Ruth Scofield

In God's Own Time


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receiver and called, “I’ll be there in a sec, Mom.”

      A sudden girlish giggle trilled out from the living room, followed by a masculine chuckle. She turned toward the sound, wondering who was there besides the usual card-playing crowd.

      “I’m sorry,” Kelsey murmured. “Have I called at a bad time again?”

      “Not for me, Kelsey.” Never “But Mom’s bridge group is here, so I suspect she needs me to fetch something for her. I just came in five minutes ago from errands and things.”

      “Oh.” He honestly sounded disappointed. “Ah, that’s good, then. I mean that she’s up to that much excitement. Audrey must be feeling more herself.”

      “Yes, she is.” What had he been about to say? “She’s even considering taking up walking for exercise.”

      “I hear walking is great. And she won’t need you around much longer.” A sudden lighthearted note entered his voice. Now why would he be especially happy about that?

      “No, I suppose not.” But while the thought seemed to brighten his outlook, it suddenly depressed her more than she would have imagined. If her mother no longer needed her, there went her excuse to delay her return to England. And until that moment she hadn’t realized she’d wanted one.

      “Meg—” Her mother stood in the kitchen door frame.

      “Be right there, Mom. Sorry, Kels, but—”

      “It’s all right, Meg, I heard. You need to go. Just tell me something.”

      “Uh-huh?”

      “Can you meet me for coffee at Betty Jean’s Café before church in the morning? I can drop off the kids early for Sunday school and there’s something…um, ah, a matter I’d really like to discuss with you.”

      “Sure, Kelsey. What—oh, never mind. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

      She hung up the phone and headed toward the living room, ready with a smile for her mother’s friends. To her surprise, Sandy Yoder, Ginny Hames and Babs Dunning acknowledged her presence with all the eagerness one might a piece of used furniture. Instead, their attention focused on the tall slender man who rose with old-fashioned politeness, pushing his glasses onto the top of his thick gray hair.

      “Meg,” her mother spoke with a gentle warmth in her voice, “I’d like you to meet Paul Lumbar.”

      So this was the new man in town who was currently turning all the over-fifty feminine heads. “Hello.” She offered her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

      “It’s nice meeting you at last, Meg. Your mother speaks of you so often.” He proved to be as charming as rumor had claimed, Meg thought thirty minutes later as she saw the collected company out. And he’d invited them to dinner after church the next day. Her mother had accepted for both of them before Meg could make an excuse.

      “Mom, are you sure you’re up to a long day tomorrow?” Meg asked as she carried the remains of the snack tray back to the kitchen. “Church and dinner out?”

      “Oh, I think I’ll be all right. Especially if I have an early night tonight.”

      “Okay, just checking. But don’t plan on doing anything else afterward but coming right back home.”

      “All right, dear. Just as you say. Now I think I’ll rest a bit before supper if you don’t mind.”

      Meg turned to stare after her mother. What was in that charm potion Paul dished out, anyway? Audrey had been all sweetness and light the whole afternoon.

      At ten minutes to ten, Clive called, catching Meg just after she’d finished her shower. Her mother had dutifully gone to bed at around nine.

      “Clive, what are you doing calling on a Saturday night?” she said as she pushed her wet hair from her face. “It must be—” she glanced at the clock on her bedside table “—nearly five in the morning there. Sunday. Is there an emergency?”

      “It’s lovely to hear your voice, too, Meg, luv.” Clive’s teasing chuckle rippled over the line “No, it’s not an emergency. Why can’t I call you on a Saturday night? You weren’t planning to be out, were you?”

      “No, but you usually are. I’m surprised you’re still awake, but I am glad to hear from you. I don’t suppose you went into the office today—er, yesterday—did you? I faxed you with some thoughts on the Half Moon connection.”

      “Well, as it happens, I’m not up before dawn. I’m not even in London. I’m still in the Virgin Islands.”

      “You are?” She sat on the bed and reached for her comb. “I thought you planned to fly home yesterday.”

      “I did, but I changed my mind. Thought I might fly to New York to have a meeting with Lansing and Jonas.” He mentioned another of their clients. “Just wanted to touch base with you before morning.”

      “I see.” She plumped another pillow behind her back. “What’s wrong, Clive? Isn’t Serenity as nice as the photos?” She spoke of the private resort property on an outer island that Clive had gone to investigate for the Neels Corporation, one of their oldest clients. She’d planned make the trip a month ago before her mother’s illness had sprung up.

      “Nothing like that, Meg. The place is even lovelier, though it’s a little overpriced and needs a bit of updating.”

      “No hidden swamps, sink holes, big-time hotels falling over the property line or anything?”

      “No, that isn’t it.” He laughed at her penchant for looking for the worst possible feature of a location before working up to the best. “Serenity passes muster on all the check points. Flowers, sun and sea from all sides, just as promised.”

      He launched into a discussion of the finer points of the conference resort he and Meg were recommending to the Neels corporation. “The only problem is the place is really too large for their needs at present and Lazarus Neels is jumpy about the price being over their heads. You know how he hates long-term debt”

      “Old Lazarus putting on the breaks, is he?”

      “A bit. Wish you’d talk to him, Meg. He seems to listen more closely to the positives when you do the presenting.”

      “Did you remind him of the climb their company has made over the past three years?”

      “Yes. And his daughter Jane did, too. She’s excited about buying Serenity and sees all the possibilities. But the old man remains overcautious. I tell you, Meg, if we don’t wrap this baby up in the next month, Lazarus will back out of the buy altogether.”

      “But if they continue to go forward at their current rate, they’ll grow into it within the next three to five years without breaking a sweat. In which case, they’ll be very grateful to us for finding it for them.”

      “I know, I know. Said all that. Sounds better coming from you.”

      “Hmm. Perhaps we could suggest offering something to ease him into it.”

      “Like what?”

      “Like a time share for the first five years.”

      “You’re kidding.”

      Meg didn’t answer as she thought rapidly, tapping a pencil against a discarded magazine.

      “You are kidding, aren’t you Meg? He’d never go for it. Times shares…” He sounded as though she’d said something disreputable with a nasty smell to it.

      “Not the old kind where a corporation holds the strings, Clive. I’m thinking of time shares with another company—one, or at most, two other companies Neels would retain control over the property.”

      “Something more like a lease?”

      “Something in between, I think. If we find someone Lazarus respects,