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“Does the director usually work in the evenings?”
Lana laughed, a lighthearted chuckle. “You don’t know the man. It’s all about the mission, all the time.” The smile slowly faded from her face. “I know he feels at home here, and we could never survive without him, but I wish...”
Calista waited for the end of the sentence, but Lana seemed to have thought better about what she was going to say. She regarded Grant, deep in conversation with the young man, and a line appeared between her brows.
“You’re afraid he’ll wake up one day and wished he’d put more time into his own life, something apart from the mission?”
“Exactly.” She appraised Calista with a steady eye. “You’re good at reading people.”
“I suppose I know what that feels like. And you’re right, it’s no fun.” Calista dropped her eyes to the desk, wondering what it was about this place that made her feel she could be honest. She wasn’t the CEO here, she was just a woman who had lost her place in the world.
She turned back to her paperwork and said, “I can find my way to the cafeteria—”
The end of her sentence was lost in the explosion of noise that accompanied a horde of children entering the lobby. They seemed to all be talking at once, the polished lobby floor magnifying the sounds of their voices to astounding levels. Just when Calista decided there was no one in charge of the swirling group of small people, two young women came through the entryway. One was short and very young, with a thick braid over her shoulder. The other was a powerfully built middle-aged woman with a wide face and large pale eyes. They were both wearing the mission’s khaki pants and red polos under their open coats. They were laughing about something, not concerned in the least that their charges were heading straight for the director.
“Mr. Monohan!” A small girl with bright pink sunglasses yelled out the greeting as she raced across the remaining lobby space. She didn’t slow down until she made contact with his leg, wrapping her arms around it like she was drowning. He didn’t even teeter under the full impact of the flying body, just reached down and laid a large hand on the girl’s messy curls.
A huge smile creased his face and Calista’s mouth fell open at the transformation. He was a good-looking man, but add in a dash of pure joy and he was breathtaking. She tore her gaze away and met Lana’s laughing eyes behind the desk. Of course, the secretary would think it was hilarious how women fell all over themselves in his presence. Calista gathered up the papers with a snap, when she realized she was surrounded. A sea of waist-high kids had engulfed them, with the two women slowly bringing up the rear.
She sidled a glance at Grant, hoping he would tell them to clear out and let her through. But he was busy greeting one child after another. How he could tell them apart enough to learn their names was really beyond her. They just seemed an endless mass of noise and motion, a whirl of coats and bright mittens.
“Miss Sheffield, this is Lissa Handy and Michelle Guzman. They take the preschoolers down the block to the city park for an hour every day.” He was still mobbed by coats and children calling his name, but his voice cut through the babble.
Calista raised one hand in greeting, trapped against the desk, but only Michelle waved back. Lissa seemed to be sizing up the new girl.
She stood with her arms folded over her chest, unmoving. But Michelle reached out and touched her on the shoulder. “It’s wonderful to have new volunteers,” she said, her voice warm and raspy, as if she spent too much time trying to get the kids’ attention. She smelled like fresh air and snow, and Calista smiled back. Her clear blue eyes reminded her of Mrs. Allen, her third-grade teacher. That kindhearted woman had given her confidence a boost when she was just like these little people.
“I don’t know how you keep them all from escaping. It must be like herding squirrels.”
Michelle laughed, a full-throated sound that came from deep inside. “You’re right. The key is to give them some incentive. They head to the park okay, and then I tell them we’re coming back, but Mr. Monohan will be here. Easy as pie.”
Calista glanced back at Grant, his wide shoulders hunched over a little girl who was excitedly describing something that needed lots of hand waving. He was nodding, his face the picture of rapt attention.
“He seems really good with the kids. Does he have any of his own?” She suddenly wished she could snatch the words back out of the air, especially since it was followed by a snort from Lissa.
Michelle ignored her partner’s nonverbal comment. “No, he’s never been married. I keep telling him he needs to find someone special and settle down. He was one of the youngest directors the mission had ever had when he started here, but this place can take over your life if you let it.”
“But that’s what he wants, so don’t stick your nose in.” So, Lissa did have a voice. A young, snarky voice, coming from a sullen face. She flipped her dark braid off her shoulder and stuck her hands in her pockets. Calista wondered how old Lissa was, probably not more than nineteen. Just the age when a girl might fall in love for the first time.
“You’ll understand when you’re older, Lissa. But there’s more to life than work, even if your work is filled with people like ours is here,” Michelle said.
Lissa’s face turned dark and threatening, like a storm cloud. “You always say stuff like that. I don’t think my age has anything to do with my brain.”
Spoken like a true teenager. Calista tried to smooth ruffled feathers. “Michelle’s right that everyone needs a family or friends separate from work.” Lissa’s face twisted like she was ready to pour on the attitude. Calista hurried to finish her thought. “But not everybody is happiest being married, with a family. Like me. I don’t think it would be fair to have a boyfriend when my work takes up so much of my time.”
Lissa’s eyebrows came up a little and she shrugged.
“But I could always use more friends.” That last part was a gamble, but Lissa seemed to accept it at face value. She relaxed a bit, the smile creeping back into her eyes.
“Don’t know why you’d be looking for friends at this place, though.”
Michelle gave Lissa a squeeze around the shoulders. “Come on, you found me here, right?” Lissa responded with an eye roll, but Calista could tell the young woman appreciated the hug and being called a friend.
“Fine, but we got enough pretty people in here slumming it for the holidays. We don’t need any more.”
“I can wear a bag over my face, if that helps.”
Lissa let out a surprised laugh. “Yeah, you do that. Maybe you’ll start a trend.”
“Maybe so.” Calista took one more glance back and started to laugh. Grant had a pair of bright pink sunglasses on his face and the kids were howling with laughter. Parents had started to show up to collect their children and they acted as if the scene wasn’t unusual at all.
“Those are Savannah’s glasses. She never goes anywhere without them. He’s sure got a silly side,” Michelle said, chuckling. “But you’d never know it at first glance.”
No, you wouldn’t. Not with that frown and the serious gaze. As if he could feel her looking at him, Grant glanced up and she saw the smile slip from his face. Calista felt her heart sink. Then again, she wasn’t here to get a boyfriend or find true love. She was here because her life had become a self-centered whirlpool of ambition, with her swirling around at the bottom like a piece of driftwood.
Grant seemed to come to some kind of decision. He waded through the kids until he was standing next to them. “Miss Sheffield, it’s almost lunchtime. Why don’t you come in for something to eat and then I can introduce you to the kitchen staff?”
Calista darted a glance at Lissa. The teen probably thought Calista had been angling for an invitation all along. But she couldn’t resist jumping at the chance to get to know this man better. She nodded quickly and he turned toward the far side of the lobby.
“Is there a kid version of catnip? If there is, you must be stuffing your pockets with it.”
“Nope, I just listen to them. It’s funny how many people forget that kids need someone to hear them,” he said, his words serious, but a grin spread over his features.
At that moment, as they stood smiling at each other, the other side of the cafeteria door swung open and nearly knocked Calista off her feet.
“Watch out! You shouldn’t stand in front of the door,” an old man shouted at her as she stumbled, struggling to regain her balance.
“Duane, please keep your voice down.” Calista could tell Grant was angry, maybe by the way his voice had gone very quiet and dropped an octave or two. “Are you all right?” He reached out and rubbed her left shoulder, which had taken the brunt of the impact.
She nodded slowly, distracted less by the pain than by the warmth of his hand. “Fine, not a problem.” Meeting the old man’s eyes, she was surprised to see such animosity reflected there. “I’m sorry I was standing behind the door.” When both sides were at fault, it was always best to be the first to offer an apology.
But if she was hoping for reciprocation, it didn’t come. He blinked, one eye milky-white while the other was a hazy-blue, and sniffed. “You’re still standing here and I gotta get through.”
Calista moved to the side immediately and let him pass. As they walked through the doors into the full dining hall, she glanced back at Grant. “Off to a good start, don’t you think?”
Again that warm chuckle. She could get used to hearing that sound, even if she couldn’t get used to the way it ran shivers up her spine.
“I think we’re off to a great start,” he said, and something in his tone made her look up. His smile made her heart jump into her throat and he stepped near. Although she knew the whole cafeteria was watching behind them, she couldn’t tear her gaze from his.
Calista watched those blue eyes come closer, her heart pounding in her chest. Her brain seemed to have shorted out somewhere between the shoulder rub and the chuckle.
Grant leaned forward, his gaze locked on hers, and then he looked directly behind her. “Scan it twice, please. She doesn’t have her guest pass yet.”
Calista blinked and turned to see him holding out a security badge with a small photo in the middle. A pretty young woman sitting at a small table took the badge without comment and passed it twice through a card reader. Her dark eyes flicked up and down Calista’s outfit, then handed Grant the security badge.
“We use visitor passes to keep track of how many meals are served,” he explained.
“I see,” she said in a bright tone, but clenched her jaw at her own stupidity. Was she so lonely that any good-looking
man caused her brain to shut down? Did she think he was leaning over to kiss her, in the doorway of the mission dining hall? She was so angry at herself that she wanted to stomp out the door. Except she had vowed to do something useful. Which did not include mooning over the director.
She stood for a moment and gazed around at the dining hall. It was much bigger than the lobby and had an assortment of elderly, teens, women, men and what seemed like a hundred babies crying in unison. The noise was horrible but the smell wasn’t bad, not even close to what she remembered from “mystery casserole” day in grade school. The rich scent of coffee, buttery rolls, eggs, sausages and something sweet she couldn’t identify made her mouth water.
“I haven’t eaten with this many people since college.” She peered around. “Is there a cool kids’ table?”
He grinned. “Sure there is, but I don’t sit there.” He led her forward to the long line of glass-fronted serving areas. “Here are the hot dishes. We try to keep it as low-fat as possible. Over there—” he pointed to a wall that held row after row of cereal dispensers “—are the cold cereals and bowls. The drinks are self-serve, at the end of the row. Milk, juice, coffee, tea, hot chocolate. We don’t serve soda anymore.”
Calista nodded. “I see that trend a lot.”
“In schools? I’m sorry. I didn’t catch what you do.”
“I’m the CEO of VitaWow.” She felt her cheeks heat a little at the words and was surprised. She was proud of her job, of how she’d turned the company into a national brand. But standing here, in this place, it didn’t seem as important.
She watched his eyes widen a little. “I’ve heard good things about your company. Didn’t the city honor VitaWow with a business award?”
“Best of the best.” She liked saying the words, and couldn’t help the small smile. “I’m proud of our product and our commitment to health. But I also care about our employees. We have excellent benefits and give every employee a free pass to Denver’s biggest fitness center.”
He smiled, and she was struck once more by the difference it made. He seemed like a friend, the kind she wished she had.
Calista nodded.
“Our main goal is to provide a safe place where people can fill their spiritual needs. But we also want to make sure the people have healthy food that gives them a good start to the day.”
He lifted a tray from the stack and handed it to her. “I don’t recommend the hash browns but the breakfast burritos aren’t too bad.”
“I like having a food guide.” A quick peek at the hash browns supported his opinion. They were soggy and limp. The metal serving dish was full, proving the rest of the cafeteria avoided them, too.
He moved down the line behind her, sliding his tray along the counter. “If that’s a job offer, I have to warn you that I have great benefits here. Unlimited overtime, my own coffee machine, a corner office with a wonderful view of the parking lot.”
Calista couldn’t help laughing as she spooned a bit of scrambled egg onto her tray. “Sounds like my job, except I have a view of the roof of the building next door. And lots of pigeons to keep me company.”
A short, wiry woman smiled at him as he reached for a biscuit. “Mr. Monohan, is good to see you having breakfast. You have to eat and keep strong.” Her softly curling hair was covered by a hairnet and she wore a brightly colored apron that was missing one large pocket in the front.
“Marisol, this is Calista Sheffield. She’s a new volunteer.”
Calista hoped the emotion that flickered over the lined face was curiosity, and not skepticism. “We can always use more of those, eh, Mr. Monohan?” The thick accent was a bit like Jose’s but more lyrical, as if she was more used to singing than speaking.
“We sure can. When are you going to cook me some of your arroz con pollo? I’ve been dreaming of it all week.”
Marisol beamed with pleasure. “Anytime, Mr. Monohan, anytime. You tell me and I cook you a big dinner. Maybe you bring a friend, too? How ’bout that nice Jennie girl?”
Calista studied the biscuit on her tray, wishing she couldn’t hear this conversation.
“Sadly, Mari, I don’t think there’s much future for us,” Grant said, sounding not at all sad about it.
“Oh, no.” She wagged her finger over the glass case at him. “You let her get away. I told you, she’s a nice girl and you work too much.” She seemed honestly grieved by this new development.
“You wouldn’t want me to be with the wrong girl, would you, Marisol? And she wasn’t right for me.” Calista glanced at him and could tell Grant was trying not to laugh, his lips quirked up on one side.
“But how you know that when you only see her once or twice? You work all the time and the girl decides you don’t like her. That’s what happened.” She was giving him a glare that any kid would recognize from the “mom look.”
“No, I made time for her. But it just didn’t work out.” He smiled, trying to convey his sincerity but Marisol was not budging. Finally, he sighed. “I don’t want to gossip, but I’ll tell you something she said.”
“Go ahead,” Marisol dared him, frowning. Calista couldn’t imagine how long it was going to take to convince this little Hispanic woman that Grant hadn’t done Jennie wrong.
“She said I was too religious.”
Calista felt her eyes widen, a perfect mirror to Marisol’s own expression. They both stared at Grant, disbelieving.
“Oh, Mr. Monohan. That’s bad. Very bad.” Her eyes were sad as she shrugged. “Because you don’t drink? Did you tell that girl your mama drink herself to death?”
“It wasn’t that. And I never told her about my mother.” His words were light, with no hint of anger. He could have told Marisol to zip it, but he looked more amused than anything.
“Well, good thing she’s gone. You tell me when you want me to cook. Maybe I bring my niece, that pretty one? She’s in college and wants to be a social worker!”
Calista bit back a laugh at how quickly Marisol had let go of Jennie as Grant’s future wife.
“Thanks, I will.” Grant nodded at Calista and she figured it was safe to move on.
They got glasses of orange juice and he chose a table near the entrance. As they settled on either side of the long table, he extended his hand to her, palm up.
She stared for a moment, uncomprehending, then remembered how her sister, Elaine, always held hands with her husband as they said grace before meals. It had made Calista uncomfortable a few years ago but she felt her heart warm in her chest now. She placed her hand in his and bowed her head. The steady strength of his fingers sent a thrill of joy through her. He spoke simple words of thanks and asked God’s blessing on their day.
He let go of her hand and she put it in her lap, feeling strangely lonely without the pressure of his hand.
“Did she really say you were too religious?”
“I wouldn’t lie about that,” Grant said, grinning. He paused, as if choosing his words. “And I’m sorry about Marisol. Too much information on your first day, right? But she doesn’t mean any harm. She thinks everyone will accept people for who they are, not holding the sins of their parents against them.”
Calista dropped her gaze to her tray. She’d worked hard to reinvent herself from a poor girl from a tiny Southern town, the one with a mean father and a dead mother, into a polished and beautiful businesswoman. But there was only so far you could run from yourself. Then it was all about facing your fears and being bigger than your past. She was ready to be what God intended her to be, no matter how crazy it seemed to everyone else.
Chapter Two
“You don’t seem very upset about losing your girlfriend.”
He took a sip of his orange juice and paused, a small line between his brows. “You know that moment, when you’re not sure exactly which way to go, when opposite choices are equally attractive?”
“Of course.” She hated that moment. The indecision nearly killed her.
“That was how I felt about Jennie. She was smart, caring, made good conversation. Everybody thought we’d be a great couple.”
Calista groaned and he raised his eyebrows in question. “Every time a friend tells me that I’d be great with someone, I know it’s doomed.” Jackie, her assistant, never tired of setting her up. It was always a disaster and Jackie always enjoyed the dramatic story the day after. Which made Calista wonder if she picked the men for her own amusement.
Grant laughed out loud and nodded. “Maybe I should have known, but my best friend, Eric, set us up. Well, he brought her in to volunteer and he knew we’d hit it off.”
Calista took a bite of her biscuit and chewed thoughtfully. Eric thought they’d hit it off because they were so alike, or because Grant went for pretty volunteers? The idea that she was sitting in a spot where twenty other girls had been made her heart sink.
“She’s an attorney and spends most of her time as a prosecutor for the city’s worst abuse cases. She also handles some family law, but mostly fights for the weakest of our residents. He knew I’d appreciate her passion for protecting vulnerable kids.”
The buttery biscuit turned to ashes in her mouth. Grant would certainly not appreciate her own passion for building a vitamin-water empire. There was nothing admirable about getting folks to pay a lot of money for something that didn’t really make them any healthier.
“And I really did—I mean, I do—think she does a great job. But we just didn’t seem to connect.” His voice trailed off and he took a bite of scrambled egg. “But I knew that before she told me I was too religious, so it only made it easier to leave it at being friends.”
Calista took a sip of her juice and pondered his words. Elaine told her once that if a man wasn’t in contact with any of his ex-girlfriends, then he was a bitter and spiteful person. So, maybe staying friends with Jennie was good.
“I’m just wondering...” She shook her head, trying to formulate her thoughts. He watched her, waiting. “Why did she say that? Was it something you did? Or said? I don’t want to pry, but it’s an odd comment. Don’t you think?”
He grinned at her and she felt her brain go fuzzy around the edges. “Not odd at all. Most people consider anything more than a passing gesture to be too much. Sunday service is okay. Giving up a big promotion because God is calling you in another direction is not. Saying a blessing before eating is fine. Praying for your future spouse is not.”
Calista paused, her fork halfway to her mouth. “Future spouse? What does that kind of prayer sound like, if I can ask?”
He shrugged a little. “Uh, I don’t usually focus on that, since I have bigger fish to fry. But let me think. I usually pray for her health and safety, for her to grow in God’s grace.”
Her fork was still poised above her tray. She hadn’t spent much time praying in the past ten years, but if she had, it wouldn’t have been for anyone else. It would have been for herself. Was there a man praying for her right now? One she’d never met, but who cared for her already? She dropped her gaze as the thought brought sudden tears to her eyes. Could she be loved and not even know it yet?
“That sounds weird to you,” he said lightly, but she heard the hint of something in his voice, maybe disappointment.
“No, not weird.” She looked up at him. “It’s beautiful. I’d never thought of it before, praying for your future spouse.”
“Really?” He sounded surprised.
“Really. I’m pretty new to this.” She waved a hand between their trays, meaning the blessing. He frowned, trying to understand. “Blessing your food, asking for direction in your life.”
He nodded. “How new? Like, today new?”
She laughed. “Not that new!”
He grinned back at her, his broad shoulders relaxing a little. She wished she could tell him that there were years of prayer behind her, that she was a seasoned Christian. But she was practically a newborn, trying to understand what God’s will was in her life.
“New enough.” She sighed. “It’s a long story but I grew up in a place that was less about the truth and more about what made a good show.”
His eyes were sad as he searched her face. “That could be anywhere. I think once pride gets center stage, God’s truth is hard to hear over the noise.”
She nodded, thinking it through. “You’re right. It’s probably a pretty common thing. But I let it get between me and God for a long time.”
“But not anymore.” Grant’s eyes were soft, his biscuit forgotten in his hand.
“No,” she said, unable to keep her smile from spreading as she gazed back. “Not anymore.”
* * *
Calista slipped out the mission’s door into the mid-November chill. She had been so nervous about volunteering that she had forgotten her coat and gloves in the car, but now she felt the wind whip through her expensive sweater. Tucking her hands in her pockets with a shiver, Calista glanced up at the snow-covered Rocky Mountains. It was hard enough to be homeless in the winter, but it was downright deadly in Denver.
She walked to the secure parking behind the mission, hardly noticing the people passing her on the sidewalk. Her mind was full to bursting and she struggled to squelch the feelings Grant brought to the surface. She’d told Lissa the truth; she was way too busy to date and it never worked out anyway. No guy wanted to be known as “Calista Sheffield’s boyfriend” instead of by his own name. There were very few men her age who earned more than her or had more power. The ones who were eager to take on the role were only interested in the boost it gave their own business reputations.