Love Finds a Home (Love Comes Softly Series #8) Read online

  "Good afternoon, Miss Davis," a male receptionist addressed her. She had been in touch with this office so often she was now known by name. She nodded and offered a greeting in return.

  "Mr. Keats will be with you shortly," he said. Belinda moved to a chair in the waiting area and sat down.

  Are we really getting any nearer to finishing all these arrangements? she asked herself as she pulled off her gloves. Each time I think the end should be in sight, some new decisions and more papers are needed. Oh, I hope this will all be over soon.

  "Miss Davis," Mr. Keats summoned her into his office. He was beaming, and Belinda hoped it meant much had been accomplished.

  "Well, I believe we have all these documents sorted out and ready for your signature," he began and Belinda felt a burden start to lift from her shoulders.

  "You say you have the necessary staff in place?" Mr. Keats questioned.

  "Well, not totally," Belinda answered. "We have the kitchen

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  help, extra day staff for the laundry and cleaning, but I still need an assistant for Potter."

  "Potter? Oh yes. She's your housekeeper."

  Belinda nodded. "She's done it all herself in the past--but now with so many decisions and the shopping and all the detail work, she will need someone else to supervise the staff. I have interviewed a number of women, but so far none of them have seemed suitable."

  "Well, staff can certainly be a problem," he nodded and spread some sheets before Belinda. "Now, we need your signature on these papers," he continued briskly. "This is to set up the trust fund from which all expenses for the operation of the manor will be paid."

  Belinda nodded and took the pen he offered.

  "Now, when you draw funds from this account--" the attorney began.

  "Oh, but I won't be the one drawing the funds," Belinda interrupted.

  Mr. Keats stopped, a shocked look on his face. "What do you mean?" he asked. "We have set up the funds to be self- perpetuating, so that funds will be available for the continued support of the house."

  "Oh yes," replied Belinda. "That is exactly as I wished, but I won't be the one paying the monthly accounts. I won't be here, you see."

  "Not here?"

  "I will be leaving for home just as quickly as we can get things settled. I thought I had told you."

  The man looked chagrined. "Well, I . . . I recall some talk. But I thought . . . I guess I thought you had changed your mind. Nothing has been said about your leaving for some time--"

  "Oh no," Belinda assured him. "I have not changed my

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  mind. I wish to leave as soon as possible."

  "I see," said the man, but there was a deep frown across his brow

  "Is that . . . is that a problem?" asked Belinda.

  "Not a problem. We'll have to set things up differently, that's all."

  "How . . ? What will need to change?" Belinda felt her heart sink in frustration.

  "Well, a trust. A board. I'll need to do some looking into it."

  "Oh, dear!" cried Belinda. "I'd so hoped we could finish it all today"

  The attorney shook his head. "The way we have it set up now won't do if you are to appoint someone else to administer the estate," he stated simply. "This was arranged for you to have complete charge of the affairs and to administer them accordingly"

  He pulled the papers back and stacked them carefully together out of reach of Belinda's pen.

  "Will . . . will it take long?" Belinda asked, her tone agitated.

  "That depends. We will need to look into how to set up the administration to best care for the institution and the affairs of the estate. I will need to do some looking into possible alternatives. It would have been much simpler, of course, if you had chosen to run things yourself. But . . . I'm sure something can be worked out."

  Belinda was discouraged as she left the attorney's inner office. There were to be more dealings, more decisions, more frustration.

  "Good day, Mr. Willoughby," Belinda said, glancing toward the receptionist as she moved toward the stairs. But she saw he was not alone. A tall man, his back to Belinda, was leaning over

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  the desk, discussing some papers.

  "Oh, excuse me," Belinda apologized. "I didn't realize--"

  But she stopped short. There was something familiar about the man. And then he straightened and Belinda saw one sleeve of his suit coat pinned up.

  Can it possibly be? Belinda's heart gave a sudden lurch. Somehow she knew who it was even before the gentleman turned to look at her.

  "Drew?"

  The man wheeled sharply, his eyes searching the face of the young woman before him. "Belinda! Belinda Davis! Why . . . why. . . ?"

  "What are you doing here?" Belinda asked in amazement. He had taken a step toward her, his hand going out to take hers.

  "It is you!" he said, shaking his head in wonder. "It truly is you! I thought I must be dreaming."

  "What are you doing here?" Belinda asked again.

  "I .. . I work for this firm," he responded. "And you?" "You ... you work here? Why ... why haven't I seen you

  before? I've been in and out of this office almost daily it seems for ... for just forever."

  "You have?" Drew said in surprise. "You mean ... you've been here? In Boston?"

  "I have been for three years," Belinda informed him.

  "I can't believe it! Here we are . . . in the same city, so . . . so close to each other and never knowing it. Why didn't someone tell me?"

  "I . . . I had no idea where you were," Belinda explained. "My folks said you were somewhere in the East--training, but they never did say where. I don't know that they even knew."

  Drew had still not released her hand. "I can't believe this,"

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  he said, shaking his head. "We . . . we have so much catching up to do."

  Belinda felt suddenly shy. She withdrew her hand discreetly and fingered her gloves. "Yes," she agreed, the color warming her face, "we do, don't we? Why, I know nothing about . . . about what you are doing now or your. . . your. . . situation," stammered Belinda.

  "Are you in a hurry?" asked Drew, and Belinda shook her head.

  "Then how about a cup of tea together so we can catch up a bit? I have a few minutes."

  "Oh, could we?" Belinda quickly answered. "That would be so nice. I need a friend . . . someone I can talk to," she said. She was embarrassed to feel tears stinging her eyes.

  "Is something wrong?" Drew asked quickly and reached out his arm toward her.

  Belinda took one step back and shook her head. "No . . . no, not really. I've just had too many decisions to make in too short a time. I'm . . . I'm fine."

  Drew nodded, then turned to look at the man at the desk. "Mr. Willoughby, I'm going to be out for half an hour or so. Miss Davis is a friend from home."

  Mr. Willoughby, who obviously had missed none of the exchange, nodded silently and turned his eyes back to the paper before him. Drew Simpson took the arm of Miss Davis and led her toward the door.

  "I still can't believe this," Drew was saying. "Imagine, you in Boston."

  Drew escorted Belinda to a small tea shop and settled her at a table. "Now," he said, "we don't have nearly enough time, so we will have to talk fast."

  Belinda smiled. She no longer felt desperate--or lonely

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  or shy. She was so glad to see someone from home. She was so glad to see Drew.

  "I heard that you visited home a while ago," she commented.

  "You were home?"

  "Just shortly after you were. I was sorry to hear about your father."

  Drew nodded and Belinda saw the grief on his face. "It was a real shock," he said. "To all of us."

  "How is your mother?"

  "She's . . . she's fine. She still has Sid, but I'm afraid she never has really adjusted to country living. Still wants Sid to get more education. I've been trying to think of some way. . . but so far. . ." Drew shrugged, then
changed the subject. "But tell me, what are you doing in Boston?"

  They were momentarily interrupted while the waitress set their tea before them. As soon as the girl moved on, Belinda smiled. "Well, it's rather a long story," she said, "but I will save you all the details. My nursing brought me here."

  "You nurse in a Boston hospital?"

  "No. No, I nursed privately. For an elderly woman but . . . she is gone now. I'm trying to get the estate settled. That's why I was at the office today."

  "I see," said Drew. "So you went right to the top?" he smiled teasingly.

  "To the top?"

  "Mr. Keats. He's the senior partner."

  "I didn't know that," Belinda admitted. "All I know is that settling an estate is an everlasting chore. It seems I've been in and out of the office so often that I should have part ownership."

  Drew laughed. "That's how most folks feel by the time they have sorted through legal papers," he admitted.

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  "But you . . . what are you doing?" began Belinda. "You said you work there. Doing what?"

  Drew smiled again. "Exactly what I was told to do, Belinda Davis. If you remember--practicing law."

  "You mean you . . . you practice law. . . with them?" Drew nodded.

  "I'm so glad you were able to get your schooling--that you have done your training," she hurried on.

  "Finally! Though there were times when I thought I'd never make it, I now am a member of the firm Keats, Cross and Newman. Though my name doesn't appear on the shingle yet."

  "That's wonderful!"

  Drew sobered. "It is," he admitted. "And I've never forgotten who made me believe in my dream."

  Belinda flushed and toyed with her teacup. "I--we've been out of touch for so long, I guess I don't know much about . . . about how you've been."

  "Nor I you," he admitted. "I've been calling you 'Miss Davis,' but I know it's highly unlikely you haven't married." Belinda shook her head. "I haven't married," she said simply.

  Drew smiled.

  There was silence for a bit.

  Belinda broke it. "And you?"

  Drew shook his head.

  It was Belinda's turn to smile.

  "How are your folks?" Drew said, lessening the emotional tension at the table.

  "Fine. They said you had called. They were pleased. And Luke was. . . was glad that there is. . . that you have no. . . no hard feelings."

  "I like your brother Luke," Drew said slowly. "I hadn't realized

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  what a special man he is until I talked to him this last time I was home."

  Belinda felt her eyes mist over. "I think he's special, too," she admitted.

  They chatted on for some minutes, talking of the hometown they both knew. Belinda didn't want the little visit to end. And then Drew pulled a watch from his vest pocket to check the time. "I hate to say this, but I must get back," he told her, and Belinda couldn't keep the disappointment from her face.

  "We won't lose touch again, will we?" he went on. "I mean . . . now that we know we are both in Boston. . ."

  "Oh yes. Let's keep in touch," Belinda said. She was embarrassed that it sounded a bit too eager.

  "You have a telephone?"

  Belinda nodded and Drew pulled a small pad and pencil from his pocket. Belinda dictated her number.

  "I'll be in touch," he promised.

  Belinda waited while Drew paid for their refreshments and walked with him back toward the office.

  "How will you get home?" he asked her.

  "Windsor will soon be here to pick me up," she informed him.

  Drew didn't ask who Windsor was, and Belinda didn't think to explain.

  They had almost reached the law office when Belinda had a sudden inspiration. "Would you . . . could you . . . I mean, would it be possible for you to take . . . to take my--what do you call it--legal . . . legal case?"

  Drew smiled at her fumbling but shook his head. "Mr. Keats, senior partner, is working for you," he reminded her. "I'm just one of the juniors of the firm."

  "But you're my friend!" Belinda responded.

  "Mr. Keats would say that's all the more reason for me to

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  refrain from acting on your behalf."

  "But. . . but couldn't you just give advice. . . counsel?"

  "I wish I could," said Drew sincerely, reaching to take Belinda's hand. "I do. Really. But it's one of the rules of the firm. No interference of any kind with another attorney's client."

  Belinda shrugged. She had so hoped to be able to talk things over with a friend. However, she did understand Drew's sensitive position.

  "Very well," she smiled. "I promise not to plague you about my . . . my legal tangles."

  Drew smiled. "Who wants to talk 'legal'?" he asked lightly. "We have too much other catching up to do."

  Belinda forgot her worries momentarily and nodded in agreement. "You'd best run--before you get yourself released from your position," she countered.

  Drew pressed her hand. "I'll call," he promised, and then Belinda was standing on the sidewalk alone, looking down the street for the carriage and Windsor.

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  EIGHTEEN

  Friendship

  All the way home Belinda marveled at her new discovery. Drew is in Boston! she told herself over and over. Drew had not married. Drew was ... was all that she remembered him to be, and more. Belinda feared and blushed by turn. Is it possible, she finally allowed herself to wonder, that after all this time Drew might still feel something for me? Is it possible that I still feel something for him?

  The quickening of Belinda's pulse at the very idea made her realize that the latter was more than possible. It was very conceivable. She scolded herself for her silly schoolgirl attitude and tried to calm her feelings.

  But each time she determined to corral her churning thoughts, they somehow escaped and returned to Drew. What might have happened if she had discovered three years ago that they shared the same city? She didn't even dare think about it.

  Well, I know now, thought Belinda. So what does the future hold? Again Belinda felt her cheeks warm and pushed the thought aside. She dared not dwell on it. She would take things one step at a time. God knew whether it was a good idea or not for Drew and her to be more than "friends from back home."

  Belinda tried to turn her attention back to the muddle with

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  the estate, but even the ponderous proceedings now failed to dim her spirits.

  I must invite Drew over for dinner. It'll be so nice to have someone to talk to. To really talk to, she concluded, her eyes bright.

  I can hardly wait to write home. Won't Ma and Pa be surprised? Belinda's plans continued. They had no idea Drew was here in Boston. "He is with a good firm," they had said. "Doing well." But no one knew he was practically my neighbor. Belinda smiled at the thought.

  I wonder where he goes to church? she mused. I must ask him to go with me one day. Maybe we can even--

  Then Belinda again tried to contain her whirling thoughts. I'll be so busy getting all the estate's affairs in order that I will have little time for other things, she reminded herself.

  Well, Drew is busy, too, she explained to herself. But he must have some weekends. At least Sundays. We can go to church together and have dinner and talk, she reasoned.

  But first . . . first she would have to await his call.

  Belinda hoped with all her heart that she wouldn't need to wait too long.

  Drew called that evening. Belinda had told herself all afternoon that she could not even hope for a call so soon, but still she found herself straining to hear the ring of the telephone.

  When the telephone did ring, it gave her such a start that she nearly jumped from her chair. She did drop her needlework and was glad no one was there to see her scrambling to pick it up again.

  After all, she scolded herself, the call could be someone else . . . all the while hoping that it wouldn't be.

  Belinda tried to look
calm and sedate when Windsor announced that she was wanted on the hall telephone. She laid

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  aside her embroidery and walked slowly and with dignity to answer it.

  "Hello," she said in what she hoped was an even voice. "Miss Davis here."

  "Belinda," his voice quickly came back over the wire. "I was still afraid that I'd dreamed the whole thing."

  Belinda laughed softly.

  "How are you?" he asked, and she had the impression that it was much more than a pleasantry

  Lonely, she wished she could say It would be a truthful answer. But instead she said what she felt was expected. "Fine."

  "You were a bit down for a while this afternoon, I felt. Have you got it all sorted out now?"

  Belinda could have said truthfully that she had sorted out nothing but that it no longer seemed so important. Instead, she answered, "I'm sure it will all work out. I guess I get too impatient."

  "It's hard . . . waiting," responded Drew. "I'm not good at it, either."

  There was a moment's silence and then Drew went on with a chuckle. "Which is why I called. I know this is . . . is presumptuous, but I was wondering if you might be free sometime this weekend."

  Belinda could not truthfully say that she had to check her engagement calendar. In fact, she did not even have an engagement calendar, so she didn't play any little game. Instead, she said honestly, openly, "I have no plans--other than church on Sunday"

  "Good! Then would you like to take in a concert with me on Saturday night?"

  "I'd . . . I'd like that very much," she replied simply her heart racing.

  "I wish I could ask you for dinner, too, but I have to work.

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  We've a case coming up, and I've been asked to spend Saturday at the office getting ready for it. I'm afraid I will be able to make it only to the concert . . . this time."