Building a Perfect Match Page 3

  But she had a chance to do something now, a shot at a real career. So long as she didn’t blow it.

  “I was wondering,” she said, taking her seat, “what you could tell me about Dale Bowen.”

  The sisters traded looks as Kent gingerly lowered himself onto the settee once more.

  “He’s really very nice,” Odelia volunteered, “and so very handsome, don’t you think?” She giggled at Kent, who teasingly shook a finger in silent warning.

  “He’s very competent,” Magnolia put in, “very skilled.”

  “I find him respectful, mannerly and considerate,” Hypatia said. “We know his family, of course, from church. Very solid people. What in particular did you wish to know, dear?”

  Petra shifted uncomfortably. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, after all. “I—I’m not sure really. It’s just that we could be working together on the hotel renovation, and I like to know all I can about the people I work with.”

  Hypatia nodded her understanding. “Well, he’s a dutiful son, a regular at church, steady, dependable. What the man does not know about construction has not been imagined yet, and he treats historical treasures with the reverence that they deserve. I might wish that he were a little less fond of electric saws, but I cannot fault his work ethic, his manners, his attitude—”

  “Or his looks,” Odelia interjected with another giggle. Kent made a growling sound, purely for show, but Odelia leaned over, placed her hand on his forearm and cooed, “I’m in love, dearest, but I’m not blind.”

  Chuckling, Kent folded her doughy hand in his and raised it to his lips. “Neither am I, my darling, but I have eyes only for you.”

  Odelia dissolved in breathless twitters, prompting Magnolia to roll her eyes and rise to her feet.

  “I believe I’ll see what is holding up dinner,” she announced, turning for the door.

  “Perhaps we’ll just wait in the dining room,” Kent said suggestively, hauling himself up again and pulling Odelia with him.

  Hypatia watched them leave, arm in arm, before turning to Petra with a weary sigh. “They say the enchantment will wear off eventually, but with those two I’m not so sure.”

  Petra bit back a smile. “It’s the romance of the wedding, I’m sure.”

  “One can hope,” Hypatia muttered. “Now, dear, what were we discussing?”

  “Well,” Petra hedged, “I was just wondering if Dale Bowen is the right man for the hotel job.”

  “Undoubtedly,” Hypatia decreed.

  Deflated, Petra glanced at her lap. “Ah. It’s just that he seems spread pretty thin, what with this job and helping out his friends and…everyone has a private life.” Everyone but her.

  “Oh, I don’t think he’s seeing anyone just now,” Hypatia said off-handedly. “If he were, I’m sure his mother would have told me.”

  That news sent a little shiver of something through Petra. She ruthlessly suppressed it. So what if he was single and unattached? It made no difference to her.

  “I’m just concerned that he won’t be able to give us his undivided attention,” she went on carefully. “At the hotel, that is. We’re on a tight schedule, and any delays could mean…” My job. “Added difficulty.”

  “You needn’t worry, my dear,” Hypatia assured her. “You’re in good hands with Dale Bowen.”

  Smiling wanly, Petra silently conceded defeat. “Nice to know.”

  “Speaking of getting to know those with whom you work, dear,” Hypatia said, “I was wondering about Mr. Anderton.”

  Petra’s gaze sharpened. “Really? Why? What have you heard?” Her aunties were not the sort to read the scandal sheets or indulge in gossip, but something in Hypatia’s tone had sent up warning flares.

  “Only that he is a very presentable, successful gentleman and unattached, I believe. Your sister mentioned him.”

  Petra wondered what else Dallas had told them about Garth and why she had bothered. Dallas was known to meddle and blithely took credit for getting Odelia and Kent back together after a half-century-long separation. She fancied herself something of a matchmaker, but she knew that Petra was focused on establishing herself in her career and uninterested in romance. Still, the fact that Dallas had bothered to even check out Garth annoyed Petra almost as much as Garth’s agitating for an introduction to her family. She suspected that he meant to charm them out of any objections they might have to his pursuit of her, and that made the fine hairs stand up on the back of her neck.

  She shook away the sensation and found Hypatia studying her with gentle concern.

  “Is something wrong, dear?”

  “No, no.”

  Odelia rushed back into the room just then, Kent lumbering in her wake. “Sister!” she cried. “The violinist we hired for the reception has broken his arm! Whatever will we do?”

  Hypatia twisted in her chair. “Oh, dear. Well, perhaps the twins—”

  “They’re playing for the ceremony!” Odelia exclaimed. “Not the reception!”

  “We’ll think of something,” Hypatia said, pinching the bridge of her nose. Petra took that as her cue to leave.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to wash my hands before dinner.”

  “Of course,” Hypatia said absently.

  Petra all but ran. The last thing she wanted was to get caught up in the wedding fever. She was happy for Aunt Odelia and Kent, but she couldn’t let anything sidetrack her just now, especially not a man.

  * * *

  Pausing at the head of the stairs, Hypatia caught the faint sounds of a television program. She looked to her left, noting the narrow band of light that shined beneath the door to the combination bedroom and sitting room that Petra had taken for her own. She’d said she’d be looking for her own space once the renovations on the hotel were completed. All three of the sisters had hurried to assure her that she was welcome to stay at Chatam House as long as she liked, even permanently, but Hypatia suspected that Petra wasn’t really thinking that far ahead.

  Concerned for some time now about her sweet niece, Hypatia started toward Petra’s door, but then she paused, wondering if an old woman’s company was what Petra needed. Sadly, Hypatia was not really sure what her niece needed. Petra had always seemed a little lost somehow. The girl was perfectly capable, of course. She’d held a number of interesting jobs since graduating from college, but she’d never seemed to settle into anything, and so far as Hypatia knew, she hadn’t dated much, either.

  Hypatia could identify. She hadn’t been much interested in dating herself, not in her youth and certainly not now. So much of the world seemed intent on pairing off, but she had never seen the point of it all. Then again, she’d always had her sisters. Triplets shared an incredible bond. It seemed almost unthinkable that one of them should marry, especially at this stage of life! Hypatia had always assumed that one must be called to marriage as one was called to ministry. Yet here was Odelia about to marry at the very end of her life—or nearly so.

  Odelia Monroe. The notion still boggled the mind.

  Hypatia considered another niece, Petra’s younger sister, Dallas. While Petra seemed to avoid more than the most casual of relationships with men, Dallas dated frequently, throwing over one fellow after another in her search for Mr. Perfect, having declared early on that Mr. Right simply wasn’t good enough!

  Neither girl seemed to have a clue about true romance or God’s calling in her life.

  And yet, Petra had asked about Dale Bowen. Hypatia sensed that something more than professional concern lay beneath those seemingly casual queries. Could it be romantic interest?

  Sighing, she had to admit that Chatam House had somehow become Romance Central. It had all started with their nephew, Reeves, and the granddaughter, Anna, of their good friend, Tansy Burdett. Then their ni
ece Kaylie had met her husband, Stephen, when he’d come to Chatam House to recover from an accident. After that, it had been Kaylie’s brother Chandler and Bethany, the sister of their former gardener, Garrett Willows, who, as it happened, had met and married his wife, Jessa, at Chatam House just last month. Oh, and one mustn’t forget Asher, Petra’s brother and another nephew, and Ellie, Kent’s granddaughter. Their romance had paralleled Kent and Odelia’s.

  Chatam House hadn’t seen so many happy couples since…well, ever! Perhaps it had to do with the upcoming wedding. Once that was behind them, surely things would get back to normal.

  Hypatia laughed at herself. As if anything would ever be “normal” again after Odelia married. Well, they’d just have to find a new normal. God would show them the way. It wasn’t as if Odelia was leaving them, after all. They were gaining a brother, not losing a sister. They had all discussed it, she and her sisters.

  Who discussed such things with Petra? Hypatia wondered. She and Dallas loved each other, but they didn’t seem that close, and their mother, Maryanne, had always been so busy with her practice. Troubled, Hypatia moved to the door of Petra’s room and lightly knocked.

  Petra called for her to enter, and she did so, slipping quietly into the comfortable room. “I just thought I’d check on you, dear,” she explained. “You seemed…preoccupied at dinner.”

  Pointing the remote at the flat-screen TV mounted above the fireplace, Petra shut it off. She motioned for Hypatia to join her on the couch. Upholstered in pale lilac, it made a pretty contrast in the mint-green and creamy-white room.

  “I have something difficult to do tomorrow,” Petra explained haltingly as Hypatia sank down on the edge of the sofa cushion. “I have to remove…someone from the project.”

  “Ah. That can’t be pleasant.”

  Petra shook her head. “No. In fact, it’s more awful than I thought it would be. Because he doesn’t deserve it.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “It’s just one of those unhappy things,” Petra said, shaking her head again, “but it’s probably for the best.”

  “I can tell you’re distressed by it, though.”

  “Yes, well, it comes with the job,” Petra informed her.

  “And this job is very important to you, isn’t it, dear?” Hypatia asked, trying to understand.

  “More important than you know!” Petra exclaimed. “Oh, Aunt Hypatia, this is my chance, my one real chance, to make something of myself!”

  Shocked, Hypatia drew her spine straight. “Why, Petra Gayle Chatam,” she scolded, “you are precious just as you are! How can you doubt it?”

  “But I’m not like the rest of them!” Petra cried plaintively. “You know how dedicated my parents are.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “And Asher is a wonderful lawyer.”

  “Without question.”

  Petra shot to her feet and began to pace. “And Phillip! He leads the life of an adventurer, climbing mountains and traveling all over the world.”

  “I pray for his safety all the time,” Hypatia admitted with a nod.

  “Even Dallas has always known where her place is in this world,” Petra went on agitatedly. “She wasn’t nine years old when she announced that she was going to be a schoolteacher.”

  “And so she is,” Hypatia observed, still confused.

  “But I,” Petra declared, pausing to thump herself in the chest, “I’ve never had the slightest idea what I’m supposed to do.”

  “Is that all?” Hypatia blurted, oddly relieved.

  “All?” Petra echoed. Shaking her head dejectedly, she dropped down beside Hypatia once more. “In my family, that’s everything.”

  “Now, now,” Hypatia soothed, taking her hand. “I know that’s how it must seem, dear, but you’re leaving out one very important ingredient.”

  “What’s that?”

  “God’s guidance.”

  “But I’ve begged for God’s guidance,” Petra told her.

  “Then you have to trust that He’s leading you where He would have you go.”

  “I do,” Petra assured her, squeezing her hand. “That’s why this job is so important to me. I believe, I know, that He’s led me to this point.”

  “Well, as long as you’re following Him, you have nothing to fear,” Hypatia said. “He’ll give you everything you need.”

  Petra nodded. “You’re right. I know it. I don’t doubt Him. I doubt myself.”

  “You just stop that,” Hypatia ordered, as if Petra was six again and would obey unhesitatingly.

  Petra laughed. “I’ll try.”

  “If it helps, dear,” Hypatia told her, “I have every confidence in you.”

  Smiling, Petra hugged her, whispering, “Thank you.”

  Hypatia cleared her throat of the lump that had risen there, patted her niece, and rose smoothly to her feet. “I’ll bid you good-night now.” Bending, she kissed Petra on the forehead as she used to do when she and her sisters had tucked in the visiting children at night. “Sleep well.”

  “You, too.”

  Hypatia went to the door, but there she paused. “I’ll pray for you tomorrow. And for whoever you must remove, poor man.”

  Petra bowed her head. “Thank you.”

  Nodding, Hypatia went out, determined to share her concerns with her sisters. They would pray, as always, and God would direct Petra’s steps. As for that unfortunate man who did not deserve to lose his job, she would ask God to bless him in ways that he couldn’t even imagine. Whoever he was, she hoped that he would feel the hand of God in his life and trust Him to provide his heart’s desire.

  Chapter Three

  “It’s not about his skills, Mr. Bowen,” Petra said for perhaps the third time. “It’s just a difference in management styles.”

  That excuse for removing Dale from the construction manager’s position didn’t sound any better now than the first time she’d used it, but she had little else to offer the man sitting across the battered desk from her. Walton Bowen was the rarest of persons, a truly nice individual. Nevertheless, he showed some irritation now, bracing his heavy hands on the arms of a chair that had seen better days.

  “I’ve never met anyone who couldn’t get along with my son,” he insisted.

  “It’s not a matter of getting along, sir,” she assured him. “As I said, it’s just a—”

  “Difference in management styles,” said a wry, familiar voice from the doorway of the cluttered, dusty office.

  She hadn’t expected Dale to attend this meeting, but she wasn’t surprised that he had. He was the construction manager on the project, after all. For the moment. She braced herself, tugging on the hem of her navy blue skirt, which she wore with a matching jacket and sensible flats. Dale’s boots clumped across the wood floor, as the hydraulic arm on the heavy office door wheezed closed.

  “If Anderton thinks he can work around the BCHS by getting me out of the way, he’s wrong,” Dale said to Petra, parking one hip on the corner of his father’s desk and crossing his long legs at the ankles.

  She couldn’t deny either Dale’s implication or his conclusion, but neither could she refuse a direct order. “He, we, feel that the work will go more smoothly with someone else as construction manager.”

  Dale folded his arms, looking down on her from his perch. “And I’m telling you that no one in this company knows the BCHS better or works closer with them than I do. No one in this town, for that matter.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” she admitted. “Nevertheless…”

  She didn’t have to say more. Anger flashed across Dale’s handsome face. Behind him, his father’s chair creaked.

  “I have a policy when it comes to disagreements, Ms. Chatam,” he
informed her. “Whenever we come to loggerheads in this office, we seek guidance in prayer.”

  Shocked, Petra tugged at her skirt again. She believed in prayer, of course, and frequently resorted to it. In private. But this was business. Still, she’d prayed about this very matter before she’d entered the large, metal building that housed Bowen & Bowen’s offices and equipment.

  Walt Bowen clasped his hands together atop the blotter on his desk and bowed his head, apparently waiting. After a moment, Dale shifted onto his feet. Turning, he joined Petra on the lumpy sofa. She bowed her head almost in self-defense, painfully aware of Dale as he leaned forward, braced his elbows upon his knees and knit his fingers together.

  “Heavenly Father,” Walt began, “it’s not Your intention for Your children to be at odds, and as we sincerely seek Your will in all things, we come to You now for enlightenment and direction.”

  As he continued to speak, Petra felt her tension drain away and a hopeful optimism begin to grow. Surely, this would all work out somehow. She tried to think what she might do to soften Garth’s dislike of the man next to her, but God appeared to be way ahead of her.

  No sooner were the “Amens” spoken than Dale Bowen sighed, swept his finger down his nose and said, “All right. You want me out of the way, I’ll step aside. What we have to discuss now is who replaces me.”

  Petra slumped with relief and reached out to lay a hand on his strong arm before she could think better of the gesture. The man radiated heat like a log fire. She snatched her hand back. “Thank you.”

  He shrugged. “I still think it’s a mistake.”

  “You may be right,” she conceded. That changed nothing, however, and he obviously knew it.

  “As far as your replacement,” Walt said, spreading his big hands across the ink blotter, “that’ll have to be me.”

  “No way,” Dale objected, sitting back to cross one leg over the other. “You have enough on your plate. Jackie Hernandez can handle things.”

  “You sound like your mother,” Walt grumbled.

  “In other words, she’d agree with me,” Dale retorted before glancing at Petra. “I’ll explain things to Jackie myself.”