A Season of Miracles by Heather Graham Page B

buyers the next morning.
    â€œI don’t think it’s really that evil,” Robert told Jillian.
    She almost jumped, apparently startled that he was watching her. “Evil?”
    â€œYou’re staring at your beer as if you think it might bite.”
    She flushed and smiled. “No, but I had two…maybe three last night. Then a fortune-teller spooked me, and I passed out and later had nightmares. I’d actually been thinking of something a bit lighter for this evening.”
    â€œThen, we’ll get you something lighter.”
    â€œOh, no, it’s all right. I don’t think the beer…”
    â€œThat the beer caused the situation?”
    â€œI wish it had,” she murmured.
    â€œDo you think I’m evil, then?”
    â€œNo, of course not,” she protested, flushing more furiously.
    He glanced across the table. Daniel and Connie were still deep in conversation.
    â€œGood, I’m glad. Because I’m not. In fact, I intend to be there for you,” he said. He had meant it lightly, not intending to betray Douglas Llewellyn’s trust in any way. He was disturbed himself by the sudden intensity of his voice, but he spoke again, anyway. “I swear, when you need me, I’ll be there for you.”
    The words had an echo.
    As if he’d spoken them before, he thought.
    And she was staring at him. Completely perplexed.
    As if she’d heard him speak those exact same words before.
    â€œWow, sorry,” he murmured, easing back against the wall. “I didn’t mean to get so scary there. I just meant that…”
    â€œThat you’d be there. On my side,” she murmured.
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œI should probably leave—”
    â€œNo, don’t, please.”
    â€œHey, you’re the one who wanted to come here,” Connie protested, picking up on their conversation.
    Jillian didn’t move.
    The waitress came back to the table. “You all said that you’d just come for a drink, so I didn’t mention that the special tonight is shepherd’s pie. Really excellent, if you’d like to stay for dinner.”
    â€œShepherd’s pie,” Daniel said, looking across the table at Jillian. “You know who used to make the best shepherd’s pie in the world?”
    She smiled back. “My mother, so I’ve heard.”
    Daniel nodded. “I wasn’t all that old myself when she died, but I’ll never forget how good a cook she was. She could whip up a masterpiece with a whole kitchen full of little terrors. And her shepherd’s pie was the best. Let’s stay.”
    â€œGee, I can’t,” Connie said.
    â€œJilly?” Daniel said.
    â€œWell…” Jillian murmured.
    â€œHey, isn’t someone going to say, ‘Sure, Connie, you can stay. Call your mom. We’ll all be so disappointed if you don’t have dinner with us. Maybe Joe can come, too.’”
    Daniel grinned at Jillian, then turned toward Connie. “Sure, Connie, you can stay. Call your mom. We’ll all be so disappointed if you don’t have dinner with us. Maybe Joe can come, too.”
    â€œMr. Llewellyn, you’re a quick study,” she told him. “Excuse me, I’ll make a call.” She slid from the booth.
    â€œConnie, I have a phone right here,” Daniel said.
    â€œI don’t want to sound as if I’m having too much fun. And I may have to beg and plead a bit. Embarrassing in front of friends—and the boss.”
    â€œRobert, can you stay?” Daniel enquired.
    â€œWouldn’t miss it,” he agreed.
    â€œIs this in his job description, Daniel?” Jillian murmured, sipping her beer, speaking to Daniel, but studying Robert’s eyes.
    â€œDinner with fellow employees, especially at friendly Irish pubs. Bitch of a job, but hey…” Robert murmured back.
    She smiled, the slightest stain of a blush touching her cheeks. Something inside