No announcement of Rob’s impending departure had been made yet, so Michelle had to sit on that news and let the other employees wonder what on earth was going on in their formerly mild-mannered newspaper office.
“Michelle?” Joy poked her head in to Michelle’s cubicle. “Do you have the ad copy for Milt’s?”
“Milt’s, the restaurant?”
“Who else would I mean?”
She counted to ten. Joy Swanson had had it in for her since the day she’d first walked through the doors, but the woman had ramped up her animosity lately. “I don’t know, but I never got any copy for Milt’s, so that’s why I asked.”
“What do you mean, you never got any copy? I put it right there on your desk.”
“I’m sorry, but I never saw it. When did you put it here?”
“I don’t remember. Last week some time.”
Michelle made a show of searching through the papers on her desk, even though she knew exactly what was there and when it had been put there. She was quite certain there had never been an ad for Milt’s. She finally shrugged. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember ever seeing it. Is there someplace I can help you look?”
“Yes. On your desk. Because that’s where I put it.”
She spun her chair around to face Joy. “I’ve already looked on my desk, Joy. And it’s not here. Would you like me to call Milt’s and see if I can get another copy from him?”
“I guess you’d better. I just hope he still has it.”
“Um, excuse me…” Rob popped over the partition, waving a sheet of paper. “Is this what you ladies are looking for?”
Joy ripped the paper from his hand and inspected it. “How did you get that?”
“It was on my desk.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” Joy was indignant.
He glared at her. “Unlike some people, I was working and not eavesdropping on your conversation.”
Ordinarily Michelle would have come back with some quip like, “How did you know what we were looking for if you weren’t eavesdropping?” But since Rob had all but ignored her since he’d arrived at the office this morning, she decided silence was golden.
“Here—” Michelle took the ad from Joy. “I’ll get it typed up.”
“I need it by ten at the latest.” Joy stomped off to her cubicle.
Michelle sat down and started typing out the ad. She didn’t know why they didn’t have the typesetters take care of ad copy as well as news. She and Rob had all they could do to keep up with, writing the news stories and filler. But that was how it had been since she started here. She couldn’t imagine how they’d keep up after Rob was gone, especially if they didn’t replace him right away. And even then, they’d have to train someone. She wondered who would be sitting in Rob’s cubicle two weeks from now. Whoever it was, she already resented them.
She heard a rustling overhead and looked up to see a sheet of paper fluttering over the partition. She reached up and took the paper from Rob’s hand. It was written in his familiar all-caps hand:
That was big of you to offer to type the ad. Let the record show: she owes you an apology.
She smiled and scribbled a note underneath his:
Thanks for the vote of confidence…you eavesdropper, you.
She added a smiley face and folded the note into a paper airplane. She stood and lofted it over the divider.
Except, she put a little too much muscle behind her throw, and the airplane sailed right over Rob’s cubicle and took a nosedive into Joy’s airspace.
She gasped and scrambled to Joy’s cubicle. Fortunately, Joy was over at the banks laying out ad pages. With a furtive glance in that direction, Michelle darted into the space and retrieved the paper missile from beneath Joy’s chair. With the airplane firmly in hand, she peeked out of the adwoman’s cubicle and, seeing that the coast was clear, she made a dash for her desk.
Rob stood in his doorway, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
She glared at him and stuffed the airplane into his hands. “Here.”
Back in her own cubicle, she heard him unfolding the missive next door. Then his quiet chuckle.
They laughed together from opposite sides of the divider. Still smiling to herself, she silently thanked Joy Swanson for what was assuredly an accidental mending of the rift between Rob and her.
She went back to her story. There was a lot to do, since next week’s paper would come out a day early because of the Thanksgiving holiday. She’d so looked forward to the holidays with Rob, and now she couldn’t let herself think too long about what this place would be like without him. What her life would be like without him.
Maybe the Wichita Eagle had an opening for her too. But she dismissed the thought the instant it came. Being near Rob was exactly her problem. Following him to Wichita wouldn’t solve anything.
Chapter 36
“Pass the spuds, would you, sis?” Allen reached across the table and took the proffered bowl of mashed potatoes from Michelle. She wasn’t sure what had gotten into her brother, but he was actually using his manners today.
Eden leaned across the high-chair tray, her eyes sparkling. “Me spuds.”
Becky shushed her, looking embarrassed. “You have turkey and dressing to eat first, sweetie.”
Eden pouted, and Becky concentrated on her own plate.
Michelle could tell that Becky felt awkward with her family. And seeing the farmhouse through Becky’s eyes, Michelle caught a glimpse of how she must feel “intruding” on their family holiday.
Mom had the house looking––and smelling––wonderful, with taper candles aglow and the traditional crepe-paper turkey centerpiece gracing the table. The good dishes and silver were placed just so atop a freshly ironed russet-colored linen tablecloth, and fancy printed napkins from Bristol Drugs were folded at each place. But Michelle couldn’t enjoy any of it for comparing her parents’ house to Becky’s.
Michelle could tell Mom was trying hard to put Becky at ease. But that was just it––she was trying too hard. Yet if Michelle said anything, it would only make things worse.
Dad cleared his throat loudly. “So, Becky, Michelle tells us you live over on Donner?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s a nice little area of town.” Mom’s voice held a false note of cheer.
Michelle had to fight not to roll her eyes. She knew her mother’s intent was pure, but now she was just patronizing Becky.
“Hey, Eden. Watch this.” Allen came to the rescue, picking up a handful of black olives from the relish tray and tossing one high into the air. He caught it in his mouth then did the same with two more in quick succession.
Eden giggled and reached across the high-chair tray toward the relish plate. “I do it.”
Allen cringed and gave an apologetic shrug in Becky’s direction.
To Michelle’s surprise, Becky giggled too. “I never could figure out how to do that.”
“It’s all about keeping your eye on the ‘ball.’ ” He demonstrated with another olive and was rewarded with more giggles.
“Allen, you’re going to get the child in trouble.” But Mom’s warning lacked its usual bite and was accompanied by a smile.
Allen gave Michelle a conspiratorial glance before scooting the relish tray within Eden’s reach. Michelle laughed under her breath, and Becky tossed a shy smile in Allen’s direction before placing two black olives on Eden’s plate. “Maybe you can try it later,” she whispered. “Outside. And after you eat your turkey.”
Eden took a tiny bite of turkey, but the minute Becky looked away, she gave a gleeful smile and lobbed the olive over her head. Allen caught it before it hit the floor and just as quickly tossed it back into the air and caught it in his mouth.
The entire table erupted in cheers and laughter, and Eden did an encore with the olive remaining on her plate. Only this time, she merely pretended to toss the shiny orb, instead bringing her chubby fist to her mouth and nabbing the olive like a snapping tur
tle would a fly.
Registering the taste of the black olive, her face scrunched up and she stuck out her tongue and made spitting sounds.
Dad howled and slapped his knee. “I don’t blame you, Eden. I don’t like those nasty things either.”
Allen looked appropriately chagrined. “Sorry about that, squirt. I didn’t know you weren’t crazy about black olives.”
“She’s never had them before.” Becky looked embarrassed again.
Michelle tried to deflect her discomfort. “This big lug”––she punched Allen’s arm––“used to get me in trouble at the supper table almost every night. He’d make me taste something gross and then––”
“Hey!” Mom frowned. “I never made anything gross.”
“Oh, there was that one time…” Dad took up the story, with Allen contributing details, Mom trying to defend her reputation, and everyone laughing.
Becky relaxed and seemed to enjoy the rest of the day. But later, when Michelle drove her and Eden home, Becky’s melancholy silence puzzled her. “Everything okay?”
“You guys are so happy…your family.” Her voice held awe––or maybe it was skepticism.
“Yeah, I guess we are.”
“It’s like you really like each other.”
She shrugged. “I guess we do.”
“Don’t ever take that for granted. You don’t know how lucky you are.”
The sadness in Becky’s eyes put a lump in Michelle’s throat, and she thought about her friend’s words long after she’d driven away from the little house on Donner Avenue. She’d always taken her happy family for granted. Her happy childhood. Now, her heart broke for Becky. And for Eden too. The sweet little girl would probably never have the kind of memories Michelle had of her own childhood.
Until she’d met Becky, Michelle hadn’t appreciated nearly enough all that she’d been privileged to grow up with. But now, on this day set aside for giving thanks, she closed her eyes and sent up a silent prayer––and promised herself she would be more grateful for what she did have and gripe less about the things she was still waiting and hoping for.
And speaking of things she was waiting and hoping for, she wondered how Rob had spent his Thanksgiving. Had he and his dad fixed a turkey and all the trimmings? Somehow she doubted that. And the thought left a deep hollow inside of her.
* * *
Two weeks past Thanksgiving, the city crews had finally hung the Christmas decorations along Main Street. Michelle wasn’t sure why they were so late, but at last, Bristol was dressed in its Christmas finery. In spite of the unsettled feeling she’d carried ever since Rob left the Beacon, Michelle reveled in the holiday mood that pervaded the little town.
Walking down the frost-dusted Main Street at dusk, watching multicolored lights twinkle from shop windows and eaves, she felt the doldrums of the drab autumn weather lift. Work had finally settled into a routine, and if not for missing Rob, she was actually enjoying her days at the Beacon.
She’d grown to enjoy the writing assignments—well, except for covering the school board meetings. School bored meetings, Rob had always labeled them in his sluglines. She sighed. The Beacon office was not the same without him.
Rob had agreed to come in after-hours to work until they could find a replacement, so she’d seen him a couple of times as she was leaving the parking lot. He always waved and smiled, and once they’d talked for twenty minutes from their respective car windows, which only made her realize how much she missed him.
Mr. Merrick was crabbier than ever—crabbier than Joy, even—which was saying a lot. Michelle wasn’t sure how she would survive at the Beacon once they hired a replacement and Rob was really gone for good.
Although she felt guilty about it, she’d purposely missed a deadline with a story today so she’d be “forced” to stay after-hours and be there when Rob arrived. She was nervous about how he might behave toward her, but what did she have to lose?
The clock inched toward five. Rob usually came in shortly after that. Michelle went to the restroom to freshen her makeup and tame her hair.
When she came out, Rob was at the coatrack in the back, stripping a red tie from around his collar. Wearing a still-crisp white shirt and dress pants, he was a treat for weary eyes. “Well, hey, stranger,” she said, feeling as nervous as she had the day she’d realized he was Mr. Whoop-dee-do.
He whirled around, seeming surprised to see her. “Hi there.” A grin bloomed on his face. “What are you doing here so late?”
“Oh…” She cut her eyes to the dusty wood planks beneath her feet, feeling the weight of guilt about her deception. “I need to finish a story. Christmas feature.”
“Listen…I feel bad about that.”
“What?”
Now it was his turn to study the floor. “I feel responsible for the extra hours people are putting in. And I’m afraid Dad’s not working too hard to find my replacement.”
As if anyone could ever replace him. “Right before Christmas is probably a pretty hard time to find someone.”
“Maybe. But I still feel bad.” He clapped his hands together. “But you don’t need to hear all my woes. I’m keeping you from your work.”
“Oh, no, it’s okay. I needed a break. In fact, would you have time to look at a couple of paragraphs I’m having trouble with?”
“Sure.” He led the way to her cubicle.
She showed him two random paragraphs that she’d struggled with earlier but pretty much already decided how to fix. Could he see right through her pathetic ruse? If he did, he didn’t let on, patiently giving his opinion in a way that made her laugh—and miss him all the more.
He straightened and glanced past her toward the front window. “You want to get out of here for a little while?”
“Where’d you have in mind?”
He shrugged. “Just go for a walk or something… Get some fresh air. Where’s your coat?”
“I’ll get it.” She was glad she’d bundled up before she came. She hurried to the back room and donned her gloves and scarf, sneaking a peek at her reflection in the small TV that sat silent on the counter. She tried to tame the curls that frizzed around her forehead but quickly admitted defeat and went out to meet Rob at the front door.
He was peering through the plate glass into the night sky. “Did you know it’s snowing?”
“Really?” She’d dared to hope for a white Christmas, but not this early. Sure enough, snow was falling in thick, wet flakes—what Mom called snowdrops. “You still want to walk?”
“Sure.” He grinned as if she’d issued a challenge and held open the door. “After you.”
She ducked into the air-lock entry and headed out onto the street. “Careful, it’s slippery,” she called over her shoulder.
He caught up with her and grabbed her hand, tucking it into the crook of his elbow. She savored the warmth of him. The Christmas lights on Main Street wore halos of red, green, blue, and gold. Despite every tenth one needing to be replaced, the effect was magical. They strolled arm in arm along the uneven sidewalk, their breaths mingling in the crisp night air.
They’d walked two blocks when the tinny strains of Christmas carols floated from the courthouse at the center of town. “Silent Night” died away, and Elvis crooned a new rendition of “Silver Bells” that did Bing Crosby proud. As they got closer, the music grew louder and Michelle sang along, bungling most of the lyrics but too happy to care.
Beside her, Rob chuckled.
“What’s so funny?”
“I was thinking how opposite from this song everything is.”
“What do you mean?”
“No city. No busy sidewalks. No children laughing. No people passing. No strings of stoplights. Not a silver bell in sight.”
“You Scrooge! What about the strings of streetlights? And those red-and-green lights are blinking. See?” She pointed up at the courthouse tower. “And can’t you hear the snow crunch?” She stomped her boot in snow that was mostly a mushy puddle.
He smirked. “That sounded more like a slosh to me.”
“Okay, but there is a feeling of Christmas in the air.”
He laughed and tugged at her hand, twirling her to face him. “Fine. I’ll give you that.”
He let go of her hand and stroked a mittened finger gently over her eye. “You had a snowflake caught in your eyelash.”
“Ha!” She gloated. “That’s just me—dressed in holiday style.” She swallowed a giggle, tickled at her own joke.
Across the street a car door slammed, and a father helped two dark-haired little girls from the backseat. Their musical laughter wafted on the night air as they pointed up at the courthouse lights.
“Children laughing!” Michelle declared.
The father took the sisters by the hand and started across the street.
“And people passing!” she crowed.
Rob tweaked her nose between two mittened fingers. “Ooh, aren’t you clever?”
“I really am.” Laughter bubbled up from her throat.
It was apparently contagious, because Rob laughed out loud. “Come on.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her along.
“Where are we going?”
He didn’t answer but did slow to match her gait. They walked briskly, hand in hand, with snowflakes swirling around them, the sky a black canopy overhead, as if they were caught inside a magical snow globe.
Elvis’s velvet voice receded behind them as they approached the bridge over the creek at the edge of town. The snow was falling heavily now, piling up on the guardrail, speckling their coats and scarves, and netting their hair with icy crystals. They were going to be soaked by the time they finally got back to the office and thawed out. But Michelle couldn’t have cared less.
Rob stopped in the middle of the bridge and turned to look over the rail. The creek was barely a trickle and mostly covered up with snow now. But under the glow of the last streetlight in town, it had an ethereal beauty.
Silver Bells Page 21
