Silver Bells

by Raney,Deborah

  She developed the negatives, and a few minutes later she pulled a contact sheet from the chemical bath. She hung the print on the line to dry, flipped on the light, and took a loupe from the shelf. Peering through the magnifier, she inspected several tiny images on the sheet. “Oh. Wow.” There was genuine awe in her voice, and he moved closer to look over her shoulder.

  She handed him the loupe. “Take a look. Especially the first few shots.” She moved aside so he could see.

  They were nice shots…. If you liked small-town, everyday, ordinary photos on the front page. He cleared his throat. “So this is what you want on the front?”

  Even in the dim light he could see her stiffen.

  “I’m just asking. It’s your call.”

  She opened her mouth as if to say something then seemed to think better of it. Finally she turned to face him, her shoulders squared and her head high. “Yes. This is what I want on the front page. Probably this one.” She pointed to the second photo on the sheet.

  “Okay,” he said. It was her funeral. “Do you want to make the print, or shall I?”

  “I’ll do it.”

  “Okay.” He felt awkward and regretted not being more encouraging about her photo. But it was too late to backpedal and gush now. Besides, he probably needed to leave an opening to tell her “I told you so” later.

  Chapter 13

  “Uh-oh.”

  Michelle heard Rob over the cubicle wall and knew he expected her to ask what he was uh-oh-ing about. She was still a little peeved at him for his lackluster reaction to her photos on Monday, but she was trying not to let it bug her. He was just mad because he’d missed his football pic.

  Finally her curiosity got the best of her and she went to his doorway. “What’s wrong?”

  He wrinkled his nose. “Typo.” Without looking at her, he held up the hot-off-the-press copy of the Beacon he was reading. “Front page.”

  “Hey, where’d you get that?” She hadn’t seen the paper come back from the printer. She could hardly wait to see how her photo had turned out. “Where’s a typo?”

  He pointed to the caption beneath her three-column picture. “It should be “its.” I–T–S, no apostrophe.”

  “Let me see that.” She knew the difference between it’s and its. The possessive didn’t take an apostrophe. But she’d typed her own caption, so if it was wrong she had no one to blame but herself.

  She looked over his shoulder. Sure enough, it was wrong. “Rats! I can’t believe I did that.” But the photo was crisp and sharp and made an eye-catching splash on the front page. Why couldn’t he say something about that?

  “We all do it. It’s just too bad when it happens on the front page. You watch; we’ll get letters.”

  “Are you serious? Because of one stupid little apostrophe?”

  He nodded.

  “Great. And I suppose next you’ll tell me I spelled Hamlin wrong.”

  “Huh?” He looked at the caption again, as if trying to figure out what she meant.

  She rolled her eyes. “You don’t even get it, do you?”

  “Get what?”

  She struck an orator’s pose and reeled off the first verse of Robert Browning’s poem. “Hamelin Town’s in Brunswick, by famous Hanover city. The river Weser, deep and wide, washes its wall on the southern side. A pleasanter spot you’ve never spied, but when begins my ditty, almost—”

  “What are you talking about?” Rob looked at her as if she’d lost her last marble.

  “The Pied Piper of Hamelin. Browning. I had to memorize it in fourth grade.” She was actually pretty impressed with herself that it had tripped off her tongue so easily. Fourth grade was a long time ago.

  But Rob’s eyes glazed over.

  “I noticed the ice cream truck was on Hamlin Street—even if somebody did misspell Hamelin—”

  “Oh, you’re a good one to talk about misspellings,” he gloated.

  She ignored him and rambled on. “Then there’s a Browning Avenue, and the neighborhood is Brunswick. They had to be thinking about the Pied Piper when they named the streets. This is a good German town, right?”

  “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about, but why don’t you do some research on that. Maybe there’s a story there.”

  “You seriously don’t know the Pied Piper?”

  “I know ‘pay the piper.’ And Peter Piper. Do those count?” He struck a pose, mimicking her. “Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers. How many pickled peppers did Peter Pi—”

  She backhanded him on the shoulder. What a dolt! The thought made her giggle. Now she was even thinking in Old English. And Rob Merrick was impossible to stay mad at for more than five minutes.

  They joked around until she noticed the clock on his desk showed it was almost five o’clock. “You can stay all night if you want to, but it’s almost closing time and I need to take care of a couple things before I leave.”

  He glanced at the clock. “Wow, is it already five?”

  “Time flies when you’re having fun,” she quipped, backing out of Rob’s cubicle.

  “See you tomorrow, Penn. Have a good night.”

  “You too.”

  She made a few notes for a story she was working on, shut down her Selectric, and started out the front door.

  She had her hand on the latch when Mr. Merrick appeared behind her. “I’d like to talk to you for a minute before you go, please.”

  She checked Myrtle’s clock to make sure she wasn’t leaving too early. Nope. It was five after five. The man had been in the office all afternoon. Why had he waited till she was walking out the door to call a meeting? But she followed him into his office.

  “Sit down for a minute, please, Michelle.” At least he’d quit calling her Miss Penn. “Close the door behind you.”

  Uh-oh. She sat on the edge of the armless chair in front of his desk. “Yes, sir?”

  He rested his elbows on the tidy desktop and steepled his hands. “I have several matters I’d like to talk to you about.”

  “Okay…” It sounded like she’d be here for awhile. She scooted back in the chair and crossed her legs.

  He reached behind him to the credenza and produced a copy of the day’s paper. “Robert said you’re responsible for this?” He jabbed a manicured finger at her ice cream truck photograph.

  “Yes, sir. And I’m aware of the typo. I—”

  “Typo?”

  She hesitated. “Yes…in the caption. I don’t know how it slipped by me, but I’ll do my best to see that it doesn’t happen again.”

  He slipped a pair of reading glasses from the pocket of his dress shirt and used them like a magnifying glass to read the caption. “Ah, yes. I see it now. Well, that’s not why I wanted to talk to you, but it certainly does hammer home the point.” He looked at her as though she should know what he was talking about.

  She didn’t have a clue. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure what—”

  He put his glasses back in his pocket and cleared his throat. “It seems you have a distraction here that is keeping you from doing your job as well as you might.”

  She stared at him. “Excuse me? In what way am I not doing my job well?”

  He jabbed at her photo caption. “You pointed it out yourself.”

  “But, Mr. Merrick—” She tried not to let him see how flustered he had her. “You called me in here before you even knew about the typo. So there must be something else. What is it that I need to improve upon? Tell me, and I’ll do my best to correct it.”

  “I think you know very well what it is that needs correcting, Miss Penn. I laid out the guidelines when I hired you, and you are apparently unable to follow them. Consider this a warning. If you force me to address the issue again, I’ll have to let you go.”

  She felt as if he’d slapped her. The only thing he could be talking about was Rob. Yes, they talked to each other. A lot. In the break room, in the darkroom, and over the partition between their cubicles. But most of the time they wer
e talking about work. Or at least they were working while they talked. Surely Mr. Merrick didn’t expect her to completely ignore the people she worked with.

  Maybe he’d found out that Rob had taken her along to the football game. Still, she’d done nothing wrong, and if she had to play dumb to force him to say what he was only hinting at, so be it. She squared her shoulders. “I have done my job to the very best of my ability. I’ve turned in every story on time. I’ve even put in extra hours without pay.”

  “I’m not aware that you’ve been asked to put in extra hours. When was this?”

  “I went to the game with Rob—Robert III—and helped him shoot pictures of the game.”

  “And that would likely explain why—despite the Bears’ two touchdowns—we don’t seem to have one shot of the first quarter. Instead our front-page features the ice-cream man? Robert said that was your doing.”

  She glanced back toward Rob’s cubicle, wondering if he knew she’d gotten called in to his father’s office. And if so, why he wasn’t coming to her defense. “Mr. Merrick, I don’t know what Rob told you, but the reason there are no pictures of the first half of that game is because Rob had a flat tire. I changed the tire, or we’d probably still be sitting on the side of the highway.”

  “It’s my understanding that there was plenty of time for the two of you to stop at the Dairy Queen after the game.”

  “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

  “I consider that a breach of the job expectations laid out for you when you were hired.”

  “Are you serious?” Her words came out harsher than she’d intended, but she could not believe the gall of this man. This wasn’t a kindergarten he was running. She and Rob were adults. If they wanted to go to Dairy Queen on their off-hours—as coworkers or even as friends—who did Merrick think he was to stop them? This was a lawsuit waiting to happen, and she had half a mind to let him know it.

  But she thought better of it. At least until she had a chance to talk to Rob. If he knew about this and hadn’t said anything, he was going to hear about it from her.

  “I am quite serious, Miss Penn. I made it perfectly clear that you were to keep your relationship with my son strictly professional. I have not changed my mind, and if it wouldn’t leave us so shorthanded, I’d let you go right now. But I’m going to give you another opportunity to demonstrate that you understand what I mean.”

  “Mr. Merrick, if you’re referring to the fact that Rob and I went to the game together, I can assure you that it was work-related.” She explained again about the flat tire and told him what duties she’d performed at the game. “Let me be sure I understand. As long as it’s work-related, Rob and I can speak to each other, right?”

  His expression said he got how ridiculous his rules sounded when they came from someone else’s perspective. Score one for Miss Penn.

  “And,” she continued, “we can travel together for a work event?”

  “I don’t think you’re quite as dense as you’d like me to think. I made myself quite clear: the Beacon does not allow employees to have a dating relationship.”

  She stifled a gasp. “There’s nothing even close to that happening with your son and me. I don’t know why you’re making these accusations. I—” If she didn’t get hold of her emotions, she was going to say something they’d all regret. “I understand what you’re saying. You don’t need to worry,” she finished in a whisper.

  “Then you’re free to go.”

  Gritting her teeth, she rose slowly and left the room. She knew she should just go on out the door and go home, as she’d been trying to do when Mr. Merrick called her into the office. But something made her turn on her heel and head back to Rob’s cubicle, where only moments ago, he’d told her—as if everything was just hunky-dory—to have a great evening.

  Maybe he was innocent. Maybe. But if not, she had a few choice words for him. And she wouldn’t sleep until she’d delivered them—or made sure he didn’t deserve them.

  Chapter 14

  Rob finished clearing off his desk, hoping his old man had already left for the night. He flipped off the light, turned to leave, and almost crashed into Michelle just outside his door.

  “What are you doing here? I thought you went home.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I tried to go home.”

  “What’s wrong? You have a flat tire? I can fix that for you.” He flexed his biceps.

  That didn’t even get a grin out of her.

  He frowned. “What’s going on?”

  “I got called into the principal’s office.” She nodded toward his dad’s office.

  “Why?” He held up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t tell him about the typo. I swear.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “You really don’t know why he wanted to talk to me?”

  “I try to stay out of my old man’s business as much as possible. You know that.” Maybe she didn’t know it, but it was true. If he had to work for his father, he was going to be like any other employee. “So what did he want?”

  “He wanted to make it perfectly clear—again—that we are not to see each other outside of work. If we’re ever allowed to travel in the same vehicle, it apparently does not include the right to stop at a Dairy Queen on the way home.”

  “You have got to be kidding me.” He was going to have words with his father. Strong words. “Why didn’t he talk to me? It was my idea.”

  “That’s what I was wondering. You’ll be happy to know that I saved your hide. I didn’t tell him the whole thing was your idea.”

  “Well, you should have.” He brushed past her and started for his dad’s office.

  “No. Don’t, Rob.” Michelle came after him and grabbed his arm. “He’ll fire me for sure if you say anything.”

  “What do you mean, he’ll fire you?”

  “He told me—just now—that if it wouldn’t leave the office so short-handed, he’d let me go now. I got away with a warning.”

  “Mish…I’m sorry.”

  She tilted her head. “What did you just call me?”

  “Mish. You know, Mish–Elle. Michelle. Why?”

  She shook her head. “That’s what my dad calls me.” The warmth in her voice left no doubt that it was a good thing. He made a mental note. And wished he could muster the same attitude toward his own father.

  He slumped into the chair. He wanted to respect his father. He really did. And, actually, it wasn’t respect that was the problem. It was affection for the man that was missing. Was it so wrong to want to look forward to seeing his dad rather than feeling a sense of dread or misplaced guilt every time he knew the man was in the building? He was beginning to understand the saying “Familiarity breeds contempt.” And yet that didn’t seem to be the case with a lot of people he knew.

  Certainly not with Michelle Penn. The longer they shared cubicles next to each other, the more he liked her. There was something so unassuming and straightforward about her. Something that made him want to defend her.

  “Is the boss still in his office?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why?” She only looked cuter when she got all serious like that.

  “Because I’m going to go talk to him.” He pushed back his chair, trying to look more confident than he felt. “I’m not under any illusions that he’s going to change office policy. In fact I can pretty much guarantee he won’t. But you shouldn’t be punished because of me. That wasn’t fair—”

  “I wasn’t punished, Rob. You act like he called me in for a flogging or something.”

  “No, but he threatened you. That’s worse.”

  “Depends on the punishment.”

  “You don’t act like this bothers you all that much.”

  “It bothers me. I was fuming when I walked out of his office two minutes ago,” she admitted.

  “I don’t blame you.”

  “But there’s not a thing I can do about it.”

  “Do you want me to talk to him?” He hated tha
t he hoped she said no.

  “What am I supposed to say to that, Rob? Talk about not fair…”

  “Okay. That does it. I’m talking to him.”

  This time she didn’t try to stop him.

  * * *

  The temperature was already in the upper eighties when Michelle drove past the bank marquee on the way to work on Monday morning. She couldn’t remember when it had been this hot so late in September.

  She hadn’t heard a word from Rob all weekend—not that she expected to. But she’d spent the whole weekend wondering how his talk with his father had gone. Or if he’d even followed through with it.

  She wasn’t going to ask Rob either. She planned to ignore him and let him volunteer any information about how “the talk” went if he so chose. Fortunately Monday mornings were always busy, and it wouldn’t be difficult to hole up in her cubicle and ignore everyone. She had two stories to write, and Rob had asked her to get some shots of the new flower shop’s grand opening at ten o’clock. It wouldn’t be a front-page photo, but it would be an easy assignment.

  Through the blinds, she saw Mr. Merrick in his office. To her relief, he was on the phone and didn’t seem to notice her. Rob apparently wasn’t in yet, but Joy Swanson was at her desk––unusual for a Monday morning, since the deadline for ad sales was noon every Monday.

  “Good morning!” Michelle put on her perkiest smile. “Are all the ads in already?”

  Joy looked up and leveled a cool gaze at her before turning back to her work. Her expression remained unchanged, as if Michelle were invisible.

  Michelle’s face grew warm, and she hurried to her cubicle. She’d gone out of her way to be friendly to Joy, but the woman had yet to thaw one degree.

  Michelle turned on her Selectric and settled in to work, wishing Joy’s brush-off didn’t sting so much. One of these days she’d get up the nerve to ask Ms. Swanson what her problem was, but for now the woman intimidated her too much.

  She was trying to decipher a news release when Myrtle stepped into her cubicle. “Mr. Merrick wants to see you.”