Honeymoon For One

by Chris Keniston

  “It so happens I like the names Dick and Jane.” Dave hesitated. “Is something up?”

  “The place is a mess.”

  “Yeah.”

  “It took over a week to update the computer system. The old publisher still ran things the way the previous owner did—badly.”

  “That’s usually why they bring you in.”

  “I know.”

  “Fire the first round yet?”

  “This morning. Two nice ladies from human resources.”

  “Does this mean Ebenezer is growing a heart?”

  “It means I thought I’d check up on my friend. Make one last-ditch effort to keep you out of the trap.”

  “No thanks.” Dave’s words carried the lilt of withheld laughter. “I like my trap. And the names Dick and Jane.”

  “I did my best.” Movement on the screen saver caught Kirk’s eye. “I’d better get back to the grindstone.”

  “Right. Keep me posted.”

  “Will do. Tell Deb I send my love.”

  Kirk watched a pit bull travel across the screen chewing up icons and slipped his phone into his pocket. He thought of himself as the pit bull, separating the weak from the strong. Discarding the excess.

  This place carried the staff of a paper with three times its circulation, maybe more. He had work to do. By the time he finished, the Bluffview Tribune would run efficiently with a fraction of its current employees and turn a profit for the first time in what looked to be over ten years. If the Harkness group hadn’t bought the paper out three years ago, the original owner would have good-heartedly run the paper into the ground in another year or two at most. Changes had to be made. He hit the tab on the keyboard. Art department was next. He wouldn’t think about advertising sales. About Michelle's job. Cutting Michelle's job. Not yet.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “You look like hell.” Pam dropped a hip on the corner of Michelle’s desk.

  “Gee, thanks. You look lovely yourself.”

  “Seriously. Anyone would think you were the assistant being run ragged the last couple weeks. You still not sleeping?”

  “Who said I’m not sleeping?”

  “The black rings under your eyes.” Pam shrugged. “Corrie might have said something. I ran into her as she was leaving. You really should consider loosening the reins a little. She’s got to learn to spread her wings a bit sometime. You hold on too tight and those wings are going to snap.”

  “You mean more all-night parties at boys’ houses?”

  “Doesn’t count if the parents are home. I know Kathy Webb. The woman has had a stick up her you-know-what since before you were born. Those kids would have been sorely disappointed if they expected any hanky-panky.”

  “Yeah, well, an ounce of prevention.”

  “Could kill the cat.”

  “That’s curiosity.”

  “Whatever. I’m just saying you might want to take it a little easy on your sister. Let her ride with her friends instead of the school bus. Give her a chance to have some fun. Then take some of that advice for yourself.”

  “Don’t ride the school bus?”

  “Have some fun. Take all that’s happened to you as a sign. You should learn to live a little.”

  A sign. Free as a bird. The thought sprang to mind at the same moment her left hand closed tightly over the golden bird hanging from her other wrist. She’d had her fun.

  Pam pushed to her feet. “You’re not listening, are you?”

  Michelle smiled. Yeah she was listening, but that didn’t mean she was going to do anything about it.

  “Okay. I give up. For now. But there’s a lot to be said for a good roll in the hay.”

  “Pam,” Lloyd McEntire called from his door. “Where the hell have you been hiding?”

  “Gotta run. The captain calls.” Pam took off across the way at a fast shuffle. That woman could manage to put a feminine sway into an Olympic sprint.

  Two minutes later Pam scurried out of Mr. McEntire’s office and hurried up to Michelle’s desk. “He just discovered Mr. Harrison’s policy of noncancellation, cross-referenced it with the local advertisers. He wants to see you in his office yesterday.”

  “Why me? I have nothing to do with circulation.”

  “He didn’t say, and I didn’t ask. But you’d better go before he starts breathing fire and burns down the building.”

  Michelle took a deep breath and strode up to the large wooden door. After a quick knock, she turned the knob and poked her head inside. “You wanted to see me.”

  He waved her in. “Starting now there will be complete interdepartmental communication.”

  “Yes, sir.” Michelle nodded and felt her stomach slip to her feet. Now what?

  “I have walked into some pretty sloppy operations in my time, but this place takes the cake. No newspaper in the country continues to deliver papers to people who have expired subscriptions.”

  After a few seconds she realized he was waiting for her to respond. “Uhm, Mr. FitzGibbons, the previous owner, and Mr. Harrison felt it a gesture of goodwill to continue delivery until the subscriber renewed.”

  “What planet did these men live on? Why renew if you can get the paper for free? Never mind the problems this creates with the circulation audit.”

  “Yes, well—”

  “And your department. A new contract from a delinquent customer isn’t worth the paper it’s written on. Belinda’s Bakery has been advertising in the Wednesday circular for...” He flipped through some pages on his desk.

  “About fifteen years. Since before I came to work at the Tribune.”

  “They haven’t paid for over eighteen months!”

  “I’m aware of a few problems. Her husband broke his leg two years ago. It healed wrong. He needed a few surgeries. They don’t carry insurance—”

  “Did all these clients break a leg?” He waved a stack of pages in front of her. “Over 5 percent of the advertisers are at least one year in arrears.”

  She tried not to sigh, but the frustrated breath slipped out. “I know, sir.”

  “And stop calling me sir.” He whirled around and threw the papers on the desk, leaning over his chair he stabbed at the keyboard. “By nine o’clock tomorrow I want a detailed accounting of every client under contract—”

  Pam opened the door and flew into the room. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but this is important.” She turned to Michelle. “It’s Corrie. County Hospital just called. There’s been a car accident.”

  A fist closed around Michelle’s heart. Not again. “How…how bad?”

  “I don’t know. All they told me was the car flipped, and the ambulance just brought in all five passengers.”

  “How?” she mumbled, looking around for her purse. Her keys. “I have to go.”

  A strong hand wrapped around her arm, and she realized where she was. “I have to get my purse.” The car flipped. She looked at Pam. “But Corrie was in a bus.”

  “No, honey.”

  “Oh, God.” Fear surged, tears pooled rapidly behind her eyes. She blinked madly, scanning the room. “I need my keys.”

  Pam shook her head. “You shouldn’t drive. Tony downstairs is sending the van around.”

  “No.” Lloyd McEntire tightened his hold on her arm. “I’ll take you.”

  ***

  Images of Corrie broken and bleeding flashed over and over in Michelle’s mind like the opening menu on a DVD. Her fingers twisted and pulled on a lone tissue. She wouldn’t think the worst. She wouldn’t. “You didn’t have to do this. Tony would have brought me.”

  “I wanted to.” Lloyd McEntire reached across the car and folded his hand over hers. “She’ll be all right.”

  He was being so gentle, considerate, so much like Kirk. He stole a glance in her direction, and she had to force herself to remember- this was not the Kirk she knew. This was Lloyd the liar. The man happy to sleep with her, but unwilling to tell her his real name

  She looked away. “I keep praying.”
>
  Pam had told him how to find the hospital, as they’d raced out of the building. To Michelle’s amazement, he’d remembered every turn without having to ask her, and now he pulled into a parking spot beside the emergency room doors. Before she could fumble with the handle, he’d circled the car and opened the door for her. “Come on.”

  Inside, the smell of antiseptic, lemon, and fear smacked her in the face. She hadn’t noticed when he’d taken hold of her hand, not until he’d gently nudged her toward the counter.

  “We’re looking for one of the kids brought in from the car accident.”

  The lady behind the desk nodded without looking up. Her fingers clacking away at the keyboard. “Just a minute.”

  “Michelle.” The high school principal, Phil Warren, stepped up to them. “I’m so sorry.”

  She felt her legs wobble beneath her. Did he know something she didn’t? Panic raced through her. “She was supposed to be on the bus.” She didn’t know why she’d said that; it was all she could think to say besides, please, dear God. Her little sister wasn’t supposed to be in a carful of teenagers, but in a big safe bus.

  From the way the older man looked at her, his brows meeting in a perfect V at the bridge of his nose, she knew something besides five kids in the ER wasn’t right. “What?”

  “You didn’t sign the consent form?” he asked.

  Michelle shook her head. A strong arm slipped around her waist. She didn’t know whether to lean into Lloyd McEntire’s strength or scream at the top of her lungs. This was all one horrible nightmare.

  The principal glanced over her shoulder at the unfamiliar man, hesitated a moment, then shifted his attention back to her. “She turned in a consent form to ride with the Webb boy. Someone signed your name.”

  Before she could respond, Kathy Webb came flying into the ER with a handful of panicked parents beside her. “How are they? Is it serious? They wouldn’t tell us over the phone.”

  The woman was so frantic Michelle could see the beat of her pulse in her neck and the tremble in her hands.

  “Calm down, Kathy,” the older man said in a soft yet reassuring tone.

  Lloyd tapped a hand on the counter. “We need to know the status on the kids who were brought in here. I’m checking on Corrie Bradford.”

  The woman clacked away, looked up at him, and then a huge smile spread across her face. “Miss Bradford is in exam room B, through the double doors.” Still grinning like a schoolgirl, she pointed to her left. “Only immediate family.”

  “Thank you.” He draped an arm around Michelle, and the woman’s smile fell like a hundred-pound stone. “Come on.”

  Without letting go, he maneuvered Michelle through the doors, past the counter, and down a hall to the next-to-last cubicle. The light blue curtains were pulled partly closed, and she found herself reaching for him, for her Kirk, grabbing his hand and squeezing hard. She didn’t care who he was or what his name was, she was scared. She needed to move the curtain, but she couldn’t bring herself to lift her arms.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered. “You have to be strong.” With his free hand he slid the curtain aside and faced a very alive, very annoyed-looking young woman staring up at them.

  The second her gaze met Michelle’s, Corrie burst into tears. “You told me to take the bus. I signed the paper. No one ever looks at those things. I figured you’d never find out. We’d be back before the bus, and you’d never know. I’m so sorry.”

  Michelle ran a hand along Corrie’s hairline. “You’re bleeding.”

  “I hit something.” Corrie sniffled. “I think it was Greg’s foot or Amy’s shoe. I’m not sure.”

  “And your wrist?” She lifted her chin, pointing at the splint on her sister’s arm.

  “They have to make sure it's not broken.”

  “How is everyone else?”

  “I don’t know. I was in the backseat. By the time the ambulance came, it was pretty crazy. I think everyone is all right.” She wiped a few stray tears from her cheek with her good hand. “But I don’t know.”

  “Okay.” Michelle prayed her sister was right. “Tell me what happened.”

  “Nothing. We weren’t speeding or anything. Suddenly Billy swerved, bumped into something, maybe the divider, then the car flipped.”

  “Cars don’t swerve or flip for no reason.” She took a deep breath and forged ahead. “Was Billy drinking? Were any of you drinking?”

  “No!”

  “Drugs? Did you take something? I have to know. Tell me the truth.”

  “We didn’t do anything. Brittany was hungry, so we stopped for burgers on the way, otherwise we would have been right behind the bus.”

  Michelle didn’t speak; she wanted to believe her little sister. God how she wanted to believe her, but wasn’t that the typical mistake, turning a blind eye to drugs and alcohol?

  Corrie must have recognized Michelle’s doubts; she leaned forward and grabbed her sister’s hand. “Honest. I’m not lying. I don’t know what happened, but we weren’t drinking. We weren’t!”

  Before Michelle could say a word, she felt Lloyd sidle up beside her. With the slightest of motions, he barely dipped his head in one of those curt nods she’d grown accustomed to seeing at the office. “I’m sure your sister believes you.”

  How dare he! It was one thing to insist on driving her to the hospital when anyone else from the office could have brought her, but to stick his two cents into her personal life? He might know how to save a business, but she would stake a year’s salary Mr. Thrill-of-Living didn’t know squat about raising teenagers.

  “You probably scared a good ten years off your sister’s life,” he continued. “She was too shaken up to drive.”

  Corrie's eyes dropped to her wrist and more tears rolled down her cheek before she found the nerve to face her sister again. “I really am sorry.”

  Michelle almost broke into tears herself at the sadness in her sister’s eyes. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she pulled Corrie into her arms and held on tight. “The important thing is you’re all right. Have they x-rayed your hand yet?”

  “No.”

  “Well, I’m going to go and see what I can find out about the other kids and your X-ray.”

  Corrie leaned back on the bed and nodded.

  “We’ll be back in a minute.”

  As soon as she was out of earshot from Corrie’s cubicle, Michelle whirled around at her boss. “Who gave you the right to announce what I do or don’t believe? This is none of your business!”

  Pulling her closer to him, away from the hallway traffic, he spoke in that low deep tone that under any other circumstances would have turned her to putty in his hands. “You were about to make a serious mistake.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “She isn’t drunk or on drugs.”

  “And you know this how? Oh, wait.” She raised her hand, palm out. Her tone dripped with sarcasm. “I see, now you’re an expert on substance abuse, too?”

  “It doesn’t take an expert to recognize the signs of a kid who’s high. Besides the lack of alcohol on her breath, the fact her speech is clear, and her hands are steady—which lots of kids can drink and fake that—her eyes aren’t bloodshot, and her pupils aren’t dilated. While Visine can hide the red, there wasn’t time to use any. Bottom line, you can’t fake pupil dilation. She hasn’t taken anything.”

  Michelle stepped away. Could he be right? Her mind thought back. Were Corrie’s eyes clear? She hadn’t even thought to look at the pupils. She’d been ready to accuse her sister out of fear of making the same mistake so many deluded parents made. “You’re sure?”

  He nodded.

  Damn. “In that case, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Miss Bradford?” A young nurse in pink stopped beside Michelle.

  “Yes?”

  “We’re ready to take Corinne to X-ray.”

  “Can I come with her?”

  “If you’d like. It
won’t take long.”

  “Thank you. Can you tell me how the rest of the kids are?”

  “I’m not permitted to give details but—”

  A sobbing woman stepped out of a nearby cubicle. Practically held up by the man beside her, the woman was inconsolable.

  Michelle didn’t recognize the woman but that didn’t mean anything. Had Corrie been wrong? Had one of the kids been seriously injured or... “Oh, God. Did something happen to one of Corrie’s friends?”

  “Oh, no,” another nurse said, her tone soft and reassuring. “The passengers riding with your sister are all fine. Minor injuries. Nothing to worry about. But the other driver wasn’t as lucky.”

  “Other?”

  The young woman shook her head. “Driver was DOA. Nothing we could do for him.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Michelle gasped and Kirk moved closer. She’d done a good job of putting up a strong front, but he’d been watching her closely since she’d gotten word of the accident, and he could see the little pieces of her shield crumbling away. His arm slid around her waist, his fingers holding her steady beside him. It felt so natural, so right. He wanted to protect her from more bad news. To make all the unpleasantness go away.

  Hand still over her mouth, Michelle hadn’t spoken. He could almost hear the questions running through her mind, see her struggling with which one to ask first.

  She’d railed him pretty good for butting in before, but at the moment he didn’t care. “Are there any other victims?”

  “No, thank God.” The nurse clutched a clipboard closer to her breast. “It’s a miracle there weren’t more serious injuries. If that young man hadn’t reacted quickly, well, I can’t tell you the horrors I’ve seen from head-on collisions.”

  “Young man?” Michelle asked, her voice barely audible.

  “Yes. I overheard him tell the police, he noticed the other car driving erratically just before jumping the median. He was able to swerve out of the way in the nick of time. The two cars bumped briefly causing his car to flip.” She sighed. “It could have been so much worse.”