

The Persistent Heart

By Dorothy P. Freda

(writing as Marianne Dora Rose)

© November 2019 by Dorothy P. Freda

(Pseudonyms - Marianne Dora Rose aka Paula Freda)

Smashwords Edition

Bookcover and interior photos licensed by

Dorothy P. Freda from iStockphoto.com and

Dreamstime.com

English: Lady Liberty's Original Torch,

Liberty Island in New York Harbor,

Statue of Liberty Museum.

5 July 2019, Epicgenius

English: Liberty Island photo D Ramey Logan

14 December 2014

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof. This is a work of fiction; names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

DEDICATION

With thanks to my Dear Lord Jesus and his Blessed Mother Mary whose strength, guidance, and her Holy Rosary, are my anchor in this troubled world, I dedicate this book to my husband, Domenick, whose love, patience and kindness over 48 years kept my dreams and view of the romantic alive and vibrant.

It is not the power of the river,

or its momentum

that cuts through the rock,

but its persistence.
CHAPTER ONE

"I guarantee you, that within ten years I'll be our department's president!" David's tone brooked no argument.

"I'm sure the score of hopefuls in line ahead of you, would beg to differ," his friend and co-worker remarked. Age had mellowed his deep baritone.

The elevator door opened on the fifth floor housing the cafeteria, and Debbie entered. Chin-length mousy brown hair framed her cheeks as she bent her head and raised her wrist to read the time on her watch. She was unaware that a smidgen of ketchup hung to the corner of her mouth. She'd lost track of time and gone over her 45 minutes allotted for lunch. No time to clean up in the rest room, only a quick swipe of her napkin across her lips and a hurried run to the elevators to return to the tenth floor and her cubicle and computer.

David's voice from behind froze her into place. "Ben, I assure you those hopefuls won't stand a chance. I have them beat by education, seniority, presence and a well-kept list of any and all their mistakes, no matter how small or pardonable."

Ben raised an eyebrow. "No Mercy, no quarter given," he said without surprise. "You'll mow down anyone who gets in your way."

"Anyone?" Debbie asked.

Both men started, becoming aware of her.

"No matter who you hurt?" she asked.

David's ego demanded he answer, without noticing who was asking, except for the female voice. "Yes," he replied, "no matter whose or how many toes I'll need to step on."

He waited for a rebuttal, or an argument, but none came. The silence made him look at the speaker. She looked familiar, but he wasn't certain from where. Not surprising. She wasn't much to look at. No one he'd want to remember. Except perhaps for her eyes. Mousy brown like her hair. He felt the urge to laugh. Those nondescript eyes were gazing at him with compassion. He was tempted to ask who she was, but the elevator came to a halt and the doors to the tenth floor opened. She hurried out.

"Hey," Ben nudged him. "We getting out?"

"Yes ... yes, of course," David said, stepping off the elevator. It was their floor as well. "Silly female," he muttered. "Who is she, do you know?"

Ben shook his head. "No idea. But the tenth floor is your department. You're the manager. I did notice she headed in the direction of the typing pool."

"You still call it that?" David asked.

"Old habits die hard," Ben said.

"No wonder you're still Assistant Manager," David's tone held no contempt, rather familiarity. Ben Adison was not an achiever. He liked his job, it paid well, and he was content. He was a conscientious worker. And most important, trustworthy. The man wasn't afraid to speak his mind, but he never condemned or judged. He'd originally been a Psychologist, but midway in his career, left the practice, choosing randomly to work as a Bank Manager's Assistant. Ben hoped to retire in a few years. He'd miss him, David thought. And there were very few people he knew, if any, who warranted that feeling. Especially when he would need to choose a new assistant.

David chuckled at a ridiculous thought that crossed his mind. Maybe he ought to choose that silly imp with the compassionate gaze.

CHAPTER TWO

Debbie hurried into her cubicle and sat down in front of her computer. In her grandmother's time, her position as a data entry clerk was classified as typist, in a typing pool consisting of a group of women, sitting in rows of narrow metal or wood desks. Each desk supported a heavy IBM electric or the updated selectric typewriter with a rotating and pivoting typeball, the golf ball, as it was informally called, that had replaced the typebars which swung up to strike the ribbon. The narrow desks usually contained two drawers on one side, the larger top drawer with file slots for typing paper, office forms, etc., and the smaller bottom drawer for the typist's purse and a book to read on a slow workday when the manager wasn't afoot.

The Typing Pools, nothing like the present day's six-foot metal-framed acrylic paneled cubicles, housing a long curved desk, computer and printer, company phone, and shelf and file unit. Nothing like, Debbie thought gratefully, from behind which she could see David and Ben entering the large office, but not be seen herself unless they walked right up to her cubicle and looked over the partition.

Still reeling from her inability to remain silent at David's selfish remarks, the last thing she wanted was for him to recognize that she was one of the employees under his management. She slid her swivel chair quietly to the side to bend low, open a file drawer and pretend to search through file jackets. She breathed a sigh of relief as both men walked past her workstation toward the back of the room and their offices.

Closing the drawer and straightening, Debbie wondered from where she'd found the audacious courage to question David's morals? She was fairly certain that he had no memory of meeting her face to face three years ago when Ben had introduced her as a new employee. A cursory glance, a quick stereotyped welcome, before his phone had rung and he'd turned away to become immersed in a conversation with another department head, the newbie quickly forgotten, as Ben escorted her out of the office and to her new work station.

Although David was the manager of the department, Ben handled most of the personnel matters. She grimaced at the thought that Ben must have recognized her. "Lord," she implored, "I hope he doesn't tell him who I am."

To hear David make such mean-spirited remarks had shocked her. Especially coming from someone as well educated and diligent in his management of their department.

"I have them beat by education, seniority, intellect and presence," he'd boasted. All true, Debbie had to admit. Tall, well-built, wavy light brown hair cut close to his ears, and discriminating, expressive dark brown eyes, that perfectly matched his casual, intoxicating air of confidence, there wasn't a girl in the department who didn't find him beguiling, including her. He was unmarried and lived alone in a classy uptown apartment. It was rumored during work breaks in the women's lounge that he'd gone through a few relationships, but opted out before the subject of marriage arose.

Dorian Gray? The infamous name crossed her mind. "No, not yet," she murmured under her breath. But it wouldn't be long, if he continued on his present path. She wondered about his background. His parents and his childhood. His religious beliefs, did he have any?

Her workbasket was empty at the moment, the afternoon workload not delivered as yet. On impulse, she switched on her computer and opened her browser to the Bank's Staff page. His name was listed one below the Executive Directory.

Debbie had one advantage over the other workers in her department. Along with preparing and filling out forms for prospective customers, her job included updating and maintaining personnel files. She had security clearance with non-executive personnel. His personnel file was accessible to her, as he was not classified as Executive.

"I'm not spying on him, or attempting to secure private information for personal gain," she debated, feeling a tug of wrongdoing, as she scanned his personnel file. "But there must be something I can learn about him, about his past, and the reasons behind his uncaring attitude toward anyone standing in the way of achieving his personal goals. Something I can say to him that he can relate to. Some remark that will strike a chord and gentle his heart. Stop him from destroying what inherent good there is in him."

CHAPTER THREE

Although Ben had shown no surprise upon hearing David's abusive resolve, he was not unaffected by it. In fact, he was seriously appalled and afraid for him. In the years they had worked together, Ben had come to admire the young man's intelligence and competent handling of the department's management. David was conscientious to a T and never shirked his duties. David's skill and responsible handling of the bank's loan transactions, both for the borrower and the lender, would eventually garner him promotions that would lead to the Branch's Presidency. The man had yet to approve a loan that was not paid back promptly, or a bank investment that did not result in profit to both borrower and lender. Had David come across a stumbling block to his goals for advancement?

The only impediment or obstacle that Ben could think of was the Departmental President's option to make promotional choices. Like Ben himself, Luke Bradford, the current Executive President, was set to retire shortly. His eldest son, Jeffrey, worked in Claims and Discrepancies. He was also a skilled and responsible employee in line for promotion. Ben wondered, was Jeffrey the obstacle that David meant when he made that dire pronouncement in the elevator.

He smiled recalling Debbie's remark. He knew who she was, despite denying knowing her to David. Deborah Rillson was a sweet good-natured young woman, who for all her shy reserve, and timid appearance, had found the courage to admonish David. It took a lot to unnerve David, but though Debbie hadn't realized it, evidenced by the way she'd hurried off the elevator, she had shocked David to the point he'd forgotten he was on the tenth floor, his floor as well.

David had called her a silly female. Silly, perhaps, Ben mused, like most of the girls in the department who wore that besotted expression whenever David walked past their cubicles, barely aware of their existence. But this girl had principles and courage to express them. And she was kind. He'd noticed often when the coffee and donut cart came through the office during break time, and all but one of the preferred chocolate glazed donuts had been purchased, Debbie would relinquish with a smile that last chocolate glazed donut to a fellow-employee, and choose one less coveted.

Yes, she was a sweet girl, and kind. He recalled especially one day, with his door ajar, and none of the work team aware he observed them. Jacklyn, a tall, beautiful, voluptuous, auburn-haired young employee, voiced a scathing opinion about Debbie, right to her face. Ben winced at her closing remark. "A short, overweight imp," Jacklyn called her.

Debbie, her visage blanching with hurt, started to say something in reprisal, but stopped herself. What she said instead left her abuser speechless. "It's true, Jacklyn. I'm short; definitely need to lose about twenty pounds, and not much to look at. But I'm not ashamed of my looks. I would be ashamed, though, if I were beautiful and enjoyed hurting the feelings of anyone less fortunate."

"What a woman!" Ben thought. And David might do well to befriend a woman like Debbie. True, he pondered, David would never be attracted to her physically. He liked his women attractive, close to his height, and curvaceous. Debbie was beautiful within. She had disquieted David's normal aplomb. Perhaps he ought to disclose her identity. He was after all in charge of Personnel. He wondered what would happen if he arranged for her to work closer with David. There were projects David could use her help with. "Hmmm," he whispered, setting the gears in his mind to turning."

CHAPTER FOUR

Debbie accessed David's employment application. He'd begun working at the bank as a teller while still attending college with studies in marketing and business. Upon graduation, a Bachelor Degree **Summa Cum Laude under his belt, he was** promoted to Clerical Loan Consultant. Recognized for his conscientious and diligent work, he rose steadily, reaching his present managerial position.

From his original application, and updates made, along with the name given of his nearest kin, his sister, Vanessa, a second address followed when he moved to his own apartment in a middle class area. The third address update showed his increase in salary and his move to a more affluent neighborhood. The name of his nearest kin remained that of his sister, but it showed a change of surname, although the address remained the same. Debbie surmised that his parents were either deceased or had retired and moved away, leaving the house to him and his sister and her spouse.

A separate optional question requested his religious affiliation, if an emergency arose and a clergyman be required. David had chosen to fill the blank and written Roman Catholic. She felt comforted. Whether he practiced his faith, or not, at least they both shared the same religious background, giving her a foothold to find the right words that might touch the necessary chord in his heart.

Not much to go on, she thought. But it was not her intention to invade his privacy. Only to know enough about him to make subtle remarks here and there with the intent of turning him away from the selfish path he planned. A path she believed would ultimately destroy his chance for peace of mind and spirit.

Ben kept a closer watch on Debbie to verify his opinion of her. At length, convinced his plan would help his friend, he began with setting a date for his retirement. A year should do the trick, he thought. He chose a snowy, windy day, with half the staff calling in late or snowed in, to inform David of his decision. Debbie rented a modest mid-town apartment, a block from the subway station where she normally caught the express train with a subway stop at the corner of the bank. As Ben expected, she was in her cubicle, busy doing her work and filling in for the absentees, as much as she could handle.

David sat at his desk in his office, assiduously coordinating and assigning workloads piling up due to depleted staff. Not the calmest of workdays, Ben thought, but a good day, to spring his news of retirement, and hint at the need to consider a replacement early enough to give him time to train his successor. A good day, he thought, to enlist the aid of a worthy soul to one teetering on disgrace. He left his office and headed for David's.

David's secretary, Helen, a middle-aged brunette, sat at her desk outside her boss's office, a harried expression on her face, as she studied her computer screen displaying the spreadsheet ready for data entry. Several opened manila files were spread across her desk, with many more unopened waiting in her workbox.

"Glad you made it in," Ben said, pointing to the floor length window to the side and the thick swirling snowflakes outside blustering downward at an angle, whiting out the image of Battery Park, the Bay and the Hudson River.

"How's he doing?" Ben asked.

Helen made a none-too-happy face. "Don't ask," she said.

Ben nodded. "You're right, Helen. I shouldn't."

"And I wouldn't go in there, right now, either," Helen said as Ben started toward David's door."

"I have no choice. I have something urgent to discuss with him."

"Good luck," Helen said, turning back to the spreadsheet.

Yes, I'll need it, he thought, walking up to the closed door. But I'm counting on David being so busy, he won't have time to argue or concentrate in depth when I tell him I've fixed the date of my retirement, and request to begin training an employee of my choice who I believe qualifies to replace me.

He rapped his knuckles three times on David's door — their personal timesaving recognition knocks — and entered.

David glanced up from the open file he was working with, gave a quick sigh and smile and greeted, "Ben, I'm glad you made it in. What a mess! Grab a chair."

Ben quickly chose the upholstered armchair closest to him, moved it to the front of David's desk and sat down. "What can I do to help?"

"Here," David said, choosing the manila folder topping the stack nearest him and handing it to him across the desk.

Ben opened the file and scanned the stamped red note — RESEARCH — at the top, above the client's name. He arched an eyebrow. "Unexpected," he said. "On all previous loans, they never missed a payment. Are you considering denying their new loan request?"

"I read an article in the Time's Business Section. Their profits this year thus far accentuate a heavy loss."

"Shouldn't you wait until year's end? They may recoup what they've lost."

"You know I normally give a client as well known and financially stable as this one, time, but I foresaw this new loan request coming with their declining profits, especially when they've come up with no new viable products to redeem their losses." He pointed to the numbers tallied on the client's list of assets. "Doesn't look good. I had planned today to research further their current risk percentage, but with half our staff missing, it's all I can do to keep the department coordinated and running."

"I'll get right on it," Ben said. He closed the folder and started to rise. "I hope we don't have any more snowstorms like this one, especially before I've finished training my replacement."

Mentally, Ben counted, one, two, three—.

"What replacement!"

"It will keep. I-I shouldn't have brought it up now."

"You've fixed a retirement date?" David asked, clearly disconcerted.

Ben felt a pang of guilt. He didn't enjoy manipulating a fellow man. But neither did he want to see David turn into a manipulator, with that statement he'd made in the elevator.

"Well, yes, I have. It's time, David. But not to worry. The one I've chosen to replace me has great potential, and with the right training, will be a huge asset to you and the department." He added, "If you recall, you gave me carte blanche last year to choose, as you put it, someone I believed adequate to fill my position."

"Yes, I remember," David admitted. "But I didn't think it would be this soon." An inconsolable frown crossed his brow. "What date do you plan to leave?"

"A week after New Year's Day. That will give us time to make sure the replacement is working out well and start the New Year on an even keel."

David sighed. "Well, at least that will give me full seven months to adjust to losing the best level-headed, clever, savvy Assistant Manager I believe I'll ever have; trustworthy, not to mention caring, and a good friend."

"Right back at you," Ben said warmly. "I'm already missing working with you. But I can't deny lately feeling my age. Like I said, it's time, David."

"At least I have you now, with this snowstorm and half the staff unavailable. So, who did you choose to train as your replacement? Do I know him?"

Ben felt a twinge of nervousness. "You tagged me trustworthy. Will you continue to trust me? I'd like to keep her name to myself, until I've completed most of the training and feel she's ready to work with you."

Ben noted David's eyebrows arching at the words her and she. He was glad he hadn't said her name. David might not recognize her by her name, but he was sure to remember her, the moment he went out in the department and put a face to her name. Besides, he thought, he hadn't asked Debbie if she was willing to be his replacement. He had no doubts about her potential and capability to fill his position, having made certain of that before choosing.

"A woman?" David asked, non-plussed.

Ben nodded. "Conscientious, smart, level-headed and trustworthy." He added, "I've never known you to be gender-biased."

"I'm not," David reassured. "It's just that I can't think of any woman in our department who fits your description."

"Maybe not now, but once she's fully trained and you've had a chance to work with her, I believe you'll change your mind."

David's intercom buzzed. "Excuse me," David said and answered the com.

Helen's worried voice came through, "Three more not showing up. Two already here, had to leave due to emergencies at home."

"And the work load?" David asked.

"Six new loan applications, three renewals and two time extension requests, domestic and international!"

"Damn it," David swore. "What else! Helen, how many entry clerks on the floor left?"

"Two. Debbie and Jacklyn."

"Are they holding out?"

"Jacklyn hasn't stopped complaining since she walked in an hour ago. Debbie has been here since eight this morning. She's a sweetheart. Too busy working to complain. Done her share and five times more."

David nodded. "Make sure you add her name to the list of promotions considered, and put her in for an added bonus this Christmas."

"Will do," Helen said.

"Bring in the hard copy files of the new requests," David told her,

"Be right in," Helen said.

He told Ben, "The storm has affected the bank's mainframe computer and all our electronics are working molasses slow." David paused a moment as a thought struck him. "Ben, is Helen the replacement you're considering?"

Ben shook his head. "She's good, but she's best at following instructions, rather than taking the initiative."

"Okay, Ben, you've yet to steer me wrong."

Any further conversation on the replacement stalled as Helen walked in armed with a slew of files.

CHAPTER FIVE

Two days passed before the storm abated and the department was again fully staffed. Debbie was in her cubicle working, when Ben entered her station.

"Good morning, Miss Rillson," Ben greeted.

Debbie turned and gazed up. She experienced a shiver of trepidation, but quickly reminded herself that several weeks had passed since the incident in the elevator, and it was unlikely that the Assistant Manager remembered her presence in the elevator, or the reproof in her question to David's comment about achieving his ambition no matter whose toes he had to step on.

"No Mercy, no quarter given," Ben had remarked to David. "You'll mow down anyone who gets in your way?"

"Anyone?" she'd asked, alerting both men to her presence. "No matter whom you hurt?"

"Yes," David had replied, "no matter whose or how many toes I'll need to step on."

The cold selfish determination in his reply had etched itself in her mind. Dorian Gray in the making, she'd concluded. The doors to the elevator had opened to the tenth floor, her department. His and Ben's as well, although neither made a move to exit. Gratefully, she'd discerned no recognition of her identity in David's eyes. She'd hurried out, shocked at her audacity, but even more shocked at her glimpse into his deteriorating nature. Up to that moment, she'd thought him a superior man, one to be admired and emulated, her feelings for him no different from that of most of the girls in the department.

Ben's mellowed baritone brought her back to the present. "Miss Rillson, I've never thanked you personally for holding the office together during this past snowstorm. With the biannual pay raise audits coming up shortly, I wanted to let you know that Management has approved yours, along with a thank you bonus of $100 for your loyalty and conscientious attendance and assistance that day, far and above what was expected."

"Oh, that's much appreciated, but honestly I didn't do more than was required from a full-time employee."

"I disagree," Ben said. And with that, I have an offer to make." Ben shifted nervously. His plan depended on her answer. He hoped he hadn't misjudged. "I will be leaving my position shortly after Christmas, and I've been given the freedom to choose and train who I feel can adequately replace me as Assistant Manager. It shouldn't come as a surprise to you, but you are the best, most efficient and conscientious worker in our office. What I call the quiet type who gives the utmost of her ability and loyalty to her job."

Ben paused, noting the puzzled look bordering on embarrassment on Debbie's face. "Forgive me," he said. "I'm having a rough time trying to capture your interest in my offer of a promotion. I guess the best way I can word this is that I believe you have the potential for an excellent assistant manager to David. He gives much of himself to his work and will expect as much from my replacement. I believe you're the right choice. Would you consider the position?"

He waited for Debbie's reply.

"Me?" Debbie asked, mousy brown eyes wide with astonishment.

"Yes, Debbie," Ben said. "Sweet, timid, gentle soul, morally brave to the core," he urged.

"Because of what I said in the elevator that morning?"

"Firstly, because of your work abilities, and yes, because of what you were brave enough to inquire of David, right to him, despite his position in the department."

Debbie paused to reflect. His offer felt heaven-sent, realizing Ben had indeed recognized her in the elevator and remembered the reproof in her remark. She had prayed to the Lord and struggled with thoughts of how to divert David from the self-destructive path he intended taking. Yet, what words or comments, from an imp of a girl, a stranger, he probably considered daft, and could easily step on, might influence him not to walk that path?

If Ben's offer wasn't the answer to her prayer, what more could she expect. "I'm honored, Mr. Adison, that you're considering me for the position of Assistant Manager." Somehow, it felt impossible that David knew of Ben's offer and approved of it. "Does our manager know you are offering me the position?" she had to ask.

Ben sighed. "No, he doesn't. But he's given me carte blanche to choose and train my choice, and not reveal my candidate's name until I am sure I've made the right choice."

Ben added, to further convince Debbie, "David and I go back a long ways. His parents and I were next-door neighbors. He was a precocious, stubborn child, and he had some problems adjusting to school routines and rules. At the time, I worked at home as a trained psychologist. His parents asked for my help. And I agreed. They were kindly, friendly neighbors. I was glad to help and refused any payments. All David needed was confirmation of his self-esteem, and advice on how to channel that stubbornness and teen-age rebellion against rules and regulations, channel those feelings toward self-confidence and maturity."

"It makes sense, now," Debbie said. "I can understand his giving you carte blanche to make the choice, without demanding to know the particulars, as your average manager would." On impulse, she asked, "Do you still work as a psychologist on the side?"

"No, Debbie. Mid-career, age and health problems interfered, and I decided to change over to a less demanding and stressful profession. David introduced me to the world of banking. Ergo, his Assistant Manager," Ben chuckled.

Heaven-sent, Debbie's thoughts reiterated. But still she had to ask, "What if, when he finally learns your choice is me, he thinks we're both daft, and refuses to accept me?"

"Do you accept the promotion?" Ben asked, not replying to her question.

"I do," she said.

"Good." As for the what if's—" he left the question hanging.

"Okay," Debbie whispered.

CHAPTER SIX

Even in his plush apartment, in the quiet of his bedroom, the thought refused to be silenced. Who had Ben chosen to train? Jacklyn? Harriet? Barbara? and so on.

He'd given Ben carte blanche and agreed to his keeping the woman's identity anonymous until sure of her competency. David considered his word his badge of honor and trust. But the not knowing was a gnat pursuing him, buzzing through his thoughts, nettling him to no end. When walking through the department, fulfilling his daily work and routine rounds, the not knowing had him eyeballing every female worker under his supervision, and in the privacy of his office, researching their personnel records, to ascertain their ability to fill Ben's shoes.

Jennifer? Prudence, Leslie? Debbie? He shook his head. No. none of them fit the bill. Definitely, not Debbie ... Debbie?

Wasn't she the imp in the elevator who had questioned his remark about his determination to achieve his ambition, no matter whose toes he'd have to step on? Anyone? she'd asked. No matter who you hurt? The imp, her eyes, mousy brown like her hair, mousy like the rest of her, the reproof in her voice, and the surprising, incomprehensible compassion in her gaze ... she'd actually felt sorry for him.

"Leave it to Ben," he whispered, clues hazarding to dovetail. "Deborah Rilston?" he murmured.

When he'd signed the raise approval and bonus check, he hadn't equated her nickname with her full name. She was the girl who had shown up to work on the day of the snowstorm, when half the staff in his department had stayed out. The girl, Ben had told him, had saved the day, doing her work and that of several others.

Knowing Ben's character as he did, she could be the one he'd chosen. Debbie, barely noticeable, hidden in her cubicle, industriously working, impish, 5 feet, 2, a bit overweight, with an ordinary pleasant face, but plain, her stance quiet, unobtrusive. He couldn't deny the girl was a conscientious worker, and that she was brave, but not imprudent, evidenced by the way she'd scurried out of the elevator, with good reason, since as her manager, he held the authority to terminate her employment. But clearly, not afraid of him as a fellow human being, the reproof in her voice, genuine and unwavering, along with the unexpected, unasked for, compassion in her gaze. Ben, the psychologist, was trained to notice the not easily discernible at first glance.

It has to be her, David thought. But I could be wrong.

In the morning, when he entered the department, he made a point of quietly approaching Debbie's cubicle. There she was, seated in front of her computer, her browser displaying the spreadsheet corresponding to the manila folder open on her desk.

Immersed in corroborating and updating the info between spreadsheet and hard copy file, it took her a moment to sense the presence of someone looking at her over the partition. She gazed up. Eyes widening, she swallowed nervously. "Goo-Good Morning, Mr. Albamonte."

"Good morning, Miss Rilston," he greeted. Upon second sight, he reexamined his original construct of the girl in the elevator. Her eyes weren't actually a mousy brown, more of a light, delicate oak, bordering on hazel, and the color of her hair, a fine-spun sandy brown. He wouldn't tag her overweight, just curves well endowed. A woman with a good body and a good mind. A conscientious worker. A kind, moral person, like Ben, not prone to condemn quickly; rather prone to compassion.

"Can I be of assistance?" Debbie asked. She had recovered her composure, and calmed the tremor in her initial greeting. "Mr. Albamonte, is there a file you need updated?"

Struggling with the urge to ask her outright if she was the employee that Ben had chosen to fill the upcoming vacancy, he realized he'd been staring, and again, as in the elevator, she'd upset his usual aplomb. Once more, he reminded himself that he'd given his word to wait until Ben was ready to reveal the employee's identity. He cleared his throat and quickly improvised. "I wanted to thank you personally for helping to keep the department from falling apart during the past snowstorm. You ...You did receive the raise and the bonus?"

Her earnest smile was refreshing. "Yes, thank you. Although, as I told Ben, I did nothing more than what was required of me," she replied.

He'd known a lot of women, their smiles far more attractive, elegant smiles to attract him, not to mention the ingratiating smiles of would-be clients feigning good will to obtain his approval.

"I enjoy working here," she added.

Simple and natural without cunning or deceit, artless elegance, he noted, pleased. He felt the urge to know her better. He returned her smile, deciding, I'll be sure to mention to Ben that if Debbie is his choice, I'd be agreeable to giving her a trial run.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The question of who Ben had chosen continued to plague him. Over his tenure as manager, he'd found the best time to observe and rate the employees under his management was via his computer linked to the security camera in the office proper. Thus, the following morning when the coffee cart arrived and the staff was gathered about it, he did just that. He was unable to resist a smile, as he observed Debbie purchasing a recent addition, the fluted, ring-shaped doughnut, a lightly glazed sweetened fluffy light airy pastry. Her coffee with milk and sugar, he observed, chuckling, was more accurately described as milk darkened with a little coffee and one sugar.

He also noted that except for a brief greeting, she did not idle about the cart, unlike several of her co-workers, who chatted vigorously and hung about the cart, stretching their break time as much as possible. Jacklyn especially, voiced strong, unflattering opinions about some office procedure or employee, and flirted openly with the opposite gender. He found her physically attractive, but characteristically repulsive and annoying, and definitely not an asset to his department. If she was the one Ben had chosen, he'd reject her with good cause.

What a difference between Jacklyn and the other girls, especially Debbie. He followed Debbie on his screen to her cubicle and watched her place her morning snack beside her computer on her desk, sit, and reverently touch her forehead, her chest, her left and then her right shoulder as she made the sign of the Cross and whispered a prayer of thanksgiving. She consumed the donut happily, and leisurely sipped at her coffee while she worked.

No wonder, his cold, unyielding statement in the elevator had shocked her religious sensibilities. She had probably thought him devoid of all morality. And perhaps justly so, he thought, realizing how literal he must have sounded. He was determined to achieve the position of Executive President of this branch's Loan Department, fully believing he deserved the position. He'd proven his potential and his worth to the top Executives in charge of the branch. Why should he let anyone less worthy than himself receive the promotion.

It was the option of David's Departmental President, Luke Bradford, to make the final choice. Like Ben, he was set to retire shortly. His eldest son, Jeffrey, managed Claims and Discrepancies. David felt Jeffrey was well qualified for the promotion to Executive President of the Claims and Discrepancies Department.

David had always found Luke Bradford to be fair-minded, even-tempered and a capable leader for whom to work. As the department's leader, he expected a high caliber of work quality of all the employees under his supervision, especially David and Ben. But David suspected that all bets were off when it came to Bradford's affection for Jeffrey. It was no secret at the Branch how close the two were, and that Bradford doted on his son.

As Manager of Claims and Discrepancies, Jeffrey lived up to his father's expectations, and it was common knowledge that his name was high on the list of candidates for the presidency when Bradford retired. Then, a few months ago, rumors had surfaced that he'd asked his father to transfer his name to the list of candidates for the Loan Department. Not fair, David thought. Not fair, skillwise, nor ethical. And if Bradford showed signs of giving in to filial devotion over business acumen, then no matter how many toes he'd have to step on, he was determined to affirm his worth over Jeffrey and any other contender for the promotion.

He'd already started his plan. He kept locked in his desk's bottom drawer, a private log on his rivals, with Jeffrey heading the list, comparing business skills when it came to discerning between loan applications from clients who would prove reciprocal assets to the bank, and those whose past augured reciprocal liabilities. He had dedicated a separate column to any errors or lack of judgment, especially mistakes, concealed, or masked, or worse, attributed unjustly to others.

He recalled his short conversation in the elevator and Ben's remark. "No Mercy, no quarter given. You'll mow down anyone who gets in your way."

"Anyone?" Debbie had asked, "No matter who you hurt?"

The question crossed his mind, what would Debbie think of the log. He grimaced at the answer. He'd heard the words somewhere in his past, during a sermon when he was a boy attending Mass with his parents. "What doth it profit a man if he gain the world and lose his soul?"

I have no desire to gain the world, or lose my soul, he argued. Just win the promotion, one I fully believe I've earned and deserve. And I'm quite satisfied to remain the department's Executive President until my own retirement. I don't see that goal as greed, nor my tenacity to achieve it, no matter the obstacles, or the toes. No matter the quarter or mercy not given. His brow darkened and his lips clenched with renewed determination.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Winter melted into Spring and Spring flowered into Summer. Ben chose every hour, every vacation day, and sick day, that David was not in the office, to train Debbie for the position of Assistant Manager. To avoid their co-workers suspecting, he printed out and snail-mailed an instruction manual to Debbie's apartment detailing his in-office duties as Assistant Manager, which included advice given, taken or not taken, on several unrestricted, nonsensitive research projects on which he and David had collaborated.

With every training lesson and assignment, he grew more and more certain that he had made the correct choice. Behind that quiet, timid exterior was a sharp, quick-witted, levelheaded intellect, not afraid to question or offer reasonable, sensible suggestions. The very fact that she was a woman with a woman's perspective made her all the more, in his opinion, an invaluable asset to David's research and problem solving skills when it came to his decisions regarding clients and loan approvals or denials, along with his managerial and coordinating skills concerning the running of his department.

Added to Debbie's business acumen was her potential influence on his friend's threatened morality. Sadly, her plain exterior in no way matched her spiritual beauty within. She'd have to depend solely on her intellect and good nature to help David stay on the straight and narrow. David admired employee intellectual proficiency and dedication. Luckily, those were among Debbie's fortes.

At last the time came for Ben to inform David of his choice. Again he chose a time when distractions were plentiful and David would temporarily have less time to focus on the pros and cons of his choice.

The Bank held the yearly Fourth of July picnic at the Hudson River Park, a waterside park that extended north from Battery Park to 59th Street. Ferry piers provided for cruises to Staten Island, Ellis Island, and Liberty Island, home to the Statue of Liberty and its newly opened museum. The Board of Directors spared no effort to show their gratitude to loyal employees. Good Food, family games and craft booths, from nine in the morning to four in the afternoon.

David occasionally attended the picnic, but he much preferred visiting his childhood home, now co-owned with his sister and her husband. His happiest moments visiting there were his interaction with his two nephews and two nieces that brought back his own boisterous and happy childhood before he'd had to grow up.

At year's start, he had planned not to attend the Bank's picnic, but Ben's announcement of his upcoming retirement and unanswered question about his replacement, changed his mind. At the same time, he continued to hope that Debbie was Ben's choice. These past few months he'd kept up the habit of greeting Debbie in the morning. Her smile was always warm and sincere. He often caught sight of her from the corner of his eye watching him as he moved through the department. He'd seen that look in women's eyes. He recognized its meaning, except that Debbie's admiration contained no intrigue or expectation of requital, as though she accepted the fact he'd never be attracted to her.

To prevent false rumors of special treatment circulating among his staff, he shared morning greetings as well with the other employees under his management. He kept his greetings casual, a comment, or question regarding their well-being, the weather, a birthday wish. Besides gleaning hints as to the mystery girl Ben trained, his interaction afforded him a person-to-person knowledge of the men and women under his supervision, some favorable, and some eye opening. Along these lines, under the picnic's relaxed ambiance, Ben might relent and tell him the girl's name.

The morning of the picnic dawned clear and dry, the sun a beacon of promise and warmth for a glorious picnic day nicely cooled by the river's breezes. The bank supplied the basic picnic foods and provided hired help to grill the franks, sausages and hamburgers, and serve non-alcoholic beverages, salads, fruits and cake and ice cream. In addition, because of the modern healthy trend to comply with special needs like gluten free, vegetarian, vegan, etc., families with those special needs were requested to bring their own allergy free food with an extra serving to share and share alike.

Ben attired in a Hawaiian sport shirt and tan slacks and white sneakers arrived with a hearty smile and arms ready to give his favorite employees a bear hug, especially Debbie. He was certain by way of his psychogenic training and experience that special feelings were growing between David and Debbie, despite neither of them admitting to, or even being aware of them. Spotting David, he called out to him, waiving as he made his way toward him through the families milling about the grassy area.

"Yo, David," he called again, catching his attention.

"Hey," his young boss heard him and started toward him as well. Like himself, Ben noted, David was dressed casual, his broad-shouldered figure handsome in a sporty light-blue short-sleeved shirt and tan bermuda shorts and sneakers. He fully intended to participate in the picnic games.

A hearty handshake and bear hug later, Ben sniffed at the air and patted his stomach. "Smell that food grilling. I'm ready for it," he laughed.

"Yeah, me too," David agreed. "I ate light this morning, on purpose."

Side by side, they fast-stepped to the grilling area and joined the food line. Dixie plates and cups filled with the grilled items and beverages of their choice, they headed toward the redwood tables and benches.

Ben hadn't spotted Debbie as yet, and he hoped she hadn't changed her mind about attending. Attempting not to be obvious between bites, he surveyed the area, hoping to see her. He caught sight of her at last, dressed in a loose flowery cotton summer shift. She was on the food line, filling her plate. He startled David as he stood up and called out to her, his enthusiasm strengthening his mellowed baritone. Heads turned, including Debbie's. Seeing David seated opposite Ben, she hesitated. It was easy returning David's greeting over the partition, but another matter sitting opposite him at a picnic table, vulnerable to a full conversation.

Ben waived to her, beckoning her to join him. Debbie sighed. It would be the height of rudeness to ignore his invitation. Noticing her hesitation, David stood up as well and waived to her to join them. Filled plate in one hand, beverage cup in the other, and heartbeat quickening, she instinctively tried to smooth her hair to weigh down any breeze-teased strands, and succeeded only in spilling half of her cream soda. Wishing she was a tad less clumsy, and a tad attractive, she started toward them, velcro black sneakers crunching the grass underfoot.

CHAPTER NINE

"Hi," she greeted warmly, glancing from Ben to David. "I'm glad the weather cooperated and we're having such a fine turnout." She stood next to Ben seated across from David. Plate in one hand and a paper cup of her favorite, cream soda, her knees pressed nervously against the bench. She hoped they didn't sense how self-conscious she felt with David gazing up at her from his seat, or notice the way her gaze lingered over his face. She had always thought him handsome; wide brow, eyes nicely spaced over a Roman nose, and lips just the right width and thickness to make a smile their best captivating feature.

"Sit down, Debbie, join us," David said.

He knows I'm attracted to him. How could he not, she reasoned. She was not pretty as the other girls in his department who found him appealing, but she was nonetheless human. No use chiding herself for the transparency of her feelings. She nodded timidly and came around the bench to fit herself between it and the table, and sat down next to Ben.

Ben gave her a shoulder hug. "So glad you made it," he said.

"Me, too," she said, wondering how she'd carry on a conversation with David present, and not sound lame. She glanced at Ben. He picked up on her thought.

"Let's eat, before the food gets soggy," he said and took a generous bite of his hot dog."

Debbie lowered her gaze to her plate, meaning to do the same, and grimaced. No wonder she was overweight. Two hot dogs with mustard, a hamburger with lots of relish, macaroni salad, cheese nuggets, potato chips, and a double portion of cubed watermelon. Amazing how she'd fitted it all on one plate. Good thing the plates were heavy duty. She glanced at David's plate. Two hot dogs with mustard, a hamburger with ketchup, a hefty portion of leafy salad, blue cheese dressing, and a portion of cubed watermelon. His beverage, a cup of coffee lightened with milk, probably, sugarless. She gave a sigh. No wonder he managed his weight so well. Not that he was slim. On the contrary, broad- torsoed and compact, solid. No wonder the girls in the department gazed besotted at him whenever he passed by. All at once, her appetite evaporated.

She turned to Ben. "I-I think I took too much," she murmured weakly. "I'll never be able to finish it all. Want an extra hot dog and some sides?" she asked, offering him her plate.

The compassion on Ben's face should have made her laugh, if she didn't feel so totally embarrassed, and wished she'd stayed home.

"Sure, Debbie," he said. "Actually, I meant to take a third. I love these hot dogs."

A woman's seductive mezzo soprano asked, "Oh, the food not to your liking?"

Debbie didn't have to look to see who was leaning over her shoulder. About ready to feign a headache and leave, she looked over her shoulder and glared at Jacklyn.

The Christian teaching, love your enemies, crossed her mind too late for her not to yield to self-preservation. "Want some?" she smiled, turning fully and accidentally on purpose dumping the plate and its contents on Jacklyn.

Jacklyn screamed as the macaroni salad slid down the inside of her low cut T-shirt.

"Oops, sorry," Debbie excused, smiling as the mayonnaise and macaroni slid down Jacklyn's well-endowed crevice. Love your enemies, the thought made it to her conscience. Debbie blanched. Lord, what have I done?

Shocked at what she'd done, she turned back, eyes downcast, gaze riveted on the redwood. As if from a distance, she heard Ben unable to control a chuckle, and David mention to Jacklyn that the servers at the food line would help her clean up. She heard Jacklyn scurry off toward the food line and the helpers serving.

"They'll take care of her," she heard David say, unable to face him. What he must think of her? And this was the girl Ben intended to ask David to be his Assistant Manager.

"It's okay, Debbie. She deserved it. I've seen how she humiliates you."

Debbie found her voice. This was the man she hoped to save from turning into a Dorian Gray. "No," she replied. "That was awful of me. That's not the way I was brought up."

Ben remarked, "But apparently, the way Jacklyn was brought up." He patted Debbie's shoulder. "Don't give her any further thought. Here," he added, offering her the remaining hot dog on his plate, "enjoy, and drink your soda. We'll get more later, after she's out of sight."

She smiled her thanks to Ben, then gazed at David, for validation.

"Yes, Debbie, eat up. You'll need your strength if we're going to participate in the games."

She nodded, holding back the tears of gratitude that threatened. Not only had he validated Ben's offer, but assured her he wanted her to remain with them. Without further ado, she ate the hot dog and drank her soda.

As the afternoon progressed, her nerves steadied and her self-consciousness left her. Ring toss, hula-hoops and who could keep the hoop spinning the longest? David won the latter and got to keep the hula-hoop.

He tied with Ben in the Banks Trivia Contest \- facts like when was the bank founded? Milestones met and overcome?

The Three-Legged Race required two teams of two. Tying the left leg of one runner to the right leg of the other. As they stood contemplating who to choose for the other, they quickly changed their minds as they saw Jacklyn heading towards them.

But it was inevitable to encounter Jacklyn again. This time she was on the opposing team of the tug of war game. Inevitable that Jacklyn join herself to the team of some of the handsomest and hunkiest co-workers. In this instance, strength and cunning won. Jacklyn stared vindictively as Debbie, Ben and David struggled to their feet along with the rest of the losing team.

Luckily Jacklyn was nowhere near the egg-on-a-spoon race and the sack race. They came in second and third, respectively.

The **Executive Pie Toss** was the highlight of the picnic outing. Volunteers from the bank's leadership team good-naturedly took a turn at getting a pie in the face by eager employees lining up to take aim. David and Ben were two of the volunteers and Debbie's aim was perfect.

So many games to choose from, badminton, bocce, kickball, Frisbee basketball. And for the kids, bean bag toss, craft booths, paint your face booths, slip'n slide.

Cleaned up, and exhausted after the Pie in the face, the three decided on a less physically demanding activity, the photo booth prop, with **life-size cardboard cutouts** to put their own faces into. It felt prophetic, Debbie thought, as they came upon the cutout of an angel with white wings and a golden sword dueling a demon with horns and black wings. Ben stood on the sidelines laughing until tears ran down his cheeks as he focused his cellphone camera and clicked a photo of Debbie, the white-winged angel, dueling with David, the black winged horned demon.

By four o'clock, all three were ready for a sit-down and a snack. Open-air cafes and restaurants lined the riverside park. They chose an umbrellaed table.

"I want to thank you for a wonderful day," Debbie told them. "I've never had so much fun in my life."

"It's a pity it's almost over," Ben offered. "For me especially." His companions knew what he meant. He'd have long retired by the next picnic.

"Almost over, but not quite," David said. "I have a suggestion to make this day last a bit longer." He had their attention.

"You've probably heard about the new museum of the Statue of Liberty. Ferry cruises leave from piers on Battery Park to Liberty Island. Let's take a ride to the Island and tour the Museum." He gazed askance at Ben and Debbie.

"Great idea!" Ben said. He turned to Debbie. "How about it?"

There was no way she'd refuse this opportunity of extending her time close to David, especially if he turned down Ben's choice of her as the new Assistant Manager, nor would she hold it against him. Fulfilling the role of an Assistant Manager was not easy, as demonstrated by the duty manual that Ben had supplied her to study at home. Monday morning when she sat in her cubicle entering data, she'd face reality and the if's and if not's. Today she'd spent hours with her employer who had gone way over his duty as her department head to make her feel appreciated. Not only that, but he'd made her feel pretty. There was no way she'd refuse a few more hours in his company. Monday morning she'd be the envy of every girl in the department. But they needn't worry. Once David had turned down Ben's request, he'd go back to being her department head and she just one of the girls inside the cubicles, entering data. Her plan to save his soul must again depend on a casual remark when needed. But today, in his company, seeing him at his kindest and most pleasant, was a dream come true.

"Yeah," she repeated, her voice ringing with contagious exuberance. "I think it's a great idea. Where do we purchase the tickets?"
THE STATUE OF LIBERTY

LIBERTY ISLAND

MUSEUM OF THE

STATUE OF LIBERTY

CHAPTER TEN

An hour later, Ben, David and Debbie stepped off the ferry's exit gangway and on to Liberty Island. Seagulls, used to the stream of passengers disembarking, perched fearlessly on the dock's handrail posts and squawked loudly. Debbie wondered if they were soliciting food, or protesting the visitors' intrusion.

From there it was a short walk to the Museum, short compared to the walk to the park and the Statue of Liberty. David and Ben, and teen-Debbie, had each individually visited the 305-foot Statue before the tragic events of 9/11, and climbed to the crown for the stupendous view of the New York, New Jersey and surrounding skylines. The Museum of the Statue of Liberty, originally located in the statue's pedestal, had been moved the year before to its new location a short ways behind Lady Liberty and rebuilt to accommodate the ever increasing amount of visitors.

The trio joined the stream of visitors moving up the wide varicolored pink granite staircase and walkways.

Debbie uttered, "I've never seen an exterior staircase as beautiful as this. And the walkways. If I use my imagination, I can say that the granite literally gleams in the sunshine."

Ben remarked, "That's one of the properties of granite, its crystalline texture because of the feldspar, mica and quartz. This granite was cut from the Stony Creek Quarry in Branford, Connecticut."

David added, "The stones that cover the concrete pedestal upon which Lady Liberty has stood since 1886 are also granite, to assure her longevity. Opinions differ, though, as to the location of the quarry from which they were cut, the most logical opinion maintains that the granite used came from the John Beattie Granite Works, on the Island of Leetes in Connecticut, because of the ease of transportation by truck and vessel.

No wonder he's so good at managing the department, Debbie thought. The accuracy of detail is very important to him.

Debbie's enthusiasm increased as they approached the museum, 26,000 square feet, glass-walled, one-story structure. The accessible safety-railed deck on the roof overlooked the flagpole plaza and the rear view of the Statue of Liberty, along with the magnificent view of the New York City skyline and harbor. Eagerly the trio passed through the revolving doors into the museum.

The open lobby gave way to the curved information booth. Near it, high on the wall, a large white plaque shaped to resemble the folds in our flag waving in the wind, displayed a golden star beside each of the names of top funders of the one hundred million dollar capital campaign to build the museum, more than five years to realize.

A long dark arrow directed them to the three Immersive Interactive Galleries, the first being the surround sound system Panorama Theater with three huge surround screens. Debbie watched with amazement the three-part, ten-minute film in which American television journalist Diane Sawyer narrated Lady Liberty's history and the inspiring message of her sculptor, Frédéric Auguste Bartholdi, and his appellative for the statue, "Liberty enlightening the world." In addition, viewers were treated to a filmed run through of the interior of Lady Liberty up to her crown and the sweeping view from the crown's windows, of New York and the encircling harbors. Totally immersed in the film, Debbie failed to see David turn a moment to gaze at her and take in the sincere amazement and pure respect and admiration on her face for their country's emblem of freedom, on the face of the girl he'd originally tagged mousy and impish. The thought crossed his mind that he'd never known a woman like her, the ardor within her, shining outward, transforming her plainness into inspiring, undeniable beauty.

From the Theater they moved to the second gallery, the "Engagement Gallery" filled with artifacts, photographs, Bartholdi's original sketches, plaster models, and original and replicas of the tools and copper sheets used in his Paris workshop in sculpting Lady Liberty. Individual stalls of the workshop of Bartholdi on 25 rue de Chazelles in Paris with graphics and step-by-step interactive sketchbook, and media including audio and true to life sounds of the sculptor hammering and smoothing the copper as he brought Lady Liberty to life.

It was in the trio's nature to examine and linger over each artifact and read thoroughly the information supplied on the plaques. David found himself side by side with Debbie, their interest equally stirred and satisfied.

Selfies became a must, as Ben requested fellow visitors to click images of himself and his two companions sitting or standing beside the gleaming copper full size replicas of Lady Liberty's toes.

Along with her toes, spaced through the museum were full size copper replicas of Lady Liberty's face, shoulders, eyes, ears and mouth, that allowed vision-impaired guests to get a feel for the scale of the statue by touching the replicas.

The third gallery, the "Inspiration Gallery," permitted visitors digitally to add photos of themselves to the wall-sized image of the statue. Thousands and thousands of miniaturized photos covered Lady Liberty from her arm holding the torch of light and liberty to the bottom of her pedestal. With each photo added, visitors were requested to indicate what the concept of Liberty meant to them.

Ben, David and Debbie posed for the photos. Their concept of liberty included the words Freedom of speech and worship, equality for all sentient life, fairness, justice and mercy for all God's creatures.

The trio watched their photos miniaturize as they sped across the wall-size screen to join the thousands of other photos on Lady Liberty's image.

Nearing the end of this third gallery was the full-size copper model of the statue's face. Another selfie was in order of the trio posing at its sides. Debbie noted especially the detailed sculpting and the authentic replica of the thinness of the copper.

Opposite the face and near the encircling glass wall was Lady Liberty's original torch that she held for a hundred years until wear and tear required a new torch replace it in 1985. And a few feet away, through the rear of the glass-walled building, could be seen a short distance away, the back of Lady Liberty and the New York Skyline.

With a sigh, Ben reminded them that it was getting close to the Ferry's return departure time. "We still have at least a half hour before we head back to the dock. It's still light out. Why don't we go outside and climb to the roof deck.

The sun was close to setting and the weather had cooled. A gentle breeze greeted the trio as they moved across the rooftop's variegated pink granite floor. The view from the chain-railed deck was stupendous, encompassing downtown Manhattan and the skyline depending on which side of the deck they stood.

Elbows resting on the rail, a breeze ruffling her hair, Debbie's words held a soulful tremor. "This is a perfect ending to a beautiful day, one I will remember forever."

David wondered how he'd ever thought her plain and mousy and undiscernable. She was like a breath of fresh air, like the cool breeze that played against the skin on his face and arms. He knew without a doubt that he'd developed feelings for her. Not just from today's excursion. The attraction had been coming on slowly, watching her day by day, at the office.

"Debbie," he started, then hesitated. Since college, he'd never felt tongue-tied asking a girl for a date. But all at once, he felt like a nervous, stumbling high-school boy. Debbie wasn't like Jacklyn, throwing herself at him every chance she could. Nor like some of the other girls, he knew who would jump at the opportunity to date him. No, Debbie held no high opinion of herself. She was just a simple girl, accepting her looks and her incapacity to attract, unaware of her true beauty. He had to word his request carefully, so she wouldn't assume it was a spur of the moment request caused by an exciting, enjoyable day, a one-time request, a dinner-date to be forgotten as soon as it was over and work's daily routine reestablished.

"Yes, David," he heard her say, as she waited for him to continue.

He smiled at her, thinking, this wasn't the time and place to ask her out. Not today. He'd wait for a time after they resumed working. On an evening as he prepared to leave work. He'd ask her then, casually, to join him for dinner.

"This has been a marvelous experience, visiting this museum, a day to remember, as you said. I wish we had more time to stroll through the grounds and the park. But Ben's right, it's getting late."

Debbie nodded, her smile wistful. She straightened, expecting him or Ben to lead the way.

Neither of the three had driven to the picnic, preferring the subway to the traffic congestion normal for the business districts of Manhattan. Upon their arrival back at the Battery's Ferry dock, they walked to the subway station and said their goodbyes as they waited for their respective trains to pull in.

Debbie's train arrived first. "Thank you again, for a wonderful day with unforgettable memories," she said warmly to both David and Ben. "See you at work on Monday." She sent Ben a wide smile, but employer-employee reserve made her remember that Monday it was back to business and her cubicle. She opted for a polite smile and a wave to David before boarding the train.

As Ben and David's apartments were located only a few blocks apart, they rode the same train and exited at the same stop. David wasn't surprised at his friend's silence as they climbed up the steps to the street. It had been a long day, if totally enjoyable, but Ben's added years had no doubt made it somewhat trying. Ben's apartment house was first on the way, and David walked quietly with him. Quality apartment houses, such as theirs, often kept a guard at their canopied entrance.

"Well, see you Monday," David said, ready to move on.

Ben's summons held a prodigious note. "Yes," David replied.

"That's what I hope your next word will be, after you hear what I have to tell you." Ben paused as if gearing up to say the rest.

"I'm listening," David assured him. "What is it?"

"You've been very patient with my holding back the name of the girl I'm hoping to replace me upon my retirement come New Year's. And I believe it's time I tell you who it is." Again he paused.

David interjected, "It's Debbie, isn't it? Right?"

Ben grinned. "Can you blame me?"

"Not in the least," David said. "As long as I've known you, you've always been a good judge of character. I've guessed it was her for a while now, but I wasn't quite sure."

"So what do you think?"

"I have to admit, character-wise, she's a fine woman, smart, conscientious, kind, honest, and trustworthy. True, she's a bit naive, somewhat timid, but the potential is there."

A moment of forethought, and he added, "I'm willing to give her a try."

Ben nodded his approval. "Thank you, David. I don't believe you'll be sorry."

"Of course, it all depends how she works out," David cautioned. "I'm not the easiest man to work for, and the job requires integrity and an analytical mind. As I said, she is smart and conscientious."

"She's a quick learner," Ben added. "I've given her a copy of my Assistant Manager's manual and she's been studying it faithfully. No complaints. The potential is there. She needs now the job's hands-on practice. And time and patience from her employer-to-be."

"We'll see," David said. He shook Ben's hand with affection.

Ben placed a hand on his shoulder. "I've been observing you today. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think she's been growing on you?"

"Who's asking, the psychologist or the friend?" David asked.

Ben chuckled. "I guess, both?"

"Are you thinking she'll deter me from stepping on anyone's toes to get ahead?" David had to ask.

Ben arched an eyebrow.

The questions remained unanswered as both men parted.
CHAPTER ELEVEN

The sky had darkened to pale amethyst by the time Debbie entered her apartment on the fourth floor. As was her norm, when returning home, she checked her closets and under her bed. She wanted no surprises. As much as she valued her independence, living alone, no matter her looks, felt daunting. Many a time during the past three years since moving on her own, the stories of the dangers faced and the daily crimes committed against women, had seriously tempted her to return to her parents' home in the suburbs. She made the sign of the cross, thanked the Lord that all was safe, and making sure her door was double-locked, showered. changed into her loungewear, and relaxed on her double recliner couch, her thoughts turning to her plans for tomorrow.

She was glad that this year July the Fourth had fallen on a Saturday. Tomorrow, after attending noon Mass, she planned to visit her parents, as she did every weekend. She looked forward to regaling them with stories of the picnic and her visit to Lady Liberty's new museum, and to ask them to join her before summer's end when she hoped to revisit the museum. She loved her parents dearly. They were kind and generous with their love, and deeply religious. As an only child, without that kindness and generosity of good will they had instilled in her, she might have grown up self-centered and selfish. Not that they hadn't wanted more children. Their first attempt had resulted in a miscarriage, and their second, a girl whose tiny lungs had refused to function. Her tiny sister had survived for only a day. Her parents persisted and two years later were rewarded by the birth of a healthy, eight-pound baby girl.

Overjoyed, they hoped for at least one or two more children. Her parents had married in their late thirties. The first two unsuccessful pregnancies had taken their toll on her mother's health, and on the family finances. Between their advancing years, their seriously impaired finances, and the doctor's advice that conceiving more children might prove detrimental to her mother's weakened health, talk of future pregnancies ceased.

Debbie hoped one day to fulfill their unspoken desire for more children, by giving them grandchildren to love and dote upon. She sighed, wondering if she was ever meant to find a good man to see past her plainness and fall in love with the woman within. No luck so far. College friends often invited her to join them bar-hopping, but finally gave up when they realized that wasn't her style. She did occasionally attend a college dance. But just as in high school, the wallflower syndrome prevailed. As a last resort, she tried an online dating service, providing a selfie. Unfortunately, Debbie never photographed well. Cameras seemed to accentuate her plainness. One taker contacted her. They arranged a dinner date during which he monopolized the conversation and suggested a visit to his apartment. She thanked him for the meal, but told him firmly that wasn't her style, and refused further dates.

Her thoughts turned to David. She chuckled, at the image her mind presented of David finding her desirable. He represented the man she had dreamed of marrying since her teen years. She wanted to save him from the path dictated by his remark of achieving his goals no matter how many toes he'd need to step on.

She groaned at the improbability of his accepting her as his Assistant Manager, and stood up, disgruntled and ready to retire. Her cellphone rang. Must be her parents, confirming her visit tomorrow. She hurried over to the end table where she'd placed the cellphone. The I.D. flashed on the screen. David Albamonte. Debbie swallowed nervously. She didn't wonder at his having her phone number. As Manager of her department, he had all his workers' numbers.

"Hello," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Debbie?" he inquired.

"Ye ... Yes, it's me."

"Is your phone working okay? I can barely hear you."

She cleared her throat, gave her voice volume. "Yes it's working fine. Can you hear me clearly, now?"

"Very clear," he assured her.

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

"I - I wanted to make sure you got home okay."

"Oh. That's very kind of you. Yes, I'm home, safe and sound. Tired, just about to retire." She waited to hear his closing words.

"Debbie, Ben finally told me he's been training you to take his place when he retires at the end of the year. I just wanted to let you know I'm willing to give you a try." A loud thump. "Debbie?" A shuffling sound.

"Oh, sorry. Guess I'm more tired than I thought. I - I dropped the phone. Sorry."

He chuckled. "I shocked you, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did," Debbie admitted.

"You shouldn't be. Ben's a good judge of character and employee potential. And you certainly have all the attributes and qualifications to fill the position."

"Thank you," Debbie said.

"By the way, what are you doing tomorrow?" he asked.

"Um - Sunday Mass. And dinner at my parents' home."

"Oh, I thought we could meet for lunch and discuss your promotion."

"Um, well ..." she stuttered.

David grimaced. He could have kicked himself. What must she think of him? "Debbie, my asking you to lunch is all on the up-and-up. Strictly business. Please don't be alarmed. I know your moral attributes. I just thought I can give you a head start on the new job responsibilities you'll need to master. Meeting with you outside the office would keep your promotion quiet until it's confirmed and approved by the departmental heads I have to answer to. You know how the girls in our department gossip, especially Jacklyn."

Still no response. David added, "You can see my point. Even Ben has been careful to keep your promotion under wraps for now. Debbie?"

"Yes, I'm here. Of course, I understand. How about joining me at Mass? There are some nice economical restaurants in my neighborhood. My parents aren't expecting me until late afternoon." Debbie squeezed her eyes, grimacing. That was grabbing the wolf by the tail, she thought, flinching.

"Mass?" He sounded doubtful. "Well, it's been a long time since I last attended Church. I - I can meet you outside. What time is Mass over."

"About 1 o'clock," she answered.

"What's the name of the church?"

"Our Lady of Perpetual Help. It's a small parish church."

"Okay fine. I'll be waiting outside." He breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Debbie. Goodnight."

CHAPTER TWELVE

Apprehension and nightmarish dreams of failure taunted her sleep that night. Debbie woke several times. What had she been thinking, accepting Ben's offer to fill his shoes when he retired at the end of the year. Admiring David from a distance and planning helpful remarks that would help him retake the Christian moral path and not lose his soul to gain the world, had felt do-able. But working daily side by side with him, not only proving her potential, but struggling with her secret feelings for him—! His gentlemanlike behavior during the picnic and the trip to the museum had intensified those feelings. Oh my Lord, she prayed, I'm frightened. Help me. Give me the wisdom I need along with the self-reserve to keep his respect and friendship.

She rose early, showered, fussed with her hair and the dab of makeup she used, and dressed in a cotton short-sleeved lavender chemise. She ate her breakfast of cream of wheat with milk and a little butter and sipped at her lightened, sweetened coffee, while reviewing the thick hand-sized Assistant Manager's manual that Ben had given her covering duties she needed to master.

Church was only a few blocks away from her apartment, and since David had mentioned lunch, she decided to walk rather than drive, as it made sense to rely on his car, rather than hers as well. The Church bells rang and the usher opened the double doors embossed with the image of Jesus' Cross. Debbie climbed the steps and entered the Church, as yet only half-filled and partially lit softly in preparation for the beginning of Mass, when the lights and air-conditioning as needed would be turned on fully. A small Holy Water fount hung on the interior wall beside the entrance. Debbie dipped the fore and middle finger of her right hand into the font, genuflected and devoutly made the sign of cross.

She moved up the center aisle, and midway slipped into her customary pew. She sat, prayed, then waited, quietly meditating and listening for the Good Lord to inspire her. Occasionally, she turned and glanced at the entrance, hoping that David change his mind and join her for Mass. But as the church filled to capacity and the lights brightened and the air conditioning set in, Debbie raised her gaze to the life size Cross of Christ crucified that hung from a beam under the Cupola. Colorful images of the Blessed Trinity and the Blessed Mother, surrounded by angels and saints and puffy clouds adorned the dome-shaped ceiling. The Lord had answered her prayers in ways she had never imagined a few months ago. Ben's offer and David approving it. Her time together with Ben and David at the picnic and the tour of Lady Liberty's Museum. And today, David inviting her to lunch, albeit strictly a business lunch to discuss her promotion. The Lord had granted her more than she ever deserved, giving her the chance and opportunity to save David's soul. The rest must depend on her words and actions. And perhaps, Lord, a miracle or two, she prayed, though she be asking too much.

David sat in his black Ford Fusion across from the Church. He'd purposely come early to check on Debbie's punctuality in her personal life. That said much about an employee. Just like his choice of cars, dark, mid-size, unpretentious, sleek and trim, not too expensive, and hybrid fuel economy, though he could well-afford a luxury car. He had always liked Fords, and stuck with them from his first teenage hand-me-down. As much as he kept updated on progress, he held a deep respect for the traditional that stood up to changes and fads that came unexpectedly and faded as quickly. Debbie reminded him of the traditional. She was a modern strong-willed woman when it came to improving her intellect. And at the same time a traditional woman, gentle and kind, morally upright, with no deep seething desire to prove herself superior to the opposite gender. She held traditional values, especially when it came to her religious beliefs. Step on toes to achieve my goals, he recalled his words and the reproof in her voice when he'd first become aware of her in the elevator. Step on toes to achieve my goals — not with her around, he chuckled.

The Church bells rang, calling the faithful to the noon Mass. David checked his watch. It was eleven forty-five. He checked the area in front of the church and saw Debbie. Early, as he expected. Punctuality was important to her in her personal life as well.

Their appointment was for one o'clock outside the Church at the end of Mass. She had asked him to join her for Mass, but he'd been away from religion for so long, that he felt disconnected and uncomfortable with entering the Church. A middle-aged usher opened the double doors to allow entry. The lights in the Church remained dimmed from the end of an earlier Mass. He watched Debbie enter, genuflect and devoutly sign herself with holy water. He'd watched his parents practice their faith. They had tried their best to instill in him its practice, but his intense desire for outside stimuli, for self-improvement, for electronics, his low-esteem and fear of losing his chance for a career of his choice, had phased out their efforts. His teens were troubled as he struggled to move out of the sphere of his parents' influence and become his own man.

Ben, his neighbor, at that time a licensed psychologist practicing from his home office, had helped him distinguish between the teen and the young adult maturing into manhood. He'd helped him face and conquer the challenges that threatened to overwhelm. He imagined what Ben would say to him as he sat in the car, disturbed at the thought of joining Debbie at Mass. He'd recognize the threatening discomfort as a challenge. David's features stiffened with determination. He checked to make sure no cars were coming, and exited his car. He crossed the safety zone leading to the church, paused a moment, then joined the others entering through the open doors.

He stepped to the side to allow those behind him to move up the aisle and take their seats. The lights came on fully, and the air conditioner whirred softly as the ushers closed the double doors to hold back the summer's heat. He stood in the back of the Church, beginning to feel uncomfortable once more. He had faced the challenge and entered the Church. There was no need to stay further, he thought. Debbie expected to meet him outside the church at one o'clock. He turned intent on leaving, and saw Debbie coming toward him, a welcoming smile on her lips, her eyes fixed on his, the lights from above casting a delicate sheen on their light brown irises and the soft flush on her cheeks. David swallowed nervously. He felt a nudge against his back and turned. It must be nerves, he thought. There was no one behind him. He moved forward into the aisle, closing the distance between them, and they slipped into an empty pew. They stood with the congregation as an altar boy carrying before him the Processional Crucifix mounted on a handle and the corpus facing forward, led the Serving Priest in a green, yellow-trimmed chasuble, down the center aisle, followed by a Deacon in a white tunic and stole, a long colored sash embroidered with a cross at both ends, and worn over his left shoulder, diagonally across his chest, and tied to his right side. Behind him an altar girl and boy, followed. Reaching the dais, the small procession climbed the three steps leading to the altar table facing the congregation, and each member took their place to begin the Mass.

"That's Father Emory, the Pastor, a kind and faithful man of the cloth," Debbie whispered to David, as the Celebrant turned to the congregation and extended his arms in an encompassing gesture to greet them. "Peace be with you," he said.

A memory surfaced and David's voice joined Debbie's and the Congregation. "And with your spirit."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

As the Mass progressed, twice more David experienced uneasiness and skepticism, at the Gospel and at the Consecration of the host and wine, transubstantiation, wherein the ordained priest through Jesus Christ, in Him, With Him and Through Him, changes the bread wafer and the wine into the Real Presence of the body and blood of Christ, the Holy Eucharist, though both retain the form of bread and wine. Both times he considered leaving. Both times he turned to Debbie to make some credible excuse, only to find the sincerity in her smile and her eyes at his sharing the Mass with her, too undeniable to insult and disrespect with a lie.

When the moment arrived for the Congregation to receive the Holy Eucharist, Debbie turned to him. "Will you be receiving?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I've been away too long from church. I'd need to make confession."

She nodded, understanding. He watched her join the file of men and women moving up to the altar to receive the host and take a sip from the chalice of wine. For the first time ever in his life, he felt a sense of loss at his self-imposed inability to receive the Consecrated host and wine.

With the Mass ending, Father Emory blessed the congregation with the sign of the cross. "The Mass is ended. Go in peace to love and serve the Lord."

All in attendance responded "Amen." David remembered from his Catechism taught to him as a child, that in Latin Amen meant, So be it.

With the altar boy leading, carrying the Processional Crucifix, Corpus facing forward, Father Emory and his other helpers left the altar and moved down the aisle toward the entrance. All followed as the ushers reopened the double doors.

Per his norm, Father Emory stationed himself outside the Church doors to exchange salutations with the members walking out. When Debbie reached him, his gaze went askance to the young man at her side. Debbie quickly introduced David as her employer, Mr. Albamonte.

"A pleasure to meet you, sir," Father greeted.

"Likewise," David replied.

Father Emory gazed askance at Debbie.

"I'm up for a promotion and he's taking me to lunch to give me some helpful advice.

Father's eyebrow arched.

She quickly clarified, "Strictly business, Father. Honest."

"God Bless you, dear, and keep me updated." He addressed David. "Take care." He added.

David wondered if it was only him that sensed a hint of warning in the man's greeting. He moved on.

Debbie read the concern in her Confessor's eyes. "Always, Father," she nodded, and hurried after David.

When they had crossed the safety zone to his car, David asked, "Hungry? Ready for lunch?"

"Yes, I am," she replied, eagerness threading through her voice.

David chuckled, finding her artless anticipation contagious. "Well, I don't know this neighborhood, so where do you recommend we lunch."

He added, "And make it a nice place. Don't worry about the expense. It's on me."

She recommended a nearby cozy Italian restaurant, Mamma Marguerita's, run by a local family. He was tempted to repeat his advice about a nice place and not worrying about the expense, but he refrained, reminding himself that this luncheon was part of a test on how well they'd work together, or not.

Debbie recommended walking as the restaurant was only a couple of blocks away. "It's such a clear, sunny day, and not too hot. Why waste gas?"

He tended to agree. "Okay, Debbie. Lead the way." Estheticism and frugality were two of her traits he'd noted since beginning to observe her closely. Her clothes were always pleasing to the eye, modest, yet fashionable, but not a fashion statement. She had the self-confidence to be herself.

When they arrived at the restaurant, he hesitated entering. The entrance was a simple wood door painted a dark green next to a wide glass paned window and bricked base. Inside, a green velvet tailored café curtain covered the lower half of the window. Above the curtain, a neon sign read Mamma Marguerita's.

Apparently, she sensed his hesitation. "I know it's not much to look at from the outside, but it's much nicer on the inside, and the meals offered are excellent."

"Okay, I'll take your word for it," he said.

The mini bells inside above the door tingled merrily as they entered, and warm tasty flavorful smells of sauce and gravies simmering, enveloped them.

A short narrow passageway opened up into a large interior with oak-paneled floors and wainscotted walls above which were hand-painted scenes of verdant flowered countrysides. He had to agree with Debbie, it was much nicer on the inside. They were quickly met by a middle-aged hostess in a beige short-sleeved shift.

"Debbie! So good to see you," she greeted with a well-received hug. "How are your parents?"

"They're fine, Margie. I'm planning to treat them to Dinner here, next month. It's my father's birthday."

"That's wonderful. And I'll make sure to have a birthday cake ready for him." Her gaze went to David.

Debbie said, "I'm bringing you a new guest. He's my boss at the Bank."

Margie's eyes lit up. "Oh, how nice. Well, welcome, Sir. Come, let me seat you."

The restaurant was divided into two sections. The smaller behind a pair of French doors was, David assumed, the private party room, as it contained a long mahogany table with upholstered dining chairs.

The main area contained tables each with a white covering and captain chairs. On each table was centered a narrow glass vase holding a fresh cut rose.

Seeing his gaze caught by the images on the wall, Debbie explained, "They're paintings by the owner's son, of the family's native land. North Central Italy, to be precise. Antonio emigrated here with his parents when he was fifteen, and soon after became a naturalized citizen along with his family. This restaurant has been here since the early 1990's. And meals are always freshly cooked upon ordering. Margie is Antonio's wife, and as they put it, "They prefer to spend their money on quality food rather than on flashy exteriors."

A couple of hours later, Margie entered the kitchen and called Antonio over to the kitchen entrance. She directed his attention to the round windowpane on the door and pointed to the two guests who had just finished eating his homemade manicotti made with his home processed ricotta and mozzarella. "Antonio, what do you think?" she asked. "Business? Or Amore?"

Antonio laughed. "Bella, you think every couple that smiles at each other after eating a good meal, are in love."

"I beg to disagree," Margie said. "There's a difference between a smile brought on by a satisfied customer's stomach, and a smile brought on by a customer's satisfied heart."

Antonio tweaked her nose, with a flour-coated forefinger. "Well, cara, you're the expert on romance," he said, referring to the books she wrote on the side.

Margie watched him hurry back to his sauces and meats and fish sizzling and broiling. She wriggled her nose, the residue of flour and oil on its tip left by his touch tickling her olfactory senses. Even after all these years, his touch still roused her, both emotionally and physically. Thinning peppered brown hair and a paunchy waistline, she still found him handsome.

David couldn't remember ever enjoying a restaurant meal as much as this one, or as pleasant a companion to share it with. Ben was absolutely right about Debbie's personality. The captivation on his face was earnest as they continued to discuss duties and questions she posed germane to her promotion. She was quick to understand, timid when it came to personal matters, but sharp and discerning in matters of her job, not afraid to inquire further, and advise when she deemed it applicable. He sincerely hoped that she would work out as his Assistant. He liked her.

With regard to her promotion, he kept their conversation light, mostly advising her on some of the duties expected from an Assistant Manager. He explained, she'd be required to work closely with him and his secretary, Helen, on office correspondence and administration, review and proof client applications, especially ones he approved, in case he'd missed some detail that would have affected his final decision. Attend staff, management and client meetings with him and pick up any slack from his own duties when necessary.

Ben had mentioned to him giving her a copy of the Assistant Manager's Duty Manual. "The Manager's Manual is double the size," he told her. "I'll give you a copy. I'll highlight the most important duties, especially those most necessary to us as a team."

When he had begun emphasizing the duties of the Assistant Manager, Debbie had stopped eating, and listened quietly. The silence and a crease of her brow told him perhaps his comments were too much, too soon.

"Debbie I don't mean to overwhelm you. We have six months to prepare you. Both Ben and Helen will help you. We'll take it slow. But like Ben, I've noticed you're a quick learner." Her continued silence made him wonder further if he'd raised doubts in her mind as to her ability to fill the position. "Do you have any questions, any reservations?" he asked, hoping she wasn't considering changing her mind.

She gave a small sigh. "It is a lot to absorb, at least over lunch," she smiled. "But I'm not deterred. And I have no reservations. I want very much to fit the position and be as successful at assisting you as Ben has." She hesitated a moment. "I do have one question," she said, her tone softening. "If I give you advice, now and then, will you assure me at least to consider my words with an open mind?"

"I suppose you're referring to my remark in the elevator about not caring whose toes I step on to achieve my goals?"

"Do you hold that against me?" She asked.

"If I did, I wouldn't be sitting here with you this moment." He reached over and placed his hand over hers. His intent was only to pat, to assure, to dispel any doubts or fears. But the look of gratitude in her eyes as she met his, and the feeling of her hand under his, proved otherwise. His fingers closed over hers and lingered, until he himself realized how the touch of her hand under his was affecting him. He quickly withdrew his hand.

"Debbie, these past weeks I have come to know and respect your disposition. I may not always agree with it, but I assure you, you can speak freely and I will keep an open, unbiased mind."

He took a deep breath, as if he'd reached in deep into his soul to make that assurance.

"Thank you," Debbie replied.

He nodded. "I think that's enough talking business. Let's finish our meal. Much too fine to allow it to grow cold."

They resumed eating, sipping intermittently at the wine in their glasses.

At length, finished, their mouths sweetened with the cool creamy taste of tortoni and spumoni begging for seconds, but wisely denied, Debbie checked the time on her wristwatch. It was past four. "I hate to leave," she said, "but my parents are expecting me to visit shortly. They live in the suburbs, so it takes me at least an hour to get there."

"Of course," David said. "I'll ask for the check." Where had the time gone? He'd lost track of the hours and the minutes. "We can do this again, next Sunday, if you like." If you like, David thought. Admit it, it's yourself who likes.

Debbie didn't answer outright, but her smile was reassuring. It seemed to say, he'd have to ask her again.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The trio managed to keep the promotion under wraps, but the moment David's superiors approved and confirmed his request for Debbie's promotion upon Ben's upcoming retirement, the department buzzed with the news. Debbie was inundated with congratulations and good wishes from her co-workers, with the exception of Jacklyn, who had barely spoken to her since her retaliatory action at the Picnic. The derogatory remarks had ceased. No doubt, Debbie thought, because it was clearly apparent that David, the department manager, favored her. But Jacklyn's malicious glares, the jealousy Debbie recognized in them, hurt even more than had the humiliating remarks. She felt sure that Jacklyn hated her.

Brought up to follow the Lord's teachings in the New Testament, Matthew 5:23-24,

"Therefore, if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to them; then come and offer your gift,"

her prayer offering thanks to the Lord and the Blessed Lady, felt unworthy. She tried to ignore the feeling, but it was not in her nature, and finally, she approached Jacklyn in her cubicle.

She called her name. Jacklyn turned and looked up from her computer. Surprise registered on her face. Her impertinent, "Yes," was as venomous as the expression replacing the surprise. Its sting caused Debbie's vocal chords to tighten. She cleared her throat and forced herself to say the words that needed saying.

"Jacklyn, I - I wanted to apologize for my action at the Picnic. I lost my temper. Two wrongs don't make a right."

"I never thought speaking the obvious was considered wrong," Jacklyn said.

Words that required a comeback, Debbie thought, struggling with the temptation. She settled for inquiring, "Why, Jacklyn, why do you dislike me so much?"

"Well, speaking of the obvious, you act so holier-than-thou. Think you're better than any of us. You defy the elements, coming to work during the worst weather, shaming us all. Conscientious worker, I've heard you called. My foot, Conscientious," she spat. "Unfortunately, it's worked for you. You've totally ingratiated yourself with David, and I wouldn't be surprised, if possibly more."

Debbie froze at the added insinuation. "Jacklyn, David is not interested in me romantically."

"Dinners? Late hour sessions, under the excuse of training you for your new position?"

"It's all strictly business," Debbie protested. "Most of the time, Ben is with us."

"Not on Sundays," Jacklyn said with insinuation.

Debbie explained, "It's very busy in our department during the week. The extra uninterrupted hours on Sunday, gives David more time to discuss what's expected of me when I fully assume the role of Assistant Manager."

Jacklyn sneered, "Oh come off it, you don't fool me. You've managed to wrap David around your finger. For that, I can give you credit."

"But I repeat, the dinners, the extra hours we've worked together, it's all strictly business. There is nothing going on between me and David ... except perhaps for a growing respect between employer and employee."

"Really?" Jacklyn rebutted. "You're the holier-than-thou. Tell me truthfully, that you're not attracted to David."

Debbie hesitated. Lying would not help heal the rift between them.

"Go on," Jacklyn prodded, "Deny you don't find him attractive; that you wouldn't welcome his falling for you?"

Debbie protested, "No more so than you or the rest of the girls in our department. I'm not made of stone. I'm as human as everyone here. There's no difference."

Jacklyn said, her tone icy, "No difference ... but you got to him."

"That's not true," Debbie insisted. "Look at me," she added humbly. "I'm the last person he'd be attracted to."

Jacklyn gaze speared through her. "Are you really that naive, or just stupid?" she spat. "Are you really that completely unaware of the way he finds every excuse possible to be near you? Or the way he follows you around with his eyes, when you're not looking?"

Debbie stood dumbfounded. She shook her head, wondering if there was any truth to Jacklyn's condemnations, or if the woman was merely torturing her with raising impossible outcomes.

"You're very wrong, Jacklyn. But I didn't come here to antagonize you further. I just wanted to apologize and make peace with you. And to assure you that as your co-worker, or as the Assistant Manager, I hold no grudge against you. And you can expect nothing but fairness and honesty from me."

Before Jacklyn could spew more venom at her, Debbie ended with, "That's all I came to say. God's Blessings." She turned and hurried back to her station.

Jacklyn's insinuations haunted Debbie. Was it possible that David had developed feelings for her? And those feelings, more than friendship and respect for a chosen employee preparing to work closely with him. Not that she wouldn't welcome his love with full requital a hundredfold, if his love were true and sincere. Oh, stop dreaming, she chided herself.

Perhaps, she ought to stop the Sunday lunches with him, using the excuse that her parents needed additional assistance from her. That was not a lie. With their aging, they did need her help, often. Giving up her Sunday time with David meant giving up the chance to draw him back into the Good Lord's fold. And wasn't saving David's soul what she'd been bugging the Good Lord incessantly.

It felt a miracle that David now attended Mass with her prior to their lunching at Mama Marguerita's to continue her training and quizzing on hypothetical non-routine work scenarios that might arise needing immediate solution on days he was unavailable. Lately he'd begun to discuss with her actual problems encountered with present-day clients, trusting her more and more.

No, there was no way she'd stop their Sunday lunches. It might undo all the good for his soul that the Lord had accomplished thus far through her.

She hadn't yet convinced him to receive the Sacraments at Mass, his continued excuse that he hadn't been to Confession in years. She asked him, "Would you like to join me some Saturday afternoon to receive the Sacrament of Reconciliation, enabling him to receive The Holy Eucharist. But he refused outright. He gave no reason and she did not pressure him, for fear of losing what they'd already gained, his attendance at Mass. She continued to pray for him.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The months passed. Summer melted into Fall, and Fall turned to Winter. The Christmas Holidays upon them, business workdays at the bank grew frantic. Deposits, withdrawals, Savings and Money Market accounts, new loan applications, renewal and extension requisitions, and threatening forfeitures and foreclosures, doubled and tripled. The Bank's load in general, and that of David and his department grew to overwhelming proportions. Ben and Debbie were called upon daily to pick up the slack. The employees looked to The Christmas Party as a welcome respite before the start of the New Year with its standard audits, resolutions and reorganizations.

This year the bank echelon chose a hotel ballroom in the nearby suburbs, for a Friday evening shortly before the Christmas holiday. Financially, the Bank had done well this year, and planned special awards and bonuses as part of the affair. Semi-formal or cocktail attire was left to the guests' discretion, according to their positions in the bank. Debbie chose a chiffon-caped shimmering sky blue velveteen sheath. A golden rope belt hung loose about her waist and hips. A midnight sky blue hand purse and matching block mid-heeled pumps completed her ensemble.

As was the norm for the bank's party seating, the Executives and their wives or guests sat upfront, Managerial staff next, officers and co-workers according to their job titles, occupied the remaining tables.

Debbie scanned the tables at the front of the ballroom for David, and Ben and his wife, Joyce. She located Ben and his wife, next to Helen and her husband. Two empty seats remained. No doubt, she reasoned, for David and his guest. Lucky girl, she sighed.

She moved between tables and finally chose one occupied by friendly co-workers in her department. Three girls, two paired with young men, one single as herself, and a married couple. They greeted her warmly. Standing behind the empty seat next to the single girl, Debbie asked, "Leslie, are you expecting someone?"

"No, not tonight," she said. "Glad you're here. Sit."

"Thanks," Debbie said.

Leslie was scheduled to be her replacement. Debbie considered her a smart and dependable worker, a lovely person with dark hair and dark eyes that twinkled as she took over the conversation. Debbie listened, occasionally casting a glance at Ben and Joyce and the two empty seats beside them, recalling Ben telling her that David did not always attend the Christmas Party. Though she'd tried not to dwell on David asking her to dance, his absence eliminated the possibility altogether, and saddened her. She'd grown used to his shouldering her, or his placing a comforting hand over hers during their Sunday lunches whenever her brow knitted at some instruction or task not quite clear to her. She liked the feel and the warmth that his hand over hers imbued.

As if of its own accord, the thought followed — to dance with David and feel his arms about her. Her back stiffened. She had no cause or right to indulge in that thought. Quickly she turned her attention fully back on Leslie who extolled her good luck and appreciation for recommending her as her replacement.

"Debbie, what are you doing sitting here?" someone bending close inquired. She tensed, then turned to ascertain if it was indeed David's voice."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

David straightened, placing his hand gently on her shoulder. "Your seat is reserved beside mine," he said, pointing to the table with Ben and Joyce.

"Oh, I-I guess, habit." She looked up, taking in David's elegance from his black patent leather loafers to his dark blue vested suit, white dress shirt and silver-grey silk tie. Never in my wildest dreams, Debbie thought. "The manager's ... table?" she asked.

Admiration and gratitude shone in her eyes. David chuckled, marveling at how her unworldly naivety affected him. More so, because he knew it was sincere. "Yes, the manager's table, that's where you belong now."

Debbie turned to Leslie. "Guess, I gotta go. But we'll talk more Monday morning. It's my turn to train you," she offered.

"Sure, of course. I look forward to it." Leslie smiled good-naturedly.

David escorted her to his table. He drew back her chair and waited for her to sit, making sure she was comfortable, before taking his own seat beside her. Ben, similarly elegant in a grey vested suit, and beside him, his wife, Joyce, resplendent in a velvet black and white jacketed sheath, greeted her warmly. David introduced her to the other personable couple at the table, John and Elaine, adding, "John is the Loan Department manager at the uptown branch."

Speeches and awards preceded the dinner. Ben was awarded an engraved glass plaque and a gold watch acknowledging his fifteen years of service.

Promotions were announced next. Although David's superiors had already approved and confirmed Debbie's appointment some months ago, her face registered surprise to hear her name formally announced as the new Assistant Manager to David Albamonte. She glanced askance at David. "Did you know?"

He nodded, smiling. I received a memo a couple of weeks ago, informing me of Ben's awards and the formal announcement of your promotion at the Christmas Party. I was tempted to tell you the good news at our Sunday lunch, but I thought the surprise announcement tonight would make a nice addition to my Christmas gift to you."

He must mean my Christmas bonus that I received along with my fellow workers a few days ago. "I already received the bonus check from the bank. The amount given me was generous. I guess Assistant Managers receive a bit more."

"Well, your latter assumption is right. Assistant Managers do receive a bit more. But the bonus check is not the Christmas gift I'm referring to.

"Oh, I didn't realize we were exchanging gifts," she said. "You've given me so much already. The added training, joining me for Mass, the lunches, the promotion, your kindness —" She'd have found more to thank him for, but the band had begun to play a mellow fox trot, and he interrupted her.

"Debbie, may I have this dance?"

"Of course," she replied, It's expected, she thought, attempting to calm the imagined butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Bosses danced with their employees at Christmas Parties. Nothing new.

David escorted her to the dance floor. She hoped he didn't hear her heartbeat quicken as he placed his arms about her. She hesitated placing a hand on his shoulder, not sure if that was what he expected.

"Go on," he said, grinning politely. "One hand in mine, your other on my shoulder, and my other hand around your waist."

. Debbie's face flushed with embarrassment. Oh Lord, he must think me a dolt. She quickly explained, "I've danced before. I - I've just never danced with you."

"I wasn't making fun of you," he said, a note of apology in his voice. "I understand, you're nervous. It's all new to you. Just follow my lead. I promise I'll try not to step on your toes." He paused, adding, "Ugh, I meant your real toes," he quipped.

His remark acted as a calming agent, making her realize he was also nervous. A lyric from her favorite hymn came to mind — Lord, that I may not seek as much to be consoled, as to console. Quickly, she offered, laughing in turn, "Actually, I think you should be worried about my stepping on your real toes." He laughed at her remark, and she felt his arm about her waist clasp her bit closer. Ah, but now she was certain he must hear her heartbeat quickening, and feel the tremor coursing through her, as he led her slowly across the dance floor.

The evening proceeded, her nervousness evaporating as Ben asked her to dance, and David walked to his secretary's table. Observing etiquette, he asked her husband for permission to dance with her. Permission was granted with a smile.

The glass of champagne Debbie consumed and the marvelous dinner helped as well. She began truly to enjoy herself.

David danced with her several times during the evening, Fox trots, a waltz, a polka, a cha-cha-cha, a tango and a Merengue. But he refrained from the modern let-yourself-loose dances. Understandable, Debbie thought, aligning his dance preferences with his reserve that she admired in him. She, herself, enjoyed the let-yourself-loose dances, within reason, that is. Those, she danced with Leslie and Helen.

By the end of the party, Debbie had convinced herself that David was a kindly employer and a friend. The Lord had answered her prayer and put her in a position to help prevent David from turning into a Dorian Gray. It was not a prerequisite of the Lord's answer to her prayer that her attraction to David be requited, as much as she wished it were. All was well, yet one thing felt amiss.

All evening she had seen no sign of Jacklyn, nor of Executive President Luke Bradford's eldest son, Jeffrey, the Manager of the Claims and Discrepancies Department. Jeffrey was also a skilled and responsible employee in line for promotion. She had noted his absence when his name was called to receive a similar Excellence Achievement Award in The Performance of His Duties For the Year, as had David. She did not give his absence or that of Jacklyn further thought, as there were other absentees that evening.

David was up front, conversing with his superiors. Debbie, tired and content, decided it was time to leave. She said her goodbyes to Ben and the others. "Please, renew my thanks to David." She pointed toward the head tables. "He's busy, and I don't want to disturb him. I'm danced out, and tired. I'll see you all at the office on Monday."

Ben hugged her and along with the others wished her a good night. Debbie left the table and headed for the checkout booth for her winter coat. Once outside, she gave the parking valet her car ticket.

Safely home again, and tucked in her bed, she relived those precious moments with David at the party, and fell asleep with his name on her lips, and the feel of his arms about her as he danced with her.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Sunday morning, as had become the norm, David called her to confirm Mass and Lunch, but in place of his usual cheerful greeting, she sensed a dry hesitance. His next words reinforced the impression. "How are you feeling today?"

"I'm fine," she answered. She waited, hoping he wasn't about to cancel their appointment.

"I'm glad," he said. "I worried when you left the party abruptly. Ben assured me you were just spent and tired."

"Yes, that was it. You were busy with your superiors. I didn't want to interrupt you to say my goodbyes. I didn't mean to cause you to worry. I had a wonderful time, David." Her brow creased as she wondered had she committed a gaucherie? Perhaps she should have waited until he returned to the table and said her goodbyes personally? Had she damaged the delicate employer-employee inter-action growing between them? A note of apology in her voice, she asked, "Are we meeting for Mass and Lunch today?"

He didn't answer immediately and she felt tears threaten. "David?"

"Yes, Yes of course. I'll pick you up at home. See you later." He clicked off.

Pick me up at home? she questioned, confused. She liked the idea of his picking her up at home. But it had become their custom for her to walk to church and meet him outside before the start of Mass. Perhaps he'd spoken without thinking? Should she call him back and make sure, tactfully, careful not to bruise his ego, ask if she'd heard him right? She mulled over the questions as she prepared for Church, and decided not to call him back. I'll wait until the last minute, and if hasn't shown, then I'll drive myself to Church to eliminate the time taken if I walked. If he is there waiting, it'll mean that he spoke without thinking, and I'll say nothing about it.

Dressed, ready to leave, she sat in her upholstered chair by the door, her coat folded on her lap and her purse beside her. Periodically, she scrutinized the wrought iron decorative clock on the opposite wall. She nearly jumped out of her shoes when the doorbell rang.

She peered through the security eyehole, unconvinced that David had meant what he said. A gleeful timid smile spread across her lips as she saw him, in his Sunday best, waiting outside the door for her to open. Quickly she did so. "Come in," she greeted. "I'm all ready. I'll get my coat and purse."

She struggled to control the tremor coursing through her, witnessing David standing on her threshold. She turned to get her coat and purse, and felt his hand on her arm.

"Hold on a minute," he said. "It's still early, and I'd like to give you my Christmas gift. I meant to give it to you last night before you left."

She'd forgotten what he'd said about the bonus check, "...not the Christmas gift I'm referring to."

"I - I really didn't expect any gift. I don't have a gift as yet to give you."

"You already said that last night," he told her. "But nevertheless, I'd like to give you my gift, now ... if it's all right with you."

"Well, of course, if it pleases you," she said in earnest.

"If it pleases me?" he inquired, peering at her with disbelief. "Where did you hail from, Debbie?"

She stood before him, not sure why he asked that, or what to answer. She answered truthfully, "Brooklyn."

His eyes widened, and he grinned, chuckling from deep within his chest. "Oh, Debbie, you are a treasure! Please, may I come in ... just for a moment?"
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

A treasure! She'd never thought of herself as a treasure. To her parents, perhaps. But no one else. The warmth in his voice and the sincerity in his eyes were too much to ignore, despite the slim chance he might have sinister intentions. She refused to believe that of him.

"She nodded, and moved aside for him to enter, while saying a silent prayer to the Good Lord and His Holy Mother to protect her if she'd misjudged. All the same, she did not lock the door behind him.

He followed her into the living room and she motioned for him to sit on the couch. "You're right about it being early yet for Church. Would you care for a cup of coffee? I baked a pound cake yesterday."

"Sure," he replied. "May I take my coat off," he asked.

She nodded again and went into the kitchen. Some of her morning brew remained in the glass carafe on her coffeemaker's warming plate. She quickly shut off the auto switch and poured the dark brew into two mugs, sliced a piece of pound cake and placed it on a rose-patterned cake dish. Along with a cake fork, two teaspoons, a sugar bowl, a small pitcher of milk and some paper napkins, she placed the items on a silver hand tray and carried them into the living room. She set the tray with its contents on the walnut coffee table in front of the couch, and sat down at a discreet distance from David.

She saw him eye the solitary slice of cake and explained, "I already had my piece of pound cake this morning," adding with a smile to lift the somber mood in the room, "I'm not as good a cook as my mom, but I'm a wiz at baking."

David returned her smile and added sugar and milk to his coffee, drank some, then ate the cake. "Delicious," he complimented, finishing his coffee.

"Okay," he said. "My turn." He slipped his hand into his jacket's inside breast pocket and drew out a small white gift box. "What I planned to give you last night," he said, handing it to her. "Hope it meets with your approval."

She held it, respectfully. "I'm sorry I don't have a gift for you," she repeated, "Though I do plan to get you one."

"Open it," he said.

She lifted the top of the box. She parted the tissue paper enclosing the gift, and gasped. It was an ivory cameo pin bordered in gold encrusted with mini pearls. A small black tag with yellow lettering hung from the locking pin behind it. The tag read mini cultured pearls, 14kg.

"Oh, no," she gasped. "It's too much. I \- I can't accept this."

"Why not?" David asked. "You deserve it. You've put a lot of effort into earning your promotion."

"It's too much," she insisted. "It's too lovely. It's a gift you should offer to the woman lucky enough to win your heart. Not a co-worker," she said honestly, closing the gift box and handing it back to him.

David clasped her fingers around the gift box. "Will you accept it if I add my sister's name to mine as the gifter?"

She eyed him askance. "Your sister?"

She helped me pick it out. My parents are coming up from Florida to celebrate Christmas with us and her family. She wants to meet the person who achieved what she's been trying unsuccessfully to achieve for years; that is, get me to attend Mass on Sundays." Still sensing hesitation, he added. "Ben is also invited. He's probably mentioned to you that he was my family's next-door neighbor for years and a good friend to us all. He's always invited to our family gatherings."

How could she refuse him? Debbie thought, that little boy look in his eyes entreating, playing havoc with her emotions. He had no idea how much she'd come to care for him. And he must never know. The last thing he'd want for an Assistant Manager was a besotted female. He admired her intelligence, her loyalty and conscientiousness when it came to her job. That was as it should be. And she was helping the Good Lord return him to the Fold.

"Okay," she whispered. "For all the reasons you've stated, I'll accept the gift, with gratitude." She reclaimed her fingers and the gift. "Thank you, David. I hope I'll prove worthy of your help and your training, and your kindness."

He made no further comment with regard to the gift, but he did ask, "You will come to my family gathering this Christmas? I can pick you up and bring you back."

"I can join you for Christmas Eve, but I have my own parents wanting me with them, at least on Christmas Day."

"Done," he nodded. 'Thank you." He stood up. "Now I think we better leave for Church." He shrugged back into his coat.

Debbie went into her bedroom and placed the gift in her bureau drawer. Then she joined David, donned her own coat and took her purse.

After Mass, their luncheon felt especially nice this Sunday, relaxed and composed, now that she accepted for certain their co-worker status and their platonic friendship. Her dreams would create different scenarios. But that's all they were ... dreams.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Christmas Eve arrived with the usual commotion and employee bustle of last minute tasks and project resolutions or holdovers. As was David's custom, he and Ben worked past their department's Holiday early dismissal, until the bank's full official evening closing. Debbie insisted on working along with them. For the hundredth time, David admired Debbie's diligent uncomplaining dedication to her new position, and to him as his assistant. He was glad that when Ben left the Bank's employ on New Year's Eve, Debbie remained as his right arm. Despite his efforts to prove himself near perfect when it came to his managerial skills, he was human, capable of misjudgments and errors, though they were rare and he was quick to learn from them, correct them, and never repeat them. Knowing Debbie remained at his side, to catch that rare misjudgment or error, was reassuring.

And there was more that he tried not to dwell upon — her smile, her compassionate gaze, her gentleness, her honesty, and that sweet naivety when it came to life in general, all combined with her pleasant voice and presence, and her ability to beg to differ without attacking his ego. Very few women, at least none that he was acquainted with, knew how to accomplish that feat.

He hoped Debbie stayed at his side indefinitely. Whatever position he assumed in the future, he'd take her with him. Plead with her, if necessary, to remain at his side. If she married, and he was sure that day would come — women like Debbie were made to be loyal wives and mothers — he'd offer her every opportunity, make continuing to work at his side, worthwhile and easy for her, her husband and children.

The bank phone on his desk rang, intruding on his thoughts. He recognized the ID as that of the security guard at the Bank's entrance. He answered.

"Yes, Jerry."

"I'll be locking up in a few minutes."

"Thanks, Jerry. We'll be right down."

David closed up shop, as his father would say, and called Ben and Debbie to meet him at the elevator. The Department was empty, except for his two loyal assistants. Ben came out of his office. Debbie still worked in her cubicle. Beginning with the New Year, she'd occupy Ben's vacated office, next to his own.

Exiting the Bank's front entrance, he and his companions wished Jerry a Merry Christmas and together walked to the subway station, for their respective trains.

"My parents are already at my sister's, and they're holding dinner for us," David said, addressing them both. To Debbie, he added. "I'll pick you up at your apartment."

"I can save you the drive," Debbie said. "I have the address and I have a GPS."

"Thank you, but I know a short cut. Ben already knows it from the previous times he's joined our family celebrations."

"Yes," Ben concurred. "It'll save you a good half-hour's travel," he told Debbie.

"Okay," Debbie agreed. "I'll be waiting," she smiled her appreciation.

As he'd mentioned to Debbie before she boarded her train, attire for Christmas Eve at his sister's was always casual. David gave himself a last look-over in the mirror over his bureau. He'd Showered and shaved. A complete change of clothing included a Yuletide V-neck sweater over a blue dress shirt, brown slacks and loafers. Debbie would notice. Like himself, she had a keen eye for what surrounded her, except, perhaps, for not recognizing his feelings for her. Or recognizing them, not want them. He knew he wasn't her idea of a worthy husband. Maybe in time, she would see him in a different light. She wasn't fully yet aware of how much he had changed since she'd taken him under her wing, especially when it came to the business of not caring about stepping on toes to achieve his goal — his branch's presidency. And he daren't tell her, because she'd ask him the how and why. And the answers to those two questions included telling her of his growing feelings for her. No way she'd remain with him then, considering herself a temptation to him instead of a helpful assistant.

David sighed. Building a friendship between their families might clear a path to her heart.

Promptly within the hour, he presented himself at her door. Debbie let him in. She stood before him, prim, yet modern in a point-collared button-down long-sleeved lilac silk blouse, hem fitted neatly in a lavender A-line skirt. On her feet, lavender mid-heeled pumps. From the way her hair glistened, he guessed she'd washed the fine strands and dried them to fluff softly over her ears, and whenever she bent her head, he observed how they caressed her temples and cheeks. He'd noted for some time now that she rarely wore lipstick. She did wear foundation and eyebrow pencil to give her face contrast. "You look lovely," he said.

"Thank you," she whispered, adding, "And you look dashing." She tended to blush easily. Eyes acquiring a tender expression, she glanced away. "I'll get my coat and purse."

As he drove, he was pleasantly aware that she smelled of airspun lilacs in mid-April, before May and June intensified their fragrance. He remembered the feel of her in his arms as they had danced at the Christmas Party. She considered herself slightly overweight. He honestly didn't see it. Holding her in his arms as they wove across the dance floor, he found her light as a feather.

He kept his conversation buoyant and she reciprocated in kind. He thought how pleasant it would be to go for long rides with her. How relaxing to lie alongside her in a meadow, or sit beside her in a park bench on a railed boardwalk by the ocean, cool breezes buffing his face.

By the time they arrived at his sister's, David had made up his mind. Debbie was the woman for him. He wanted no other. Somehow, he'd have to capture her heart.

CHAPTER TWENTY

The home he'd grown up in, now the home of his sister and her family, was part of a cul de sac in the suburbs. Debbie's eyes brightened and she commented favorably on the Christmas lights, the Nativity Crèche on the front lawn, and the Kneeling Santa Claus next to the Three Kings paying homage to Baby Jesus.

"Where did she find a life-size figure of the Kneeling Santa?" Debbie asked, marveling.

"On line. She's an expert at googling."

"I like her all ready," Debbie chuckled.

David smiled as he pulled up behind the four cars parked on the driveway leading to the Cape Cod. He recognized his parents' Ford.

Debbie pointed to a grey Oldsmobile, "My parents have a car just like that."

"Yes, they're still popular," David replied.

The front door was open, but the screen door locked. His parents had ingrained a sense of practical cautiousness in their children that had stayed with him and his sister. He rang the bell and a ten-year old copper-haired boy scurried toward the door. "Uncle Dave!" he hollered, unlocking the screen door. "Mom, Dad, Uncle Dave is here!"

Vanessa, her party shift protected by a full paisley apron, hurried toward him, arms open to exchange a hug. "Hey, Bro," she welcomed, squeezing him affectionately.

"Hi, Sis," David squeezed her affectionately in turn."

Her eyes, a touch lighter hazel than David's, rested on Debbie. "You brought her," she welcomed, transferring her hug to Debbie."

Warm and unaffected, Debbie thought, returning the hug with gratitude. "It's so nice to meet you. Thank you for inviting me."

"My pleasure," Vanessa replied. Brown curls shifted askew as she tilted her head, motioning behind her to the area past the kitchen. "Ben's already here. Come on in; take your coats off. David will show you to the coat rack on the wall. You're just in time for the first course. Cream of Asparagus Tips. David said that's one of your favorites."

"It is!" Debbie replied, her tone indicating surprise that David had mentioned that fact, let alone know.

Whatever else Vanessa meant to say was lost in a familiar voice to Debbie. "Debbie, sweetheart, here you are. Dad and I were starting to worry."

Debbie's mouth dropped open. "Mom?" And as her father strolled up behind her mother, "Dad!"

"Sorry, pigeon," he quipped. "Your boss made us promise not to say anything about his sister inviting us as well. He said you might consider our coming an imposition and oppose it. He was afraid you'd change your mind about your own coming."

Debbie glanced at David, not too pleased. "You should have told me," she chided.

Other relatives of David had joined them, their expressions inquisitive. David addressed them as a group. "My new Assistant Manager has an admirable stubborn streak. And I had no intention of risking her not joining us tonight." He turned to Debbie, his eyes pleading for her to understand and forgive."

She sighed in resignation. "My employer has spoken," she chuckled. Only as she followed David into the Dining Room did she allow herself to gaze lovingly at him unseen. Busy pondering how long before he discerned her feelings for him and decided he needed a less distracted Assistant Manager, Debbie missed Vanessa watching them both, a definite glint of admiration in her eyes, followed by a sigh of relief.

David promptly introduced her to his parents, Maria and Domenico, as his new Assistant Manager. She saw immediately Vanessa's resemblance to her mother. David was all his father, minus the gray peppering his brown hair. His parents welcomed her warmly with wide smiles and incandescent gazes.

Vanessa and her husband, Allen, worked well in the kitchen as a team. Between them, the couple carried a steaming jumbo-sized tureen and ladle to the table. Family style, each member passed their soup bowl to Vanessa for her to fill with the thick aromatic creamed asparagus soup.

Debbie passed on to her parents David's whispered warning to her, "Take small portions of everything you like. My family has a habit of rarely paying attention to the quantity and variety of the foods served. Only how good it tastes."

David's advice proved helpful. Several courses followed. Spaghetti pasta and sauce made from scratch by David's widowed Nonna who sat quietly, at Vanessa's side, arms folded, a staid, observant expression on her elderly face. Meatballs, roast rib, veggies, potatoes, salad, thick-sliced Italian bread, etc., complemented the Christmas Eve feast spread. Debbie lost track of the variety of foods served.

Finally, coffee — brown or demitasse with Anisette liqueur per request, and a large tray of delectable tiramisu, along with an assortment of homemade pies and cookies.

The meal at last over, the family retired to the two wrap-around couches and three recliners in the Living Room. Folding chairs were set up in every corner accessible, allowing pleasant conversation and family updates to thrive comfortably. After a while, some of the guests stepped out onto the back patio. The evening was clear and not windy. Bodies well fed and overheated, welcomed the slight chill.

"Come on, Debbie," David said, clasping her hand. "Let's get a breath of fresh air."

"Okay," she said, and let him draw her off the couch and onto the rear patio.

He pointed to the large garden area, dry and brown at this time. "You should see this in the Spring and Summer," he told her. Vanessa and Grandma both have green thumbs when it comes to gardening. They plant a slew of vegetables. And in the back, they cultivate a couple of apple and peach trees, not to mention rose bushes and blueberry shrubs. They reserve the front lawn for daffodils and irises, carnations and roses, season wise."

"It sounds wonderful," Debbie said. "My mom and dad grow roses and hydrangeas in front of the house, and we have a fig tree in the back. My Dad putters around tomato plants and string beans, and zucchini and eggplants. Albeit, only a couple of plants of each. There's only Mom and Dad, and myself. Most of the surplus goes to the neighbors."

"You have a small family, then," David asked.

"Yes, we do. There was a time in my childhood, I remember a room-full of relatives — aunts, uncles, old friends, but most of them have passed on, or moved away. It's wonderful to have a large family." Her voice took on a wistful tone. "Maybe someday, I can make mine grow again." She shrugged, taking on a posture of neither here, neither there. She met David's gaze, serious, portent, and chuckled. "I'm only fantasizing," she excused. "Not everyone is meant to marry and raise a family."

"Why do you say that?" David asked.

"I may fantasize, but I'm a realist at heart. I know my limitations."

"What limitations?" David said.

She turned away, before he should see the longing in her eyes, or guess the thoughts in her mind. If I were exotic and beautiful, I could capture your heart, marry you and, Lord willing, raise that family. Join my family to yours, and watch it grow.

"Debbie, what limitations?" he repeated. "I don't see any."

Suddenly his arms were about her, drawing her gaze to his, and then her lips.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Her deepest desires resisted pulling away, but only for a moment. "No! Please."

"Debbie," he pleaded, intoxicated by her nearness.

Debbie pulled free. "This isn't real. This isn't love."

He almost exclaimed, What's love got to do with it! But the apprehension in Debbie's gaze stopped him cold. Idiot! he censured himself. For Debbie, love has everything to do with it! "I'm sorry. I lost control. I apologize." He turned away, then back, and rasped, "You underestimate your charms, Debbie." He re-entered the house, struggling to regain his composure.

Vanessa approached him. "What's wrong, Bro?"

He wasn't in the habit of discussing personal matters with his sister, even if she'd always had an uncanny way of understanding him better than he understood himself.

"Come on, tell me," she urged.

"Nothing is wrong," he insisted.

"You've fallen in love with Debbie, haven't you?"

He glared at her, shocked, then his shoulders drooped, and he relented, and nodded.

"And you're scared," his sister went on.

He glanced at her askance.

"Oh, I know," she said, "you've had relationships, beautiful women, sexy, desirable, even marriageable types. But you've never fallen in love for the right reasons. You've never wanted a woman for what she truly was inside, for what she stood for. The type of woman you'd gladly give permission to hold your heart captive forever." She placed a solacing hand on his arm. "I'm right, aren't I?" she asked.

He nodded. "I don't know how to tell her," he admitted. "And she has me pegged for a womanizer and a selfish know-it-all."

Vanessa held back a laugh. "Well, you can't deny a certain reputation. However, I have news for you. That girl's in love with you."

David eyed his sister with disbelief. "How would you know that?"

Vanessa gazed over her shoulder at her children and her husband, immersed in games and conversation. "I've had some experience in that department," she quipped. Taking on a serious tone, she advised him, "Tell her how you feel about her, and for dear Heaven's sake, propose to her and marry the girl."

"She won't believe me. She won't accept my proposal."

"How do you know, unless you try? I'm telling you that girl ... that woman ... is crazy about you."

Again he inquired, "What makes you so sure?"

Vanessa spoke with certainty, "Have you ever seen her watch you, when she knew you weren't looking?"

"You're talking nonsense, Sis. How much wine have you had tonight?"

"One glass," she said. "And I don't have to drive. I'm already home." She squeezed his arm affectionately. "I love you, brother."

He sighed, resigned. At the bank, he always presented to his department, a self-sufficient, well-educated, untouchable exterior. But Vanessa remembered the small frightened boy, unsure of himself and his self-esteem, until Ben had taken him under his wing and helped him realize his true worth. "I love you, too, Sis," he said. "I'll take your advice under consideration."

"You do that, Bro," Vanessa said, with a sisterly nudge.

Around midnight Vanessa's guests began to leave. His parents would be staying the night at the house. David approached Debbie. "It's getting late. I think I should bring you home." He sensed her hesitation. "Don't worry. I promise I'll keep my hands to myself. Strictly business," he assured. "I assume you're spending tomorrow with your parents, attending Mass with them?"

"Yes," she nodded.

"They're lucky to have you as their daughter," he said. "I'll get our coats."

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

On the morning of New Year's Eve, Ben officially retired. The office held a Farewell Luncheon at Delmonico's. The Branch's President and his son Jeffrey attended.

Because of Ben's long-time employment, and on David's laudatory recommendation, he was awarded the status of Consultant Assistant Manager Emeritus.

"Now you can continue to help us on the side," Debbie said.

"I won't lose you after all," David added.

Ben's new status lifted a weight off Debbie's mind, if she decided to leave her new position. She had not contemplated that move until Vanessa's Christmas Eve celebration. Up to the moment on the back patio, she believed her attraction to David, safe and one-sided. He saw her only as a help-aid. She could daydream freely. But his unexpected attraction to her, made her feel like a tightrope walker who had just lost her safety net. She held no doubts that, as the expression went, she was head over heels in love with him. Her instinctive response to his kiss at Vanessa's party made it clear to her that if he made more passes at her, she risked succumbing, body and soul. Sexual satisfaction outside of marriage was not what she wanted. It went against all her Christian upbringing. And it was futile to deny her secret desire to have David at her side as her husband for the rest of her life, to know his love completely and return it in kind. To have children with him, rear and watch them grow, while growing old with him. Unfortunately, it was well rumored in the women's lounge that David never let a relationship, intimate or not, reach the marriage proposal stage.

Leaving his employ meant disappointing him, and earning his distrust and dislike after all he'd done to help her obtain the promotion. At least he'd still have Ben's help. What bothered her the most, though, was how near she'd come to restoring his closeness to the Lord. Leaving his side might undo all the good the Lord had accomplished through her. And, of course, never again feeling David's arms about her, and his kiss on her lips. And all hope dashed for knowing the joys and comforts of a physical and spiritual union with him.

David had kept his word given that Christmas Eve. He'd made no further attempt to initiate a relationship between them. Neither on the way home, nor in the week that followed. It remained to be seen if he continued to keep his word. Perhaps it had only been the warm, cozy family ambiance surrounding them that had prompted his kiss. And it was all forgotten now on his part. Endurable on her part, as she returned to her day dreams, especially when he asked her to continue their attendance at Mass, and their luncheons after. Sensing her hesitation, he'd stipulated, "Strictly platonic, Debbie." She accepted his word.

The weeks passed, blurred into routine. David and she worked well together, and with Ben's occasional consult, they became a formidable team.

Debbie's decision to remain at David's side felt right. More so, on Palm Sunday, initiating Holy week that commemorated Christ's Passion, leading to his Resurrection, Easter Sunday.

The blessed palms distributed, the time arrived to receive the Holy Eucharist. Debbie stood up to move into the aisle and join the communicants on line. Used to David remaining in the pew, she didn't notice at first his presence behind her until his coat brushed hers. She turned. Her eyes widened with surprise.

He guessed what she was thinking and whispered with a reassuring smile, "I went to Confession, yesterday. It's all right."

She felt the surge of joyous tears. David had returned to the Fold.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

By now, they had become a fixture at Mamma Marguerita's Restaurant. Margie met them at the door. "Welcome," she greeted with a hug to both. "Come, your favorite table is prepared. I'll tell my husband you're here. He's cooking an extra special lunch for you both today."

Debbie asked, "Why extra special today?" She searched her memory. Anniversary? They'd been married well over thirty years. But she recalled their mentioning celebrating their anniversary a couple of months ago. Perhaps it was the anniversary of the restaurant's opening a few years after their marriage. She glanced about her but saw no anniversary or other celebration streamers hung across the flowered countryside scenes painted above the wainscoting. Nothing to give her a clue as to what they were celebrating. "Okay, I give up. What is special about today?"

Margie laughed. "Oh, forgive me child. I - I should have explained." She glanced at David, then back at Debbie. "Well, you see, next week is Easter and you always spend it with your parents. Since we normally don't see you on that Sunday, well, Antonio and I thought a special lunch was in order."

Debbie hugged her. "That's very nice of you. Thank you."

"Yes, thank you," David said. "I hope we do it justice."

That was an odd thing for David to say, she thought, as Margie seated them at their usual table. She meant to ask him what he meant, but he introduced the subject of a vacation that he planned in the near future. Ah, she surmised, he means to give me some pointers when I'm left alone to run the department for him. "I can handle it," she spoke, not questioning her assumption. "Helen will be there, and Ben, if I need."

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You might not be there, Debbie," he said.

"Oh." She swallowed nervously. Perhaps he meant to let her go. She wasn't working out as satisfactorily as she'd foolishly convinced herself.

"What am I doing wrong?" she asked, eyes wide with misgiving.

"Nothing! You've been the perfect Assistant Manager. Patient ... attentive ... loyal —" He went for his tie, loosened it nervously. "I'm sorry. I'm not good at this. It's the first time ... and I sincerely hope the last." He stood up.

Debbie reached for him. "Don't go," she pleaded. "I understand. I'm not right for the position. You don't have to feel guilty. I'm not good enough."

"Debbie, you're too good. Too good for me. Far too good for me. But all the same, just like you I have a stubborn streak. And maybe, just maybe, I stand a chance."

"Wha - What —"

David dropped to one knee, dug into his jacket's inside breast pocket and drew out a small snap jewelry box.

Dumbstruck, Debbie watched him open the box and reveal a platinum twisted vine diamond ring.

By now, everyone's attention in the restaurant was riveted on them, including that of Marguerite and Antonio who had been watching through the port window on the kitchen door, breaths stilled and waiting.

Debbie sat a moment, her mind absorbing and trying to make sense of what was happening. Perhaps she'd never risen this morning and was in bed dreaming. She gazed about her; everyone waited for her answer, foremost David. If she was dreaming, well why not go with it. She had no doubts about her feelings for him. She loved him. But she had to ask, "Why me, David? There are so many lovely women that would jump at your proposal."

"That's right, Debbie, I haven't told you. I thought you'd guessed all along. I keep forgetting that although you're brilliant and clever when it comes to your work, you're as naive as a child when it comes to matters of the heart." He lifted the ring from its slot in the box and held it out to Debbie. "I love you, dearest, most beautiful, gentle-hearted woman, far too good for me, yet what I want most in my life."

Go with the dream, Debbie told herself. She took the ring and slipped it onto the fourth finger of her left hand. "Of course I'll marry you," she assured him. "I've been in love with you forever, it seems. How could I refuse?"

David stood up, a wide smile and eyes alight with joy. He clasped her in his arms and kissed her, his lips warm and tender against her own.

The room resounded with clapping and cheering, and Marguerite and Antonio hurried over to the couple and embraced them.

"We told you, David, she would accept. We haven't been married all these years not to recognize true love between two genuinely good persons."

"You knew?" Debbie asked, startled.

"Oh, yes," Marguerite said. "He came here for dinner a few nights ago and told us what he planned. The poor boy was sure you'd turn him down. We had to keep reassuring him."

Tears filled her eyes and slid down her cheeks and past the corners of her mouth. Their salty taste alerted her that this was no dream. It was real. David holding her close, trembling from sheer joy at her acceptance. In shock, she hadn't realized that she, herself, was aflutter with happiness. He loved her. He really loved her.

"We can serve dessert now," Marguerite said. "Antonio's specialty. A Cannoli Cream Cake. And everyone here will get a piece, on us, for joining in the celebration."

Both sets of parents and Vanessa and her family were thrilled to learn of the engagement, and the wedding date set within two months.

David's department as a whole was amazed and pleased, except for Jacklyn, who upon hearing the news, merely arched an eyebrow and shrugged indifferently. Ever since the Christmas Party, concluding David was off limits and lost to her, she'd reset her cap for Jeffrey, President Bradford's son. Her looks and charms were not lost on him and he seemed smitten with her.

To Debbie, capturing David's heart, seemed too fantastic to be real, but with David daily renewing his words of love, fantastic was settling into the norm, until that morning, two weeks shy of the planned wedding —

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Debbie sat in her new office, Ben's old office. She'd done some minor redecorating with livelier colored drapes, repositioning furniture, and adding a tall brawny philodendron plant and a foliaceous air-purifying spider plant. She'd transferred her files from her computer in the cubicle to Ben's Assistant Manager files. With Helen's help, she'd reorganized the combined files to suit her work style.

She'd kept Ben's old traditional wood desk, a rare piece, presently strewn with several of David's new loan applications that he'd either approved or rejected. Like Ben before her, it was her job to review them, make sure that nothing amiss or counterproductive had slipped by David.

David rarely misjudged the validity of a client's ability to repay a loan, or the type of loan most beneficial to client and bank. But he was human, and it was protocol at this bank to have the Assistant Manager co-sign with the Manager, loosely mimicking the government's Checks and Balances System.

This was only one of her several duties along with reviewing data entry clerk spreadsheets with regard to the applications. The easiest of her duties, considering that a few months ago she had been a data entry clerk.

Noted on her desk calendar for later that morning was co-attendance with David at a Board of Directors' quarterly meeting regarding profits and losses. David was presently away from his desk, busy on the bank floor with a prospective client. Debbie buzzed Helen's intercom.

"Yes, Miss Rilston," Helen answered,

So formal, Debbie thought. It felt weird. "Helen, call me Debbie."

"Not supposed to. You're officially up on the ladder."

"Well, all right, but when there's no one around, let me just be Debbie, okay?"

"You got it. So, what can I do for you, Debbie?

I'm scheduled to join David for the Directors' quarterly meeting later this morning. Did Ben bring any particular files with him when attending these meetings?"

"Actually, yes." She named three, which Debbie quickly jotted down. "Oh, and Ben also brought along a hardcopy notebook with special notations about clients' prepayments."

"Where did Ben keep that notebook?" Debbie asked.

"It contained some sensitive info, so he kept it locked in his bottom drawer. But while helping him on his last day, I remember he gave it to David who placed it in his own bottom drawer with other files containing sensitive info."

"Is David still tied up with the client?"

"Yes. That one's a talker. An important client and one of the Bank's backers. David's in for at least a couple hours. I've got orders to call him on his cellphone a half hour before the meeting so he can excuse himself without offence."

"Would you happen to have a key to David's bottom draw?" Debbie asked.

"Hold on," Helen said. "Let me look." A few moments later, "Ah, here it is. It's an old duplicate, left here by a former secretary before David's time. I'd forgotten I still had it. If David hasn't changed the lock, it should open the drawer."

"Ben had free access to the drawer in question? Debbie asked.

"Yes. As David's assistant."

"Okay, then, I'll try the duplicate. In the interim, if David can't reach me and calls you, tell him where I am."

"Will do," Helen assured.

"I'll be right over to pick up the key," Debbie said.

On the bank floor, David and the client shook hands, having come to a mutual agreement on the personal loan application they had been discussing for the past hour. David breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the grey-haired executive walk out the front entrance. He was glad his client's secretary had called the man to remind him of an urgent meeting, so he'd curtailed his habitual string of personal stories, most of which had nothing to do with the business at hand. Otherwise, he'd still be there talking. David had his own meeting to prepare for, and Debbie to coach as well. She had joined him for other Board meetings, but this would be her first experience with a quarterly meeting dealing with profits and losses.

He checked his watch. Close to an hour remained for him to give Debbie some pointers on what to expect, and questions the Directors asked. He called her office and reached her answering machine. He called Helen. "Debbie in her office?" he asked.

"No, sir. She's in your office."

"In my office?" he asked.

"Yes, sir." Helen related her earlier conversation with Debbie."

"She's doing what?" David asked, heart missing a beat and throat constricting, as he remembered the notebook with all Jeffrey's failings and suspected indiscretions, along with those of other prospective candidates for Bradford's replacement ... the notebook he kept hidden in his locked private drawer. "Oh good Lord!" David rasped.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The old duplicate key worked. Debbie opened the drawer. Several notebooks and varied colored file jackets containing tabbed manila folders lay on their sides. Best to concentrate on the notebooks, she decided. The file folders could wait for a more opportune time.

Six notebooks lay scattered beneath the jackets. She read the self-stick labels affixed to the hard covers, Profits and Losses, dated chronologically, the latest reading 2018. Missing were the most current 2019, and the 2020 as yet incomplete. Among Debbie's business traits, thoroughness was one of her best. Perhaps the notebooks she needed had mixed with the file jackets, or fallen to the bottom. She removed all the files and saw a remaining notebook that had apparently slipped to the bottom, and had lain hidden beneath the jackets.

Debbie lifted the notebook and read the label. Toes To Step On. She reread the label, once, twice more. Fingers trembling, she opened the notebook and began to read.

Shocked and appalled, Debbie closed the notebook with a loud snap. Only the first six pages contained writing, each page allotted to a specific employee's name followed by a list of faults, suspected indiscretions, and failings, none serious enough to be tagged illegal, yet seriously discrediting. Jeffrey's name on the first page held a notation in parentheses \- Bradford's son, sure to be nominated and appointed as his replacement.

Debbie's expression tightened into anger, then convulsed into disillusionment and heartbreak. Humiliation, affront, character-defaming scenarios wrenched across her thoughts. Had the sublime change she'd observed in David these past months culminating with his marriage proposal, been a ploy to obtain her good favor. Had he turned into a Dorian Gray? Along with his excellent record since his inception as Manager of the department, he'd need an upstanding, good wife to make him a worthy candidate to replace Bradford. Was the miracle she thought the answer to her prayers, nothing more than an illusion and the devil's trickery.

Her right hand closed over her left, her fingers twisting and re-twisting the engagement ring. How could she go through with the wedding now, no matter how much she loved him? For Better or for Worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, those were life-long indissoluble responsibilities to the chosen partner. Her Faith declared them to be the crux of marriage. Someone with ulterior motives, or less affection and yearning to become one with David, would find it easy to return his ring and break off the engagement and end further association with him. But she loved David with all her heart, had loved him it felt even before setting eyes on him, as if forever. Loved him in her dreams and desires, long before he'd held her in his arms and awakened her spiritual and physical need of him. That love remained constant and present, filtering through the anger and disillusionment, and the resulting distrust and mockery of the wedding vows they planned. Yet, how could she ignore—

David rushed from the bank floor toward the elevators. The five minutes it took him from the bank floor to the tenth floor, left him disheveled and panting and nearly out of breath. He never heard Helen's "Hey, what's wrong?" as he rushed past her toward his office, hoping to reach Debbie before she came across the infamous notebook. He stopped short in front of his office door and took a deep breath, not wanting to cannon into the office and alarm her if he'd reached her in time.

He turned the doorknob and entered. Debbie sat in his upholstered desk chair, one of his notebooks open on the desktop in front of her. The gaze that met his froze him in place. From the shock and the tears on her face, he knew he was too late.

How could she ever believe anything he said in the future, after what she'd found? David searched through his mind for words that would convince her how their love had truly changed him. "Wait," he pleaded. "Look, at the dates of the entries. The last one made just before our meeting on the elevator. Never another entry. I'm not that David who wrote those pages. He saw the disillusionment and distrust, wage war on her face as she did as he asked, that look of compassion struggling to come through. He waited until she was finished. Then without a second thought, he ran towards the desk and grabbed the book. With a vengeance, he tore it apart, then fed it to the shredder at the side of his desk.

"And there are no copies, I swear." he cried. "I love you, sweetheart, for all the unseen reasons. The beauty within you. Your gentleness and kindness. The love I've sensed in you from the beginning of our interacting. Love you kept hidden, humbly and unpresuming. And the beauty without that's grown on me slowly, until I see you as the loveliest woman I've ever met. Don't leave me, sweetheart. I don't care about achieving my goal. Even if they offered me the Presidency, I'd refuse it, because you're my goal now, to spend the rest of my life with you at my side. You saved me, Debbie. Don't abandon me now."

Her heart threatening to rend apart, a war raged within her as whether to trust or distrust his words. Debbie prayed. Help me Lord, help me Blessed Mother. Your son died for our sins. He forgave his killers from the Cross, and He continues to seek out sinners and gentle their hearts to return to His Father's fold. Can I do less? she pleaded.

Standing up, sobs racking her chest, she rushed into David's arms.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The couple's parents and the guests attending the wedding in Church said it was one of the most beautiful wedding ceremonies they had ever witnessed. Several of the guests, the more sensory perceptive, admitted to feeling a sort of enchantment permeating the atmosphere about them, as if they could feel the love and the need between David and Debbie. The religious-minded among them were not at all surprised. They explained it as the spiritual manifestation of the sincere affection between David and Debbie, and the presence and blessings of God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, the Blessed Mother, the Holy Angels and Saints.

"To each their own," the atheists among them declared. Sort of a pleasant mass hysteria, they tagged the feeling, though none denied the sensation.

For Debbie, resplendent in her white veiled bridal gown and bouquet of white roses, the sensation was easily explained the moment she and her father followed her bridal attendants into the church and up the center aisle, with her co-worker Leslie among her bridesmaids, and Vanessa her matron of honor. The explanation was simple. The Lord and His Holy Mother had answered her prayer to save David from losing his way. She hadn't expected so wonderful an answer, David requiting her love and his promise to remain faithfully at her side for all of his life.

Father Emory, who had officiated at several of the Sunday Masses she and David had attended during the past months, stood proudly on the altar dais facing the congregation, as the bridal party advanced. He remembered with a smile the first time he had seen Debbie with David at Mass, and her second-guessing what he might think when she introduced him as her employer. Her quick clarification, "I'm up for a promotion and he's taking me to lunch to give me some helpful advice. Strictly business, Father. Honest." Even if he hadn't been thinking what she thought, that latter explanation had given him cause to suspect David of immoral intentions at the expense of her naivety. But thankfully, he mused, David had proven wrong any ill suspicions.

He smiled, content, as Debbie and her father reached the base of the dais. Daniel Rillson lifted the blusher veil from his daughter's face, arranging it carefully over her rosebud veiled tiara, and revealing her radiant smile. Love and happiness showed supreme on David's face as Debbie's father placed her hand in his welcoming one.

The indisputable exchange of love in their eyes before they bent their heads to concentrate on the three steps leading up the dais to the altar proper and Father Emory, was there for everyone to see.

The couple had opted for a Nuptial Mass, wanting all the blessings and prayers allowed them for their joining. They sat side by side on the white bench provided for them on the dais as Father Emory began the Mass.

Shortly after they had received the Holy Eucharist in both forms as bread and wine, Father Emory moved to stand before them, motioning them to rise and face each other.

He began, "Without coercion, freely and wholeheartedly, are you, David Albamonte and Debbie Rillson, here to enter into marriage?"

David and Debbie gazed at each other with total purpose, and answered in unison, "Yes."

Father Emory continued, "Are you prepared, as you follow the path of Marriage, to love and honor each other for as long as you both shall live?"

Again both responded in unison, "Yes."

"Are you prepared to accept children lovingly from God and to bring them up according to the law of Christ and his Church?"

Once again they both responded in unison, "Yes."

"Since it is your intention to enter into this covenant, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and His Church."

The blessing of the wedding rings, and their vows followed as each slipped the wedding band on the fourth finger of their respective hand, and vowed to be faithful and true to each other in good times and bad, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.

"Your vows exchanged, and tokens of love given, before God and His Church, I now pronounce you Husband and Wife." Father breathed a sigh of relief. He honestly had been worried about this couple. He turned to David. "You may now kiss the bride," he told him, nodding.

David hadn't meant to kiss Debbie so passionately before the priest and the congregation, but he couldn't help himself. He clasped her to himself, and feeling her arms clasp about him as tightly, there was nothing he could do to stop the passionate kiss until he heard Father clear his throat, and whisper with a hint of humor, "Go home, already."

Epilogue:

(Ten Years Later)

This year the bank chose yet another exclusive hotel ballroom for its Christmas Party. The location was different, but seating arrangements were strictly adhered to, with the Executives seated at the front of the ballroom, followed by the Departmental Managers, and officers and co-workers according to their job titles, occupying the remaining tables. David, the branch's Downtown Loan Manager, and Debbie, his wife and assistant, sat next to Ben, Assistant Manager Emeritus, and his wife, Joyce. David's secretary Helen and her husband, next to David's long-time friend John, the Uptown branch's Loan manager, and his wife, Elaine, completed the table's seating arrangement.

Hard not to notice Jacklyn in her green velvet strapless gown, and her husband Jeffrey Bradford, the President of the Downtown branch since his father's retirement shortly after Debbie's wedding. It was rumored among the employees that, prior to his retirement, Luke Bradford had exerted his influence to have his eldest son Jeffrey, manager of the Claims and Discrepancies Department, replace him. The candidates in line considered for the promotion expressed concern about the circulating rumor, all except for one candidate, who discreetly asked to be removed from the list of hopefuls.

Jeffrey, despite his father's unethical business maneuver, proved himself an intelligent, loyal, fair-minded, and worthy President of the Loan Department.

The Awards Ceremony about to begin, Debbie gazed at her husband. To her he remained the handsomest man she'd ever met. The touch of grey at his temples made him appear debonair and as elegant as in that Christmas Party when he had first held her in his arms. She was proud of him and his love and loyalty to her and their three children. A passionate lover, and as sensitive to her passion and needs. Her hand went instinctively to where her fourth child nearing the end of its second trimester, slept peacefully for the present, its tiny thumps quiet at the moment, at least until David and she took to the dance floor. She was glad slow fox trots remained David's style.

On the occasional evenings that they left their children in the care of her parents who cherished their grandchildren, and David's parents who regaled their grandchildren with enough hugs and kisses to make up for the time between their frequent visits up from Florida, or with Vanessa, whom the youngsters nicknamed their modern Auntie, Debbie cell-phoned the children. It was hers and David's habit, to make sure the children were in bed, and digitally tuck them in.

Her mother answered the cellphone.

"Just checking in, Mom," Debbie said.

"Everyone's fine. I'll pass you over to the children."

"In turn, on the speakerphone, the children assured their parents they were fine, and asked them to hurry home.

"It's almost over," Debbie said. "Alison you're the oldest. Make sure your brothers go to sleep."

"I will, Mom, I promise. You and Dad have a good time, then hurry home."

"Won't be long, munchkin," David said, affectionately.

Replacing her cellphone in her purse, Debbie turned to David. "She's matured so early. Hard to believe she's only nine." A wistful note threaded her voice.

"There's lots of child remaining in her," David solaced. "Enough to grow on."

The band began to play their favorite song, their wedding song, an oldie from the 1970's, We've Only Just Begun. Coincidentally, the song's theme tune originated from a bank ad commercial and later developed into a full love song that had gone on to become a huge hit, a tender love song, a favorite at weddings.

"Feeling up to a dance or two?" David asked.

"Three, at least," Debbie quipped, rising slowly. She had only recently begun to show and, per her previous births, worked mostly from her office at home. They were lucky that technology today allowed her the option, successfully.

David escorted her to the dance floor and enclosed her in his arms. She pondered how his arms about her always quickened her heartbeat and sent pleasurable tremors coursing through her. She recalled an old saying. True love has no time limits. It's forever.

The time arrived for the distribution of awards, for speeches and special announcements. After the echelon gave their speeches, awards for excellence in the discharge of duties followed. Jeffrey was praised among the worthiest and most successful. As he accepted his award, Jacklyn's pride at his achievements was undeniable, as undeniable as his love for her at the beginning of their marriage. But of late, Debbie had noticed a distancing between the couple. Not on Jacklyn's part, but on Jeffrey's. Even through Jacklyn's prideful expression at his achievements, a sadness filtered through for those observant enough to discern. Time would tell, Debbie pondered, the course of their story.

Speaking into the microphone, Jeffrey thanked his superiors for the praise and award. "It hasn't been made official yet, but this is as good a time as any, to announce the acceptance of my transfer, with the New Year, to the bank's California branch. My family and I will be moving to our new home in the sunny state and I will assume the Presidency at the Loan Department of the San Diego branch."

Everyone ah'd and clapped. Jeffrey motioned with his hands for quiet, as he hadn't finished his announcement. "I am proud and happy to announce my replacement. David Albamonte, the best our branch has to offer."

Debbie gaped. "David," she uttered, "did you know?"

"Yes," he admitted. I learned about the promotion last week."

"Well, why didn't you tell me?"

He lowered his gaze. "Honestly, Debbie, recalling my unethical attempts to gain the promotion, during the time before my meeting you in the elevator, I still felt unworthy of the promotion."

"Oh, but dearest, you proved your worth long ago, to me and to the Good Lord."

David sighed. "Thanks to you, Debbie, a far greater gift from the good Lord than a branch's presidency."

"You deserve the promotion."

Jeffrey's voice filled the ballroom. "I'll pass the microphone to my successor." He addressed David with a smile. "Will you come and say a few words."

"Be right there," David called out. As he rose, to move forward to the podium to express his thanks for the promotion and his promise to continue doing his best to safeguard and maintain the bank's fine reputation, he turned for a moment to Debbie, whose love for him shone fiercely in her eyes. With a gentle tweak to her nose, he whispered, "You're right, Debbie. This time I deserve the promotion." He grinned good-naturedly. "And I've achieved it without stepping on anyone's toes," he quipped with an affectionate wink and a kiss to her lips.

♥♥

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Dorothy Paula Freda, writing under her pseudonyms Paula Freda and Marianne Dora Rose, wife, mother, grandmother, was raised by her grandmother and mother, and has been writing for as long as she can remember. Even before she could set pencil to paper, she would spin her stories in the recording booths in the Brooklyn Coney Island Arcades for a quarter per 3-minute record. She states, "I love the English language, love words and seeing them on display, typed and alive. A romantic at heart, I write simply and emotionally. I love writing, despite that I still have much to learn, and am grateful for any constructive feedback. Although I've no fancy that I will ever be famous, or want to be, my hope is that my writing will bring entertainment and uplift the human spirit. If someday in the future, someone reads my work and feels the better for it, then I have fulfilled myself."

One of my former editors kindly described my work, '...her pieces are always deep, gentle and refreshing....'"

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A love story, a mystery, an impossible dream, and a daring plan to capture one man's heart. A tale of lovers that have traveled through time itself to find each other. Set in the late 1940s, it carries you along a winding road of adventure, foreign ports, romance, mystery and intrigue, with elements of fantasy, the paranormal and time travel. A clean romance filled with emotion, adventure, mystery and suspense as two archaeologists travel the world (and beyond) in search of rare and mysterious artifacts, and along the way solve the mystery of their love. A pentalogy of romance and adventure.... (Formerly titled "In Another Life (from the Journals of Grace Quinlan and Lord William Hayden)

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An inspirational science fiction fantasy romance - Adventure, Romance, a search for a mysterious artifact in Iceland and its surreal landscapes and ice caves.

Audrey's eyes misted. Thinking about her great grandparents' love story always triggered in her an emotional response. Theirs was the kind of love she sought.

Wil thought himself cursed because of his physical resemblance to the handsome actor portraying Austen's Fitzwilliam Darcy. Attracted to Audrey, what chance did he stand, when his rival was Singhen, a multi-millionaire archaeologist.

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A girl who believes in miracles. A young corporate lawyer who does not believe in God. A very special Patron Saint. A miraculous journey into love. Do you believe in miracles? A clean, sensitive, emotion-filled romance for hearts of all ages. Rated "G" for general audience.

An Inspirational Romance novella about a girl who believes in miracles; a young corporate lawyer who does not believe in God, and a very special Patron Saint. A miraculous journey into love. Do you believe in miracles? A clean, sensitive, emotion-filled romance for hearts of all ages. Rated "G" for general audience.

An Inspirational Romance Novella Excerpt: He waited for her to recollect where they had met. Dot shook her head. "I'm sorry, I honestly don't remember ever meeting you." Maybe the question was only a line often used to start a conversation or—a pickup. "No," he finally spoke. "You wouldn't remember me; you were only six." He had her attention. "Let me introduce myself. I'm Theo‒Theo Scaloni. I'm the In-house Corporate Lawyer at your Uncle Albert's firm." Dot searched her memories. Age six, yes, her father had once taken her with him on a visit to his brother at work. Uncle Albert owned a construction company that had started small and expanded over the years into a profitable and well-respected business. He valued accuracy and timeliness in his dealings with customers. Dot peered up closer at her conversant's face. Yes, country, as she had deemed on first sight. Hard lines, but a semi-rigid jaw softened at the moment by an inquisitive smile, or was it an impudent quirk of the lips. Dot met his gaze. His eyes were beautiful. Set nicely apart above a roman nose, their color an azure blue like the cloudless sky above her this afternoon. A memory stirred

"Oh, my goodness, yes. I do remember you."

His smile widened. "Do you remember what you made me promise?" "Something to do with—" Dot felt her face grow warm. She lowered her gaze to her white pumps. "Oh, for heaven's sake, I was only six," she gasped. It was a marvel that the memory had returned with such clarity. She had watched a television movie, the evening before her visit to her uncle, where a promise made between two young people in love had endured tragic events and falsehoods. Her mother and father had watched the movie with her, and when she had asked why keeping the promise was so important, they had tried to explain to her, as parents will do, the moral of the story, so that when she grew and found love, she would remember what to look for in a good man to marry. That was a time in her life when she was learning to discern right from wrong. The movie and their advice had made a strong impression upon her child's mind. The next day at her uncle's firm, she had spotted Theo sitting behind a huge monitor – modern technology for that time. He had looked at her and the resemblance to the hero of the movie, especially the eyes, had struck a chord in her child's mind. She had run over to him and quick as a hummingbird, had made him promise that he would marry her one day. He was definitely the good man her parents had described the evening before." "Oh, my Lord!" Dot exclaimed. "And you remember that?" she exclaimed, chuckling.

"A promise is a promise," he replied, with an impudent, but good-natured grin...."May I call on you next Friday evening?" Theo asked holding her hand longer than the required handshake.

"Ne‒Next Friday?" she stammered. "I‒I have to check my calendar." Except for a couple of luncheons with her old college mate, her calendar was empty. She had graduated only a few months ago with honors from her two-year Liberal Arts Course, and was now taking a year off to decide where her future lay.

With his left hand he reached into the chest pocket inside his tux jacket and withdrew a business card. "My home number is on the back. I'm home usually around seven. Let me know."

Their hands touched as she accepted the card. He had strong hands, and his fingers felt warm and comforting. "Ye‒Yes. I‒I'll let you know." What was the matter with her? Dot thought. Why was she stuttering? Where was her usual serene, composed self? Why was she not withdrawing her hand? And when he finally let go, why did her fingers grow suddenly cold? He gave her a disarming smile, then turned and left....

Other Novels, Novellas,

Short Stories, Poetry, Articles

By Paula Freda

Aka as Marianne Dora Rose

E-Books

Roses in the Dark

(Also available as four stand-alone Novellas)

The Blue Jay and the Sparrow

Driscoll's Lady

Henderson Sands

Adventure in Panama

Rubies, Sapphires,

Red, White and Lavender Blossoms

(Four Inspirational Romance Novellas)

The Heart Calleth

The Sketchbook

Inspirational Stories - Set 1

Inspirational Stories - Set 2

Inspirational Stories - Set 3

Blonde Angel

The Ugliness Without

The Lord's Canine

Is There More To Life Than What The

Realists Claim

(with a special bonus,

The Giftless Christmas)

The Camellia Lady / My Three Fathers

Cathy and the Dolphin

A Valentine Bouquet

Stardust (Old Woman in the Park)

A Cup of Humanity

Shannon and the Angel (A Mortal Man)

Welcome Home, Amy

The Scent of Camellias

The Intangible

The Lonely Heart

A Ghost of a Story

The Gently Cursed

The Offering

The Good People

Heartsongs

The Novices Guide

To the Art of Writing

The Adventures of Grace Quinlan and

Lord William Hayden

(five stand-alone novellas)

The Adventures of Grace Quinlan and

Lord William Hayden

(the complete novel)

Blossoms in the Snow

Sunrise in Paradise

Lilac in the Spring

Sapphire Blue in the Straw (Jenny's Story)

Orange Blossoms in December

The Consequential Heart

I Dream of My Lady in Red

The Girl in Blue Velvet Who Fell From The Stars

Wild Yellow Clover and Honey Wheat Sage

Audrey's Mr. Darcy

Beautiful Dreamer

Silvereye's Hummingbird

(Carol's Story)

*****************

written under my pseudonym

Marianne Dora Rose

Cinderella Ice

(Jessie's Story)

Sharon and the Beast

(Sharon's story)

Starlight's Hearts

One in a Million

Two Million Years B.C.

(A Love Story)

The Persistent Heart

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(Coming Soon)

Heart's Conquest

(Jacklyn's story)

Paperback Editions

Time Encapsulated (Poetry of the Soul)

Science Fiction and

Fantasy Short Stories

Inspirational Short Stories

The Complete Collection (Sets 1, 2, 3)

The Novices Guide to the Art of Writing

The Adventures of Grace Quinlan and

Lord William Hayden

(the complete novel)

Roses in the Dark

(Also available as four stand-alone Novellas)

The Blue Jay and the Sparrow

Driscoll's Lady

Henderson Sands

Adventure in Panama

Rubies, Sapphires,

Red, White and Lavender Blossoms

(Inspirational Romance Novellas)

Heartsongs

Romantic Short Stories

(and)

Romantic Short Stories - Volume Two

Blossoms in the Snow

Sunrise in Paradise

Lilac in the Spring (Helen's Story)

Sapphire Blue in the Straw (Jenny's Story)

Driscoll's Daughter

(a sequel to Driscoll's Lady)

Orange Blossoms in December

The Consequential Heart

I Dream of My Lady in Red

The Girl in Blue Velvet Who Fell From The Stars

Wild Yellow Clover and Honey Wheat Sage

Audrey's Mr. Darcy

Beautiful Dreamer

Silvereye's Hummingbird

(Carol's Story)

********

written under my pseudonym

Marianne Dora Rose

Cinderella Ice

(Jessie's Story)

Sharon and the Beast

(Sharon's story)

Loves Timeless Secret Revealed

Starlight's Hearts

One in a Million

The Persistent Heart

Two Million Years B.C.

(A Love Story)

The Persistent Heart

********************

(Coming Soon)

Heart's Conquest

(Jacklyn's story)

Paula Freda's Websites

www.angelfire.com/falcon/dpfenterprises.com

VIEW VIDEO TRAILERS OF SEVERAL OF MY BOOKS AT MY WEBSITES

Remember to trust in the Lord through good times and bad. Trust in Him through Jesus and Mary. Say the Rosary to Mary, often. The world may throw you twists and turns, but their love will give you the strength to endure.

Wishing you all peace of mind and spirit.

Paula Freda

Writing as

Marianne Dora Rose

