Liv cuddled Tobi on her lap in an armchair in the office, and listened to Samantha on the phone.
“Did I mention the courthouse was built in 1880?”
Yes, Samantha had mentioned it already, but Liv let her ramble on. It was such a wondrous thing to hear Samantha Whitley ramble.
“The workmanship is incredible. Why don’t we build like this anymore? I mean, besides the obvious—cost. The stone and marble, the colors, the artistic way it’s all put together—well, it’s too…it’s just too too.” She sighed.
“Use your words, Samantha.”
She chuckled. “Anyway, the records people were also incredible. They helped me find my great-grandparents’ marriage license and my grandmother’s birth certificate. My great-grandfather sold insurance, and his business was listed. They told me about local history books at the library that should have more information. I’ll check those out tomorrow.”
Liv heard the satisfaction in her voice, a deep contentment even. “You might want to talk to the old people. Your grandmother would only be in her eighties, right? Someone could remember her.”
“Great idea. How’s Beau? And, um, Chad and Coco and everyone?”
Liv almost laughed out loud. How was Beau and um? “We’re all about the same as we were forty-eight hours ago.” There was a light rap on the door and Beau opened it. “Speaking of Beau, he just came in. Beau, Samantha wants to know how you are.”
Samantha protested in her ear and Beau’s cheeks glowed.
“Tell her fit as a fiddle.” He backed out of the doorway. “I’ll catch you later, Miss Olivia.” And then he was gone.
Liv wondered what was up with him. He had not been himself that day. Either he was fighting an infection or he was perturbed about something. About Samantha’s absence?
“Liv, the main reason I called is Jasmyn.”
Liv listened as Samantha shared her concerns. Although awash in emotion regarding her grandmother and perhaps Beau as well, she was a pragmatic girl and Jasmyn’s plans did not set well with her. They were airy ideals that included, of all things, to remake who she was in Valley Oaks.
Lord, have mercy.
She promised Samantha she would pray that Jasmyn would have wisdom to make the best choices. Now was not the time to explain that sometimes not-so-good choices ended up being the best for growth as well as for blessings. That life was never perfect and that stumbling allowed one to seek grace like nothing else could.
Liv did not want to hear that stuff herself. She preferred to hear that God answered the prayers of a woman of faith, even if those prayers were purely selfish demands. Just bring her home to the Casa, Lord. Just bring her on back.
She stroked Tobi’s furry neck and listened to her sweet purr. “What are we going to do, Tobi? Prayer is a work in progress. Faith has no handles. We can only keep on keeping on.”
She sat in silence and listened to the whispers in her heart.
And she understood that keeping on keeping on was not a solo affair.
And that faith did have handles. They came in the form of friends, three women in particular.
Liv referred to them as her top people. Although separated through the years by situations or distance, they remained her touchstones when it came to the spiritual.
But what she loved most about them was that they prayed at the drop of a hat.
She set Tobi on the floor, went to her desk, and composed a quick email to her friends and sent it off. Technology and backup were also wondrous things.
Liv found Beau in Cottage Three, sitting on a tarp in the living room, staring at three opened cans of paint.
“Beau?”
He turned, his cheeks still tinged with pink. “Sorry to have bothered you while you were on the phone, Miss Olivia.” He gestured to the cans. “I can’t remember which color you wanted where.”
The man never forgot the slightest detail about what she asked him to do. They had discussed the colors on Friday for a long time. She had even gone with one of his suggestions. And by now in her presence, he would have politely risen to his feet.
She said, “I liked your suggestion about the pale yellow in the living room and the lemon yellow in the kitchen.”
His eyes glazed over.
“Beau, are you all right?”
“Hmm?”
“You seem to be somewhere else today.”
“Well now, Miss Olivia, I am sorry to say that your observation is true. I apologize for my subpar performance.”
“Can I help you?”
He looked somewhere over her shoulder and exhaled a big-man sort of exhausted breath. He got to his feet and removed his cap. “I’m afraid I need some time off. A week.” He shook his head. “Or so. I’ll get someone to cover for me. I have a trustworthy friend who can work here between his other jobs. You don’t need to worry about a thing.”
Liv felt her hand moving toward her chest and lowered it. Her mind was already drafting a postscript to the email she had just sent. “I do worry. About you, though, not about the work.”
His shy smile flashed. “Miss Olivia, you could pass for my Granny Mibs.”
“Except for the small hands.”
A crimson red flushed his cheeks now.
She had hoped for a full-on grin. What was going on with Beau, the steady, unflappable guy?
He cleared his throat. “I do thank you for your concern, but there is no need for you to worry. We know rain is going to fall now and then in every life. I seem to be in the middle of a flood. I’ll just run up to Hollywood to see if I can’t rebuild the riverbanks before any more damage is done.”
River banks? Hollywood? She had no clue what he was talking about.
He reached into a back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “If you don’t mind, I’ll close up these paint cans and give my friend a call. Here’s his card.” He handed it to her. “Nice guy. Knowledgeable. Excellent.”
Liv touched his hand. “Beau, will you save the cottage for whenever you get back? Please.”
“Of course, Miss Olivia, if you’re sure that’s what you want.”
“It is. This is our project. I don’t want to move ahead without you.”
He held her gaze for a long moment. Then he nodded, as if he understood there was no practical reason for her request. She was asking him to come back because she simply could not lose another member of her home.