I'll Be Home for Christmas

by Fern Michaels

  Murphy ran to the doggie door and was back in a minute with a small burlap sack the mailman put the mail in. Murphy then dragged it to Marcus on the deck. He loved racing to the mailman, who always had dog biscuits as well as Mace in his pockets.

  “Whoaoooo, would you look at this, Murph? It’s a letter or a card from you know who. Jesus, here I am, thinking about her and suddenly I get mail from her. That must mean something. Here goes. Ah, she opened her own business. The big opening day is April first. No April Fool’s joke, she says. She hopes I’m fine, hopes you’re fine, and isn’t this spring weather gorgeous? She has five clients now, but had to borrow money from her father. She’s not holding her breath waiting for someone to ask her to design a bridge. If we’re ever in Wilmington, we should stop and see her new office. That’s it, Murph. What I could do is send her a tree. Everyone has a tree when they open a new office. Maybe some yellow roses. It’s ten o’clock in the morning. They can have the stuff there by eleven. I can call at twelve and talk to her. That’s it, that’s what we’ll do.” Murphy’s tail swished back and forth in agreement.

  Marcus ordered the ficus tree and a dozen yellow roses. He was assured delivery would be made by twelve-thirty. He passed the time by speaking with his office help, sipping coffee, and throwing a cut-off broom handle for Murphy to fetch. At precisely 12:30, his heart started to hammer in his chest.

  “Morgan Ames. Can I help you?”

  “Morgan, it’s Marcus Bishop. I called to congratulate you. I got your card today.”

  “Oh, Marcus, how nice of you to call. The tree is just what this office needed and the flowers are beautiful. That was so kind of you. How are you? How’s Murphy?”

  “We’re fine. You must be delirious with all that’s happening. How did Keith react to you opening your own business? For some reason I thought…assumed…that opening the business wasn’t something you were planning on doing right away. Summer…or did I misunderstand?”

  “No, you didn’t misunderstand. I talked it over with my father and he couldn’t find any reason why I shouldn’t go for it now. I couldn’t have done it without my parents’ help. As for Keith…it didn’t work out. He did show up. It was my decision. He just…wasn’t the person I thought he was. I don’t know if you’ll believe or even understand this, but all I felt was an overwhelming sense of relief.”

  “Really? If it’s what you want, then I’m happy for you. You know what they say, if it’s meant to be, it will be.” He felt dizzy from her news.

  “So, when do you think you can take a spin down here to see my new digs?”

  “Soon. Do you serve refreshments?”

  “I can and will. We have birthdays coming up. I’d be more than happy to take you out to dinner by way of celebration. If you have the time.”

  “I’ll make the time. Let me clear my deck and get back to you. The only thing that will hinder me is my scheduled operation. There’s every possibility it will be later this week.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, Marcus. Whenever is good for you will be good for me. I wish you the best. If there’s anything I can do…now, that’s foolish, isn’t it? Like I can really do something. Sometimes I get carried away. I meant…”

  “I know what you meant, Morgan, and I appreciate it. Murphy is…he misses you.”

  “I miss both of you. Thanks again for the tree and the flowers.”

  “Enjoy them. We’ll talk again, Morgan.”

  The moment Marcus broke the connection his clenched fist shot in the air. “Yessss!” Murphy reacted to this strange display by leaping onto Marcus’s lap. “She loves the tree and the flowers. She blew off what’s-his-name. What that means to you and me, Murph, is maybe we still have a shot. If only this damn operation wasn’t looming. I need to think, to plan. I’m gonna work this out. Maybe, just maybe we can turn things around. She invited me to dinner. Hell, she offered to pay for it. That has to mean something. I take it to mean she’s interested. In us, because we’re a package deal.” The retriever squirmed and wiggled, his long tail lolling happily.

  “I feel good, Murph. Real good.”

  

  Mo hung up the phone, her eyes starry. Sending the office announcement had been a good idea after all. She stared at the flowers and at the huge ficus tree sitting in the corner. They made all the difference in the world. He’d asked about Keith and she’d responded by telling him the truth. It had come out just right. She wished now that she had asked about the operation, asked why he was having it. Probably to alleviate the pain he always seemed to be in. At what point would referring to his condition, or his operation, be stepping over the line? She didn’t know, didn’t know anyone she could ask. Also, it was none of her business, just like Marcey wasn’t any of her business. If he wanted her to know, if he wanted to talk about it, he would have said something, opened up the subject.

  It didn’t matter. He’d called and they sort of had a date planned. She was going to have to get a new outfit, get her hair and nails done. Ohhhhh, she was going to sleep so good tonight. Maybe she’d even dream about Marcus Bishop.

  Her thoughts sustained her for the rest of the day and into the evening.

  

  Two days later, Marcus Bishop grabbed the phone on the third ring. He announced himself in a sleepy voice, then waited. He jerked upright a second later. “Jesus, Stewart, what time is it? Five o’clock! You want me there at eleven? Yeah, yeah, sure. I just have to make arrangements for Murphy. No, no, I won’t eat or drink anything. Don’t tell me not to worry, Stewart. I’m already sweating. I guess I’ll see you later.”

  “C’mon, Murph, we’re going to see your girlfriend. Morgan. We’re going to see Morgan and ask her if she’ll take care of you until I get on my feet or…we aren’t going to think about…we’re going to think positive. Get your leash, your brush, and all that other junk you take with you. Put it by the front door in the basket. Go on.”

  He whistled. He sang. He would have danced a jig if it was possible. He didn’t bother with a shower—they did that for him at the hospital. He did shave, though. After all, he was going to see Morgan. She might even give him a good luck kiss. One of those blow-your-socks-off kisses.

  At the front door he stared at the array Murphy had stacked up. The plastic laundry basket was filled to overflowing. Curious, Marcus leaned over and poked among the contents. His leash, his brush, his bag of vitamins, his three favorite toys, his blanket, his pillow, one of his old slippers and one of Marcey’s that he liked to sleep with, the mesh bag that contained his shampoo and flea powder.

  “She’s probably going to give us the boot when she sees all of this. You sure you want to take all this stuff?” Murphy backed up, barking the three short sounds that Marcus took for affirmation. He barked again and again, backing up, running forward, a sign that Marcus was supposed to follow him. In the laundry room, Murphy pawed the dryer door. Marcus opened it and watched as the dog dragged out the large yellow towel and took it to the front door.

  “I’ll be damned. Okay, just add it to the pile. I’m sure it will clinch the deal.”

  Ten minutes later they were barreling down I-95. Forty minutes after that, with barely any traffic on the highway, Marcus located the apartment complex where Morgan lived. He used up another ten minutes finding the entrance to her building. Thank God for the handicapped ramp and door. Inside the lobby, his eyes scanned the row of mailboxes and buzzers. He pressed down on the button and held his finger steady. When he heard her voice through the speaker he grinned.

  “I’m in your lobby and I need you to come down. Now! Don’t worry about fixing up. Remember, I’ve seen you at your worst.”

  “What’s wrong?” she said, stepping from the elevator.

  “Nothing. Everything. Can you keep Murphy for me? My surgeon called me an hour ago and he wants to do the operation this afternoon. The man scheduled for today came down with the flu. I have all Murphy’s gear. I don’t know what else to do. Can you do it?”

  “Of
course. Is this his stuff?”

  “Believe it or not, he packed himself. He couldn’t wait to get here. I can’t thank you enough. The guy that usually keeps him is off in Peru on a job. I wouldn’t dream of putting him in a kennel. I’d cancel my operation first.”

  “It’s not a problem. Good luck. Is there anything else I can do?”

  “Say a prayer. Well, thanks again. He likes real food. When you go through his stuff you’ll see he didn’t pack any.”

  “Okay.”

  “What do you call that thing you’re wearing?” Marcus asked curiously.

  “It’s my bathrobe. It used to be my grandfather’s. It’s old, soft as silk. It’s like an old friend. But better yet, it’s warm. These are slippers on my feet even though they look like fur muffs. Again, they keep my feet warm. These things in my hair are curlers. It’s who I am,” Mo said huffily.

  “I wasn’t complaining. I was just curious. I bet you’re a knockout when you’re wearing makeup. Do you wear makeup?”

  Mo’s insecurities took over. She must look like she just got off the boat. She could feel a flush working its way up to her neck and face. She didn’t mean to say it, didn’t think she’d said it until she saw the look on Marcus’s face. “Why, did Marcey wear lots of makeup? Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I wear very little. I can’t afford the pricey stuff she used. What you see is what you get. In other words, take it or leave it and don’t ever again compare me to your wife or your girlfriend.” She turned on her heel, the laundry basket in her arms, Murphy behind her.

  “Hold on! What wife? What girlfriend? What pricey makeup are you talking about? Marcey was my twin sister. I thought I told you that.”

  “No, you didn’t tell me that,” Mo called over her shoulder. Her back to him, she grinned from ear to ear. Ahhh, life was lookin’ good. “Good luck,” she said, as the elevator door swished shut.

  In her apartment with the door closed and bolted, Mo sat down on the living room floor with the big, silky dog. “Let’s see what we have here,” she said, checking the laundry basket. “Hmmm, I see your grooming is going to take a lot of time. I need to tell you that we have a slight problem. Actually, it’s a large, as in very large, problem. No pets are allowed in this apartment complex. Oh, you brought the yellow towel. That was sweet, Murphy,” she said, hugging the retriever. “I hung the red ribbon on my bed.” She was talking to this dog like he was a person and was going to respond any minute. “It’s not just a little problem, it’s a big problem. I guess we sleep at the office. I can buy a sleeping bag and bring your gear there. There’s a kitchen and a bathroom. Maybe my dad can come down and rig up a shower. Then again, maybe not. I can always come back to the apartment and shower. We can cook in the office or we can eat out. I missed you. I think about you and Marcus a lot. I thought I would never hear from him again. I thought he was married. Can you beat that?

  “Okay, I’m going to take my shower, make some coffee, and then we’ll head to my new office. I’m sure it’s nothing like Marcus’s office and I know he takes you there with him. It’s a me office, if you know what I mean. It’s so good to have someone to talk to. I wish you could talk back.”

  Mo marched into the kitchen to look in the refrigerator. Leftover Chinese that should have been thrown out a week ago, leftover Italian that should have been thrown out two weeks ago, and last night’s pepper steak that she’d cooked herself. She warmed it in the microwave and set it down for Murphy, who lapped it up within seconds. “Guess that will hold you till this evening.”

  Dressed in a professional, spring-like suit, Mo gathered her briefcase and all the stuff she carried home each evening into a plastic shopping bag. Murphy’s leash and his toys went into a second bag. At the last moment, she rummaged in the cabinet for a water bowl. “Guess we need to take your bed and blanket, too.” Two trips later, the only thing left to do was call her mother.

  “Mo, what’s wrong? Why are you calling this early in the morning?”

  “Mom, I need your help. If Dad isn’t swamped, do you think you guys could come down here?” She related the events of the past hours. “I can’t live in the office—health codes and all that. I need you to find me an apartment that will take a dog. I know this sounds stupid, but is it possible, do you think, to find a house that will double as an office? If I have to suck up the money I put into the storefront, I will. I might be able to sublease it, but I don’t have the time to look around. I have so much work, Mom. All of a sudden it happened. It almost seems like the day the sign went up, everybody who’s ever thought about hiring an architect chose me. I’m not complaining. Can you help me?”

  “Of course. Dad’s at loose ends this week. It’s that retirement thing. He doesn’t want to travel, he doesn’t want to garden, he doesn’t know what he wants. Just last night he was talking about taking a Julia Child cooking course. We’ll get ready and leave within the hour.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You should see the sparkle in his eyes—he’s ready now. We’ll see you in a bit.”

  Once they reached the office, Murphy settled in within seconds. A square patch of sun under the front window became his. His red ball, a rubber cat with a hoarse squeak, and his latex candy cane were next to him. He nibbled on a soup bone that was almost as big as his head.

  Mo worked steadily without a break until her parents walked through the door at ten minutes past noon. Murphy eyed them warily until he saw Mo’s enthusiastic greeting, at which point he joined in, licking her mother’s outstretched hand and offering his paw to her father.

  “Now, that’s what I call a real gentleman. I feel a lot better about you being here alone now that you have this dog,” her father said.

  “It’s just temporary, Dad. Marcus will take him back as soon as…well, I don’t know exactly. Dad, I am so swamped. I’m also having a problem with this…take a look, give me your honest opinion. The client is coming in at four and I’m befuddled. The heating system doesn’t work the way he wants it installed. I have to cut out walls, move windows—and he won’t want to pay for the changes.”

  “In a minute. Your mother and I decided that I will stay here and help you. She’s going out with a realtor at twelve-thirty. We called from the car phone and set it all up. We were specific with your requirements so she won’t be taking your mother around to things that aren’t appropriate. Knowing your mother, I’m confident she’ll have the perfect location by five o’clock this evening. Why don’t you and your mother visit for a few minutes while I take a look at these blueprints?”

  “I think you should hire him, Mo,” her mother stage-whispered. “He’d probably work for nothing. A couple of days a week would be great. I could stay down here with him and cook for you, walk your dog. We’d be more than glad to do it, Mo, if you think it would work and we wouldn’t be infringing on your privacy.”

  “I’d love it, Mom. Murphy isn’t my dog. I wish he was. He saved my life. What can I say?”

  “You can tell me about Marcus Bishop. The real skinny, and don’t tell me there isn’t a skinny to tell. I see that sparkle in your eyes and it isn’t coming from this dog.”

  “Later, okay? I think your real estate person is here. Go get ’em, Mom. Remember, I need a place as soon as possible. Otherwise I sleep here in the office in a sleeping bag. If I break my lease by having a pet, I don’t get my security deposit back and it was a hefty one. If you can find something for me it will work out perfectly since my current lease is up the first of May. I’m all paid up. I appreciate it, Mom.”

  “That’s what parents are for, sweetie. See you. John…did you hear me?”

  “Hmmmnn.”

  Mo winked at her mother.

  Father and daughter worked steadily, stopping just long enough to walk Murphy and eat a small pizza they’d had delivered. When Mo’s client walked through the door at four o’clock, Mo introduced her father as her associate, John Ames.

  “Now, Mr. Caruthers, this is what Morgan and I came up with. You get everything you w
ant with the heating system. See this wall? What we did was…”

  Knowing her client was in good hands, Mo retired to the kitchen to make coffee. She added some cookies to a colorful tray at the last moment. When she entered the office, tray in hand, her father was shaking hands and smiling. “Mr. Caruthers liked your idea. He gets what he wants plus the atrium. He’s willing to absorb the extra three hundred.”

  “I’m going to be relocating sometime in the next few weeks, Mr. Caruthers. Since I’ve taken on an associate, I need more room. I’ll notify you of my new address and phone number. If you happen to know anyone who would be interested in a sublease, call me.”

  Caruthers was gone less than five minutes when Helen Ames bustled through the door, the Realtor in tow. “I found it! The perfect place! An insurance agent who had his office in his home is renting it. It’s empty. You can move in tonight or tomorrow. The utilities are on, and he pays for them. It was part of the deal. It’s wonderful, Mo—there’s even a fenced yard for Murphy. I took the liberty of okaying your move. Miss Oliver has a client who does odd jobs and has his own truck. He’s moving your furniture as we speak. All we have to do is pack up your personal belongings and Dad and I can do that with your help. You can be settled by tonight. The house is in move-in condition. That’s a term real estate people use,” she said knowledgeably. “Miss Oliver has agreed to see if she can sublease this place. Tomorrow, her man will move the office. At the most, Mo, you’ll lose half a day’s work. With Dad helping you, you’ll get caught up in no time. There’s a really nice garden on the side of the house and a magnificent wisteria bush you’re going to love. Plus twelve tomato plants. The insurance man who owns the house is just glad that someone like us is renting. It’s a three-year lease with an option to buy. His wife’s mother lives in Florida and she wants to be near her since she’s in failing health. I just love it when things work out for all parties involved. He didn’t have one bit of a problem with the dog after I told him Murphy’s story.”