A Time to Forgive. Marta Perry

to force a smile. “It’s irrelevant, in any event. My mother-in-law chose you from all the people who answered her ad. She must have been satisfied with your ability to do what she wants.”

      “You’ve talked with her, then.” She couldn’t imagine that conversation.

      “Yes.” His lips tightened. “She’s very enthusiastic about this project.”

      She might as well say what they both knew. “But you’re not.”

      He shrugged. “Let’s just say you caught me by surprise today and leave it at that. All right?”

      There was more to it, but she wasn’t in any position to argue. Not if the battle she’d anticipated was unnecessary.

      “All right. I hope I can come up with a design that pleases both of you.”

      His gaze lingered on her face, as if he assessed her. She steeled herself not to look away from that steady gaze.

      He frowned. “My mother-in-law has asked me to take care of all the details about this project.”

      “I see.” She kept her voice noncommittal. “So you’ll be supervising my work.”

      “I would in any event, since I’m chair of the church’s buildings and grounds committee.”

      This wasn’t any ordinary church business they were talking about, but a memorial to his late wife. She had to show a little more tact.

      “Perhaps you’d like to take with you some of my designs.” She put the folder in his hand. “They might give you an idea of what would best memorialize your wife.”

      He dropped the folder, spilling photos onto the table. “No. Not now. Pastor Wells and I feel it best if you do the repair work first.”

      She stifled the argument that sprang to her lips. “Of course.” She could only hope she sounded accommodating. “But I’ll need to have some idea of what you want.”

      “Later.” His tone didn’t leave any room for argument. “We’ll talk about it later.”

      The customer is always right, she reminded herself. Even when he’s wrong.

      “I’ll start the analysis of the existing windows tomorrow then.”

      “I can be reached at the boatyard if you need me.” He took a quick step away from the table, and she suspected only his innate courtesy kept him there at all.

      “Mr. Caldwell, I…” What could she say? “I’m glad you’ve decided to go ahead with the project.”

      “It’s my mother-in-law’s project, not mine.” Again she had the sense of strong emotion, forced down behind his pleasant, polite facade. “We’ll both have to try and make her happy with it.” He held out his hand, and she put hers into it. “Welcome to Caldwell Cove, Ms. Marlowe.”

      His firm grasp had as much ability to flutter her pulse now as when she’d been fifteen. Her smile faltered.

      Don’t be stupid, she lectured herself. The man means nothing to you. He never did.

      Now if she could just convince herself of that, she might get through her second encounter with Adam Caldwell a little better than she had the first.

      Chapter Two

      At least Adam hadn’t shown up yet with another reason she should leave the island and forget this project, Tory thought as she studied the church’s east window the next morning. She half expected to hear his step behind her, but nothing broke the stillness.

      She’d had an early breakfast at the inn, a place that seemed overly full of Caldwell cousins, all curious about her project. Then she’d hurried through the village of Caldwell Cove to the church, eager to begin but half-afraid she’d find another Caldwell waiting for her.

      Adam had given in, she reminded herself. He’d agreed to his mother-in-law’s proposal. So why did his attitude still bother her?

      His face formed in her mind—easy smile, strong jaw, eyes filled with integrity. He had a face anyone would trust.

      But Tory had seen the flash of feeling in his eyes every time the memorial to his late wife was mentioned. She hadn’t identified the emotion yet, but she knew it was somehow out of place.

      Lila Caldwell had died four years ago. One would expect to see sorrow on her husband’s face at the mention of her name. The feeling that darkened Adam’s eyes was something much stronger than sadness.

      Maybe the pastor and Miranda had it right. Perhaps Adam had loved his beautiful wife so dearly he still couldn’t bear to discuss her. If so, that made her job more difficult.

      The next time she saw him, she had to confront the subject. It was all very well to say she could begin with the repair work, but she should be working on the design for the new window. She had to get him to talk to her about it.

      She moved up the stepladder to touch the intricate detail of the twined floral border around the window of Jesus and the children. Someone with pride in his craftsmanship and love for his subject had done that, choosing flowers to echo the children’s faces instead of a more traditional symbol. A hundred years from now, she hoped someone might touch a window she’d created and think the same.

      I can do this, can’t I? She looked at the pictured face, longing for the love she saw there welling inside her. Please, Lord, let me create something worthy of this place.

      If she did… How hard it was not to let self-interest creep in, even when she was planning something to God’s glory. But she knew that success here could establish her business. For the first time since she was fifteen, she wouldn’t have to scrape for every penny. She’d be able to pay her mother’s final expenses and get a suitable stone to mark her grave. And she’d never have to rely on anyone else again.

      The wooden outside door creaked. Tory’s grip on the ladder tightened as she listened for Adam’s confident tread. Instead, the patter of running feet broke the stillness. She turned.

      The little girl scampering toward her had a tumble of light brown curls and a confident smile. A bright green cast on her wrist peeped out from the sleeve of a sunny yellow dress. She skidded to a stop perilously close to the ladder, and Tory jumped down.

      “Hey, take it easy.” She reached a steadying hand toward the child. “You don’t want to add another cast to your collection, do you?”

      The child smiled at her. Sunlight through stained glass crossed her face, and Tory saw that the cast matched her eyes. “I fell off the swing and broke my wrist,” she said.

      “You jumped off the swing.” Adam’s words quickly drew Tory’s gaze to where he stood in the doorway. With the sun behind him, Tory couldn’t see his expression, but she heard the smile in his voice. “And you’re not going to do that again, are you, Jenny?”

      This was his daughter, then, Tory’s employer’s granddaughter. Jenny needs this memorial to her mother. Mrs. Telforth’s words echoed in her mind. She does.

      The emphasis had seemed odd at the time. It still did.

      Jenny sent her father an impish grin, then turned to Tory. “I got to be off school all morning to get my cast checked. Did you ever break anything?”

      Adam reached the child and clasped her shoulders in a mock-ferocious grip. He was dressed a little more formally today than the night before, exchanging his khakis for dark trousers and a cream shirt. “Jenny, sugar, that’s a personal question. You shouldn’t ask Ms. Tory that when you don’t even know her.”

      His daughter looked at him, brow wrinkling. “But, Daddy, that’s how I’ll get to know her.”

      Tory’s lips twitched, as much at Adam’s expression as the child’s words. “I think she’s got you there.” She bent to hold out her hand to Adam’s little girl. “Hi, I’m Tory. Yes, I broke