This was the first Christmas season since the divorce that she’d felt like celebrating. It wasn’t an effort; nothing felt forced, least of all her happiness. She thanked the angel for that. The one who’d appeared to her. Everything had changed for the better that day. Her heart felt lighter, less burdened, and life suddenly seemed good and right again.
After all these years, her prayer request had apparently been heard. Even now, Anne couldn’t get over the glorious, wonderful sound of her son’s laughter. Such a minor joy had felt forever lost to both of them. Even more wonderful, a woman—the first one her son had mentioned in five years—had caused this spark of excitement.
“How does that look, Jason?” Anne asked the security guard. The young man certainly took his duties seriously. The entire time she’d been painting, Jason had watched her. He must’ve been told that no one was to bother her, and he made sure no one did.
Jason didn’t answer and Anne turned around to see him studying the parking lot.
“Trouble?” Anne asked.
“Perhaps it’d be best if you left the area, ma’am.”
Anne peered outside; the only person she could see was a young woman wearing what appeared to be a soccer uniform. She was walking toward the building. “Who’s that?” Anne asked.
“Julie Wilcoff,” Jason answered in a low voice. He moved from behind the desk and stood directly in front of the glass doors, his posture a warning in itself.
Anne watched as the woman paused outside the door and smiled at the security guard. “Jason, I’m here to talk to my father.”
“I’m not falling for that a second time,” he said. “Your father told me to keep you out of this building and he hasn’t told me anything different, so I’m keeping you out.”
The woman glanced impatiently at Anne and then back at the security guard. “Jason, please.”
“If you’ve got a problem with that,” the guard said matter-of-factly, “then I suggest you take it up with your father.”
Ms. Wilcoff promptly pulled a cell phone out of her pocket, punched a few numbers and held it to her ear.
Jason stood exactly where he was.
“Is this the girl who gave my son such a talking-to the other day?” Anne asked. If so, Anne was eager to meet her.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Her father banned her from the building?”
“I believe Mr. Fletcher gave his approval, ma’am.”
Anne’s spirits did an abrupt dive. “I’m sure he’s had a change of heart,” she said, praying she was right.
“Then he’ll need to tell me that himself, ma’am.” The guard wasn’t budging, not an inch. That much was obvious.
Julie Wilcoff seemed to have difficulty reaching her father. With an air of frustration, she clicked off the cell phone. “My father isn’t answering,” she called from the other side of the door.
“That isn’t my concern.”
“He asked to see me,” she insisted.
For a moment it seemed Jason might waver, but he held his ground. “He didn’t say anything to me about that. I don’t have any alternative but to do as I’ve been instructed. You aren’t allowed in this building. I’m sorry, Ms. Wilcoff, but I have my orders.”
Julie nodded. “I understand. Will you tell my father I was by?”
“If I see him,” Jason said.
Julie nodded again and turned around. She started back toward the parking lot.
Anne refused to let this woman leave.
Jason moved from his post and Anne rushed to the door. “Ms. Wilcoff?” she called. “Julie?”
Julie glanced over her shoulder.
Anne stood in the doorway and gave her a quick wave. “I’m Anne Fletcher, Roy’s mother.”
“Oh, hi,” she said. Turning again, she halted in her progress toward the visitors’ parking lot. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I guess you heard about your son’s and my disagreement.” The wind whipped the hair about her face, and Julie swept it away with a stroke of her hand. “I actually came to see Roy, but I needed to talk to my dad first. I can see that’s impossible.”
“No, it isn’t.” Anne raised her index finger. “Wait just a minute.” She closed the door and discovered Jason frowning at her. “I can’t let her in here, Mrs. Fletcher,” he said, “so don’t go asking me to make allowances.”
“I had no intention of doing that.” She planned to take another approach altogether. “The best thing would be to contact my son and get this settled once and for all.”
Jason said nothing.
“Can I use the phone on your desk?” She didn’t have a cell phone; it was an expense she couldn’t afford.
“Go ahead.” He kept his gaze pinned to the door as if he half feared Julie might try to dash in while he wasn’t looking.
Anne walked over to the desk and called Ms. Johnson, her son’s assistant. “Hello, Eleanor,” she said. “Could I speak to my son?”
The woman hesitated. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Fletcher, he’s in a meeting.”
“A meeting,” Anne repeated. She’d long suspected that was the excuse Roy used when he wasn’t in the mood to deal with her. “Did he ask you to say that?” she whispered.
“Not this time,” his assistant admitted, confirming Anne’s suspicions. “He actually is in a meeting.”
“Oh, dear,” Anne said, breathing a sigh.
“Is there anything I can do?”