Glad Tidings: There's Something About ChristmasHere Comes Trouble

by Debbie Macomber

  “Surprisingly unspoiled and gentle,” Nolan returned, “and very much a lady.”

  “You told the entire city I was lonely,” she cried, mortified to even repeat the words.

  “I didn’t say you were lonely,” Nolan insisted, his voice all too reasonable and controlled. That infuriated her even more. “I said you were away from your family for the first time.”

  She poked his chest again, punctuating her speech. “But you made it sound like I should be in a day-care centre!”

  “I didn’t imply anything of the kind,” he contended. “And I did mention what a good cook you are.”

  “I’m supposed to be grateful for that? As I recall you said, I was ‘surprisingly adept in the kitchen’—as if you were amazed I knew the difference between a goldfish bowl and an oven.”

  “You’re blowing the whole thing out of proportion.”

  Maryanne barely heard him. “The comment about my being insecure was the worst. You want security, buster, you’re looking at security. My feet could be molded in cement, I’m that secure.” Defiant angry eyes flashed to him as she pointed at her shoes.

  Nolan didn’t so much as blink. “You work twice as hard as anyone else at the Review, and twice as many hours. You push yourself because you’ve got something to prove.”

  A strained silence followed his words. She did work hard, she was trying to prove herself, and Nolan knew it. Except for high school and college, she’d had no experience working at a newspaper.

  “Did you wake up one morning and decide to play Sigmund Freud with my life?” she demanded. “Who, may I ask, gave you that right?”

  “What I said is true, Maryanne,” he told her again. “I don’t expect you to admit it to me, but if you’re honest you’ll at least admit it to yourself. Your family is your greatest asset and your weakest link. From everything I’ve read about the Simpsons, they’re good people, but they’ve cheated you out of something important.”

  “Exactly what do you mean by that?” she snapped, ready to defend her father to the death, if need be. How dared this pompous, arrogant, argumentative man insult her family?

  “You’ll never know if you’re a good enough journalist to get a job like this without your father’s help. He handed you this plum position, and at the same time cheated you out of a just reward.”

  Maryanne opened her mouth, an argument on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she lowered her gaze, since she couldn’t deny what he’d just said. From the moment she arrived at the Seattle Review, she’d known that Carol Riverside was the one who’d earned the right to be the local-affairs columnist, not her. And yet Carol had been wonderfully supportive and kind.

  “It wasn’t my intention to insult you or your family,” Nolan continued.

  “Then why did you write that column?” she asked, her voice quavering. “Did you think I was going to be flattered by it?”

  He’d been so quick with the answers that his silence caught her attention more effectively than anything he could’ve said. She watched as he started pacing. He drew his fingers through his hair and his shoulders rose in a distinct sigh.

  “I’m not sure. In retrospect, I believe I wanted to set the record straight. At least that was my original intent. I wrote more than I should have, but the piece was never meant to ridicule you. Whether you know it or not, you impressed the hell out of me the other night.”

  “Am I supposed to be grateful you chose to thank me publicly?”

  “No,” he answered sharply. Once more he jerked his fingers roughly through his hair. He didn’t wince, but Maryanne did—which was interesting, since only a few minutes earlier she’d been daydreaming about the joy she’d experience watching this man suffer.

  “Inviting myself to dinner the other night was an impulse,” he admitted grudgingly. “The words slipped out before I realized what I was saying. I don’t know who was more surprised, you or me. I tried to act like I knew what I was doing, play it cool, that sort of thing. The fact is, I discovered I like you. Trust me, I wasn’t in any frame of mind to talk civilly to you when you got to the radio station. All along I’d assumed you were a spoiled rich kid, but I was wrong. Since I’d published several pieces that suggested as much, I felt it was only fair to set the record straight. Besides, for a deb you aren’t half-bad.”

  “Why is it every time you compliment me I feel a knife between my shoulder blades?”

  “We certainly don’t have a whole lot in common,” Nolan said thoughtfully. “I learned most everything I know on the streets, not in an expensive private school. I doubt there’s a single political issue we can agree on. You’re standing on one side of the fence and I’m way over on the other. We’re about as far apart as any two people could ever be. Socially. Economically. And every other way I could mention. We have no business even speaking to each other, and yet we sat down and shared a meal and talked for hours.”

  “I felt betrayed by that column today.”

  “I know. I apologize, although the damage is already done. I guess I wasn’t aware it would offend you. Like I said, that wasn’t what I intended at all.” He released a giant sigh and paused, as though collecting his thoughts. “After I left your place, I felt good. I can’t remember a time I’ve enjoyed myself more. You’re a charming, interesting—”

  “You might have said that in your column!”

  “I did, only you were obviously too upset to notice it. When I got home that night, I couldn’t sleep. Every time I’d drift off, I’d think of something you’d said, and before I knew it I’d be grinning. Finally I got up and sat at my desk and started writing. The words poured out of me as fast as I could type them. The quality that impressed me the most about you was your honesty. There’s no pretense in you, and the more I thought about that, the more I felt you’ve been cheated.”

  “And you decided it was your duty to point all this out—for everyone in town to read?”

  “No, it wasn’t. That’s why I’m here. I admit I went further than I should have and came over to apologize.”

  “If you’re telling me this to make me feel better, it isn’t working.” Her ego was rebounding somewhat, but he still had a lot of apologizing to do.

  “To be honest, I didn’t give the column a second thought until this afternoon, when someone in the office said I’d really done it now. If I was hoping to make peace with you, I’d failed. This friend said I was likely to get hit by the wrath of a woman scorned and suggested I run for cover.”

  “Rightly so!”

  “Forgive me, Maryanne. It was arrogant in the extreme of me to publish that piece. If it’ll make you feel any better, you can blast me to kingdom come in your next column. I solemnly promise I’ll never write another word about you.”

  “Don’t be so humble—it doesn’t suit you,” she muttered, gnawing on her lower lip. “Besides, I won’t be able to print a rebuttal.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t plan on working for the Review any more, or at least not after tomorrow.” The idea seemed to emerge fully formed; until that moment she hadn’t known what she was going to say.

  The silence following her words was fraught with tension. “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t act so surprised. I’m quitting the paper.”

  “What? Why?” Nolan had been standing during their whole conversation, but he suddenly found it necessary to sit. He lowered himself slowly to the sofa, his face pale. “You’re overreacting! There’s no need to do anything so drastic.”

  “There’s every need. You said so yourself. You told me I’ve been cheated, that if I’m even half as good a reporter as I think I am I would’ve got this ‘plum position’ on my own. I’m just agreeing with you.”

  He nodded stiffly.

  “As painful as this is to admit, especially to you,” she went on, “you’re right. My family is wonderful, but they’ve never allowed me to fall on my face. Carol Riverside is the one who deserved the chance to write that column. She’s been with the pa
per for five years—I’d only been there five minutes. But because my name is Simpson, and because my father made a simple phone call, I was given the job. Carol was cheated. She should’ve been furious. Instead, she was kind and helpful.” Maryanne sat down next to Nolan and propped her feet on the coffee table. “And maybe worse than what happened to Carol is what happened to me as a result of being handed this job. What you wrote about me wondering if I had what it takes to make it as a journalist hit too close to home. All my life my father’s been there to tell me I can be anything I want to be and then he promptly arranges it.”

  “Quitting the Review isn’t going to change that,” Nolan argued. “Come on, Maryanne, you’re taking this too seriously.”

  “Nothing you say is going to change my mind,” Maryanne informed him primly. “The time has come for me to cut myself loose and sink or swim on my own.”

  Her mind was galloping ahead, adjusting to the coming changes. For the first time since she’d read Nolan’s column that afternoon, she experienced the beginnings of excitement. She glanced around the apartment as another thought struck her. “Naturally I’ll have to move out of this place.”

  “Are you going back to New York?”

  “Heavens, no!” she declared, unaccountably thrilled at the reluctance she heard in his voice. “I love Seattle.”

  “Listen to me, would you? You’re leaping into the deep end, you don’t know how to swim and the lifeguard’s off duty.”

  Maryanne hardly heard Nolan, mainly because she didn’t like what he was saying. How like a man to start a bonfire and then rush to put out the flames. “The first thing I need to worry about is finding another job,” she announced. “A temporary one, of course. I’m going to continue writing, but I don’t think I’ll be able to support myself on that, not at first, anyway.”

  “If you insist on this folly, you could always free-lance for the Sun.”

  Maryanne discounted that suggestion with a shake of her head. “I’d come off looking like a traitor.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” His eyebrows drew together as he frowned.

  “You know what else I’m going to do?” She shifted her position, tucking her legs beneath her. “I’ve got this trust fund that provides a big interest payment every month. That’s what I’ve been using to pay my bills. You and I both know I couldn’t afford this place on what I make at the paper. Well, I’m not going to touch those interest payments and I’ll live solely on what I earn.”

  “I...wouldn’t do that right away, if I were you.”

  “Why not?”

  “You just said you were quitting your job.” Nolan sounded uneasy. “I can see that I’ve set off an avalanche here, and I’m beginning to feel mildly concerned.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “Capitol Hill. Listen, if you’re serious about moving, you need to give some thought as to what kind of neighborhood you’re getting into. Seattle’s a great town, don’t get me wrong, but like any place we have our problem areas.” He hesitated. “Annie, I don’t feel comfortable with this.”

  “No one’s ever called me Annie before.” Her eyes smiled into his. “What do you pay in rent?”

  With his hands buried deep in his pants pockets, he mumbled something under his breath, then mentioned a figure that was one-third of what she was currently dishing out every month.

  “That’s more than reasonable.”

  Maryanne saw surprise in his eyes, and smiled again. “If you’re so concerned about my finding the right neighborhood, then you pick one for me. Anyplace, I don’t care. Just remember, you’re the one who got me into this.”

  “Don’t remind me.” Nolan’s frown darkened.

  “I may not have appreciated what you said about me in your column,” Maryanne said slowly, “but I’m beginning to think good things might come of it.”

  “I’m beginning to think I should be dragged to the nearest tree and hanged,” Nolan grumbled.

  * * *

  “Hi.” Maryanne slipped into the booth opposite Nolan at the greasy spoon called Mom’s Place. She smiled, feeling like a child on a grand adventure. Perhaps she was going off the deep end, as Nolan had so adamantly claimed the day before. Perhaps, but she doubted it. Everything felt so right.

  Once the idea of living on her own—on income she earned herself, from a job she’d been hired for on her own merits—had taken hold in her mind, it had fast gained momentum. She could work days and write nights. That would be perfect.

  “Did you do it?”

  “I handed in my notice this morning,” she said, reaching for the menu. Nolan had insisted on meeting her for a late lunch and suggested this greasy spoon with its faded neon sign that flashed Home Cooking. She had the impression he ate there regularly.

  “I talked to the managing editor this morning and told him I was leaving.”

  “I don’t imagine he took kindly to that,” Nolan muttered, lifting a white ceramic mug half-full of coffee. He’d been wearing a frown from the moment she’d entered the diner. She had the feeling it was the same frown he’d left her apartment with the night before, but it had deepened since she’d last seen him.

  “Larry wasn’t too upset, but I don’t think he appreciated my suggestion that Carol Riverside take over the column, because he said something I’d rather not repeat about how he was the one who’d do the hiring and promoting, not me, no matter what my name was.”

  Nolan took a sip of coffee and grinned. “I’d bet he’d like my head if it could be arranged, and frankly I don’t blame him.”

  “Don’t worry, I didn’t mention your name or the fact that your column was what led to my decision.”

  Maryanne doubted Nolan even heard her. “I’m regretting that column more with each passing minute. Are you sure I can’t talk you out of this?”

  “I’m sure.”

  He sighed and shook his head. “How’d the job hunting go?”

  The waitress came by, automatically placing a full mug of coffee in front of Maryanne. She fished a pad from the pocket of her pink apron. “Are you ready to order?”

  “I’ll have a turkey sandwich on rye, no sprouts, a diet soda and a side of potato salad,” Maryanne said with a smile, handing her the menu.

  “You don’t need to worry, we don’t serve sprouts here,” she said, scribbling down the order.

  “I’ll have the chili, Barbara,” Nolan said. The waitress nodded and strolled away from the booth. “I was asking how your job hunting went,” Nolan reminded Maryanne.

  “I found one!”

  “Where? What will you be doing? And for how much?”

  “You’re beginning to sound like my father.”

  “I’m beginning to feel like your father. Annie, you’re a babe in the woods. You don’t have a clue what you’re getting involved in. Heaven knows I’ve tried to talk some sense into you, but you refuse to listen. And, as you so delight in reminding me, I’m the one responsible for all this.”

  “Stop blaming yourself.” Maryanne leaned across the table for her water glass. “I’m grateful, I honestly am—though, trust me, I never thought I’d be saying that. But what you wrote was true. By insulting me, you’ve given me the initiative to make a name for myself without Dad’s help and—”

  He closed his eyes. “Just answer the question.”

  “Oh, about the job. It’s for a...service company. It looks like it’ll work out great. I didn’t think I’d have any chance of getting hired, since I don’t have much experience, but they took that into consideration. You see, it’s a new company and they can’t afford to pay much. Everyone seems friendly and helpful. The only drawback is my salary and the fact that I won’t be working a lot of hours at first. In fact, the money is a lot less than I was earning at the paper. But I expect to be able to sell a couple of articles soon. I’ll get along all right once I learn to budget.”

  “How much less than the paper?”

  “If I tell you, you’ll only get angry.” His scowl said he’
d be even angrier if she didn’t tell him. From the way he was glaring at her, Maryanne knew she’d reached the limits of his patience. She muttered the amount and promptly lowered her gaze.

  “You aren’t taking the job,” Nolan said flatly.

  “Yes, I am. It’s the best I can do for now. Besides, it’s only temporary. It isn’t all that easy to find work, you know. I must’ve talked to fifteen companies today. No one seemed too impressed with my double degree in Early American History and English. I wanted to find employment where I can use my writing skills, but that didn’t happen, so I took this job.”

  “Annie, you won’t be able to live on so little.”

  “I realize that. I’ve got a list of community newspapers and I’m going to contact them about freelance work. I figure between the writing and my job, I’ll do okay.”

  “Exactly what will you be doing?” he demanded.

  “Cleaning,” she mumbled under her breath.

  “What did you say?”

  “I’m working for Rent-A-Maid.”

  “Dear Lord,” Nolan groaned. “I hope you’re kidding.”

  “Get your mind out of the gutter, Adams. I’m going to work six hours a day cleaning homes and offices and I’ll spend the rest of the time doing research for my articles. Oh, and before I forget, I gave your name as a reference.”

  “You’re going to go back and tell whoever hired you that you’re terribly sorry, but you won’t be able to work there, after all,” Nolan said, and the hard set of his mouth told her he brooked no argument.

  Maryanne was saved from having to say she had no intention of quitting, because the waitress, bless her heart, appeared with their orders at precisely that moment.

  “Now what about an apartment?” Maryanne asked. After his comment about living in a safe neighborhood, she was more than willing to let him locate one for her. “Have you had a chance to check into that for me?”

  “I hope you didn’t give your notice at The Seattle.”

  Swallowing a bite of her sandwich, Maryanne nodded eagerly. “First thing this morning. I told them I’d be out by the fifteenth, which, in case you were unaware of it, happens to be early next week.”