The Trouble With Angels Page 0,97

The fact was, she pitied the poor woman.

"This is Maureen Woods," she said stiffly.

An awkward silence followed.

"Just a moment, please, and I'll get Brian."

A polite little thing, Maureen mused. She only hoped Brian didn't overly abuse her.

Her ex-husband came on the line almost immediately. "Maureen?" he demanded crossly.

"Yes."

"What do you want now? More money? Lawyers' fees? Or wasn't fifteen years of making my life hell good enough for you?"

Maureen nearly bit her tongue in half to keep from rising to the bait. "None of that," she said without emotion. "Just a question." However, getting the words out of her mouth proved to be damn near impossible.

"What?"

She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. "Do you or do you not intend to seek custody of Karen?"

Her words were followed by a short, static-filled silence. "Got you worried, do I?"

How he'd love to see her crawl on her knees and beg. Maureen was convinced he'd sell his soul just to see her squirm. At the moment she was prepared to do all three.

"Yes," she admitted, hoping none of the emotion bled into her voice. "I'm worried."

He hesitated, seeming to enjoy her discomfort, and then he said, "Don't be. We both know Karen's better off with you than me. I'll raise her if you want, but I doubt that you do."

With that he hung up the phone.

Chapter Eighteen

Catherine couldn't remember a time the Wilshire Grove Retirement Center looked more festive. Swags of evergreen were draped about the room and festooned with huge red bows of velvet. Several long tables were connected and covered with a lace tablecloth, the center's finest. A series of silver platters filled with a variety of homemade cookies graced the tables. The sterling-silver punch bowl was at one end and the matching coffee and tea service at the other.

Emily and Thelma, two of the most hardworking members of the library committee, stepped back and admired their handiwork.

"It's lovely," Emily said.

Catherine couldn't agree with her more. "I couldn't have done it without you two, and Joy."

Joy had seen to most of the wall decorations and had been at the center until all hours of the night. Catherine didn't know what time the resident service director had finally gone home. All she knew was that she'd gone up to her apartment close to eleven and Joy had assured Catherine that she was nearly finished. She'd promised to leave for home soon. But from the lush display of decorations, Catherine realized Joy must have been there half the night or longer.

The subject of her thoughts strolled in the door, wearing a bright smile. Of all that she admired about Joy Palmer, Catherine was most in awe of her inner strength. This business with Ted must have been painful and terribly disappointing, but each day, despite her own unhappiness, Joy had come to work with a smile on her face and in her heart.

"The decorations are beautiful," Catherine said enthusiastically, wanting Joy to know how much she appreciated the extra work the other woman put into the literary tea.

"I thought you promised to leave when we all went up to bed," Thelma reminded her.

"I did," Joy said, "but I just couldn't leave them alone." She scanned the room. "Has anyone seen Charles this morning?"

"He's been ready for the tea since before six," Emily told her.

"I'll drop my jacket and purse off in my office and be right back." She disappeared, and Catherine walked over to the table and fanned out the paper napkins.

"Are we going to start soon?" Charles strolled up beside her and asked impatiently. "I've been eyeing those chocolate-chip cookies of yours all morning. Seems to me the man who's going to collect the donations might need a bit of nourishment beforehand."

"Are you asking me to sneak you a cookie, Charles?"

"You bet I am," he said, and winked at her.

Catherine pursed her lips together to keep from laughing. "I can't get over the change in you in the last couple of weeks."

"I got the very heaven scared out of me," he explained as he inched his hand toward the silver platter.

Catherine swiped at his arm. "Kindly keep out of the cookies. Now what do you mean, you had the very heaven scared out of you?"

"It's true. I'd say I got the hell scared out of me, only it was an angel who sat down next to me as plain as I'm standing here talking to you. Now I know what you're thinking, but I'm telling you right now,