Mercy tilted her head and stared at Roy Fletcher. “He’s deep in thought.”
“He’s wondering how long it’ll take to hear from Julie,” Shirley suggested. “He’s growing impatient.”
Goodness had noticed that, but she also knew he’d made no effort to get in touch with Julie. She suspected this was a ploy on his part—his way of telling Julie that if she chose to reject his offer, she wouldn’t be hearing from him again. That was just plain wrong! Goodness intended to do everything within her power to make sure Roy’s head was filled with thoughts of Julie every minute of every day. The man would be sorry he’d messed with the angels’ plans to answer his mother’s prayer.
“You know how cold he can be,” Shirley commented, studying Roy intently. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.
“That’s all an act,” Goodness told them. “He loves his mother and Julie, only he’s too stubborn to admit it.”
“I say we get in there and do something,” Mercy proclaimed.
“Like what?” Goodness was almost afraid to ask.
“What we always do.” Mercy folded her hands prayerfully and fluttered her long, curly eyelashes.
“Heaven help us,” Goodness muttered.
“No, you’ve got it all wrong,” Mercy said. “We’re the ones helping Heaven. Gabriel needs us. Otherwise, we’d be long gone by now. I for one feel that drastic times call for drastic measures.”
“Drastic measures,” Goodness repeated. “What—”
“Stand back everyone.” Mercy threw open her wings.
“What’s she going to do?” Goodness asked Shirley. “Toss a fish at him?”
Shirley giggled.
Just when Mercy was getting ready to make her move, Ms. Johnson entered Roy’s office. The three angels glided out of the way as his assistant handed him a sheaf of papers that required his signature.
“Ms. Johnson,” he said as the woman was about to leave, “would you mind if I asked you a couple of questions?”
“Are they personal questions?”
“Not exactly personal. Didn’t you tell me you have a daughter in her twenties?”
“I do. Janice. She recently turned twenty-three. What makes you ask?”
“I was just wondering if—” He was interrupted by someone knocking on the partially opened door.
Shirley gasped.
“Who’s that?” Goodness wanted to know.
“I think it might be Aimee,” Mercy told her in a hushed whisper.
Indeed it was. The woman who’d dumped Roy for his father. She stepped into the office wearing a full-length mink coat and high-heel shoes. She was sleek, petite and very blond. They didn’t call it platinum blond for nothing, Goodness thought spitefully.
“What’s she doing here?” No one answered, and Goodness suspected her friends were as surprised as Roy obviously was.
He slowly stood. “That will be all, Ms. Johnson.”
“Yes, sir.” His assistant hurried out of the room.
“Hello, Roy.” Aimee smiled seductively and walked up to his desk. “It’s good to see you.”
“How did you get into the building?”
“Oh, I have my ways.”
Roy snickered. “I’ll just bet you do.” He made a mental note to talk to Dean Wilcoff about this.
“I think it’s time we talked, don’t you?” Without waiting for an invitation, she sat down and crossed her shapely legs.
Roy remained standing. “Actually, I think it’s time you left.”
Aimee sighed. “There’s no need to be nasty.”
“I mean it, Aimee.”
She shook her head, her long, blond hair swinging softly from side to side. “Roy, this is ridiculous! You refuse to have anything to do with your father—”
“I have nothing to say to him or to you.”
“That’s sad, because we both want to reconcile with you.”
His gaze narrowed. “I don’t think I can bring myself to call you Mother.”
She laughed, shrugging off his sarcasm. “I don’t think you should. Tell me, how are you?”
“Fine. Now leave.”
“I’ve come all this way, and I’m not going until you talk to me.”
Roy lowered himself stiffly into his chair. “What do you want?”
Aimee’s expression became petulant. “I always hated it when you used that tone of voice with me.” As if she suddenly felt hot, she unfastened the buttons of her coat and slipped her arms free.
Roy stared at the mink and at the silk suit beneath, set off by a stunning emerald brooch. “I see Daddy’s buying you lots of gifts.”
Aimee raised one elegant shoulder. “You might not believe this, but I happen to love your father.”
Roy raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Yeah, and I’ll bet you love his bank balance even more.” He’d understood long ago that Aimee had set her sights on his father from the beginning of their so-called relationship. He’d been used, and it wasn’t going to happen again.
Her lips thinned. “You can insult me all you want, but I will not take offense. I came because I want to build a bridge between you and your father.”
Roy laughed outright. “The woman who blew up the bridge now wants to build one? I find that interesting.”
“It’s true, Roy. It’s been five years. Your father and I have a very good life, but he misses you.” She pouted ever so slightly.