Silver Bells

by Raney,Deborah

  “I don’t care what the rules of engagement are at the Beacon, Mish. I like you, and I want to keep seeing you. And I don’t want to have to make up some excuse every time, either.”

  She picked at a hangnail. “I don’t know why you’re telling me this. I’m not the one who made the rule.”

  “I know. Sorry. I—”

  “I like you too, Rob, but I can’t afford to lose my job. And I don’t think your dad was joking when he called me into his office and said ‘Leave my son alone, or else.’ ”

  “No…I don’t suppose he was.”

  “So that doesn’t leave us too many options, does it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I just mean that as long as we’re both working for the Beacon, we’re going to have to keep things strictly professional.”

  “I think it’s a little too late for that.”

  “No, it’s not.” She stared at him. “Why? You think he wouldn’t call this professional?”

  Before he could reason himself out of it, Rob slid off his chair, leaned across the table, and kissed her full on the lips. She gave a little gasp, but he noticed she kissed him back.

  “I don’t think he’d call that very professional.”

  “Um…no.” Her eyes locked with his, and she reached up and brushed a strand of hair off his forehead. “Neither do I.”

  He kissed her again. In a totally unprofessional way.

  Her arms came around his neck, and her fingers trolled through his hair. But after a minute, she pulled away, sucking in a breath. “Rob…we’d better get Eden home. It’s almost nine.” But she didn’t let loose of him.

  “I know. I know.” He reached behind his head and grasped her hands. It was all he could do to extricate himself from her embrace. “We’d better get Rob home, is what we’d better do,” he mumbled.

  “What?” Her breath tickled his cheek and smelled of warm chocolate chip cookies.

  “I’ll go warm up my car. For Eden.”

  “I can just take her home.”

  “No. I’ll go with you.” He swallowed hard, not wanting to make a promise he couldn’t keep. “I promise I’ll bring you straight back home afterward. I won’t even walk you to the door.”

  “Okay,” she whispered. She leaned in to kiss him gently on the cheek, just below his left eye. “That’s probably a good idea.”

  “Yes. Very good idea.” He kissed her in the same spot on her own cheek. Her skin was smooth beneath his lips, like the petals of a rose. He placed a matching kiss below her other eye. “Very good.”

  Her giggle held all kinds of promise.

  Chapter 24

  Rob rubbed sweaty palms on the knees of his suit pants and checked his watch for the tenth time in as many minutes.

  He felt bad enough about being here in the offices of the Wichita Eagle-Beacon—the big Beacon—for a job interview. But worse, he’d told Myrtle—who would tell his dad—that he was out on a story. Now that he’d been out of the office for almost three hours, he’d better have a whale of a story to write when he got back. Or an explanation for where he’d been all morning.

  He knew Michelle would be wondering too. And she was the last person he could tell. At least for now.

  He glanced at the receptionist again. If he did manage to land a job, he wouldn’t have to write that news story, because his father likely would show him the door—never mind that he had every intention of giving Dad the customary two weeks’ notice. He realized that by doing so, he might be giving himself two weeks to find a new place to live too. But that was okay. Even with paying his father a little every month for “rent,” he’d been able to sock away a decent amount in his savings account. Moving back home was only supposed to be temporary anyway. He’d work out the details. Somehow.

  He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, but the receptionist appeared to have forgotten he was here. Finally a door behind her opened, and a man Rob recognized from his photo on the op-ed page each week appeared.

  “Mr. Merrick?”

  Rob nodded.

  “Come on back.” Jim Clemson motioned him to his office. “Merrick, huh? You any relation to Robert Merrick of the other Beacon?” His voice held something close to disdain.

  “Yes, sir. Robert Merrick is my father.”

  The lift of Clemson’s bushy eyebrows told Rob he hadn’t expected that answer.

  “What, the old man won’t give you a job?” He gave a nervous laugh, no doubt trying to extricate his foot from his mouth.

  “Actually, I’m currently employed at the Bristol Beacon—as managing editor.”

  “Looking to move up in the world, eh?”

  Rob forced a laugh at a joke he didn’t find humorous. Would he have to answer to this turkey if he got the job? “I’d like the experience of working for a daily newspaper. I feel I could be an asset to your editorial team.”

  The man shook his head. “We don’t have any openings in editorial at the time. Can you type?”

  He absently flexed his fingers. “Passably.”

  “We have an opening for a typesetter, and we need a couple of pressmen.”

  “I really don’t think I’d be interested in those positions. In the interest of full disclosure, I don’t think you’d want me in those positions.”

  Clemson didn’t seem to appreciate Rob’s attempt at humor any more than Rob had appreciated his. “I can give you an application and let you know if something opens up. I assume you have a journalism degree?”

  “I have a business degree, but I took quite a few journalism courses.” Did three qualify as “quite a few” in anybody’s book? He might be setting a personal record for lies told in a single day.

  “I assume I could call your father as a reference?”

  Rob froze. “I–I’d rather you not do that, sir. I can give you some names if you need references….”

  “Am I to take it that your father isn’t aware you’re looking to change jobs?”

  He sighed. He’d reached his quota of lies. “That would be a fair assumption. As with any employer, I would need to give two weeks’ notice before I could start work. I’ll be twenty-five years old in February, sir. I don’t need my father’s permission to make a career decision.” He might be cooking his own goose, but he didn’t know how else to answer.

  Clemson extended a hand across the desk, dismissing him.

  Rob took the hint and rose to shake the man’s hand. “Thank you for your time, sir.”

  “Give Dana your contact information before you leave.” He shrugged. “I don’t really expect there to be an opening any time soon, but you never know.”

  The editor ushered him out and closed the door behind him.

  Rob left his résumé with the receptionist, but he knew a brush-off when he heard one. It was probably for the best. With his limited experience, he doubted anyone would pay him as generously as his father. And the payments on his Pinto weren’t cheap. If he did find a job and had to get his own place, he might have to give up his new car.

  He pushed the thoughts away. He was probably wasting his time on a pipe dream. Right now, his biggest problem was coming up with a story that would redeem his absence this afternoon.

  * * *

  Michelle was in the darkroom taking film from the canister when she heard a commotion in the office. Two male voices in an argument. Or was it three? Sometimes she couldn’t tell Rob’s voice from his father’s when she was in here. But Rob had been out on a story all afternoon and she didn’t think he was back yet. She didn’t recognize the other person in the shouting match, but it grew more heated by the second.

  She was tempted to open the door and find out what was going on even if it meant ruining her film. But the photos she was developing were from the high school’s Snowball Dance. She couldn’t exactly restage the event, and she was counting on the photos to fill a half page. She quickly rolled the film into the canister and started its processing then went to the door and pressed her ear to the cool woo
d. Something pretty heavy was going on out there.

  “I don’t care what you say, you’re gonna pay and you’re gonna pay dearly!”

  “You need to leave now.” That was Mr. Merrick’s voice, not Rob’s. Maybe it was just the distortion through the door, but he almost sounded scared. She’d never heard that emotion in his voice—ever. “I’m not going to ask you again. If you don’t leave, I’ll need to call the police. I don’t think you want them involved….”

  She had no idea why someone was threatening Mr. Merrick, but if Myrtle was hearing the same conversation Michelle was, the police had probably already been called.

  She hoped they got here, pronto. From the sound of things outside the door, it had turned into fisticuffs.

  “You leave me no choice, Mr. Preston.”

  Preston? Becky. Was Becky’s husband out there? Was he out of jail? What was he so upset about?

  Maybe it was about the story the Beacon had run back in August. They’d followed that story up with a report about Mack Preston’s sentence. Maybe he thought—

  A woman’s scream curdled the air, and at the same instant, something hit the other side of the darkroom door so hard it knocked Michelle backward. She grabbed the workbench, struggling to regain her balance. Her heart felt as if it would beat right out of her chest.

  She inhaled sharply, trying to catch her breath. A strange odor filled the air, and she wondered if she’d somehow spilled the chemicals when she stumbled. But it smelled more like burned toast. Or like when she’d burned the chocolate chip cookies in the break room microwave.

  It sounded like the newsroom was in chaos, with people shouting and the sound of footsteps running past the darkroom door. The red light was on, so the employees had to know she was in here. She wished there was a lock on the door, but at the same time, she felt like she needed to get out of here.

  Dismissing the film developing in the canister, she reached cautiously for the door. It flew open at the same moment.

  Rob stood on the other side. When he saw her, his shoulders slumped. “Thank God.”

  “What is going on?”

  He opened the door as wide as it would go and cast about the small room. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. What’s going on?”

  He inspected the door, and for the first time, she noticed a splintered circle of light coming through the wood.

  “Did you get hit?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He looked incredulous. “Didn’t you see the bullet come through that door?”

  “What bullet?”

  He ignored her and flipped on the light then went to the back of the room, running a hand up and down the rear wall.

  “What bullet?” she repeated.

  He hooked a thumb behind him at the door. “The one that came zinging through this door two minutes ago.”

  She stared. “You’re joking.”

  “You could have been killed, Mish.” His tone said this was not a joking matter.

  “Somebody fired a gun?”

  “Yes. That idiot shot into this door. Didn’t you hear the racket?”

  “Of course I heard it. But I didn’t know I was being shot at.”

  He moved to stand in front of her and ran his hands up and down her forearms. “You’re sure you didn’t get hit?”

  “I think I’d know if I had a bullet in me, Rob.” She shivered…more from his hands on her than from the thought that someone had tried to kill her. “I still don’t understand what hap—”

  “Everyone okay in here?” A shadow dimmed the light from the doorway and a police officer loomed in the doorway. Michelle had seen him around town before—Shepard, she thought his name was. He looked her up and down the way Rob had.

  “Is he gone?” Rob asked.

  “He’s on his way to the station in a patrol car. I’m going to need statements from anyone who witnessed what happened.”

  Mr. Merrick appeared behind the officer. “I’ve got everyone corralled in the break room. You can question them whenever you’re ready.” He squinted, peering into the darkroom. “Rob, Michelle, you guys need to go on down to the break room.”

  Two more policemen arrived and escorted everyone out of the darkroom, presumably so they could locate the mysterious bullet.

  Michelle started to follow Rob through the labyrinth of desks and machines to the break room, but she stopped short when she felt something wet and sticky on the sleeve covering her left arm. She brushed at the dark eggplant-colored fabric, and her hand came away red.

  At her gasp, Rob turned to stare at her. “You’re bleeding? Did you get hit?”

  She took a deep breath. “I didn’t think I did, but…I’m bleeding.” She started to push her sleeve up and noticed it was torn. The fabric around the tear was scorched. She felt no pain, but it did seem like a lot of blood.

  “We need to get you to the emergency room.”

  “I’m fine. It—it doesn’t hurt.” She rolled up her sleeve as far as it would go, but the wound was apparently higher up on her arm. “Just let me go in the restroom and check it out.”

  Officer Shepard must have overheard them, because he came over to her concern burning in his eyes. “You’re hurt? Do we need to call an ambulance?”

  “No, of course not. I’m fine. I must have just gotten grazed when the bullet came through the door.” She didn’t tell him she’d been standing with her ear pressed to the door when the bullet was fired. An inch in any direction and she could have been seriously wounded. Or killed. The realization took her breath away.

  She started for the break room again, but the policeman stopped her. “I think we’d all feel better if you went to the ER and had that checked out.”

  “Don’t worry, the Beacon’s insurance will pay for it,” Rob offered.

  “I’m not worried about that.” She was still covered under her parents’ policy. Which reminded her. She needed to call Mom right away and let them know before they heard it from someone else—minus the detail that she was all right.

  “I really think I’m fine,” she protested.

  Rob put a hand at the small of her back. “Please, Mish. Just go have it checked out. I’ll drive you.”

  She dropped her head, feeling uncomfortable at being the center of attention. “I don’t think it’s really necessar—”

  “Please?” He looked toward Mr. Merrick’s office. “I know what Dad will say. He’ll insist. Just let them check you out. It won’t take long.”

  She blew out a sigh. “Okay… If it’ll make you feel better. But don’t we have to give the police our statements?”

  “They know where to find us. We can talk to them after we make sure you’re okay.”

  She shrugged, resigned. And not at all disappointed that Rob had volunteered to drive her to the hospital.

  By the time they arrived at the ER parking lot, her arm was beginning to ache—as if someone had punched her with a sharp elbow. Rob was treating her like a complete invalid, and she decided to take full advantage of it.

  He held her elbow then put an arm around her and ushered her through the door. Inside, he took charge. “We need to see a doctor.”

  The nurse behind the desk looked Michelle up and down. “What’s the nature of your injury? Or illness?”

  Rob stepped in front and leaned over the desk, lowering his voice. “This is Michelle Penn. A bullet grazed her arm, and we need to have it looked at.”

  “A bullet? Are you serious?”

  Rob shot Michelle a look that made her stifle a grin. She knew exactly what he was thinking: Would I joke about something like that?

  She liked sharing that knowing look with him, but it probably wasn’t a good idea to be grinning like a Cheshire cat if she wanted them to take her seriously. She set her lips in a hard line and thrust her bloodied sleeve where the nurse could see it.

  “Oh.” The woman’s eyebrows lifted. “Looks like you got zinged, all right. You’re not feeling faint, are you?�
��

  Michelle shook her head. “It just aches.”

  “Okay. Let me get some information from you, and then you can take a seat right over there”—she indicated the waiting room—“until we call you.”

  She answered the questions, but when they discovered she was still on her parents’ insurance, the nurse insisted on calling Mom and Dad.

  “All right, but let me talk to them. My mom will have a stroke if she gets a call from the ER.”

  The nurse handed the phone to Michelle, and she dialed, suddenly feeling a little queasy. When her mother answered, she lost it. Her hands trembled and she bit back a sob..

  “Michelle? What’s wrong?”

  She tried twice to speak but knew she would fall completely apart if she said anything. Finally she thrust the phone into Rob’s hand.

  “Mrs. Penn? It’s Rob Merrick from the Beacon. Michelle is fine, but we had a little excitement at the news office today, and I’m here in the emergency room with your daughter.”

  She heard her mother’s shriek on the other end of the line. But Rob handled it with aplomb, speaking in a soothing tone, explaining what had happened, and asking her to meet them in the ER as soon as possible to fill out the insurance forms.

  Another nurse came to usher Michelle back to an exam room just as Rob was hanging up.

  “I’ll be right here,” he told her.

  She started to follow the nurse then glanced over her shoulder, wishing Rob would come back with her. But she blushed when she realized they’d probably have to remove her blouse—or at least cut off her sleeve—to get to her wound.

  Rob winked. “Break a leg, babe.”

  That made her smile even as the room spun and her legs turned to jelly beneath her.

  Chapter 25

  Rob paced the waiting room, checking the industrial-issue clock over the reception desk yet again. Was the stupid thing even working? It seemed like it hadn’t moved since the last time he’d looked at it.

  Mrs. Penn had arrived about ten minutes after the nurse took Michelle back, and her father came rushing in a few minutes later—straight from the field, judging by his dirt-caked jeans and sweat-streaked forehead. Daniel Penn had told Rob to go on back to the office, but there was no way he could do that.