Joy (Paperback)

Chapter One

Anya leaned on her horn, the blaring sound startling drivers around her, causing them to turn and stare. The driver in front of her looked back through his rearview mirror, held up his hands, then rolled down his window.

"Where do you want me to go?" he yelled. Anya almost smiled. He really didn't want her to answer. She honked again-just a little, to annoy him, but she felt bad the moment she did it. She couldn't help it though-it was one of those habits that lingered from her college days in New York. Twenty years later, she used her horn as if she were still in Manhattan. She bounced back in the seat of her BMW and tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, praying for a break in the traffic. She only had ninety minutes to get back to the office and then to the restaurant.

"Ahhhh!" she yelled. She squeezed her fingers around the steering wheel and a pinpoint of sunlight burst through the windshield, hitting her ring at the perfect angle. Her emerald-cut engagement ring sparkled like lightning, and the rainbow hues danced across her slender mocha finger. Anya stared at the flawless diamond, hypnotized for a moment by its brilliance.

Her cell phone rang and she jumped. She clicked the speaker button.

"Hello," she said, forcing a smile into her voice. "What are you wearing?" His seductive tone put a smile on her face. "My burgundy suit." "The one with the short skirt? Umm, my favorite. How's your day?" "Don't ask. What about you?" "I've been in front of the computer all day, but now I want to see you. Are you going to be on time tonight?"

She detected a sprinkle of sarcasm in Braxton's tone and her smile faded a bit. "I'll be on time, Braxton, I promise," she said, running one hand through the tight curls on her head.

"Good, 'cause I can't wait to see you. We haven't spent enough time together lately." "That's not true." "Seems that way. That's why we should live together now. Waiting for the wedding doesn't make sense."

Her smile disappeared. "Braxton." She exhaled his name in a whine.

"Never mind. I'll see you in an hour. I love you."

She clicked off the phone and tightened her grip on the steering wheel. She shook her head to clear it of thoughts of her fiancé. There were more pressing issues in front of her.

Cars were beginning to creep forward and as her speed increased, she looked across the freeway's lanes. No three-car wreck, no stalled big wheeler. Nothing to cause the hour-long backup. She put her foot down on the accelerator and zipped her sports car across the lanes and around snail-paced cars. Maybe she could salvage the rest of the day. But the twisting in the pit of her stomach made her seriously doubt it.

"Hi, Anya. I have a couple of-"

Anya raised her hand, stopping her assistant mid-sentence. She skimmed through the pink slips Dianna handed her and sighed deeply. "Just take messages for the rest of the afternoon."

Without saying another word, Dianna nodded knowingly. The entire office had been tense as the date approached for the final pitch to Linden Communications.

Anya threw her briefcase on her desk and flopped into her leather chair. She swiveled and turned to face the large floor-to-ceiling glass windows that extended over two walls of her corner office.

It was a sparkling clear southern California day. The day after one of those El Niño storms that washed all the smog and dirt from the air and removed much of the shoreline from the southern Pacific Coast as well.

Anya stood, pulled her silk suit jacket over her hips, and strolled to the windows. This was why she had chosen this space. When she'd needed to expand her office, she'd been determined to find one with a breathtaking view of the city. These windows removed her from the present and took her to a faraway place when she needed to escape.

What is wrong with me? Anya wondered, as she looked down at her ring. She wanted to feel it-all of the blessedness that had been there at the beginning. But all she felt was what she'd been feeling the last few weeks: She was falling headfirst into an abyss.

She did remember the happiness that consumed her the day Braxton proposed. They were in church, in the middle of the service, right after the offering, when Pastor Ford had called his name.

"Braxton Vance, can you come up to the altar?" Anya had frowned and pulled Braxton's hand. "What's going on?" she whispered with narrowed eyes.

He stood, looked down at her and smiled but wordlessly slipped away. Her eyes focused on him, as he trotted down the green-carpeted aisle.

Braxton moved up the two steps to the altar and took Pastor Ford's outstretched hand. She led him to the podium.

Clearing his throat, he pushed his thin gold-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose, then ran his hand across his almost bald head before he spoke. "Good morning, family." He paused as the congregation responded. "As many of you know, I'm a writer and this isn't the easiest career. In the beginning it was a struggle, but I am blessed that it is no longer. And now that the trial has passed, people everywhere remember me when and want to befriend me now. But most important to me are the people who were with me when times were thin-people who never cared about what I did for a living, where I lived, or what I drove." He looked directly at Anya. "Anya Mitchell, would you please come up here?"

It took the nudging of the woman next to her to make Anya stand. She moved haltingly through the silent congregation until she was by Braxton's side. Her trembling hands were hidden behind her back. What is he doing? she thought, as possibilities ran through her mind.

Braxton took her left hand. "Anya, you've always been there for me and our friendship has turned to love. So now ..." He slowly lowered himself until he was balanced on one knee. Then he removed a glinting object from his sports jacket.

Anya was frozen in place. Her glazed eyes fixed on the image in front of her. But she could hear the soft, growing rumble that moved through the six hundred or so parishioners sharing this moment with her.

"Anya Mitchell. In front of God, Pastor Ford, and our church family, would you make me the happiest man on earth and agree to become my wife?"

While the congregation cheered, Anya just stared. Pastor Ford's voice brought her back to consciousness.

"Anya, you haven't said anything," Pastor Ford said, as she joined the two at the altar.

Anya allowed herself to smile but didn't trust herself to speak. She nodded.

"Braxton, I think you can take that as a yes!" Pastor Ford laughed. The congregation roared when Braxton slipped the ring onto her finger. As the cheering continued, Anya allowed herself to relish the moment in front of hundreds of onlookers.

Anya smiled now, as she remembered that moment a little more than six months ago. She'd loved Braxton so much then and she certainly loved him now-even more. So what was wrong? Obscure emotions had unnerved her for several weeks, making her believe something bad was going to happen. But there was nothing specific she could pinpoint causing all of this doubt.

Braxton Vance was everything she'd hoped for-he was a man of God, professionally successful, and financially stable. And there didn't seem to be any dirty secrets or angry women lurking in his background, waiting to pounce upon them. Topping it all, he was certainly easy on the eyes, as the women in her office told her whenever he came to visit. He was the perfect package.

Anya sighed deeply, and walked back to her desk. As she sat, her fingers did a syncopated dance atop her marble desk and she let her eyes wander around the office, finally settling on her brass desktop clock. Hastily, she pulled the Linden Communications folder from her briefcase and turned on her computer, determined to work efficiently during the next half hour. But within moments, she was leaning back in her chair, twisting the ring on her finger.

Two short knocks at the door interrupted her thoughts. Before she could utter a word, the door opened and David Montgomery strolled in. Anya hated when he did that, just walked in without her permission. But no matter how many times she brought it to his attention, he continued doing it.

"Alaister finished all the numbers for the presentation." David sank into one of the cream-colored leather chairs in front of her desk and crossed his legs. "I've looked it over, but you can glance at it before tomorrow's meeting."

Anya gazed at him, sitting so casually, decked out in one of his tailored suits that looked like it had been sewn directly onto his muscular frame.

"How does it look to you, David?" Anya asked in her most professional voice.

"It's fine, I'm just giving you this professional courtesy." Anya cringed, took a deep breath, and willed herself not to blow like an over-inflated tire. David had been working with her for a bit more than a month, but this wasn't the first time he had spoken to her in a tone bordering on insubordination.

She had to remind herself why she had hired David in the first place-University of Virginia M.B.A., certified financial planner, ten years of financial-planning experience with American Express in the Dallas office, national top-producer awards. Anya knew that David could help Mitchell & Associates Financial Services achieve all of her objectives.

Still twisting her ring, she stared at him, hoping her eyes delivered her message. She took off the ring, placing it on the desk before she spoke.

"Is this the complete report?" Her voice was stiff. "Yep, all numbers have been triple-checked. You know I never bring you anything unless it's perfect."

Anya pursed her lips, leaned across the wide desk and took the report from David's outstretched hand, tugging at it just enough for him to feel it, and just enough for her to regret it. She shouldn't be acting this way-it wasn't David's fault she was in a bad mood.

"I'm getting ready to leave, so I'll take this home." She tried to soften her voice.

David raised his thick eyebrows. "You're leaving? I thought you'd review this right now. The meeting is set for nine. So if you have any changes ..."

Anya lifted her chin. "If I have any changes, I'll handle them in the meeting."

David held up his hands in surrender. "Whatever you say, Boss." He walked to the door, then turned back suddenly. "You know we're going to get this account. All of the numbers show that we can save them almost $100,000 a year on their benefits. I know Linden will be ours." He grinned, his deep-set dimples becoming even more visible.

The moment she was alone, Anya stuffed the report into her briefcase. He probably thinks I'm suffering from PMS or something, she thought. But she didn't have time to think about that now. If she hurried, she would still be on time for Braxton. She picked up her briefcase and rushed out, without saying a word to her flustered assistant.

Anya leaned into the soft seat and the tension of the day began to ebb from her shoulders. The traffic flowed easily down Wilshire-a surprise because she'd expected the trek from Wilshire to Melrose to be, at best, sluggish and stressful.

She popped the CD of her church's choir into the player and started swaying as the melodious sounds filled her car. This is what I should have done before, she thought. Praising the Lord always took her back to where she was supposed to be.

She drummed her fingers against the steering wheel pretending she was Sheila E., when she was jolted by the shrill ring of her cell phone. She debated whether to answer. It was either Braxton checking on her or Dianna calling with an urgent message that she didn't want to know about. "I'm not going to answer!" she yelled at the portable phone. On cue, the ringing stopped.

With a wide smile, she continued tapping her fingers to the music, but groaned a few seconds later when the phone rang again. She picked it up on the second ring. "Yes!"

"Anya?" Who else would be answering her cell phone? "Yes, Dianna. What is it?"

"God, I thought I would never get you. You ran out so fast and you didn't tell me where you were going. So I figured the only way to get you would be on your cell phone and I am glad-"

Anya rolled her eyes. She loved Dianna, who was more than competent. But sometimes ... "What is it?" she interrupted. "Oh, you left your ring."

Dianna spoke so casually, it took a moment for Anya to realize what she was saying. Confused, she looked down at her left hand as her right one clutched the steering wheel. The third finger was bare.

"Oh, no," she groaned, vaguely remembering when she'd taken it off.

"I went into your office to straighten your desk and your ring was just sitting there, sparkling. I still think it's one of the prettiest rings I've ever seen. I can't wait until-"

"Di-an-na!" "Sorry."

Anya considered her options. "Look, I'm supposed to meet Braxton"-she glanced down at the clock and moaned-"in five minutes. And I'm five minutes from the restaurant."

"I'll bring it to you! Where are you and Braxton going to be?" "No!" Anya shook her head at the thought of Dianna popping into the restaurant saying "Surprise! Here's your ring." What would Braxton think?

"I'll turn around and drive back down Wilshire. Meet me at the corner of ... Wilshire and LaCienega. I'll be waiting for you right in front of the Red Lobster."

"Okay." Dianna seemed to sing the word.

"And, Dianna"-Anya softened her voice-"thank you." Anya clicked off the phone and looked at her naked finger once again. How would she have explained it?

She made an illegal U-turn and headed back toward her office, shivering as goosebumps rose on her arms despite the closed car windows. Just the other day, she had found her ring on the edge of the kitchen sink.

Is this a sign? she asked herself. She shook her head and sighed deeply. The tension of the day was gone, but replacing it was a feeling of deep uneasiness.

By the time Anya pulled up in front of Crossroads, she was thirty minutes late. She jumped from the car and tossed her keys to the valet. "Thanks, Michael," she called to the young man who often parked her car when she and Braxton came to her favorite restaurant.

Her heels clicked against the brick walkway as she rushed through the entrance, then stopped short behind a couple talking to the waitress. She squinted into the dark room and, seconds later, saw Braxton waving at her. She tried to read his expression, but he was too far away for her to discern his mood. The hostess motioned for Anya to follow her.

Heads turned as Anya made her way to the table. She strolled with the confidence of royalty, gliding by the restaurant's packed tables.

Anya kept her soft brown eyes fixed on Braxton and never noticed the admiring glances from men and women alike. When she was close enough to see Braxton's smile, she exhaled.

Continues...