Meg glared at Helen. Wasn’t it obvious that the couple was on a date? Helen ignored her.
Ginny slid into the offered seat and smiled at Helen. “I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure. I’m Ginny Colson. Are you part of this churchgoing activity too?”
Jack settled into the remaining chair and cast Meg an apologetic look.
“Church? Me?” Helen waved her hand. “Not hardly. Meg and Jack are the churchgoers.”
“That’s news.” Ginny lifted one of the menus the waitress had dropped off. “So,” she said, without lifting her eyes from the bill of fare, “what kind of magic power do you have over Jack, Meg, that he’s going to church with you?” She flipped over the coffee-stained menu and checked the back then laid it on the table.
Meg sipped her lukewarm coffee. “He did it all on his own.”
“Really?” Ginny looked at Jack. “Praying for your boss’s speedy recovery, no doubt.”
Jack picked up a menu. “You should try church, Ginny. I’m learning a lot about trusting God—something I haven’t been doing much of until now.”
“And all this trusting has you running a weekly when you should be helping your dad. Wouldn’t God want that for you?” She looked at the waitress, who had returned. “I’ll have the turkey and gravy over mashed potatoes. And a coffee.”
The woman scribbled the order then peered at Jack, her pencil poised over her pad. She broke out in a wide smile. “Hello, Jack. What can I get you?”
“Just coffee. Strong and black.” He handed her his menu.
Ginny eyed him across the table. “I thought you were starving.”
“I was, until a few minutes ago.” His jaw muscle pulsed.
Hating the judgmental tone in Ginny’s voice, Meg’s insides twisted. She glanced at the waitress’s puzzled face. “Can I have a refill on my coffee?” She wasn’t going anywhere.
The waitress returned with cups and a carafe. While she splashed hot coffee into everyone’s mugs, Helen’s fork clinked against her plate as she scraped up the last of her dessert.
Meg turned to Ginny. “How is your new job?”
“Well, the Burlington rag isn’t the Times.” She gave a shrug. “But then what is? At least I’m a reporter. More than your boss would allow a woman.”
Meg chuckled. “The lake will freeze over in July before Mr. Zimmer allows a woman on his reporting staff.”
Ginny put her coffee cup to her lips and sipped. “If it makes you feel any better, he told me that if he were to allow such a thing, he already had a talented woman on staff.”
“Oh?” Meg picked up her spoon and absently stirred sugar into her brew. “Who’s that?”
“You, of course.”
She jerked her attention to Jack’s beaming face then to Ginny. “You must have misunderstood.”
“He definitely said, ‘Meg Alden would get the job if there was one available.’”
Meg set her spoon down. “I wish he’d tell me that.”
“Well, you know how it is,” Ginny said. “Sometimes men tell everyone else their true feelings instead of the person who should hear them. Give him time. He’ll change his mind in a year or two.”
“By then I won’t be here. Helen and I are moving to California on May thirty-first.”
Jack straightened. “That’s News-Tribune night at the…the…whatever the building will be called. You need to be there.”
“That’s what I forgot about the date.” Meg glanced at Helen. “Looks like June first is the day.”
Helen’s brows arched, and she tipped her head. “So be it. Seems like a News-Trib affair is a fitting way for you to say farewell.”
Meg shrugged as a pall settled over her. Their plans were becoming more real by the minute, money or no money. “I guess so.”
Jack inched his chair closer to her, his face serious. “Meg, I need to ask—”
“Here are your orders. Turkey and mashed potatoes for the lady and more coffee for the gentleman.” The waitress set Ginny’s order in front of her then sloshed coffee into Jack’s mug. After adding to Meg’s and Helen’s cups, she left.
“Jack,” Meg picked up a sugar cube with her spoon, “you wanted to ask me something?”
He avoided her gaze. “We’ll need a moment at the event to send you off. You know, wishing you congratulations, best wishes, and all that. And don’t be surprised if we throw in a gift or two for you to set up housekeeping out there.”
He might as well have picked up his knife and stabbed her in the chest. The way he talked, he couldn’t care less about her departure or the fact that they’d probably never see each other again. The message was clear. Moving away couldn’t happen any faster.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Meg’s distorted reflection stared back from the tiny mirror hung on the office’s coat closet door. She angled her bell-shaped purple hat to the right then made a face. After adjusting it to the left, she fastened it with an amethyst hat pin. Could she wear the hat till tomorrow’s hair appointment?
“Meg, I’m glad you’re still here.”
She turned as Jack rushed up. “The building committee plans to reveal the winning name tomorrow night.”
A shiver shimmied down Meg’s spine. Would Fred Newman and his gang show up? If so, there was no telling what might happen. Managing the fragile tension between her and Dad over the last few days was like tiptoeing around broken glass. It could all be over soon. “I’ll be there.” Maybe Helen could squeeze her in tonight. At least when she asked Dad about the money later, she’d look good doing it.
“That fund is for one purpose only: education. The answer is no.” Dad’s mustache twitched as he shook out his napkin and placed it on his lap.
Meg gulped. At least it sounded like the funds had survived last March’s bank holiday. “It is for my education.”
He fastened a hard stare on her. “And what school do you plan to attend?”
She held his gaze, determined not to be the one who blinked. “The school of hard knocks.”
He picked up his soupspoon. “Very funny. Answer my question.”
She drew her lower lip between her teeth. Despite having rehearsed her answers on the way home from Helen’s, the words escaped her.
“Do you want to take some correspondence courses?” Mom picked up the bread basket and passed it to Laura.
Meg shook her head. “If I’m to become a reporter, I must work for a large daily and claw my way up. I need the money to move.”
Dad’s spoon dropped into his soup and brown droplets sprayed onto his white shirt. “No woman is going to become a reporter in this day and age.”
Meg raised her chin. “Ginny Colson did.”
“Who’s she?” Dad dipped his napkin into his water glass and dabbed at the soup spots.
“Jack’s friend. She was a feature reporter for the New York Times.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Why the past tense?”
She plunged her spoon into her soup, lifted it, then let the hot liquid trickle back into the bowl before she answered. “They laid her off.”
“Another reason not to pursue a large paper. The first to go would be a woman.”
“Ginny’s working for the Burlington paper now as a reporter.”
“So when do you expect to move to Chicago?”
“I never mentioned Chicago.”
“Then where? Milwaukee?”
“Hollywood.”
“Hollywood?” Three voices bombarded Meg as Dad’s knife clattered onto the table.
“Helen expects to get a beautician job at one of the—”
“I should have known Helen McArdle was behind this.” Dad stood. “First she has you getting those permanent waves, and now it’s moving to Hollywood.”
“But I have a good chance for a job at the Los Angeles Examiner. I’ve been—”
“In my study. Now.” Dad marched out of the room.
Meg threw her napkin into a crumpled heap on the table and pushed back her chair. “
Laura, you can wipe that gleeful grin off your face and return the suitcase you borrowed. I may be needing it soon.” She stood and headed for the kitchen door.
“Meg, wait.”
She faced her mother. “What else can he do but kick me out? I’m not a child.”
Mom’s face fell. “If he refuses your school fund, how can you move?”
“We’re supposed to trust God and not lean on our own understanding. If He comes through, I’ll have quite a testimony, won’t I?”
“If you act according to God’s will. I don’t sense that’s what you’re doing.”
With Mom’s words still ringing in her ears, Meg approached her father’s study. She felt in her pocket for a slip of paper she’d tucked there earlier and then knocked.
“Enter.” Dad’s barked command reverberated through the oak slab. She hauled in a breath and pushed the door open.
From behind his desk, Dad peered at her with reddened eyes. He yanked at his tie and loosened it. “Don’t just stand there.” He pulled the short end of the tie from the knot and tossed the neckwear on the desk while Meg sat.
“I presume that with the request for your education fund, the story is running this week.”
Meg stiffened. “Since I’m not able to use the funds for college, I’d hoped you’d support my aspirations by letting me use the money to move.”
“Seems to me Wallace is giving you reporting opportunities right here.”
Meg shrugged. “It’s only while Mr. Zimmer recuperates.”
“Does Oscar know how you’re contributing?”
Meg focused on a paperweight in the shape of a judge’s gavel. “He knows I’m helping, but he thinks Lester is writing most of the stories. Jack plans to tell him how much I’m involved when he’s better. He doesn’t want to cause him to have a setback.”
“So a good portion of what I’ve been reading the past couple of weeks has been your work?”
Buoyed by the hint of pride in his voice, Meg nodded. “About half the paper.”
“Why isn’t Lester helping?”
Meg cringed. “Because he can’t write.”
“And I presume Oscar thinks he can.” Dad narrowed his eyes to tiny, dark slits. “I’m almost afraid to ask the next question.”
“Then don’t.”
His fist pounded the desk. “Meg, if you’ve done something deceitful, I want to know.”
A bitter taste erupted in her throbbing throat. She looked him in the eyes. “I don’t think I’m the only one here who’s holding back the truth.”
Eyes sparking, he jabbed a finger at the door. “Get out.”
“I’ll be gone by tonight.” She stood on wobbling legs.
His face fell. “Where will you stay?”
She raised her shoulders and let them drop. “Maybe God will lead me to a nice room where I’ll have peace and quiet.” She turned and opened the door.
“Meg, I didn’t mean—”
The door slammed behind her.
The leather suitcase Laura borrowed sat on top of Meg’s pink chenille bedspread. She unbuckled the straps in an awkward one-handed way and then flipped open the top. Letting go of a sigh, she walked to the closet and tugged several dresses and skirts off their hangers. Is this really happening? It was one thing to decide to move in search of her dream, but to be asked to leave the house seemed unreal.
She tossed the clothing on the bed then went downstairs to the phone and lifted the receiver to her ear.
“What number, please?”
She tucked the phone under her chin then pulled the scrap from her pocket and held it up. “Give me 5551.”
A gravelly woman’s voice came through the connection. “Barkers’.”
“I’m answering your ad for a room to rent.”
“It’s a small room on the third floor. No pets. Two dollars a week. We don’t serve meals, but you can use a hot plate if you bring your own.”
“Can I see it tonight?”
An arm came around her from behind and depressed the switch hook. Meg faced her father.
“Your mother is upstairs crying.” He ran his bloodshot gaze over her face. “Please rethink this. I never said you had to move out.”
“That’s not how I heard it. It’s best if I go.”
He averted his eyes. “Your mother will fall apart.”
Her heart squeezed. The last person she wanted to hurt was Mom. She returned the receiver to its cradle. “Laura will still be here.”
“But Laura isn’t you.”
“I didn’t think it mattered.” She left him standing in the hall and headed up the stairs. What did he mean by “Laura isn’t you”? Of course he was referring to Mom’s feelings, not his.
At Meg’s tap on her parents’ door, a wavering voice beckoned. She raised her chin and stepped into the room. “I’m not moving out tonight.”
Mom lifted her swollen eyes from the open Bible on her lap. “At least one prayer was answered.” She patted the upholstered ottoman in front of her chair. “Come.”
While Meg took the seat, Mom blew her nose into a scallop-edged hanky. “Your father said you’re writing articles without Oscar’s knowledge. That concerns both of us.”
Meg closed her eyes. An ache spread through her chest. She’d let her mother down. “I’ve been writing most of the articles since Mr. Zimmer was hospitalized, and he thinks Lester is responsible for the stories.”
“Why not use Lester?” Mom flipped through her Bible.
“Because he isn’t a good writer.”
“Doesn’t Oscar know that?”
Meg shook her head. “I’ve been editing Lester’s articles behind Mr. Zimmer’s back for months.”
Mom tipped her head. “Editing? Or rewriting?”
“Rewriting, mostly.” She caught her mother’s gaze in her own, and her stomach twisted. A sob escaped her throat. “I knew it was the same as lying and told Lester a couple of weeks ago that it had to stop. Then Mr. Zimmer got sick and Jack needed me to get the paper out on time.”
“How is it Jack was aware you could write well?”
“He overheard Lester and me talking a few weeks ago and asked about it. I told him I’d already decided to stop the practice. But with Mr. Zimmer ill, there’s no one else to write articles.” She wiped her wet cheeks with the back of her hand.
“Do you think you’re giving Jack a good Christian example?” She glanced at the open Bible. “Listen to what the Word says—”
“I don’t need to hear Scripture.” Meg flew to her feet. “I already know I’m not a good example.”
Mom gripped Meg’s hand as though it were a lifeline. “You’ve always been the daughter I didn’t have to worry about straying from the Lord. Now it seems…” She tightened her grasp. “God loves you and wants only His best for you.”
Meg yanked her hand away and went to the door. “I’m sorry, Mom. I love you and don’t want to hurt you, but I have no choice.” She left the room and marched down the hall.
Laura appeared in her bedroom doorway before Meg reached her room, and Meg braced herself for a snide remark.
“It’s all my fault, isn’t it?” Laura blinked.
Meg stared at her sister. “I’ll admit, it will be nice not to hear your bratty remarks, but it’s not because of you.”
A tear trailed down Laura’s cheek. “The economy was the reason Dad pulled you out of college. He said he felt terrible doing it since your grades were improving. I’m sorry.”
Meg’s emotions clawed at her insides as relief and anger battled for attention. She wanted to hug her sister, but the scars were too raw. “I don’t understand why you lied, Laura, but thanks for setting me straight. Look on the bright side. I’ll soon be gone and you’ll have the house and Mom and Dad all to yourself.”
She headed toward her room. What had she become? Laura had just confessed her lie and said she was sorry. Still Meg left her with a biting remark. Forgiveness wasn’t going to come easy.
Chapter Twenty-Ei
ght
On Wednesday night, Jack pulled up to the curb alongside the high school. He glanced over at Meg. She’d done something different with her hair. What, he had no idea, but he liked it. “You were a million miles away over supper. I know the Utopia isn’t the best eatery in town, but seeing as we didn’t have much time—”
“It doesn’t have anything to do with where we ate.” The same tightness he’d seen around her eyes and mouth since the morning remained. “I have a lot to consider and barely had time to think, with all my assignments.”
He’d dumped a lot of work on her that day, but with Thelma tending to her elderly mother, what choice did he have? Or was she stewing over his bad attitude from last Friday? He’d decided by Saturday that it wasn’t his problem and thought things were better since Sunday. “Is it anything to do with my bad mood last Friday?”
She shrugged. “No.”
A long silence fell between them.
“My parents know that Mr. Zimmer thinks Lester has been writing the articles this month. They didn’t say they would tell him, but knowing my father…”
He gave her shoulder a slight squeeze. “But, remember, Oscar knows you’re helping with the articles.”
“Yeah, the minor stuff, but not the major stories.”
Jack drew in a breath and exhaled. “If your father had called Oscar, I’d have heard. No doubt he doesn’t want to upset him while he’s sick any more than we do.” He probably treats his men friends better than his own daughter.
In the dusky light, her gaze flicked back and forth over his face. “If not my dad, who’s to stop one of the subs or Thelma? They agree it’s for the good of the paper and that in his condition it’s best he not know. But if one person slips…” She lowered her eyelids. Moisture on her long lashes glinted in the streetlight. “I’d rather he know the full truth now. It’s not right.”
“But we haven’t lied.”
“Omitting facts is as much a lie as telling them.”
Jack’s gut twisted. He hadn’t thought about it that way. Many of the Proverbs in the Bible said dishonesty in any situation was wrong. “You’re right. Oscar needs to know the whole truth. I’ll talk to him soon. Did your father mention anything about the Fred Newman business?”
Love Finds You in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin Page 18
