A British Bride by Agreement (24 page)

“Hey, Em.”
Had she
forgiven him for leaving her in Belize? “I was just thinking about you and I
wondered if you could meet me for dinner at…”

Geraldine stood in the doorway holding a
stack of files.

“At that new French restaurant…” His
mind went blank. He shot a glance at Geraldine and mouthed the word,
help
.

“A La Mode,” Geraldine whispered.

“A La Mode.
I hope you can
make it. I’d love to…” He paused as Geraldine leaned in with a soft expression
on her face.

“See you there at seven p.m.”

A broad grin spread across her mouth. “I
never thought I’d see you in love.”

“I’m not—” He shuffled the papers on his
desk.

Her brow furrowed.

He didn’t know it was showing. “I’m not
working late tonight.”

***

Emma sat and idly pulled the petals off
the red rose in the vase until a waiter at the French restaurant came and stood
beside her. “Oh,” she looked up. Heat filled her cheeks. She scooped up the
petals and tried to shove them into the vase. What was she doing?

With a sniff, he reached down and took
the vase off the table. “I will bring you another madam.”

“Not necessary.” Emma shifted her gaze
to her hands.
Pull yourself together,
Duckie.

“Can I bring you something else to
drink?”

“An iced tea—” She paused. “I mean,
another Steller Plum soda, diet please.”

“Of course.”

Emma glanced at her watch again.
Jonathan was a half an hour late. She gripped her hands on her lap. Just as
well. She was a nervous wreck all day today, trying to work up the cheek to
tell him what she had done with the decorating money. Maybe that’s why he
hadn’t come. Had he found out and been so cross he couldn’t face her?

Probably, just
more of his long hours at the office.
She understood his new job required
overtime, but a call would have been nice. She huffed out a breath and took a
sip of her water. Working alongside Jonathan had given her a whole new view of
him. She was in awe of his determined character and his relentless dedication
to the success of the charity. But since they’d come back, he’d again buried
himself in work. If only they could spend more time together, then she could
handle his desire to climb the corporate ladder.

A knot burned in her stomach. Had he
forgotten about their special date? She started to dig for her cell phone,
somewhere in the bottom of her purse. She paused. No. She wouldn’t remind him.
He either cared about her or he didn’t, and by his constant indifference, she
was beginning to wonder. Was she daft to hope this marriage could be more than
a deal to further his career? And when he found out about the money she’d sent
to England, would he regret marrying her?

***

Perspiration had soaked through
Jonathan’s suit coat. He shifted in the conference room chair and glanced at
the clock again.
A half an hour late for his special date
with Emma.
The FBI agent’s voice penetrated Jonathan’s frustrated
thoughts. “Huh?”

The man tapped his pen on his pad. “I
asked if you talked with the man in Belize before you sent him the
money?
”

“Many times.”

“And you didn’t recognize his voice when
you talked with the flood relief organization in Pakistan?”

“Did you know he was running a Ponzi
Scheme
?”

“No.” Jonathan shook his head. His
stomach knotted. He’d failed again. He shot a glance at his father, whose
furrowed brow revealed his displeasure. “No, I had no idea this was the same
man and what he was up to.”

The agent wrote feverishly “How much did
you send him in total?”

 
“Fifty thousand.”
Jonathan dropped his gaze.

“How many times has this charity been
swindled this year?”

Jonathan sank lower in his chair. Never
had he felt so beaten. His life, from sports to academics, to relationships, to
making money, had always been wildly successful. But ever since being jilted at
the altar, it was like he was cursed. God, what are
You
doing? The only bright spot in his life was Emma who was probably by now on her
way home furious with him for not calling or showing up.
“Three
times.”

His father’s eyes widened. “Three?”

Jonathan’s mouth bobbed for a moment as
he sought a feasible answer for not reporting yet another problem. “Hillsdale
House.”

He father leaned forward. “Hillsdale
House? We’ve supported that program for years. How could it—”

“The director, Kevin Gibbs was caught
selling drugs to the residents. He’d even recruited a few to become a part of a
drug ring.” Jonathan steeled himself for the next question.

“And who hired him?” The agent asked.

Nick did, but as his boss, he should
have done the second interview and approved him. “I did.” Jonathan swallowed,
wanting to disappear into the floor.

“That will be all, Mr. Steller.” The
agent handed his business card to Jonathan. “We appreciate your cooperation. If
you could stay in the country for the next month or two, we may call on you again
to help with the further investigation of this crime network.”

Jonathan ran his hand across his face.
Now his father would move him to the mailroom for sure. “No problem.”

As the agent left the boardroom,
Jonathan shot a glance at the clock again. By now, Emma must hate him for not
even calling her.
“Just a minute, Dad.”
He turned on
his cell phone.
Dead.
A wave of anger rolled through
him. Where
are
You God? And what was the use? The
damage had been done to his relationship with her. If he was in her shoes he’d
leave himself.
Yet another failure at his feet.
He
stood to go and find another phone when his father touched his arm.

“This charity business is harder than
you thought?”

Jonathan squinted at his dad’s
understanding look. “I haven’t given up if that’s what you mean?”

“The measure of a man is not if he fails
at something, it’s what he does after that.”

Jonathan’s gaze followed his father as
he paced out of the room. Then why did his father constantly remind him of all
his failures?
His brother’s death.
This
move from Product Development, his lack of producing a grandchild on time.
Jonathan rubbed the back of his neck. Nothing that he thought would move him
forward in his career had worked out. And how could he maintain a faith in a
God who let him down at every turn?

 
***

The next morning, Jonathan sat in the
breakfast room toying with his eggs and bacon.

Emma walked into the room. Her face pale
as she sat. “Where were—”

At the same time, he said, “I was—”

Just then the maid came in. “Here’s your
tea, Mrs. Steller.

“Thank you.” Emma sat down and poured
her tea, but her hands were shaking.

As soon as the maid left them, he sat
down, reached over, and took Emma’s hand. “Em, I owe you an apology. I should
have called last night.”

“What happened?”

“I—I,” he paused. He wouldn’t tell her
how badly things had gotten at the charity. Or that he FBI was involved. He
pulled back and turned his attention to his food. He had to ask her about the
money, but first he had to dig out of the doghouse. “I got delayed in a very
important meeting. My father may soon, someday, be heading toward retirement,
so when he summons me to a meeting I have to go.”

“Could you not have called?” Her voice
was quiet.

“Dead cell
phone.”
He tossed it on the table.

She stood. “Then hire a helicopter to
drop gold coins with the message that you can’t make it inscribed on the
front.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You could buy AT&T. There is no
excuse for not calling.”

“I couldn’t leave the meeting to call
you.”

“It’s all about priorities. I’m just
lower on the list than your job.”

He glanced up at her fiery green eyes.
He wanted to pursue her, to share with her that he couldn’t stop thinking about
her, not drive her away.

“I’m sorry.” Emma brushed her blonde
bangs out of her eyes as she sat down. “I know you’ve taken on this new
position and you want to please your father.” She let out a long sigh. “This
whole lifestyle…I just never thought I’d live this way again.”

He put his toast down.
His appetite gone.
She’d never liked this way of life. “Just
because this prosperous lifestyle is new to you—”

“It’s not new. I’ve grown up in wealth.
To at least the appearance of great wealth.”

He gripped his fork and softened his
tone. “Yes, God has blessed the Steller family, but that’s the reason for the
charity— to give back.” He sounded like his father. “Wealth is a gift from God
and I’m determined to change to honor Him with what He has given us.” By the
sound of his words, he realized he did have faith in the Lord. God was changing
him.

“I’m sorry, but you could have called. I
needed to talk to you.” Tears glittered in her green eyes.

He grabbed her hands. “Forgive me?”

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

The money she sent to England? Was she
so unhappy that she wanted to leave him? “There are things I want to tell you,
too.”

“What did you want to tell me?” she
asked.

He pulled away and ran his fingers
through his hair. Fear and longing tangled up inside of him. “The FBI came and
asked me a few questions about the charity.”

“The FBI?”

“That’s why I couldn’t call you. We’ve
come in contact with some con artists who are swindling charities out of money
with phony relief organizations and the FBI wanted to talk to me about it.”

She stilled.
Her face
white.
“Do they know what country they’re from?”

“Mostly India.”

Her shoulders relaxed. “I’m sorry to
hear that.”

He led her to sit down. “I also wanted
to ask you about…” his gaze searched the bare room. How could he ask her
outright about the missing money without sounding as if he was accusing her?
“The decorating.
How’s it going?”

She swallowed.
“Fine.”

He looked around the sparse room that
held only a table and six chairs. “Have you ordered the furniture yet?”

Her gaze fell. “I—I —”

Was she not planning to stay long enough
to need furniture? Is that why she sent the money to England? “I’m sure it will
look great.”

“If you don’t like what I’ve done so
far...”

Frustration simmered hot under his
collar. Why had he allowed himself to be vulnerable with her? To tell himself
that she cared for him? “It would be nice to have some more furniture. We’ve
been back from Munich for a month now.”

“Decorating isn’t that easy especially
when I’m required to employ the decorator that the Stellers always use.”

Did she despise his family as well as
him? “What’s wrong with Franz?”

“Just because the Stellers like his
weird
tastes,
doesn’t mean I have to.”

Hot white disappointment crushed him.
She never really wanted to marry him. She must have done it because she had no
other choice. “He decorated the home I grew up in.”

“Exactly, in early Bavarian.” Emma
straightened her posture. “And I don’t happen to like deer antlers and
furniture that looks like lederhosen.”

“Don’t insult my family’s choices.”
Jonathan rose and snatched his briefcase from the end of the table. “I’ve got
to go into the office today—”

“But it’s Saturday.”

Regret weighed heavily on him. How could
he explain, he had to succeed at this charity, otherwise he’d be stuck there
forever.
“Just for a few hours.
I’ll see you at the
Lindberg dinner tonight.”

She scowled.
“If
you’re lucky.”

***

Emma paced the covered deck off the
family room and shivered in the early fall air. She couldn’t believe how
horrible she’d acted this morning, but she couldn’t tell him what she’d done with
the decorating money—he’d already been swindled by con artists. If she told him
the whole story about why she sent the funds, he’d never care for her. At least
in his anger, he’d forgotten to ask her what she wanted to tell him.

 
If she only had some money of her own, then
she could buy all the furnishing for their wing and Jonathan wouldn’t need to
know what she had done. Should she pray about this? Maybe ask God what to do?
Was this
apple of His eye
all her
imagination?