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“But surely you’ve been to church.”
“Couple times, you know, for weddings and such.”
How sad, Heather thought, but she smiled and said, “Maybe you’d like to visit my church sometime? Northside Community. It’s across the river in Hickory Mills. I really love it there. Quite a few singles our age attend.”
“I don’t know about that ‘our age’ thing,” he teased. “I figure I’m a good bit older than you.”
She let the church issue drop and backed the car out of the space, saying, “I don’t believe that. I’m twenty-seven, by the way. Called your bluff, didn’t I?”
Grinning as wide as his face, he nodded. “You sure did, but I win anyway. I’m thirty-two.”
“Five years is nothing,” she said flippantly. “At least, that’s what my baby sister always claims.”
He laughed at that, and conversation maintained a lighthearted tone from there on out.
She noted that he seemed at ease with her behind the wheel, which fit with his laid-back attitude. As a result, she didn’t feel as uncomfortable as she might have with him in the passenger seat. Tim, Amy and her dad, for instance, always made her nervous when they rode with her, but Chris, Jeremy and her mom never did. Neither did Lissa, but for an entirely different reason. She’d been hauling Melissa around since she’d first received her license, just as her older siblings had done for her.
Heather wondered again what her baby sister had gotten up to and when she was going to put in an appearance. As much as Melissa tried to avoid the unpleasant aspects of life, she would never forgive herself if she was off gallivanting around when something happened to their dad.
It was useless to worry about her, though, or even to be angry with her. Melissa would just bat those big, doelike eyes, flash a cheeky grin and throw her arms around your neck in a hug of such exuberance and affection that you’d forgive her anything.
When they reached the office, Heather dropped off Ethan and his equipment at his midsize SUV in the graveled lot across the street, Mill Road, where Hamilton Media employees parked. Then she drove around and took her assigned space at the front of the building on Main. By the time she’d gotten out of the car and reached the curb, Ethan had jogged up next to her, having stowed everything in his customized SUV, except for the trio of cameras, which he carried by the straps in one hand.
They walked along the sidewalk to the revolving door at the front of the Hamilton Building. Ethan started it moving, then stepped back to let Heather go first. On the drive up from Nashville, she’d almost forgotten her changed looks, but as she stepped into the lobby, Mr. Gordon rose to his feet and lifted a stalling hand.
“Do you have an appointment, Mi—” The question died on his lips as Heather drew closer. He tilted his head, looking like a quizzical owl behind his overlarge glasses. “Miss Heather?”
She fingered her new hairstyle self-consciously and kept going. “I, um, had to step in as the makeover subject.”
Both of the Gordons were staring at her open-mouthed as she punched the elevator button for herself. Fortunately, the door slid open immediately.
Ethan quickly joined her. He waggled an eyebrow at the Gordons as the door slid closed on them, then dropped a knowing look on Heather.
“Waves,” he whispered, rolling his free hand in an up-and-down motion. “Huge, crashing waves.”
Whether that was good or bad, Heather still couldn’t say, but she fortified herself with a deep breath as the elevator drew to a halt. When the door slid open, Ethan stepped out first. Heather, in fact, was seriously considering going right back down and taking herself home to a hot shower, hoping it would be her old self who emerged from the steam.
She never got the chance.
Ethan reached inside the elevator, took her by the arm and insistently tugged her out into the reception area. Then he just stood there, clasping his cameras behind his back while the receptionist smiled in greeting, glanced at Heather, dismissed her, did a quick double take and dropped the pen in her hand.
“Waves,” he said again quietly, taking Heather by the arm once more and swinging her around, propelling her in the direction of her office. “Great big rolling waves.”
He made a sound like a wave crashing against the seashore. Heather couldn’t suppress a smile, even as she cringed at the attention she was bound to receive from everyone she met today.
The receptionist must have gotten on the phone at once, because people began popping up out of their cubicles. As she passed her coworkers, Heather heard various comments, most of them sotto voce.
“Whoa.”
“Wow!”
“I’ve gotta get my hair done.”
Even, “That can’t be who I think it is.”
Ethan grinned as if all the attention was for him.
When they reached Brenda’s desk, Heather’s usually loquacious assistant slowly rose from her chair. Jaw dropping as she confirmed for herself that it was Heather standing before her, Brenda bobbled the water bottle from which she’d been drinking, splattering her blouse before she got it back under control.
Ethan announced in a ringing tone, “Heather had to substitute for the makeover candidate, and I think it might well be our best one so far.” Heather gulped, still uncertain whether to be pleased or embarrassed.
Amy was walking by just then, a clipboard and pen in hand. Hearing Heather’s name, she paused. Her eyes went wide as she took in the change that had come over her sister.
“Did I hear you say that Heather was this month’s makeover subject?” she asked Ethan.
“See for yourself.”
Amy let the clipboard drop, declaring, “Ellen’s outdone herself!”
“Uh, actually,” Heather muttered, “Ellen wasn’t there. I— I thought she might’ve come back here.”
Amy shook her head, eyes still wide, and muttered absently, “I was just looking for her. Nobody’s seen her.”
“Oh. Well, she’ll probably be in later,” Heather surmised uncomfortably. “I’d like her to know that we at least got the shoot finished before our time ran out.”
“I’d like her to know that the shots are spectacular,” Ethan put in, lifting the trio of cameras that he still carried. “And I’ll soon have the pictures to prove it.” With that he slanted Heather an I-told-you-so look and sauntered away.
“Will you look at you?” Amy declared. “You’re gorgeous!”
Heather glanced at Brenda and then back to her sister. “You really think so?”
They both exclaimed, “Yes!”
“Except for that dress,” Amy qualified apologetically.
Heather looked down at herself with a grimace. “It’s too big, isn’t it?”
Amy nodded. “Too big. Too out of style. Too frumpy. I love your hair!” She started as if an idea had just come to her. “Let’s go shopping later. Engel’s has their summer stuff on deep discount.”
“And it’s still out of my league,” Brenda complained, dropping back into her chair. “But the new you deserves a shopping spree.” To Heather’s amazement, she actually teared up. “I can’t get over how different you look!”
“Oh, Bren! It’s all right. I haven’t changed inside, you know.”
“I know,” Brenda wailed, sniffing. “But now you’re as lovely on the outside as you are inside!”
Heather laughed and looked to her elegant, sophisticated, beauty queen sister.
“Okay,” she said. “Shopping it is. In for a penny, in for a pound, I guess.”
Amy did a little victory dance and went on her way. That pretty much summed up how Heather was feeling at the moment.
It was just too bad that the person who had set this in motion wasn’t here to see the results of her handiwork.
Heather straightened the seams of the tiered chiffon skirt before pulling on the white knit top, then slid her feet into thong sandals with tiny heels. As inexplicably nervous as the day before, she slowly turned to face the full-length mirror on her closet door.
Surprisingly, the flowered, coral-hued chiffon that ruffled about her knees looked just as trim and fashionable as it had in the dressing room of Engel’s department store. Moreover, the simple scoop-necked top set off the skirt perfectly, and she didn’t even mind that it exposed her birthmark.
Tentatively skimming her fingers over the irregularly shaped spot, she remembered how intently Ethan had focused on it yesterday. He’d murmured something about it being shaped like a rose as he’d positioned her to get the best shot of it. Funny, she’d never thought of it like that, but now that he’d mentioned it, she was seeing the mark in a whole new way. She was seeing everything about her appearance in a whole new way, from the top of her newly styled head to the tips of her toes in their flirty coral sandals.
She stepped closer to the mirror. As her image filled up more of the space, the spring green walls, ivory lace and French Provincial furnishings of her roomy bedchamber receded. Heather focused on her face, trying to find fault with the subtle cosmetics that she had applied earlier.
She hadn’t forgotten how it was done, after all, and she couldn’t deny that she was pleased with the result. Touching her fingertips to the mirror, she half expected to feel them against her cheekbone. It was as if she were really seeing herself for the first time in a long, long while.
Suddenly ashamed, she bowed her head, telling God how sorry she was for thinking that He’d shortchanged her in the looks department when all along the problem had been her own laziness and perhaps a misplaced sense of modesty, as well. Not to mention an unwillingness to compete with her sisters. She shook her head at that, marveling that she could have been so silly.
Maybe she wasn’t a raving beauty, but the resemblance between herself and her sisters was stronger than she’d realized. Even more surprising was how much she looked like her beautiful mother, especially around the eyes. Their coloring was different, of course. Heather’s hair and eyes were a medium brown, or rather a rich chestnut with fiery highlights now, while Nora was blond and hazel-eyed. Nora’s mouth was a little wider, her face more classically oval and her frame even more petite, but Heather was suddenly liking her more angular, slightly sharper features now that the subtle cosmetics and the new hairstyle had softened them a bit.
“I’ll make the most of what You’ve given me from now on, Lord, I promise,” she whispered. “And please be with Dad and Mom today. I know You can heal him, Father, and I know You will. Amen.”
Nodding confidently at her smiling image, she went out to meet the day. Her feet fairly skipped along the landing and down both flights of the sweeping central staircase to the large foyer below, her heels clicking daintily on the polished hardwood floor. She gathered her handbag and briefcase from the antique wardrobe that stood against the parlor wall.
Actually, there were two parlors, the front parlor, which contained her grandmother’s grand piano and a very good collection of antiques, and the family room, where the marble fireplace furnished the focal point for comfortable, overstuffed couches and chairs. The interior wall shared by the two rooms contained a pair of wide pocket doors that could be opened to make one enormous room for entertaining, making the library at the back of the house the most private of the public rooms.
The dining areas on the opposite side of the foyer from the living area had once enjoyed a similar arrangement, but with the kitchen—complete with butler’s pantry and laundry room—rather than the library, beyond. Now, however, the formal and informal dining spaces had been combined into one large room with an enormous table handmade to accommodate six children and company.
All of the bedrooms, six in total, were on the second and third floors. Two others had been sacrificed to private baths and larger closets, changes her great-grandfather probably could not have even envisioned when he’d bought and renovated the elegant old redbrick Greek Revival–style house on the very outer edge of north Davis Landing.
There were larger, grander houses in the area, frankly, but not a single Hamilton would have traded this grand old place, with its expansive grounds, for any one of them.
Rather than exit via the front door with its heavy leaded glass inset, Heather turned and quickly made her way down the central hall and out the back to the terraced patio, where her mother habitually took her morning tea, weather permitting. Nora sat there now in one of the heavy, wrought-iron chairs, the morning paper spread out over a glass-topped table and fluttering unheeded in the breeze that sang softly in the tops of the trees. Clad in silk pajamas and a matching robe, she stared unseeingly across the property.
Heather dropped a hand upon her mother’s shoulder, feeling the frail bones keenly. Nora turned up a distracted smile, then twisted around in her chair as she got a good look at her middle daughter.
“Just look at you! How I wish your father could see you this morning.”
Heather bent forward to kiss her mother’s cheek. “I’ll go by the hospital later, give him a preview of this month’s Makeover Maven feature.”
“It would do his heart good, I’m sure,” Nora told her. “It has mine. Goodness, you look so young all of a sudden.”
“Not so dowdy, you mean,” Heather retorted, wrinkling her nose.
“Funny what a haircut and a new wardrobe can do,” Nora mused, “or maybe I’m just feeling old this morning.” She sighed and made an effort to smile.
Heather put down her bags and wrapped her arms around her mother’s slender shoulders. “It’s going to be all right, Mom. I just know it.”
Nora nodded. “I’ve been thinking about the hundred-and-third Psalm.” It was one of Nora’s favorites, and Heather knew it by heart.
“‘Bless the Lord, O my soul,’” she quoted softly. “‘And all that is within me, bless His holy name.’”
“‘Who pardons all your iniquities, Who heals all your diseases,’” Nora whispered, patting Heather’s arm. She looked up suddenly. “I don’t suppose your sister came in during the night, did she?”
Heather shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of.”
“You don’t think Melissa’s in some kind of trouble this time, do you?”
“I think she just can’t bear to see Dad in that hospital bed.”
Nora’s gaze drifted away again. “I don’t blame her for that.”
“Neither do I,” Heather agreed gently.
“Get on with you, darling. I’ll see you later at the hospital.”
Sensing that Nora needed solitude at the moment, Heather left her to her contemplation and hurried to her car, parked beneath the sheltered passage that ran between the main house and the old carriage house.
The morning had a golden cast to it that Heather could attribute only to God’s goodness.
Chapter Four
Heather smiled at the Gordons, who gave her a thumbs-up and silent applause as she strode toward the elevator. Dropping a silly curtsy as the elevator door rolled closed, she felt ridiculously pleased and oddly happy.
How strange that it should be so now, when her father was so desperately ill.
Yet wasn’t that the Lord’s way, to bring joy in the midst of woe? Even a small joy was doubly welcome when cares were so heavy.
Suddenly Heather remembered the verse between the ones she and her mother had quoted earlier that morning.
Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget none of His benefits.
She felt a decided zing pervade her steps as she strolled toward her office. It was early yet, so the receptionist was not at her desk. Heather could hear a few voices in muted conversation but saw no one as she made her way through the warren of cubicles.
To her surprise, Ethan Danes sat perched on one corner of Brenda’s desk. Clad in khakis and a dark brown T-shirt, he was studying a print, the top one of a stack that he held in his hands.
“Good morning,” she said brightly, aware of a shiver of excitement. Or was it trepidation?
Ethan looked up, a smile at the ready. That smile stilled, then gradually grew as he took in this latest version of the “new” Heather.
“Well,” he said, placing the photos on the desk, “I thought I’d picked my final shot.”
“Oh?” She craned her neck, trying to look past him to get a peek at the photo he hoped would close the piece.
He folded his arms. “The butterfly has not only broken out of her cocoon, she’s spread her wings, I see.”
Heather inclined her head, laughing. She couldn’t help it. Who wouldn’t be pleased with such a statement from the best-looking man around?
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
He winked at her. “And so you should.” Dropping his hands to the edge of the desk, he shifted around, crossing his ankles. “I think I’m finally seeing the real Heather, and that’s the ‘after’ photo I’d most like to see on the printed page.”
