“Astrid is a good woman,” Chase felt obliged to remind his father. “I wish only the best for her.”
His father agreed. “The right man will come along and appreciate her,” he said with confidence.
Chase nodded. He wanted that for her.
“Now,” his father said, “let’s talk about Maisy.”
“I’d appreciate your advice,” Chase said, which was the sole reason he’d stopped by his father’s office.
“I don’t know that I can be much help to you,” Simon started. “I think you need to do whatever it is that you feel is best.”
Chase shook his head. That was the problem. He didn’t know what would be the most helpful to Maisy. Nor was he convinced he could stand by and do nothing.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Maisy’s spirits should be high. The agent representing the sale of Gallagher Jewels had called to say an offer had come in. Neither Uncle Fred nor her mother held out much hope that there would be enough equity to pay off the outstanding bills. Her uncle was currently meeting with the agent. The sale, if it went through, would be the end of a legacy, one that had lasted three generations in the Gallagher family.
She knew her uncle was relieved from the stress of a failing business, and at the same time devastated that it had come to this point. Their expectations for a decent offer weren’t high, though; how could they be, when the profit-and-loss statement showed nothing but month upon month of losses? One small blessing was that business had been brisk with the fifty-percent-off closing sale. Maisy had been busy helping customers all afternoon.
She was eager to talk to Chase. Just hearing his voice had a calming effect on her. Since his father had left for Europe, Chase had been working twelve-hour days. He sounded tired and distracted most evenings. For weeks they’d talked for an hour and often longer each night. For the last week, since Simon’s departure, Chase didn’t arrive home from the office until after nine, his time. Maisy worried about the toll these long hours would take on his health. Their conversations were short, much shorter than she would have liked. Knowing how exhausted he was from a heavy workload, meetings, and constant interruptions, Maisy made every effort to hide her family’s troubles.
He remained worried about her situation, but Maisy did her best to reassure him everything would work out. She had to believe what her mother said would turn out to be true, that God would make a way when there wasn’t one. Still, doubts consumed her.
The mere thought of falling short on the house payment, their biggest expense, sent chills of worry and doubt racing down her spine. Making minimum payments on the credit cards would be necessary, despite the fact that they were being charged an exorbitant interest rate.
Patrick had baseball practice that evening. One of the carpool mothers was scheduled to drop him off right before dinner. As expected, Maisy’s mom was in the kitchen preparing the evening meal when Maisy arrived home.
“Should I make the salad?” Maisy asked.
Her mother turned away from the stove and wore a huge smile. “Oh Maisy, you’re home. I have great news.”
Good news was always welcome, especially these days. Before she could ask, her mother continued.
“Father Morris stopped by this afternoon. He heard about Sean’s truck. I’d asked him to pray about the situation after Mass last Sunday, but I certainly didn’t expect the good Lord to answer our prayers quite so fast.”
Maisy opened the refrigerator and brought out a head of lettuce, eager to hear what Father Morris had to say.
“Do you remember Walter Mellor?” her mother continued.
“Who?”
“Walter Mellor. You likely don’t. He’s in his early nineties. Father Morris takes him Communion every Sunday afternoon. Walter used to sing in the choir and was active in St. Vincent de Paul. Anyway, his health is failing and he’s moving into an assisted-living facility. He and his wife never had any children, and he’s leaving everything to the church, including a 2015 Ford truck. He bought it for his work with St. Vincent de Paul, so it’s practically brand-new.”
“In other words, Mr. Mellor is giving the truck to the church?”
“No,” her mother said excitedly. “He’s giving it to Sean. When Father Morris mentioned Sean needed a truck to get to work, Walter immediately signed the title over to your brother. He said he was happy to be an answer to our prayers, as he would no longer need it, since he has a second vehicle.”
Maisy hardly knew what to say. This really was good news. “Where’s Sean now?”
“Your brother could hardly believe his good fortune. He’s gone to collect the truck and get all the paperwork squared away.”
Maisy was pleased for Sean. What concerned her now was that Sean needed to replace his tools when their budget was already at its limit.
That evening, following dinner, Maisy was in her room,waiting to hear from Chase. He was later than usual, as he had been ever since his father had left for Europe. She could hardly wait to tell him about Sean and the truck.
She answered on the first ring.
From his greeting, Maisy heard how drained Chase sounded. He was stretched to the limit.
