Wait.
Make that foolish wishful thinking.
What about the life waiting for her in New York? Did she really want to encourage a man who had no intention of moving? What would be the future in that—except potential heartache?
The very same questions she’d wrestled with ad nauseam while debating whether to extend the invitation to the lecture. In the end, asking him had been an impulsive leap of faith—and disappointed as she’d been by his refusal, at least that had put the matter to rest.
Yet his actions today suggested the regrets he’d sent may have engendered other regrets. That he was interested in exploring their mutual attraction.
However . . . it was also possible she was getting ahead of herself. Frank’s sociability could be nothing more than an attempt to let her know his negative response to her invitation hadn’t been personal. That he liked her as a friend and wanted to make certain she wasn’t offended.
From a logical perspective, that was a plausible conclusion.
Except the spark in his eyes whenever their gazes met implied his motive for staying today went far beyond mere politeness.
“The owner must have had a bunch of pictures on the walls.” Frank propped his hands on his hips and scanned the pockmarked surface. “And whoever took them off wasn’t any too careful. Look at all the rough edges.”
“Yep. They’ll have to be sanded first.” Stephanie picked up a sanding block. “What’ll it be—sanding or filling?”
“Do you have a preference?”
“I’ve done both.”
“Why don’t I sand?”
She handed over the block. “Have at it.”
He dived in as she opened the spackle and picked up a putty knife.
There was ample opportunity to talk in the quiet bedroom, as Frank had indicated—but all at once he seemed tongue-tied.
Not a problem.
After years of cultivating clients and running meetings, keeping the conversational ball in the air was a no-brainer.
Rule number one—ask open-ended questions.
“Tell me why you’re here today. I assume board members don’t get hands-on with every program the organization sponsors.”
Frank picked up a paper towel and wiped drywall dust off the first hole he’d sanded. “No, but I do try to get involved in most of the larger projects we take on.”
“This appears to be a big one.”
“It is. Maybe the most ambitious in the organization’s history. When Adam Stone brought the idea forward, the board had serious concerns. Not about the merits of his proposal or the need for a place like Hope House, but the start-up costs were significant. There are also a number of other challenges—including reams of government red tape to maneuver through in order to be accepted for the foster system.”
“Yet Helping Hands pursued it.” She used her putty knife to work spackle into the hole he’d sanded.
“Yes. You caught the end of the process, at the town meeting. After that, the board voted to proceed—but a few members do have reservations.”
“What camp are you in?”
“Full speed ahead.” He wiped off the drywall dust on the second hole and moved on.
Stephanie smoothed out her patch with the edge of the putty knife and followed him down the wall. “Any special reason you’re so gung ho?”
“I like kids—and some can benefit from a leg up to help them overcome the bad stuff they’ve experienced. I volunteered with the Big Brother program for years, and I saw firsthand the negative results of a shoddy upbringing. Giving children from dysfunctional backgrounds a stable, loving home environment through Hope House is a wonderful addition to the Helping Hands program.”
“It certainly fits with the altruistic nature of the organization.”
“Yes, it does—but I have to admit I also have a bit of a selfish motivation for getting involved.”
She angled toward him. While she and Frank were recent acquaintances, she’d seen nothing to indicate he had a selfish bone in his body.
“Now you have me intrigued. What could possibly be in this project for you?”
He shot her a quick, sheepish grin. “A chance to play grandpa.” He went back to sanding. “Whoever we get as houseparents may come with real grandparents for the kids, but I figure no child can have enough older folks in their life who like to dote on them.”
“So you intend to make a personal investment in the project.” Not surprising for someone who’d volunteered as a Big Brother.
Her heart warmed a few more degrees toward the man beside her.
“Yes. It’s not like having my own grandkids, but you don’t have to be related by blood to have an impact on a young person’s life. And seeing the world through the eyes of a child helps you appreciate things you’ve come to take for granted—and keeps you young.”
“I suppose that’s true.” Not that she’d had any experience with children herself. Nor had she let herself think much about them after she decided to devote herself to her career instead of trying to juggle a family and a job.
What was the point?
That train had passed her by, as she’d told her nephew.
As if he’d tuned in to her thoughts, Frank spoke again. “If I’m being too personal, just tell me to mind my own business—but I’m curious about why you never married and had a family.”
She took extra pains as she smoothed out the spackle with the putty knife, blending it in to the surrounding wall until the edges were seamless. “I didn’t think I could do justice to both my career and a family. I had my sights set on an executive position, and that’s where I chose to focus all my energy. If I’d had a husband and children, I’d have spent my life being pulled two directions and feeling I wasn’t giving either all they deserved.”
“These days, many women have both.”
“But they either don’t rise as high in the ranks as they could have because they’re distracted by other obligations, or they delegate many of their parental duties to a nanny who becomes a surrogate mother. I believe in giving 100 percent to anything I undertake.”
“Admirable.” He leaned closer to the wall and picked off a flaking piece of drywall. “And I hear what you’re saying. Jo Ann felt the same. She didn’t have a high-level job like yours, but she always planned to cut her hours back after we had kids. A moot point, as it turned out.”
“Did you ever think about adopting?”
“Yes. But we kept trying to have a child until we were in our forties, and then Jo Ann began to have a few health issues. The adoption process can be long, and she was afraid that by the time we got a child, she wouldn’t have the energy to raise him or her. So I’ll settle for being an adopted grandfather. Despite this silver hair, I have a superabundance of energy.”
“I noticed.” The man bristled with it.
That was one attribute they had in common. She was brimming with vitality too, and looking forward to many more lively, productive years.
It was too bad they wouldn’t include visiting children and spoiling grandchildren—but she’d made her peace with her choice long ago.
Nevertheless, for the first time in decades, she couldn’t help wondering what might have lain beyond the door she’d firmly closed.