Love Finds You in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin

by Pamela S. Meyers

  What did she mean by taking a break with the other guy? How long had they been apart? A month? Two months? An ache filled his gut. Maybe the man had moved out West for a job and was now asking her to join him.

  Time to prioritize. He had his own problems to think about. Sometimes people didn’t recover from TB. Snow could manage the paper temporarily, but the Beacon had to stay in the family. If God didn’t answer his prayers, he might have to run his endgame quicker than planned.

  He’d go back to Chicago and, after a few months at the helm, turn the reins over to Kate. Then he’d figure out what he was to do with his life. Political reporting in DC held excitement, and he’d dreamed of the White House as his beat. But then Senator Glenn had lost the election, and he was out of a job.

  Now he was filling Oscar’s shoes and loving every minute. Maybe after leaving the Beacon in Kate’s hands, he’d head to California and find a small paper to run—and then lure a certain brunette from the big city. If she wasn’t already taken. He laughed out loud at himself, spinning daydreams like a schoolboy with a big crush.

  He couldn’t wait for tomorrow to hear Reverend Hellman’s next installment. Besides Meg, another ingredient had been added to his life. God. God, Meg, and printer’s ink on his hands. He’d never expected any of it. Now he wondered if he could live without them.

  The following morning, as they were preparing to leave the house, the telephone rang, sending a tingle of foreboding up Meg’s spine. No one called early on Sunday unless it was an emergency. She answered.

  “Meg, I need to cancel church. Ginny called a few minutes ago…”

  Jack’s voice faded as “Ginny called” echoed in her head.

  “Meg, you still there?”

  “I’m here. Thanks for calling. I’ll tell Mom.”

  Her mother entered the hall, a curious expression on her face.

  “I hope she didn’t plan extra food just for me.”

  “She always makes a big meal on Sunday, not knowing who may end up at the table.”

  Mom’s brows shot up, and she frowned.

  “Have a nice time, Jack. See you at work.” Meg replaced the receiver.

  “What did you mean by all that?” Mom moved to the hall mirror and patted her hair into place.

  “Jack had to cancel today.” Meg stepped over to the closet. “He said he hoped you hadn’t fixed more because of him. I didn’t want him to feel bad, and what I said is true.”

  Mom set her brown felt hat on her head and studied her reflection. “It must be important, to change plans so late.”

  An ache the size of Wisconsin filled Meg’s chest. “A friend called this morning, and he changed his mind.” She gave Mom a tight smile and reached for her coat. “Dad’s beating the horn. We’d better go.”

  On Sunday afternoon, Meg helped Laura box up the Landlord’s and Prosperity game. She’d made it through church, dinner, and a rather subdued match with her parents and Laura. Just a few more hours before she could say good riddance to the day.

  Her mother stood in the arched doorway. “Meg, Jack’s on the phone.”

  Her heart quickened, but the thought of his choosing to be with Ginny quenched the sensation. “Tell him I’ll call him back.”

  “Meg Alden, I’m surprised at you.” Mom rested her fists on her hips. “It was quite honorable what Jack did for his friend.”

  “What Jack did?” Meg handed the box to Laura and headed to the phone. She lifted the receiver and said a quiet hello.

  “Hi, Meg. I’m sorry for the change in plans this morning. If I hadn’t gone to help, Ginny’s friend would be a very sick lady.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Ellie woke up with a huge stomachache. Ginny remembered what had happened with Oscar and they decided to go to the hospital, but then the car wouldn’t start. She called me in a panic.”

  “You didn’t say all that.”

  “Granted, I spoke pretty fast.” He paused. “Actually, your response was odd. You told me to have a nice time.”

  Meg strained to remember. “I don’t recall.”

  He let out a loud breath. “I wouldn’t cancel plans for any other reason but an emergency. Ellie did have appendicitis, but they got to it before it ruptured. Since Ellie was to take Ginny to Burlington later, I took her after we knew Ellie was okay.”

  Meg’s shoulders sagged. “You did all that?”

  “So much for a day of rest. How was the sermon?”

  She couldn’t admit that her mind had been full of not-so-nice thoughts toward Jack all service long. “Good.”

  “Maybe I can read your notes.”

  “Sure.” Mom was the note taker. She’d borrow hers for him. “Get some rest, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Mom looked up from her knitting as Meg entered the living room. “Jack’s day went right along with Reverend Hellman’s sermon—dying to self and doing for others.”

  “Yes, I suppose so. I’m going upstairs to read. Maybe I’ll turn in early.”

  Mom’s grin lit up the room. “Is there something more between you and Jack than friendship? Yesterday when he was here, he had that look in his eyes. He’s such a nice—”

  “What look?”

  “The same kind your father gave me when we were courting.” She set her knitting in her lap. “I noticed your Bible stayed closed the entire service. You know, it was hard for me to concentrate on church when I was first taken with your father.”

  Meg pressed her lips together. “We’re only friends. That’s all. Coworkers shouldn’t be romantically involved.” She turned toward the stairs.

  “Methinks thou doth protest too much.”

  Mom’s comment rang in Meg’s ears as she climbed the steps. Reaching her room, she plopped onto her bed and studied a crack in the ceiling. Like it or not, she found Jack attractive. But so did a lot of women. Ginny’s call this morning did her a favor by reminding her that Jack had Ginny in his life and Ginny was much more suited to him than Meg. Besides, she’d likely move to California soon, and Jack would be at the Beacon. If he weren’t still seeing Ginny by then, he’d probably end up with a debutante.

  She changed into her nightgown and crawled under the covers. Jack had probably forgotten about the dinner date. But if he mentioned it, she’d say she changed her mind. The last thing she needed was to let a man gum up her plans just as they were falling into place.

  Chapter Twenty

  Meg entered the office, marveling over how, in the three weeks she’d been back at work since her accident, things had calmed down. Emily pushed her headset away from her mouth. “Morning, Meg. Mr. Wallace wants to see you right away.”

  Meg’s effort to stifle a smile failed. “I hope he can wait until I remove my coat. Thankfully, I only have a few more weeks in this cast.”

  “I can wait, but let me help you.”

  At Jack’s voice, a trail of goose bumps snaked up her spine. The same ones that happened whenever he was nearby, despite her determination to not react to him. A difficult task, with church, followed by Sunday dinner, board games, and walks to the lake filling their Sundays.

  She let him take her coat, and he gently maneuvered it around her sling with a practiced hand. Trying hard to ignore her stomach flutters, she handed him her hat. He placed her garments in the closet. Grateful as she was for his help, the process held a level of familiarity that unsettled her.

  He turned, and Meg glimpsed a fresh knick on his jaw, likely from his morning shave.

  “What did you need to talk about?” she asked.

  “Probably best discussed in there.” He tipped his head toward his temporary office. “Meet you in five minutes?”

  Meg sat across from Jack. “A town meeting is scheduled next week to announce the winning name for the building.” Jack rested his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers. “We’ll both attend, but I’d like you to find out whether the protest group has influenced the selection.”

  It was one thing to write articles for
which she was able to gather facts through research, but an investigation with possible interviews was different. A vision of Mr. Zimmer calling her to his hospital bedside and waving a copy of the News-Trib, saying, “I told you no reporting. You’re fired,” erupted in her thoughts. “Jack, I appreciate your help, but if Mr. Zimmer—”

  “You know these people. If they swayed the committee at all, that’s news.” He leveled his gaze on her, so intense she felt its heat. “I intend to tell Oscar how you’re assisting me. He’ll be okay. Without you, we’d only be printing half a paper.”

  Fear crept up her spine. “You don’t know him like I do.” She shifted in her seat. “He won’t be okay. As for the protesters, I doubt they influenced anything, especially with my father heading the committee. He’s proud to a fault about his involvements being aboveboard.”

  Jack frowned. “What if another committee member isn’t concerned about integrity? Maybe willing to accept a little bribe?”

  Meg chuckled. “What would the protesters use for a bribe? A bushel of corn?” She stared at her clasped hands. Why, when I have the chance to do an investigative story, does Dad need to be involved with the topic?

  “Just see what you can find.”

  She nodded and prepared to stand.

  “This letter came for you.”

  She took the white envelope he held out and read the return address. Resisting the urge to whoop, she worked to stay calm. “It’s from Mattie in California.”

  He sat up a little straighter. “You already know someone out there?”

  Meg reread the return address. Was Santa Monica near Hollywood? Helen wanted to live near the studios. “Yes. I have a friend who works for the Examiner.”

  “Swell connection. Is your friend a reporter?”

  Was it her imagination, or had some of Jack’s enthusiasm vanished? “Research assistant. No doubt I’ll have to start at the bottom and work my way up.”

  Meg studied the envelope. Mattie’s backhanded scrawl showed through the thin paper. Would her words hold the answer to Meg’s dreams?

  “We haven’t yet set our dinner date.”

  She snapped her head up. “I thought you’d forgotten.”

  “Hardly. What about this Friday?”

  To save money, she and Helen had replaced their Friday night movie dates with coffee at one of the cafés. But, knowing Helen, she’d insist Meg have dinner with Jack. If Meg declined, she’d always wonder what she missed. But accepting could set her up for another hurt. Still, she always enjoyed Jack’s company and his riveting stories about life in DC or discussing a novel they’d both read.

  Meg fixated on a pencil cup. Canceling was the safe choice. She looked up, and his gaze melted into hers. If she kept the guard on her heart firmly in place, she’d be fine. “I have nothing scheduled.”

  Jack stood as she basked in the effects of his grin. “We can talk later about when and where.”

  Enjoying the lingering warmth flooding her insides, she didn’t want to leave. His phone rang, and she stood. What was wrong with her? Earlier, it was all she could do to not dash off with Mattie’s letter. Now, all she wanted was for Friday to arrive.

  Meg gave a small wave and left Jack to his call while she headed straight for the restroom. Behind the locked door, she managed to one-hand-wrestle the letter from the envelope and shake open the single sheet of paper.

  Dear Meg,

  I’m sorry to respond so late. The postman delivered your letter only yesterday. I’m delighted you want to move to LA! What a needed tonic for my poor old heart. We’re going to have so much fun after you get here. As luck would have it, a lady in the typing pool is leaving on June fifteenth. I spoke to my boss, Henry Gibbons, and if you write him directly to apply, he’ll wait to hire until he meets with you in person. His address…”

  Meg lowered herself to the edge of the commode and continued reading. Mattie hadn’t had much to be excited about since her husband’s death. Now Meg not only had Helen depending on her to make the move, but Mattie too. She’d write Mr. Gibbons tonight. For now, she had research to do.

  Her notepad in front of her, she called Edna Bingham first, one of the three women sitting with the protesters during the meeting.

  Mrs. Bingham answered with a loud “Yes,” followed by, “You can hang up now, Bess.” A click came through the connection. “Now we can talk. Go ahead.”

  Meg stifled a chuckle. “Mrs. Bingham, this is Meg Alden from the News-Trib. I wanted to get your reaction to the Lakefront Building Committee’s announcement that a winning name has been selected.”

  “Sorry, but I have no idea what you mean.”

  Meg lowered her voice. “You were part of the group who defended Violette Fenner at the town meeting and demanded that her winning name from the previous contest be used.”

  “I felt sorry for Violette. Her entry was chosen as the best and then they announced a new contest. Kind of like a slap in the face.”

  Meg scribbled on her notepad. “Do you think Miss Fenner is upset by the outcome?”

  “She seemed embarrassed about all the fuss. She married the weekend after the meeting. I expect she has different things on her mind now.”

  “Do you know if the others have tried to influence the committee members?”

  “You mean getting them to change their minds?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “When I saw how embarrassed Violette was, I stopped being involved. If you want to know more, call Fred Newman. He’s the ringleader.”

  Meg thanked her, hung up, and tapped her pencil on the desk. She didn’t blame the woman. If it weren’t for Miss Fenner’s fiancé offering comfort that night, she might have left the meeting early. Why hadn’t she asked Mrs. Bingham for Violette’s new name? She pushed back her chair and walked to the archive shelf. Finding out shouldn’t be too hard.

  Meg closed the one-week-old paper and returned it to its place on the shelf. She’d gone through the past month’s editions without finding a marriage announcement for Violette Fenner. Most girls published their wedding details the week following the nuptials. The newlyweds probably preferred to enjoy their new life without the intrusive attention brought on at the meeting.

  But Fred Newman never let a little controversy stop him. Maybe if she spoke with him first, she wouldn’t have to bother Violette. Never before had she wished for a driver’s license or a car of her own, but right then she wanted both. She glanced up. The answer was right in front of her.

  Jack waited for several minutes after Meg told him Lester was driving her out to the south shore to interview some of the protesters. The letter she’d received only had a street address and no name, and ever since their conversation, the possibility niggled at him that the friend in California and the on-again-off-again boyfriend were one and the same. The handwriting was more like printing—could have been written by a man or a woman. One person might be able to clear it up. He stood and headed for the newsroom.

  Jack meandered up to Emily’s desk and stood back while she took a want-ad over the switchboard. She pulled the cord on the connection, and he stepped up. “Did Meg leave?”

  “Yes. Lester drove her to the south shore for an interview. They left about ten minutes ago.” The corners of her lips tipped up. “I’m sure if you’d offered to drive her, she would have liked that a lot better than riding with Lester.” She giggled and dropped her gaze to her lap. “There I go, sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong. It’s just that I’d love to see Meg have some fun in her life again. Ever since Matthew moved away…” She gasped and covered her mouth with her fingertips. “You never heard me say that.”

  Jack crossed his arms and leaned in. “Don’t worry. I won’t say a word about old what’s-his-name.”

  The board lit up and Emily plugged the cord into the socket and gave her usual friendly greeting. She covered the mouthpiece with her hand and looked up at Jack. “This is for you. I think it’s your friend Ginny.”

  He nodded. “I’m
heading for my office.” He walked toward his open door. At least he had a name. Friday night, he’d get Meg talking.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Meg could think of any number of things she’d rather be doing than riding with Lester to interview the town crank. If he drove his Model A any slower, they’d be standing still. They rumbled past a field of freshly turned dirt and then Fred’s white barn came into view.

  Lester glanced at Meg. “I don’t understand why you couldn’t call him. He had a phone put in last year.”

  “Fred doesn’t usually answer. Besides, it’s better to look a difficult interviewee in the eyes.”

  They reached Fred’s property, and Lester turned the vehicle into a rutted drive. Meg swayed and bounced on the seat, her head almost grazing the ceiling. She gripped her casted arm. “Someone ought to speak to him about his driveway. A person could be killed just trying to visit him.”

  “Maybe that’s why he keeps it this way.”

  “All the better, then, to surprise him.”

  Lester brought the car to a halt on the only level ground in view. Fred stepped out of the barn carrying a slop pail, his eyes never leaving their automobile. Meg opened her door. Suppressing the impulse to gag at the stench of fresh manure, she gingerly set her foot on the driest patch of dirt she found then gathered her notepad and pencil. Breathing through her mouth, she toe-picked across the mud toward Fred.

  He furrowed his leathery brow, his wary gaze never leaving her face. “What on earth are you doing out here, Meg Alden?”

  “Came to see you, Fred.”

  He pushed back his cap and scratched behind his ear. “Well, seein’ how you and I aren’t exactly on visiting terms, I have a hunch you’re not checking on my welfare.”

  She didn’t flinch. “Can we go somewhere to talk?”

  “What’s the matter? You don’t like a little dirt?” His lip curled into a sneer. “I should make you stay here for practically causing me to run ya over that morning. No paper is worth losing your life over.”