Margaret Daley - The Cinderella Plan

He couldn’t.

She always wore long, full dresses or skirts that came down to her ankles. Interesting.

A small smile graced her lips, and her ponytail bounced as she made her way toward him. Her fresh face and vivid blue eyes were a welcome sight. Anne never played games. After he had gotten past her shyness, he had found her very straightforward and honest. He could count on her if he ever needed help, especially with the kids from the youth center.

TINY BLESSINGS: Giving thanks for the neediest of God’s children, and the families who take them in!

FOR THE TWINS’ SAKE—

Jillian Hart (LI#308)

BROUGHT TOGETHER BY BABY—

Carolyne Aarsen (LI#312)

ON THE DOORSTEP—

Dana Corbit (LI#316)

THE CINDERELLA PLAN—

Margaret Daley (LI#320)

HER CHRISTMAS WISH—

Kathryn Springer (LI#324)

PAST SECRETS, PRESENT LOVE—

Lois Richer (LI#328)

feels she has been blessed. She has been married more than thirty years to her husband, Mike, whom she met in college. He is a terrific support and her best friend. They have one son, Shaun.

Margaret has been writing for many years and loves to tell a story. When she was a little girl, she would play with her dolls and make up stories about their lives. Now she writes these stories down. She especially enjoys weaving stories about families and how faith in God can sustain a person when things get tough. When she isn’t writing, she is fortunate to be a teacher for students with special needs. Margaret has taught for over twenty years and loves working with her students. She has been a Special Olympics coach as well, and has participated in many sports with her students.

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To the man I love, my husband, Mike.

Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you.

—James 4:8

Caleb—Hebrew: Bold or dog; an Israelite who joined Moses from Egypt to live long enough to enter the Promised Land.

Anne—English: Graceful; a variant of the Hebrew name Hannah introduced to Britain in the thirteenth century.

Dylan—Welsh: Of the sea; In Welsh mythology, Dylan was the god of the sea. The Welsh name is from a different source than the Irish Dillon.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Letter to Reader

“Hey, Anne. Where’s my crew?”

Standing on two telephone books stacked on a folding chair, Anne Smith gasped at the sudden sound of a deep baritone voice and lurched forward. She grasped the top of the bookshelf as the support beneath her feet teetered. Her fingers slipped from their precarious clasp on the wood while the chair crashed to the floor, its sound reverberating through the office. For a second she dangled from the bookcase before she lost her hold completely.

Strong arms enfolded her against a muscular chest, breaking her fall. Her heart beat frantically while she clutched Caleb Williams’s shoulders to help steady both of them. They wobbled, as she had a few seconds ago, before Caleb managed to stabilize them.

A lopsided grin appeared on his face. “I don’t usually have a woman fall for me.”

Finding herself being held by Reverend Caleb Williams, not to mention his teasing comment, flustered Anne. Fantasies she didn’t allow to surface taunted her thoughts of impossible dreams. Shoving them back into the dark recesses of her mind, she pulled away, smoothing back the few stray strands that had slipped from her ponytail. “I was concentrating on finding an old ledger. I didn’t hear you opening the door.”

“Can I help?”

Anne shook her head. “I was just going to look something up.” She hated saying more with all that had happened lately at Tiny Blessings Adoption Agency.

Caleb peered at the metal folding chair lying on its side with the telephone books askew next to it. “That’s no way to get something from the top shelf.”

Heat scorched her cheeks. She knew better than to stack items on top of a chair, then use it like a ladder. But she had thought that maybe some of the old ledgers would have answers in them concerning the falsifying of adoption records. She would search the account books later. She wanted to help her employer, Kelly Young, with the mess the late director Barnaby Harcourt had left the agency in.

Caleb stepped over to the bookcase that went from the floor to the ceiling and pointed toward one of the account books kept on the top shelf. “Is that what you’re looking for?”

“I’m not sure. I should probably look through them all.”

He righted the chair and, without the telephone books, stood on it, easily reaching for the ledgers in question and handing them one by one to Anne, who stacked them on a table behind her desk. “There. Now I won’t have to worry that you’ll break your neck trying to get them down.” He snared her with his intense blue eyes.

Anne’s mouth went dry. She swallowed several times while backing up against the table where the old account books were. She needed to look away from Caleb, but for the life of her she couldn’t. Today he was dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved light blue shirt that emphasized the vivid color of his eyes. He was the most handsome man she knew and was way off limits for her. He could date any woman he wanted in Chestnut Grove—for that matter, in the whole state of Virginia. She couldn’t imagine he would be interested in her, and she’d best remember that. She tore her gaze from his and busied herself at restacking the ledgers until they were perfectly lined up—anything to keep her hands and mind off the man occupying her suddenly small office.

Caleb cleared his throat. “Where are the girls? I told them I would pick them up at four-thirty. I thought they would be outside waiting.”

“They probably forgot the time. They’re in the back conference room. They made some copies for me earlier and are stuffing envelopes. I gave them money for some soft drinks so they might be taking a break and forgot the time.”

“You spoil them, Anne.”

“They’re a big help to me. I don’t know if I could get everything done if it wasn’t for the girls from the church’s youth center volunteering here a couple of times a week.”

“Keeps them busy and out of trouble.”

“I can’t see Gina, Tiffany or Nikki getting into trouble.”

Caleb grinned, his whole face lit with a mischievous expression. “Teenager and trouble both start with the letter ‘t.’ It wasn’t that long ago you were one. Do you honestly feel that way?”

Thinking back to her days as a teenager made her frown at the memories. They were not good ones. Hurt on top of hurt was what had characterized her formative years. But she doubted Caleb would understand what she had gone through, trying to fit in, trying to ignore the people who had made fun of her, trying to blend into the background so no one picked on her.