by Ann Roth
“Thanks, and thanks again for the ride.” After the interview, which wouldn’t last more than ninety minutes, she’d return to the airstrip and fly back to the island. “What’s the latest I can get here and still make the one o’clock flight?”
“Twelve forty-five,” D. J. said. “See you then.”
Buffeted by the chill wind, Tina hurried toward the cab. Her hair was a mess, and the weather had probably ruined her makeup, too. Well, she’d fix that at home.
The cab waited curbside while she dashed into her brick apartment building, quickly changed, made herself look professional and grabbed her mail. After a week at G. G.’ s, her one-bedroom apartment felt empty and lonely, and Tina was glad to leave.
Twenty minutes later, her driver dropped her in front of the downtown high-rise that housed CE Marketing. The seventy-story structure stretched skyward, and a person couldn’t even see the top floor, where CE Marketing was based, without craning her head back.
As Tina walked through the revolving doors, her mouth went dry and her stomach seemed to turn over. She swallowed hard and wondered whether she might be sick. She’d told Ryan she wasn’t nervous about the interview, but she was.
After checking in with the security guard in the bustling lobby, she entered the elevator. During the trip up, she checked her hair and lipstick. Feeling reasonably ready, portfolio and coat under her arm, she exited. On the teak wall across the way, the sleek silver CE Marketing, Inc. sign greeted her. It’s showtime. Doing her best to appear confident, smile firmly in place, Tina strode through the thick glass doors and into the familiar plush reception area.
The receptionist, a young redhead named Shelby, signaled her to wait while she deftly fielded phone calls. When she finished, she smiled. “It’s good to have you back, even if it is only for the interview. How’s G. G.?”
Tina wasn’t surprised at the question. This sophisticated firm wasn’t so different from small-town Halo Island, with most everyone knowing each other’s schedules and projects.
“It’s slow going,” she said. “I’ve missed this place.” Which was and wasn’t true. “My interview isn’t for another hour, but will you let Mr. Sperling know I’m here? And could you also ask June to meet me in my office?”
“Will do.” Shelby spoke confidentially and crossed her fingers. “For the record, I don’t believe a word Kendra’s been saying. I’m rooting for you.”
“Thanks.”
Kendra’s interview had taken place the day before, and according to June, she’d come out it of smug and self-assured. No telling what she’d said about Tina. Mad at her all over again, Tina walked down the hallway, her footsteps muffled by thick carpeting as she passed offices and looked in on faces she knew as well as her own. People greeted her with smiles, and many of them wished her good luck.
As Tina entered her office, June was waiting by the window. Her round face lit up. “You made it.”
Her warmth eased Tina’s jangled nerves. “It’s good to see you,” she said.
“And you.” June’s smile dimmed somewhat. “You haven’t been eating or sleeping much, have you?”
Trust June to be candid—Tina valued that. She sighed. “I was sure my concealer would hide the circles. It’s been a difficult week.”
“I can’t even imagine. Of course, with you gone, it hasn’t been easy for me, either. Unlike you, I eat when I’m stressed, and since you left I must’ve gained ten pounds. If only I could give them to you.”
Tina laughed. “I’m truly grateful for the extra time you’ve put in for me, and I’ll make sure you’re paid for every hour. I wish I could treat you to lunch today, but I have to hurry back to the island right after my interview. Let’s schedule something after Thanksgiving?”
“It’s a date.”
Tina glanced at her watch. “We don’t have much time, so we’d best get to work.”
She sank onto her familiar office chair, glanced at her computer, fax and printer, and wheeled up to her expansive desk. The neatly stacked files and crowded in-box meant tons of work, which reassured her that regardless of whether or not she got the creative director title, she’d be too busy to think about Ryan. She would.
“What’s with the long face?” Pulling up another chair, June sat beside her so that they both faced the desk. “Is anything wrong?”
“I was wondering how I’ll ever get all this work done.”
“You will.”
They spent the next half hour reviewing files; Tina stacked those she’d take back with her.
Then Kendra strode in, her expensive suit and three-inch heels making her look like a model. “Well, well, look who came to work. Decided to finally show up and interview, did you?”
Tina looked Kendra right in the eye. “As you well know, a family member is sick, and I’m using up vacation time to care for her.”
“Yes, and I’m so sorry.”
“Actually, you’re not,” Tina challenged her. “You’ve been telling people, including Jim Sperling, that since I’ve taken time off I must not want this position. He doesn’t believe you, of course.” Tina hoped that was true. “And I don’t appreciate the innuendo. You owe me an apology.”
Kendra’s eyes narrowed. Without a hint of remorse, she shrugged. “One does what one must. Good luck with the interview—you’ll need it. Though frankly, I don’t know why you’re even bothering. The creative director spot is mine.” She flipped her hair over a shoulder, pivoted toward the door and sashayed off.
“You told her,” June said. “She must be really scared to grandstand like that. Don’t let her intimidate you.”
Believing that Kendra was every bit as qualified and talented as she was, Tina was unnerved. Not about to show it, she smiled. “My track record speaks for itself. I’m not worried.”
“That’s my Tina.”
The intercom buzzed. Tina reached for it. “Let me,” June said, pushing the button. “Yes, Shelby?”
“Tell Tina that Mr. Sperling is ready for her.”
“Will do. Thanks.” June shut off the intercom. “You heard the lady. Go get ’em, kid.” She gave Tina a thumbs-up.
Tina freshened her lipstick and fluffed her hair. Then she stood and straightened her suit jacket. “How do I look?”
“Like the next creative director.”
Shoulders squared, knowing she looked calm and assured, she headed toward her boss’s office. Inside, she felt nervous and confused, and not at all certain she wanted the position. But for G. G. and the others, she would do her best to get it.
FOR NEARLY TWO HOURS, Tina had faced Jim Sperling across the table in his private conference room, and still the meeting went on. She was due at the airstrip in twenty-five minutes, and she couldn’t miss the flight. Hurry up, she silently pleaded.
In her opinion the interview had gone well and had been more like a conversation between fellow advertising professionals than the back and forth question-and-answer ordeal she’d anticipated.
Wearing a hand-tailored suit, crisp shirt and tasteful silk tie, with his silver hair expensively styled, Jim Sperling certainly looked the role of successful CEO. He nodded at her portfolio. “I like your plans for Captain’s Catch,” he said, acting as if he had all the time in the world to talk business with her. “It shows great initiative, but then time and again you’ve proved that you’re ambitious. When do you plan to contact Peter Woods?”
“As soon as I get back—the Monday after Thanksgiving.”
Her boss looked suitably impressed. Tina gave herself a pat on the back and waited for him to wrap up the meeting. But he said nothing. She had no choice but to take charge.
“Thank you so much for giving me a chance to interview for the creative director job.”
“I’d have been surprised if you hadn’t wanted to.”
“I’ve taken up enough of your time, Jim. And I need to catch a plane back to the island soon.”
His slightly narrowed eyes worried her.
“Right.” He pus
hed back his chair and stood.
“This is my vacation,” she reminded him.
“I’m well aware of that, Tina.” Turning his back on her, he moved toward the closed door.
Stomach churning, she followed. Had she blown the interview by ending it herself, rather than waiting for him? Of course not.
“Please give G. G. my wishes for a speedy recovery,” her boss said, opening the door.
“I will, and I’ll definitely be back the Monday after Thanksgiving, ready to give the job my best.”
He gave a curt nod. “Family’s important, but of course so is CE Marketing.”
The tension radiating from the man was disturbing, and this was no way to leave things. “Thanks again for interviewing me,” Tina said, smiling and holding out her hand. “So I’ll know whether I got the job before Thanksgiving?” When setting up the interview, he’d said as much. Since today was Thursday and the company closed at five o’clock tomorrow for the entire week of Thanksgiving, that meant she’d hear by tomorrow afternoon.
His face gave away nothing. “I’ll make my decision fairly soon.”
Whatever that meant.
“When I do,” Jim Sperling said, “I’ll be in touch.”
RYAN ENJOYED Saturdays. He and Maggie slept in and he cooked a real breakfast instead of just pouring cold cereal into bowls. This morning, the smells of coffee, bacon and pancakes filled the kitchen. After a bad night—Maggie had cried herself and her father awake several times—they especially needed a pleasant breakfast.
Ryan had been certain that with Eggwhite caged and safe, his daughter would sleep better. Not so, however, and he felt powerless to help her.
Hell. Maybe Tina was right, and he should take her to a therapist.
His own sorry state was not terrific, either. He hadn’t seen Tina since Monday night. He’d wanted it that way and had meant to get a grip on his undeniable feelings for her. But on his way home from work last night, Norma had called to let him know that she and Maggie were at G. G.’ s, and to pick up Maggie there. Knowing he should avoid Tina, Ryan had knocked on the door with way too much anticipation. But she wasn’t there. She’d taken advantage of Norma’s visit to run to the pharmacy for more pain pills.
His keen sense of disappointment bothered him, and he acknowledged the fact that he hadn’t corralled his desire at all. If he could just forget the taste of her mouth and the feel of her body against his….
Scowling, he flipped a batch of pancakes. Lately, he’d worked out so much that his muscles ached, and he was getting pretty sick of cold showers.
According to G. G., Tina hadn’t heard about the job yet, but she thought the interview had gone well. Above all else, she wanted a career, and Ryan had best remember that. And he would get through the next week without touching her—or die trying. He set his jaw. Come next Sunday, she’d be gone. Out of sight, out of mind, he told himself, forgetting that the strategy hadn’t worked over the past four days.
Until next Sunday he’d continue to remind Maggie—and himself—that Tina was about to leave. With luck, by the time Christmas rolled around, Maggie would be fine and he’d be back to his normal self, a man who resorted to occasional encounters with women who wanted what he did—mutual gratification and nothing more.
He was cooking the last batch of pancakes when his daughter bounded into the kitchen, robe flapping behind her.
“Hi, Daddy! Mmm, mmm, it smells good in here.”
Whatever haunted her in dreams was gone now. Relieved, he ruffled her hair. “Morning, Sunshine. Ready for breakfast?”
“Yes!” Moving away she climbed into her chair. “What’re we having?” She reached for the glass of orange juice Ryan had set out for her.
“Your favorite—pancakes and bacon.”
“Yummy!”
“How many pancakes do you want?”
“Five, because I’m five! And one piece of bacon, please.”
Ryan doubted she’d eat more than three pancakes, but this was supposed to be a happy breakfast, so what the heck? “Coming right up.”
He filled her plate and set the food in front of her. Then he served himself half a dozen pancakes and four strips of bacon. After helping Maggie with maple syrup and cutting up her food, he smiled.
“Let’s make a toast,” he said with a nod at her milk glass. He’d introduced her to toasts on her birthday the previous August. He raised his coffee cup.
“Oh, goody!” Looking intent and serious and very grown-up, Maggie copied the gesture, using both hands to lift her milk.
“To a great day,” Ryan said. And a night free of scary dreams.
Maggie clinked her glass against his cup, and they both sipped.
“Can I make a toast, too, Daddy?”
A thin line of milk coated her upper lip. Ryan resisted the urge to wipe it off until after this next toast. “Sure.”
“I get to go to Sam’s birthday party today and wear my princess dress. Yay!” Chortling, she again clinked rims with Ryan.
Not exactly a toast, but the giggles filling the room gladdened his heart.
“Can we do it again?” Maggie asked, after all but draining her glass.
Ryan swiped her mouth with his napkin. “Better not, or our food will get cold. Let’s eat.”
As he’d predicted, his daughter left half her breakfast. When she was done, he scooped the leftovers onto his plate and finished them.
“Can I go see G. G. and Tina this morning?” Maggie asked.
“In your pajamas?” he teased.
“No, silly. After I get dressed.”
Yesterday G. G. had looked terrible—thin, her face taut with pain and nearly gray. Ryan wondered whether Tina had scheduled an appointment with a doctor in Anacortes and when that would happen. Unless the appointment was today, he thought Tina should take her back to the clinic.
“You saw G. G. yesterday,” Ryan said. “Her hip hurts and she needs to rest. Besides, we have chores to do. It’s cleaning day, remember? We want to finish in time for Sam’s party.” Which started at two. “And you need time to wrap her present.”
“I know that, Daddy.” Maggie’s little mouth tightened into a stubborn line. “But I made G. G. a get-well card last night. Can’t I please bring it to her? Then she’ll feel better. I promise not to stay.”
The card was news to Ryan. “That’s really thoughtful, Sunshine. We’ll stick it under her welcome mat. Right now, though, it’s time to get dressed.” Hoping that would be the end of the matter, he stacked the dishes, slid back his chair and stood up.
“I could give it to Tina.”
“She’s busy with G. G. You don’t want to bother her.”
“’Kay.” Maggie gave an adult-size sigh. “Hey, maybe she’ll drive me to Sam’s party.”
“She may not even go.” Her stricken look tugged at his heart. “If G. G.’ s feeling bad, Tina will want to stay home with her.”
“Okay, but Tina knows how to do hair. If I’m a really good girl and get my chores done, can she fix my hair for the party?”
“I’m sick of hearing about Tina. Please, stop talking about her!”
At his sharp tone, Maggie’s face darkened. “I thought you liked her.”
The last thing he needed was to upset his daughter. He tucked her hair behind her ears. “First of all, you’re always good, Sunshine. Second, I do like Tina.” They both did, way too much. That was the problem. “Remember, she’s leaving next weekend.”
“I know. Don’t be sad, Daddy.” Maggie patted his leg. “It’ll be okay. If you want, I’ll stay home from the party so you don’t get too lonesome.”
She still felt responsible for his happiness, and his short fuse wasn’t helping. Ryan lightened his expression. “Hey, I’m not lonesome, I’m fine. But if you stay home, that’ll make me sad.”
She looked doubtful, so he crossed his eyes, put out his tongue, fixed his thumbs in his ears and wiggled his fingers. “See?”
Maggie giggled, and Ryan blew out a re
lieved breath.
“If we don’t start our chores, they’ll never get done.” He gently pointed her toward the doorway. “You get dressed while I clean up the kitchen. Then we’ll tackle your room.”
Chapter Eight
“Are you sure about this?” Tina asked G. G., who lay on the sofa. Her face was ashen, and clearly she still was in so much misery that Tina wasn’t at all sure she should go to the birthday party. “I’m happy to stay home. Kate and Sam will understand.”
“Nonsense. That party will take your mind off the promotion.” G. G. gave her an anxious look. “I just wish Mr. Sperling would call.”
“I’m not worried,” Tina said.
Which was a lie, but G. G. was already concerned enough without worrying over Tina. Jim Sperling was not a man to take his time making decisions, though, and Tina feared that she’d blown it, after all, and he’d chosen someone else for the job. If that happened, G. G. and everyone would be so disappointed. The very thought made Tina feel queasy, yet she managed a reassuring smile.
“Look.” G. G. gestured at the front window. “I see Marty and Susan Ross coming up the walk. So go and have fun.”
The doorbell rang, and Tina let them in.
“Hi, G. G., and hello, Tina.” Susan gave Tina a brief hug. “That’s a pretty outfit. Isn’t it a lovely afternoon?”
At some point overnight or early that morning the rain had stopped and the clouds had vanished, making a welcome change in the weather.
Marty followed, with another hug. “Hi, honey. Afternoon, G. G.” He hung up his and Susan’s coats. “You up for a game of Scrabble this afternoon, G. G.?”
“I don’t think so.”
Her failure to put on a cheerful face around company, something she otherwise always managed, made Tina uneasy. “I’m staying home,” she said.
“Absolutely not.” G. G. set her jaw. “Help her with her coat, will you, Marty? It’s the beige one.”
He took Tina’s coat from the closet and held it up for her. “She’ll be okay without you,” he said.
“All right, but I’ll leave my cell on—so call if you need anything.”
