Chapter 11
When Dr. D. handed Victoria the information Daddy wanted, of course she was curious. “Do you mind if I look?” They were sitting in his office.
“Be my guest.” He raised his brows as if to say, you won’t like this.
She scanned the two sheets. “Wow, this clinic is expensive. If Victoria’s Pantry ran at a loss like this, I’d have to close the doors.” How did he manage to keep the doors open?
Derek flinched. “This isn’t a for-profit enterprise, Victoria. I hope your father realizes that.”
“You are an eternal optimist.” She tucked the sheets back into the envelope.
“Yep, that's me. Always looking on the sunny side.” He seemed to enjoy teasing her and she didn’t mind a bit.
They’d fallen into an easy working relationship that had an edge to it.
..at least for her. Was she just another one of the help?
Sometimes she felt as if he were going to kiss her.
Her entire body went on overload at the thought.
But he didn’t. Maybe she had this all wrong.
The following day, she took the envelope to Daddy at his office. Surrounded by the elegant gray and black decor, she couldn’t help comparing her father’s office to Derek’s. She wasn’t sure that Dr. D. would ever feel comfortable in a place like this. What was his own father’s office like?
Marion, Daddy’s assistant, smiled as Victoria breezed through. Her father was just ending a call and waved her in. Two seconds later, he hung up. “How’s my girl?”
“Just fine. Getting in the Christmas spirit of giving.” Was that too direct?
With Derek’s numbers in her hands, she wished her father would get in that mood too.
But he wouldn’t see much return on this investment.
That’s for sure. “Here you go, Daddy. The figures you wanted from the Open Hearth Clinic. I'm hoping you can help them out.”
There. She couldn’t be more blunt. Giving her a searching glance, he took the envelope from her hands.
She settled into one of the gray leather wing chairs facing his desk.
Her hands gripped the cushy arms as nerves churned in her stomach.
The office of Pomeroy Enterprises sat on the top floor of a five-story high-rise not far from Sweetwater Creek’s historical area.
As a little girl, she’d pretended this glassed-in room was her tree house.
“When’s your article going to appear in the newspaper? Reginald was pretty impressed.” Setting the folder on his desk, Daddy leaned back in his plush leather chair.
“It might run this coming Sunday. But I’m not counting on it.
You know how it goes.” Her stomach flipped like one of Maribelle’s flapjacks.
What if it didn't appear? What if Mr. Osborne had a change of heart? She didn’t want Daddy––or Derek, for that matter––counting on it. “Articles get bumped all the time.”
“Can’t wait to read it. Have you changed your mind about Palm Beach?” Daddy’s voice and eyes coaxed her to say yes. How she hated to disappoint him.
Victoria knotted her hands together in her lap. “Sorry, but I really can't. You know, my business and everything.”
“But, Bitsy, what will you do without us?” Daddy scratched his wrinkled forehead. His skin was beginning to show the effects of doing business on the golf course. “What about dinner and everything?”
“I’ll be fine, Daddy. Really.”
His sigh told her he’d given up. “Have you settled things with your mother about your Christmas gift? I hope we’re giving you something nice this year.”
“But I don't need anything.” Was she really saying this? Then a light went on. “There is one thing I’d like, though.”
“Name it, sweetheart.” His face brightened. Daddy loved to spoil her.
“Whatever you were going to spend on my gift? Donate that money to the Open Hearth Clinic. I would love that. Really.”
Amazement flickered across his face. Shrugging, he held up both hands. “All right. If that’s what you want. And the address is here?” He tapped the folder.
“Yes.” Wouldn’t the clinic and all the people she’d met there have the best Christmas ever?
Flipping the folder open, he gave it a quick glance. “This project looks vaguely familiar. I’m asked to consider a lot of start-ups.”
“But this is different, Daddy. This clinic changes lives.” She had to go to bat for Derek. “The Open Hearth Clinic is where I’ll be on Christmas day.”
His leather chair crinkled as Daddy leaned forward, elbows resting on Derek’s sheets. “No one works on Christmas day. Why would the clinic be open?”
Daddy looked so perplexed that she had to laugh. “They’re going to serve a meal. That’s why. A lot of these folks have no hot dinner, family or friends waiting for them.”
She’d found some Christmas games online, along with holiday movies. Derek was going to hang a sheet on the wall so they could all watch the DVDs he’d project from his laptop.
“If that’s what you want.” He sat back with a sigh. Poor guy. She’d thrown him for a loop.
Getting up, she came around his desk. “You should be glad I’m not costing you so much this year.” Victoria dropped a kiss on his forehead.
“You’ve given me a lot to think about.” Standing, her father walked her to the door.
“Please don’t look so sad.” Looping her arm though his, she squeezed his arm. And for a second she pictured walking down the aisle with Daddy, just like this. She’d be in a white dress and her father, in a tux. But who would wait for her at the end?
“Oh, I’m not.” Jingling the coins in his pocket the way he always did when he was thinking, Daddy smiled. “You’ve grown up, Victoria. My little girl. So this young man is important to you?”
They’d reached the double doors. She turned to face him.
“Yes, Daddy. He is.” But she didn’t know how Derek felt.
Sure, they got along a lot better now. But was there more?
As she hugged her father, his face held a mixture of sadness and something else.
She’d like to think that was pride shining in his eyes.
As the walnut-paneled elevator whisked her down to the first floor, it hit her that Daddy had called her Victoria, not Bitsy, as he said good-bye.
The days slowly passed. No presents had appeared under the tree in Victoria’s Pantry, except for the two Victoria had put there.
And yet the last handful of Christmas wishes Victoria brought into the Pantry had disappeared.
At least now Maisy was keeping track of the gifts.
If packages didn’t show up soon, Victoria would have to shop.
Maisy and Darla could help her wrap. Honestly, her fingernails were bitten down. She was so nervous.
They were in a Christmas countdown and Victoria felt so unsettled.
Soon her parents would be leaving for the holidays without her.
That felt very weird. At Victoria’s insistence, Mama had sent the gowns back to New York.
Her silent disapproval was hard to take.
Daddy sent her a nice email, thanking her for information on the clinic.
He’d sent the Open Hearth Clinic a check.
The amount was impressive and she couldn’t wait to see Derek’s response.
Looking at the crazy jumble of ornaments and lights on her Victoria’s Pantry tree, she wondered where she’d failed.
If presents didn’t show up soon, there would be little to celebrate, at least for her.
The joy of being part of a group effort just wouldn’t be there.
She wanted to believe that all of her customers had opened their hearts this Christmas.
Getting to know the people who visited the clinic had changed her whole view of the world.
The people who came to the Open Hearth Clinic needed others to help them create a happy Christmas.
A week had gone by since Derek gave Victoria the clinic information.
He hadn’t heard anything from her father.
What did he expect? After all it was Christmas.
When he was growing up, his own parents engaged in a continual whirl of parties at this time of year.
No doubt the Pomeroys did the same. Victor Pomeroy was probably humoring his little girl by asking for the clinic’s financials.
And part of him almost didn’t want a response.
Having Victoria approach her father for money didn’t feel right.
No way did he want Victoria to think he’d used her just for her family contacts.
Hadn’t women done that with him? How disappointed they’d been when they realized he had no intention of living a life that included nothing more than society balls and fund raising dinners.
Back to the mail. A pile of envelopes was heaped on his desk. Slitting them open, he read through them. Melanie Farburg had Bryson, her four year-old, draw a picture of Dr. D. The stick figure was priceless and he taped it to the wall.
The personal notes made him smile. Their gratitude touched him.
The checks? They came from a group of patients who worked hard to just buy food and pay the utility bill.
He probably wouldn’t cash any of them. No, he was after big fish in the little pond.
Donors like Victor Pomeroy and Pomeroy Enterprises.
The man who didn’t believe in Derek’s mission.
Although Victoria had apparently given Phyllis the funds for a Christmas meal here at the clinic, he hadn't heard Victoria say she’d be here.
Sure, he’d given her nothing but trouble when she made an honest attempt to help.
Still, coming here on Christmas would be the real sign that she was “all in.”
Did he want her to be into the clinic...or into him?
Yesterday, Phyllis had talked to him about the lack of presents under the tree. “What are we going to do?” They were closeted in his office.
“She’ll come through. You explained the process to Victoria, right?”
“Why, of course. But you never know.”
“It’ll be fine.” No way did he want Victoria to be seen as someone who would let them down. She was more than that. Wasn’t she?