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father looped his arms around Ruth's shoulders. "Take your time," her mother called out after her. "Dinner won't be ready for some time yet."

Inside her bedroom, Hannah slumped on the edge of her mattress. It would be impossible to tell them about meeting Joshua now. He was the man who caused her heart to sing. She couldn't disappoint them. Not with her family extolling Carl's virtues.

Hannah had only briefly discussed marriage with Carl. Their parents had been the ones who frequently spoke of the two entering into an agreement. As far as Carl's family was concerned, the marriage was a foregone conclusion. Her parents seemed to feel the same way.

Hannah lay back and stared up at the bedroom ceiling. Carl was a wonderful man. He was everything her parents had said and much more. Someday she probably would marry Carl.

She closed her eyes and thought about what their lives would be like together. She liked Carl, enjoyed his company. When he kissed her it was something sweet and gentle. But try as she might, Hannah couldn't imagine Carl ever being passionate. A smile cracked her lips, and she chided herself silently.

In her mind's eye she thought about the children she might have with Carl. But instead of conjuring up babies, her mind filled with Joshua Shadduck.

She shook her head in an effort to dispel the image. If only he wasn't an attorney. If only she'd met him last year at this time. If only . . .

"Hannah."

Guiltily she bolted off the bed. "Yes, Mama."

"Carl's on the phone. He wants to know what took you so long. He's been worried. You should have phoned him first thing."

Hurriedly Hannah reached for her shoes. "Tell him I'll be right there."

"Hannah will marry Carl," Gabriel said as if he needed to convince himself.

Goodness was wise enough to say nothing. She'd learned the hard way that it was often more advantageous to hold one's tongue with the archangel.

"You understand this, don't you?" Gabriel asked pointedly.

"I'm sure you're right," the prayer ambassador answered without emotion. It demanded everything she had to hide her true feelings.

Gabriel studied her with a weary look. "You're sure you can handle this case?"

"Positive." She beamed him her brightest, most innocent smile.

"No monkey business."

Goodness's eyes rounded with indignation. "I wouldn't dream of it."

"Just remember that promise."

"Can I please meet Jenny Lancaster now?" Mercy asked.

Goodness wanted to kiss her friend for distracting Gabriel. She didn't know how much longer she would have been able to hide her feelings.

"Ah, yes. Jenny." Gabriel turned his attention away from Goodness and exhaled sharply. "I'd almost forgotten. Now there's a sorry case. Let me take you to her now."

Chapter Three

"Jenny, wake up." Michelle Jordan burst into the bedroom and pulled open the thick drapes. Brilliant sunlight spilled into the room as Jenny Lancaster struggled to an upright position.

"What time is it?" she asked, yawning loudly. It couldn't be morning. Not yet. Not so soon. Her eyes burned and it felt as though she hadn't slept more than an hour or two.

"It's party time." Michelle dramatically threw her arms into the air.

Jenny collapsed against her pillow. "Not for me."

"For both of us, girl." Michelle curled up at the foot of Jenny's bed. "John Peterman's sent out a casting call for a new Lehman musical. He's going to need twenty singers and dancers. I don't know about you, but I intend to be one of those who ends up on stage opening night. Now you can come along and audition with me, or you can sleep the rest of your life away."

Jenny closed her eyes. The choice shouldn't be this difficult. There was a time when she would have leapt out of bed, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, grabbed her dancing shoes, and headed out the front door. Not so these days. At twenty-three Jenny Lancaster felt like a has-been. Or, more appropriate, a never-was.

"Are you coming or not?"

Another cattle call. Jenny had given up counting the number of times she'd set her heart on getting a bit part on Broadway. Off Broadway, near Broadway. She didn't care. This was her dream. Her goal. Her ambition.

She'd left Custer, Montana, blessedly naive about the cutthroat world of the stage. Three years later she felt washed-out, washed-up, and ready for the wringer.

Three years was a long time to subsist on one's dreams. Jenny would have thrown in the towel a long time before now if it hadn't been for one thing. Her family and friends back home believed in her. She was