Finding Boaz Page 4

  "Mine too please," Duncan chimed in.

  "Are you leaving already?" Lars had cleaned his plate and was still waiting for a break to get up for seconds.

  "Yeah, my mom has to work this afternoon."

  Duncan slid his chair out and held Abby's as she struggled with the legs on the carpet.

  "Thank you." She could feel her face heat up and wished that she didn't blush at the drop of a hat.

  "You bet."

  "See you on Sunday." She waved at those still around the table.

  "Bye." She heard Duncan behind her and soon felt his gentle hand on the small of her back again. She was warmed by the gesture. This time she did not move away.

  Chapter 8

  Duncan arrived in his office a full hour early so that he could pace the floor in peace. Angus had been in the kitchen finishing dinner when Duncan came in the night before.

  "Who's the girl, eh? Duncan? Do we need to have Douggie write the prenuptial's already?" He grinned. "Kinda fast, isn't it, Duncan?"

  "Nope." Duncan grinned and left the room before Angus could ask him anymore about the girl he didn't know what to do with. He had gone directly to his father's study. He couldn't very well tell Angus that he felt in his spirit that he needed to help this woman. She needed his protection and she was going to get it. But that didn't mean he was going to marry her, did it?

  Once seated at the massive mahogany desk, he endeavored to work, but she interrupted him at every turn. He kept catching himself staring at nothing and wondering... Would she like the new boat? What was her favorite color? He would like to be there when she first slept aboard the sloop. Thoughts of her sleeping near him got him up from his chair for a cup of coffee. He had been relieved to find Angus gone from the room.

  Duncan managed to accomplish a few of the tasks he had assigned himself before retiring. It was late when he rose to go to bed. Thoughts of Abby ascended with him and remained until morning.

  In the morning he paced the floor of his office. What was he going to do with her? His watch now said eight a.m. He'd been up and down this room for an hour. Time for coffee. Abby's interview wasn't until nine, so he'd be safe walking the hallways. While he didn't want to lie to her, he wanted her to be hired before she found out that he owned the place.

  He consoled himself with the thought that he really hadn't had the opportunity to tell her anyway.

  Chapter 9

  Abby arrived at the MacLeod parking lot at 8:30 a.m., which was way too early for an interview at nine, but she was hoping she would be finished early so that she would have plenty of time to visit the Gordons before she had to pick up Chloe.

  Mr. Oswald Gordon was a hospice patient whom Abby had met in her volunteer work at the hospital. Playing music for the terminally ill as a part of the hospice program at Ocean View General was one of the highlights of her week. She had become friends with both Mr. and Mrs. Gordon and looked forward to going to their house with her dulcimer. She dreaded the day when Mr. Gordon passed away.

  Abby got out of the car to enjoy the view of the Bay. The wind was brisk and cold, a relief from the stuffy heat of the car. A gust lifted her hair up from her shoulders and kissed her neck. The gray-green water was tipped with white foam; the sky was quilted with steel blue clouds; the air smelled of a wood-fire.

  MacLeod Tours was housed in a square, two-storied, stone fortress sitting on a thick sliver of land that pointed out to the Chesapeake Bay. Several boats were tied to finger docks that jutted from the bulkhead. Men were scurrying around attending to various tasks about which she hoped someday to understand more.

  Abby walked up the brick steps to the front door. It was painted in black enamel, and felt more like a home than a business. She resisted the urge to knock and instead opened the door and stepped into a large room with wide slatted pine floors and white walls. She was welcomed by the source of the wood-fire smell she had enjoyed outside, a large stone fireplace. The room was immaculate and smelled of cinnamon. Abby introduced herself to a tall, blonde willow named Sandy who sat behind a large, highly polished, mahogany desk.

  "Mr. Angus will be with you shortly."

  "Thank you." The large room was sparsely furnished featuring only a large wooden desk for Sandy and a few wooden straight-backed chairs. Abby sat down in a straight-backed chair to wait. She had time to fully digest each pencil drawing of the boats on the Chesapeake Bay adorning the walls before the door opened and a giant man ducked through the door. He crossed the room in one step.

  It was a miracle that he didn't shred his clothes in the doorway, she thought.

  "Abigail Ericksen?" He reached to shake her hand.

  "Yes." Abby stood and took his hand, which swallowed her own in a warm, brawny handshake.

  "Angus MacLeod. I am pleased to meet you. Please follow me."

  He turned and ducked back through the door. Abby followed him through to his office.

  It was a small room that looked like it had once been a bedroom. It had one window that overlooked the Bay. On either side hung potted plants. A red oriental carpet covered the wide slatted pine floor. His desk was placed in front of the window. Two wooden straight-backed chairs like the ones in the front office were placed facing the desk and the window.

  He held a chair for her to sit down, but when he sat down, Abby wished she could stand back up to look him in the eyes. His sandy, brown-red hair reminded her of the handsome stranger she had met at church. Mr. Angus MacLeod even wore a yellow plaid tie.

  Yellow plaid must be in this year.

  "Everything on your application seems to be in order." He folded his hands and rested them on top of an open file that she assumed must be hers.

  "So tell me about yourself."

  "I am a full-charge bookkeeper. I do payroll, taxes, accounts receivable and collectable."

  "I see here that you organized the Old Thyme Festival last year."

  "Yes."

  "I went to that. How many people do you think you drew?"

  It was the first time she had seen him smile. She relaxed a little.

  "We sold 3,008 tickets, but that doesn't count the kids."

  Angus regained his former composure.

  "Why did you leave your previous employer?"

  "He made requests that were beyond my ability to meet."

  "That's interesting. May we contact him?"

  "Yes." She hoped they wouldn't. She had no idea what kind of story Stanley would tell them.

  "So what do you bring to us? Why do you think you would be an asset to our company?"

  "I am honest, loyal and I work hard. I'll give you my best."

  "You know we are not hiring a bookkeeper, but an assistant for her. You're overqualified for that."

  "Yes, sir, but I need to work."

  He looked down at the pile of paper on his desk as if he were deciding something. Abby looked out the window at the Bay. She folded her hands in her lap and tried not to shake. Couldn't he call her back and let her know?

  "We're also hiring for another position."

  Abby's eyes snapped back to his.

  "We haven't advertised it yet, but with your experience, I think you can handle it. It's a cruise director. We are starting a new line of tours and we need someone to coordinate food and entertainments and the grand opening."

  Abby could only listen. Would she get to go to sea?

  "It would mean more money of course. Full benefits package—medical, dental, all the usual stuff. Would a full benefits package please you?"

  Abby's mind swam. "I would like to look it over before I give you an answer."

  "Certainly."

  He continued to peruse the folder open before him.

  Abby couldn't believe it. What kind of an employer was this? She could not have scripted a better interview or written a better job offer.

  "I understand you're a musician yourself. You'll be playing for our guests. Sing-along songs, stuff like that. We will train you of course in any other functions we may req
uire. And provide a clothing allowance."

  Abby was so excited that she had to will her body to be still. Her brain scrambled as usual when faced with the unexpected.

  I'll take it. If it turns out wrong I can always quit. New clothes? Who did that nowadays?

  "When can we expect to hear from you regarding our offer?"

  "I accept."

  Angus grinned. He stood up taking care not to bump the potted plant hanging from the ceiling.

  "Glad to have you aboard. Now let's show you around. The big boss won't be ready for you for a while, so we have plenty of time for you to meet everybody."

  Abby was walking on air. She was free. She could pay her bills and kiss Bradley good-bye. Everything was going to be OK. She was even going to have new clothes. Imagine. She couldn't wait to find Debbie and let her know she'd been hired. God had taken care of her again. Angus took her all over the building introducing her to everyone—first to Sandy, whom she had already met, and then to Andrew, his brother.

  There was a strong family resemblance in the structure of their faces. They both had sandy-colored hair and brown eyes, but Andrew was much smaller than Angus. Angus had big steak hands; Andrew's were white and more delicate. While Angus carried himself seriously, Andrew had a fiendish twinkle in his eye.

  Popular with the ladies, I expect. She'd seen that type before. Abby made a mental note to steer clear of him.

  Grace was a sweet woman with a high-pitched voice who was in charge of reservations.

  The bookkeeper's office, where Abby had planned to work, was adequate for the three desks it housed.

  Debbie was not in. Her counterpart informed her that Rachel was sick. She sent up a silent prayer for healing and followed Angus to the canteen. It was empty but for the wooden tables and chairs and the hum of the coffee machine. Abby could almost hear the whisper of fish stories in the low drone of the room.

  At noon, Angus led her to the office of the big boss and left her there. The reception area was small. His secretary was an older woman with salt-and-pepper hair and a purple ribbon tied in a bow on top. She smiled at Abby.

  "He'll be with you in just a moment." She had the only Northern accent in the place. Her desk plate identified her as Lauretta.

  "Have a seat." Lauretta went back to typing.

  This time Abby had no thoughts of the pencil prints on the walls. She was filled with excitement about her new job. She sat with her hands clasped together on her lap and stared off into her dreams. She did not hear Lauretta right away.

  "Miss Ericksen?" Lauretta repeated. Abby looked up.

  "He will see you now. Go right on in."

  Odd for this place. Everywhere else she went, people had come out of their offices to meet her. Spoiled already, she laughed at herself as she walked past Lauretta into the office.

  It was him—the man from the church. Her lungs deflated.

  "Hello, Abby, I'm Duncan MacLeod." He was walking toward her with his arm stretched out for a handshake.

  Abby stood there in silence. She didn't know what to do or feel. She didn't want to touch him; his electricity would only confuse her more.

  "This is your family business?" She was embarrassed. She had told him of her dream of the sea. Had he been laughing at her?

  No wonder. Angus—the resemblance was striking, another brother—was so happy to offer her a job she hadn't applied for. Oh yeah, this was funny all right. She had wondered if he had noticed her. He had noticed her all right and her need of new clothes. She felt tears well up behind her eyes. She took a deep breath and willed them away. Then she realized that he'd been talking. She couldn't see him or hear him. She could only feel shame.

  Abby turned from him and walked out of the room. All the smiles she had encountered in this place were lies. Not that they knew ahead of time, but surely they would all have a chuckle when the joke was revealed. The cold air of the dock cut her skin and blew her hair off her shoulders, chilling her back.

  "Abby." She heard his voice from behind her. "What's wrong?"

  Abby could think of nothing to say. She wanted to leave. She blew on her hands and stood quietly in front of him.

  "Don't you want to work with me? I promise not to ask you to go on a boat ride with a case of beer." He attempted a smile. Abby could not smile back.

  "I was concerned that if you knew I owned MacLeod you wouldn't come.

  Abby's face was frozen in humiliation. She had misread the whole thing.

  He stepped forward and took her hands in his. His warmth radiated into her hands. She began to cry. He folded her into his arms.

  "Everything was too good to be true." She cried into his shoulder. "When I saw you I thought it was a joke. I thought you were making fun of me."

  It was Duncan's turn for silence. Oh, God, he prayed, what has happened her?

  "I will never laugh at you, Abby." He looked down at her in his arms, and turned her face to him. It was wet with tears. His heart was pounding and breaking for her at the same time. He brushed his lips across her lips in the faintest of kisses before he realized what he was doing. He released her body and took a step back.

  "Come with me." With a hand at her back he guided her around to face the dock and the cold wind coming off the water. Without touching, they walked to the empty side of the dock area.

  "We have a new boat coming. We are going to do tours to Tangier. Overnighters. I want you to coordinate music and food. And then there's the grand opening. We will invite people from Richmond and even D.C. You're the person to coordinate all that."

  The wind was chapping her wet face. She turned away from the dock to put the wind at her back.

  "Why?"

  "Because you're an excellent musician. I heard you play. And I like the idea of folk instruments—sort of a back-to-our-roots kind of thing. Sing-along songs around the cockpit..." He used his hands to illustrate.

  "OK, look: I've only been on a boat once and I didn't do anything except sit around on the deck and get sunburned."

  "I believe Angus told you that we will train you. Besides, you won't need to pilot the boat. You are to provide entertainments."

  "How often will the boats be out? I have to think of Chloe."

  "We will start them on Saturday's: Saturday morning to early Sunday afternoon. Just a little over twenty-four hours. As the season progresses they'll run every day of the week."

  "I don't think I can do that. I have Chloe. My mom can do some babysitting, but I can't be gone all the time."

  "I am sure we can work something out. By the time it becomes important we will have hired more people. You won't have to go every time. My brother plays guitar. At first we will be running only the one boat. Until I can hire another captain. My riverboats are not going to stop running. So I'll pilot the first one. As we get enough reservations we'll get another boat. When that one is reasonably full then we'll start a third."

  "When do I start?"

  "Tomorrow."

  Chapter 10

  Abby drove away from MacLeod Tours hopeful for her future. This could be the answer to her unspoken prayers. She could use her music. Could she have been wrong? Maybe her heart was on the right track this time. Perhaps she could relax and learn to trust again. She touched her lips, remembering his kiss.

  On her way through the narrow neighborhood streets to visit the Gordons, she realized they must have some knowledge of Duncan MacLeod. Oswald Gordon worked for MacLeod for thirty years. He probably knew Duncan as a boy. She pulled into the Gordons’ driveway.

  Mr. Gordon had worked for MacLeod until his retirement two years ago. Abby had learned to play the first of her Celtic tunes to please him. He loved the pipes and her dulcimer, if tuned right, would give him the sound he relished. In his wife, Pat, she had found a mentor—a woman whose wisdom had come from a lifetime of walking with her Lord and living with a man she adored.

  Pat greeted her at the door. Ossy was undergoing another round of chemotherapy and was too tired and weak to be doing
anything more than resting.

  "Is that Abby come to play with a sick old man?" The smiles in his voice gladdened her heart. Pat smiled and Abby returned the gesture. It was good to be here with these people.

  The living room had been altered to accommodate a hospital bed and a couple of tables filled with medicines, bandages and other necessities of the terminally ill. Ossy lay on the bed, a thin replica of the robust man he used to be. Abby sat on a couch that had been pushed up against the wall to make room for the big bed. The room smelled of sickness.

  "How are you, Ossy?"

  He looked old today. His skin was white, his teeth, which used to fit his cheerful smile, were yellow and appeared too large for his skeletal face. A feeding tube from a small purse-sized bag rested beside the arm it was in. Abby's heart went out to him. Her problems were nothing next to those of this big man who was wasting away before her eyes.

  "I'm doing as well as I expect to be. How's that baby of yours?"

  His illness made him seem fierce.

  "She's good. I'm picking her up early this afternoon to take her to the park or library or something."

  "I hate to see kids in daycare." Ossy was nothing but direct as usual, but Abby was done feeling guilty about Chloe. She did the best she could and she knew that the Lord accepted that.

  "Os," cautioned Pat, "don't say things like that to Abby. She does the best she can with that baby. And she's such a sweet thing, too."

  That Pat loved Chloe was evident in her gentle eyes. Ossy took the warning from his wife.

  "How's work?" he asked, his voice still just as direct and fierce.

  "Oh, well, I quit Stanley on Friday."

  "Best thing you ever did, the bastard."

  "Well, I start a new job tomorrow. I interviewed today with MacLeod."

  Ossy got a faraway look in his eyes. Perhaps he was thinking of all those years on the water piloting riverboats.

  "Lachlan MacLeod was a good man. I miss him. He used to come and see me. Like you do. I hear that his oldest son is in charge now. Stay away from him."