Sunflower Alley (The Merriams Book 4) Page 8

  “I liked the sentiment until I read ‘love note.’” Arthur harrumphed. “I’m not into that feel-good, fruity-tooty sentimentalism or that hashtag nonsense.”

  “Me either, sir, but I’m keeping an open mind,” Hargreaves said, helping Clara out of her coat. “The shelter’s website was very impressive.” Clara had thought so too, and it hadn’t escaped her attention that the proprietor, Louisa Evans, was a lovely woman.

  “What are you going to do with Clara’s fur, Hargreaves?” Arthur asked, putting his hands on his lean hips. “Hold it the whole time? Maybe the reception guy doubles as a coat check clerk. Bah! Clara, I told you to wear a different coat. We’re at a shelter, for crying out loud, not a garden party.”

  “And I’m a potential benefactor thinking of donating a large sum of money,” she informed him with a haughty raise of her eyebrows. “Also, I want to show people that anything is possible. In case you forgot, Arthur Hale, your friend and mentor and my grandfather came from nothing and had hard times in the Depression—”

  “Only to strike oil out of hard work and luck,” he finished for her. “Dammit, woman, I know the story. The Merriams were poor and homeless. Yes, I see. But you never were, and this coat and your perpetual strands of diamonds—”

  “Enough! Arthur, it is a woman’s prerogative to wear anything she wants, anywhere she wants. Especially at my age. You didn’t hear me telling you to dress in a suit, did you?”

  “I never even wore one when I was running my own newspaper,” he barked. “Clara—”

  “Arthur. Get your game face on, or go back to the sedan. We’re here on an important mission.”

  He growled but squeezed her waist in an obvious apology. “I know it. I’m only feeling a little guilty now that we’re here. This looks like a nice setup for a good cause.”

  Reminding herself they would be supporting a good cause even with the slight deception on Connor’s part, she turned as Louisa Evans appeared. Wouldn’t you know it, Clara’s aggravating nephew was right beside her. Although he was taller by far, Louisa’s powerful presence made it much less noticeable. Hmm…

  Clara’s matchmaking instincts had pinged when Connor had first talked about Louisa, even more so when she’d read about the compelling woman who’d started the shelter, but now she saw it for herself.

  They were attracted to each other.

  Which made the subterfuge Connor had insisted on even more ill-advised. Any matchmaker worth his or her salt would tell him not to play games with the woman he was drawn to. But she could tell from the way that he was regarding them—with the polite indifference of a stranger—that he expected her to go through with his cockamamie plan. Well, if he wanted her to pretend she didn’t know him and vice versa, fine. As she’d proven before in helping his younger brother, J.T., she was a consummate actress. She only hoped Arthur could be equally convincing. Hargreaves didn’t worry her. Nothing fazed the man.

  Clara stepped forward, getting her inner Sarah Bernhardt on. “Louisa! I recognize you from all of the articles I’ve been reading about you. How wonderful to have you meet us the moment we arrived! This is my husband, the famed journalist, Arthur Hale.”

  “Not so much famed as old as dirt now,” Arthur said, putting out his hand to the petite woman who rushed over to them with as much sweetness and energy as a triple crunch candy bar. “Wonderful to meet you, Ms. Evans.”

  She pumped his hand vigorously, Clara was pleased to see. So many people took one look at them and acted like a handshake would break them. Aging was for the birds.

  “Please call me Louisa, Mr. Hale.”

  “Only if you call me Arthur. I’m a simple man.”

  Clara laughed gustily. “So he says. When he starts interviewing you, my dear, you’ll soon learn otherwise.”

  “You mentioned that on the phone, Clara. We’d be honored to have a journalist of Arthur’s caliber mention us in his article. Anything you need, you let us know.”

  “This is Clifton Hargreaves,” Clara said, “my most trustworthy associate.”

  Arthur snorted. “Associate?”

  “A pleasure to meet you, Clifton,” Louisa said, shaking his hand.

  “It’s Hargreaves, miss,” he said with a formal bow.

  Clara linked her arm through Arthur’s, hoping he’d get the message and behave. “If you have an opening for a chef in one of your upcoming competitions, we’d love to have Hargreaves compete.”

  “Hargreaves might be your chef, my dear, but he’s not an actual chef,” Arthur said, not getting her message.

  This time she jabbed him in the side. “Arthur, my dear, you know many things, but not everything. Hargreaves has a degree in culinary arts from Le Cordon Bleu.”

  Even Connor’s brows went up at that admission, and she gave him a kind smile with plenty of teeth.

  “I hope you like Indian food, Louisa, because that’s Hargreaves’ specialty,” Arthur said, nudging her back.

  Oh, he was intolerable. “Hargreaves has a wide range, Louisa. Don’t listen to him. He’s grouchy after meeting with some pompous South Side city councilman this morning.”

  Louisa was biting her lip as if to contain her laughter. Well, at least she found them amusing. Better that than wanting to kick them out before they started step one in Connor’s plan. “And your associate here, Louisa…”

  The lovely woman put her arm around Connor in a gesture of surprising affection. For a moment, Connor’s mask cracked. His eyelids opened just enough to convey his shock. His pleasure. Well, good. The Big Bad Wolf needed some shaking up, and based on the research Clara had done with Hargreaves, everyone seemed to think this tiny crusader for the homeless could make oil and water mix. Not a small feat.

  “This is Connor,” Louisa said, glancing up at him with a radiant smile, “and he’s offered to help me plan my dream job training program.”

  Her entourage mumbled pleasantries and shook her nephew’s hand like they’d just met on the street, and she had the urge to step on Connor’s foot accidentally to let him know Louisa deserved better.

  “You a native Chicagoan, Connor?” Arthur just had to ask.

  Connor didn’t break character as he replied with a straight face, “No…Arthur, was it? I’m just back for the time being.”

  “I was just giving Connor the nickel tour,” Louisa said, gesturing to the hallway. “If you’re okay with it, I thought we’d pick up where we left off, and then we can circle back to the kitchen and the dining room for the grand finale.”

  “Don’t forget about the Story Room,” Connor said, putting his hand to Louisa’s back.

  Arthur nudged Clara and gave her a sidelong wink like she didn’t have eyes.

  Some actor he’d turned out to be.

  “You won’t believe what she does for homeless children,” he said, looking down at the woman with warmth and awe. She’d never seen him regard anyone like that before.

  “I can’t wait to see more for myself,” Arthur said in a serious tone, and Clara thanked God for it. “No one should be homeless, but there’s something downright barbaric about children living on the streets if you ask me.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Clara answered, following as Louisa started to lead them down the hall, introducing them to people as they came across them.

  Some were staffers, like the man sitting at reception, many of whom had once been homeless themselves. Others were homeless people coming in for lunch or stopping in to see their children in the shelter’s daycare center, which captured her attention in a way nothing else had so far. The yellow walls painted with sunflowers gave the room a brighter atmosphere despite the wary eyes of some of the children. A couple of boys left their puzzles or books and trains and raced over to talk to them.

  One of the little boys, who’d introduced himself as Howie, asked, “Are those diamonds real?”

  Laughing, Clara sank to the ground—a task much easier now that she did yoga and Qigong daily with Hargreaves—and held them out for him
to touch. “A lady wouldn’t wear fakes.”

  His eyes were round as saucers as he gently reached for them, only to yank his hand back. “They’re cold.”

  “That’s why some people call them ice,” Connor said, staring at her steadily, his mouth turned up.

  “Do all ladies like the ice, Mr. Connor?” Howie asked, stuffing his hands in his back jean pockets.

  “Some do, some don’t,” Connor said. “We know Clara here does, but I have a feeling Ms. Louisa doesn’t.”

  Clara reined in her surprise. The Big Bad Wolf, good with children? Even though he was the oldest of seven children, she wouldn’t have imagined it. Arthur nudged her as if to say he was surprised as well.

  Louisa jerked her thumb at Connor. “He’s pretty smart, Howie. Good thing he’s on our side. All right, we’ve got to go. You guys have fun. I hear Carter is making spiced apple cider for you this afternoon to go with your snack. I might have to pop in if you’d have me.”

  “You know we would, Ms. Louisa!” Howie cried, ducking forward and hugging her legs. Turning back to Clara, he said, “It was nice to meet ya. Thanks for letting me see your ice, Ms. Clara.”

  “It was my pleasure, Mr. Howie,” she responded, opening her arms to him.

  He rushed to her, putting his small arms around her. Pure love, she thought, as her heart cracked a little at the thought of him being homeless. When they stepped outside, she turned to Louisa. “Can you tell me anything about Howie’s situation?”

  “Like I was telling Connor, unless we have permission to share someone’s story, we keep things private. All I can say is that he has one determined mother, and we’re doing our part to look after him while she works on getting things going in the right direction.”

  Well, that did it. Seeing this place, these people, made her even more eager to help. “I don’t need to see any more. Louisa, I’m prepared to write you a check today. For a million dollars.”

  Connor had told her to only donate half a million, droning on about the absorptive capacity of nongovernmental organizations. Like she’d never given money to an NGO before.

  Louisa grabbed her by the shoulder, her mouth open. “Did you say a million dollars?”

  Arthur nudged her in the side, his craggy face transformed by a lopsided grin. “Yes, Louisa, she did.”

  Clara could all but hear Connor grinding his teeth as he attempted his own smile. Her nephew certainly didn’t like to be sidelined or ignored. She shot him a look, but suddenly Louisa was jumping up and down like Jill Hale, Arthur’s granddaughter, at a Bieber concert. Clara found herself bouncing in time with the woman.

  “Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Yes! Yes! Yes! Clara… You wonderful woman. No one has ever donated that much at once. This is going to help us get our training program off the ground faster. Oh, Clara, I just want to kiss you.”

  “Not on the mouth,” Arthur said, laughing. “That’s my prerogative.”

  Clara elbowed him. “You idiot. She was only jesting.”

  “No, I’m not.” Louisa kissed her on the cheek and then squeezed her hard enough to make her cough. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m going a little crazy now. But seriously! You just told me you’re writing a check for a million dollars.”

  “Hargreaves will see to it.”

  “Oh, you’re getting a kiss too, Hargreaves,” Louisa said, grabbing him around the waist and leaning on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

  Clara almost laughed at his appalled expression, but Louisa was already turning to Arthur, who had his arms open and waiting for her. “Make it good, Louisa. I’m an old man. I might die any day.”

  Louisa kissed him three times on the cheek and then fell back a few steps, laughing and crying. Connor caught her, anchoring her in place. He watched the scene as a bystander, and Clara wanted to shake him to join in. He’d orchestrated this, hadn’t he? Why wasn’t he enjoying it?

  “Do you have any idea how many people you just helped?” Louisa’s laughter faded and tears trickled down her face. “How many lives you’ve saved? Thank you!”

  Clara found herself wiping her own tears in response. “You are most welcome, my dear. From everything I’ve seen, no one deserves it more.”

  “Louisa, what in the Sam Hill are you shouting about?” a booming masculine voice asked.

  Louisa rushed off, and then she was jumping onto the big black man coming toward them. “That woman just gave us a million dollars!”

  “What?” The man’s head swung in her direction. “No way! Oh, Louisa, honey!”

  They embraced, both of them laughing and crying. Other staffers joined them in the hallway, asking what was going on, and Louisa proceeded to share the news, crying and hugging everyone who arrived on the scene. Soon it was a party, and Clara’s heart swelled in response.

  She’d been aimless for so long. Lonely and alone but for Hargreaves. Now she had a family. She had a beautiful connection with a village in Africa, home to the healing flower Michaela and her fiancé, Boyd, would bring to the world, and now she had this wonderful shelter too. Oh, to be eighty and to finally feel like she was doing something with her life.

  She felt Arthur take her hand. “Well done, my dear.”

  Connor sidled up to them. “You were only supposed to give her a half a million,” he hissed under his breath. “I won’t give you an additional five hundred just because you got all gooey-eyed on the tour.”

  “Like I’d accept it, dear boy,” she said, looking him straight in the eye. “This is my money, and I’m the one giving it to the shelter. You want to play your games, fine. I won’t be a part of that. I believe in what Louisa is doing here, and I hope you’re just as committed. From the way you look at her, I’d say you care. I know you’re going through a tough time right now, and we’re trying to be supportive, but there are more lives at stake than just yours. I hope you know that. Also, I really like Louisa, and given everything I’ve seen today between the two of you, you should think twice about continuing to deceive her.”

  With that, she yanked on Arthur’s hand and propelled him forward to join the celebration. She was hugged and kissed and thanked, and people cried all over her in the best way possible—Arthur and even the inscrutable Hargreaves as well.

  When she looked over to where Connor had been standing, he’d disappeared.

  Chapter 7

  Connor showed up at eight o’clock because he and Louisa had agreed on the time, but he fully expected her to back out. She would still be celebrating with her people, and he couldn’t blame her.

  It wasn’t every day someone waltzed in and gave you a million dollars.

  He wasn’t in a good mood after Clara had up and turned the tables on him. He was supposed to be the one calling the shots. Not her. He’d calculated Louisa’s shelter couldn’t absorb more than half a million in its present form, but had Aunt Clara listened to the expert? No, and that pissed him off. It reminded him of how little control he had over anyone and anything. Connor Merriam wasn’t in charge anymore, and the powerlessness of that made him feel like the sky was falling again.

  Now Louisa would have a whole bunch of money to do numerous things with, and he wanted her to stay focused on the training program. That program would help get homeless people off the streets, which would ultimately make the neighborhood safer for Corey’s family. It was where his plans most aligned with Louisa’s.

  He’d left the shelter, not wanting to be kissed or hugged—or affected. The joyful look Louisa had given him before hugging him as tears rained down her face had given him heartburn.

  It felt like too much.

  Already he was too affected. Little Kendra had made him fall to a knee to reassure her. Howie had charmed him. And Louisa…

  She was dangerous to his emotions, way too open for his well-being. He had a job to do, and he was going to do it. This was supposed to be about making the neighborhood safer for Olivia and her boys. No more, no less. Only now he wanted that for Louisa and all the people she helped. The Kend
ras and Howies of the world shouldn’t be homeless.

  Whenever he was with Louisa, he felt the numbness he’d been trying so hard to achieve shifting under his skin, like car tires sliding dangerously on a snowy highway. Too much emotion, he’d be out of control again—he’d learned his lesson.

  That was what Aunt Clara didn’t understand. She wanted him to be open with Louisa, to tell her the truth, but if he let her in like that, he wouldn’t be able to keep the distance he needed to stay sane.

  “Connor!”

  He turned at the sound of Louisa’s voice. He’d been hovering near the front door, not wanting to seek her out in the dining hall. The more people he met, the less he’d be able to separate himself from what he was doing here.

  “I didn’t have time to change since everything has been so crazy.” She threw her arms around him. “Oh, my God! This has been one of the best days of my life, and I’m so glad you were there with me to see it, although I wish you hadn’t left so abruptly. I looked around for you when my feet found the ground again.”

  His heart wrenched in his chest as her golden eyes met his, her hands patting his chest as if she were still trying to express all the emotion bouncing inside her.

  “I had somewhere to be.” He hated stretching the truth. “Besides, you needed to celebrate with the people who’d made this happen. You and your staff have worked hard for this moment.”

  “We sure have, but having someone else honor that is a miracle, I tell you! Oh, Connor, I’m so happy. You might be going out tonight with the happiest woman on earth. I hope you can handle it.”

  He drew back. “You still want to go out? I wasn’t sure.”

  “Yes, of course!” she said, her eyes practically glowing with joy. “First, I promised and I always honor my promises, and second, because I want to party. Gosh, I might even do shots tonight. Is that crazy? Or order a bottle of champagne. That’s more celebratory, right?”

  Her joy and openness made him feel like he was on black ice, and he feared he was going to take a hard fall at her feet. “If you want to celebrate with your colleagues or family and friends, I totally understand. As you said, it’s a big day.”