with a brisk nod.
“What brings you to New York?” The question came from the cook, whose name was Steve.
“I came to ask a special woman to be my wife.”
“Has she agreed?” This came from his editor friend.
“Not yet.” He splayed his fingers through his hair, feeling less confident about his decision. “The fact is, I haven’t asked her yet. I’m not exactly sure how to go about it.”
“Just come right out and ask her,” Bob advised.
“But wine and dine her,” was Trixie’s advice.