Angels Everywhere - Debbie Macomber [175]
Mercy was proud of her efforts and grateful someone had noticed. She tucked her thumbs in her waistband and rocked back on her heels. “You’re darn tootin’ I brought Trey LaRue to town.”
“She’s been hanging around cowpokes again,” Goodness whispered out of the side of her mouth. “She’s starting to talk just like one of ’em. The next thing we know she’ll be wearing a buckle as big as a chastity belt and bragging about her rat-chasing dog.”
“Not me,” Mercy contradicted. “I’ve been too busy arranging Trey’s trip east. I found he isn’t as susceptible to suggestion as some humans are, especially schoolteachers and young Jewish women—if you catch my drift. I had my work cut out just getting him to New York. Must’ve taken three or four people suggesting he visit Jenny for him to take the hint.”
Goodness frowned and apparently didn’t take Mercy’s words kindly.
“But look what happened to Jenny while you were away,” Shirley commented glumly. “She’s sick. My goodness, the poor girl looks wretched.”
“That couldn’t be helped.” There was only so much one angel could do, and no one seemed to appreciate Mercy’s efforts on this assignment. Least of all her two best friends.
“Has Jenny told him the truth yet?” Goodness asked, making herself comfortable. She usually preferred to dangle from light fixtures, but not in these tight quarters. “She isn’t going to be able to keep it from him, is she?”
“Not now,” Mercy agreed. It wouldn’t do any good to remind her companions that she could lead a horse to water, but she couldn’t make him saddle himself. She paused. Was that how the saying went? She’d heard some smart-talkin’ fellow in Montana say something along those lines, and at the time it had made perfect sense.
“What’s this I heard about Jenny’s brother?” Shirley asked impatiently. “Is he really getting engaged?”
“That’s another thing.” Mercy flung herself across the back of a living room chair and supported her head with the palm of her hand. “Does anyone here understand what I had to go through to arrange this last-minute romance between Charles Lancaster and Mary Lou Perkins?”
“You did that?” Shirley asked, amazed.
“Well, not entirely,” Mercy admitted with some reluctance, although she’d be willing to accept a certain amount of credit. “All Charlie really needed was a little encouragement.”
“And you supplied that?”
Mercy shrugged. “Some.”
Goodness beamed her approval. “Good thinking.”
“What about poor Jenny?” Shirley asked, studying the down-and-out actress.
“I don’t know,” Mercy admitted. “What she does and doesn’t tell Trey is up to her.”
“How long will Trey be in town?”
Mercy didn’t have the answer to that, either. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“He’ll be here for the party, won’t he?” Goodness wanted to know.
It took Mercy a moment to remember the Christmas potluck Jenny and Michelle were holding. She hadn’t a clue where the two young actresses intended on putting everyone, but they seemed to think they could manage.
“I don’t know what Trey’s plans are,” she muttered. It seemed her friends insisted upon asking her questions she couldn’t answer. “All I know is that however long he stays, it’ll be long enough.”
Her words were followed by a short silence. “Are you saying you know something we don’t?” Shirley inquired.
Mercy’s smug smile was all the answer she intended to give them.
* * *
Brynn stood in front of her class, and her gaze rested on Suzie Chang’s empty desk in the middle of the room. It seemed as if the space were magnified until it appeared to crowd everyone against the walls.
The lessons that day involved the history of the Second World War, and although Brynn was prepared to discuss the Battle of the Bulge, her mind was elsewhere.
All she could think about was Suzie.
“This afternoon,” Brynn said, forcing her attention back to the history lesson, “we are going to be talking about . . . sex.” The word raced out of her mouth before she could stop herself.
Modesto cheered and sat up straighter on his desk chair. “Hey, Miss Cassidy, I bet