Maura was pretty sure it was the blood rushing through her extremities that suddenly made it feel like it was ninety degrees, not twenty. Still, she let her eyes roam the length of the restaurant. “You’re right. It is warm. Cozy.”
“So …” He tapped the table in front of her. “How do you give kids hope?”
“Well, I’m not sure exactly, but I know hope drives all of us. Without hope, there’s no need to get out of bed in the morning. If kids can’t see past the drug dealer on the corner, how do they know they can be more? If they live in squalor, how can they imagine a better life? How can they believe in Santa Claus, when they hear other children get toys, and their parents can’t even afford to buy Christmas dinner?”
Rick sighed. “So, what’s to be done?”
“I submitted an article last year about a localized Dear Santa project. Not just because a child writes in that their mother is dying and needs a new pair of shoes. But a reward for young people who want more for their community. Our company is set locally in Chicago, and yet, too often, all the articles are about far-away places. We have enough going on in Chicago; we don’t need to look around the world.”
The waiter brought their wine, opening it up and allowing each of them to sample the deep-red nectar. Behind the man, another server brought a brilliantly shiny chocolate dessert that looked to die for. Lactose intolerance be damned, she was going to enjoy this piece of heaven.
The waiter left, leaving them to stare at the one plate. It seemed so intimate, sharing a dessert with a man she’d only known a couple hours. Still, she raised her fork and cut off a bite from her side. She wouldn’t take more than a couple bites anyway.
He did the same from his side, then followed the morsel with the wine. “How would you organize something like that?”
“Me?” She laughed. “I’m a writer, not an organizer.”
“You said you wanted to change the world. If I got it approved, would you be willing to sift through the thousands of letters with me?”
When would I have time? “Yes,” she said without overthinking it. He was right. Too many people complained about the world, but so few actually stood up and did anything about it. She didn’t want to be one of those people. “Yes. If you can get it approved, I’ll help you sift through the letters.”
“And check out the validity of their claims?”
“Whew! Yeah. I guess that would be in order.”
He lifted his glass. “To changing the world.”
She held up her glass, too, but bit down on her lip. “To changing the world.”
What have I gotten myself into?
Chapter 5
Maura’s office phone rang. Rarely did she get calls. Jessica just screamed down the hall or texted when she needed something. And so far, no emergencies had popped up, even though it was a Monday.
She’d been thinking about Rick all weekend, but he hadn’t asked for her number, and she hadn’t offered it. After their delicious meal and dessert and wine, she’d asked him to drop her off at the office building. Again, even though he seemed sweet, she wasn’t in the habit of letting men she’d just met know where she lived.
Since the phone obviously wasn’t going to stop ringing, she picked it up. “Maura Hall.”
“Did you know your name means bitter?”
She recognized the smooth, silky voice. Rick. “Yes, and no … While some variations of the spelling do mean bitter, my father named me after his grandmother. In Scottish, Maura is also a version of Mary. And my father said, if anyone ever accused me of being bitter, remind them that Moses tossed a piece of wood into the River Marah, making it sweet and fit to drink.”
“I like it.” A second passed, and she was about to fill the dead air, when he spoke again, “You just caught the tire, Sweetness. We’re going to run the article tomorrow. All entries have to be in by next Monday, which leaves us nine days to sift through them, confirm their validity, and deliver before Christmas.”
“How did you —?”
“I pitched it to the man upstairs, and he agreed.”
She glanced around the room, wondering if she was being punked. “Which man upstairs?”
“All of them.”
She laughed, then covered her mouth. “Okay … What gives?”
“Hey! You don’t think they brought me from L.A. just because of my connections and good looks, do you?”
“Or your cockiness.”
“It’s done,” he said point-blank. “I’m not allowed to take you off your job, though. Apparently, you’re too valuable, and I was instructed not to create waves before the new year. So … can you meet me after work?”
Maura deflated. After work? There was no after-work time for her. After she finished her day job, she headed to her second job if she was scheduled. After that, she headed home to cook, clean, and help Ben with his homework. She fell into bed exhausted every night. But … more than likely, the letters wouldn’t come until the weekend. She could ask Tony not to put her on the schedule next week. She could take some time this weekend, and then next week.
“Maura?” Rick’s tone was laced with concern.
“Um … I can meet you on Saturday. We can go over all the letters that come in, and then next week, after work, we can do our recognizance.”
“Perfect. I’ll let you know where to meet on Saturday. Text me your phone number, please.” He read off his phone number, then started talking again, “Thank goodness I knew where you worked. I didn’t have as much as a glass slipper to go on. I would have had to knock on every Chicago door to find my mystery woman.”
She exhaled a relieved breath that he was willing to work with her. “Mystery woman. As if …”
He huffed into the phone, and she could imagine that wide smile of his. “I would have, Maura,” he said, all lightheartedness abandoned. He paused only a second, then started right in again, “But … I have your number now, and I’ll start going through the letters as they come in this week. I’ll text you when and where to meet me.”
“Thank you, Rick,” she said sincerely. “For taking this idea seriously.”
“Of course. It’s a good idea, Maura. I’ll see you Saturday.” And he disconnected the line.
Maura sat back in her chair and glanced around again. No one was looking at her, and yet, she felt eyes on her, in a good way.
As she leaned back and gazed at the ceiling, she felt something that she had been missing for a long time. She stared at the walls, the architectural work that had been put into the ceilings, the crown molding, the framed windows and doors. The building was old, but it had character. Rick was right; she felt warm. For the first time since she moved to Chicago, she felt wanted, important even.
She was going to make a difference. Maybe not in the world, but she was going to make a difference in her world, in her mother’s hometown.
Monday day and night flew by as she rushed to finish everything at her day job, worked Monday Night Happy Hour, and helped Ben with a book report that was due before Christmas break.
All day Tuesday, she stared at her un-ringing phone. Why? What was she thinking? Rick had no reason to call. Not until Saturday approached anyway.
She also spent every spare minute refreshing the Home page, waiting for the Dear Santa project to begin. She clicked the Lifestyle tab, thinking maybe it’d been tucked away there. After all, why would her project make the front page? It was silly. Who even cared anymore?
Still finding nothing, she clicked the Search option and typed in Dear Santa. A few things popped up, but not her idea. She added quotes to “Dear Santa,” so she’d only get exact results.
Nothing.
Had he been punking her?
Thankfully, she didn’t have a night shift on Tuesday, the deadest night of the week. If she had, she would have had to force a smile for her regulars.
Not feeling like cooking, she grabbed a rotisserie chicken from Jewels grocery that Ben could eat off all week, and a plastic tray of sushi for herself.
She usually didn’t splurge, but if Ben was happy, she’d be happy.
How had she gone from not caring to being devastated in a matter of days? She’d worked for the media company for nearly three years. Why had she gotten her hopes up that the article would post today?
Food in one hand and briefcase and gym bag in the other, Maura backed her way inside the apartment. “Ben!”
“Me first, Mommy.”
“Mine first, Mommy.” Chattering voices overtalking each other emanated from Brittany’s room.
“One at a time, please,” her cousin said. “I’m not Maura. I’m not accustomed to editing other people’s works.”
Maura removed her scarf and poked her head through Brittany’s open door. She saw her two younger cousins staring up at their mother. “What’s going on, Britt?”
Brittany fanned two pieces of paper. “My greedy little munchkins here are writing their letters to Santa.”
Maura laughed. “Really? Lemme see.”
Brittany handed her two pages, written and drawn in crayon. “I told them I’d scan them and send them in.”
Maura squinted at her cousin. “Send them where?”
“To the North Pole, of course …” She lowered her head. “Via your company.”
“What?” She ran to her cousin’s computer screen. Her eyes roamed the page. Front and center, in beautiful, bold lettering, the announcement that Santa wants to better local communities filled the screen. “Front page! Oh my!” She scanned to the bottom. No writer was assigned to the article. Oh well, she was just happy that Rick had done what he said he would do.
Brittany waved her hand, indicating her two children. “And these two yahoos think Santa has the time or money to build a park in the prairie.”
Maura looked down at her younger cousins’ deep-chocolate eyes, so expectant, so full of wonder and anticipation. She ruffled their heads. “That’s a great idea, guys!”
She hated the kids playing in the vacant lot. Too many druggies shot up there. Not to mention the times she’d come home after dark and seen a shadowy figure hustling a trick.
Every time Ben insisted he go with his cousins, she had to do a sweep of the area, making sure she didn’t find discarded needles or used condoms. Disgusting! She nearly vomited just thinking about the things they’d found. She had a set of tongs to pick up stray garbage, so her son and cousins could play Wiffle ball.
In her opinion, every block in the inner city should have a place for young people to play. Like she had told Rick, she hadn’t had a lot of money growing up, but she had a piece of land to play on.
Rick! “Oh, my gosh! I have to thank him.” She turned to leave the room, and Brittany followed.
“Are you telling me they’re really going to grant a wish as long as it’s for the betterment of the community? Or is this just some publicity stunt?”
Maura smiled. “Wishes … He wasn’t sure of the money, but he said it was a great idea to build trust within the community.” She lowered her voice. “Plus, he’s contacting Northwestern, hoping he can get them to pitch in some scholarships.”
Brittany charged back into the room. “Back to the drawing board. I want to see nice penmanship and a well-written letter. No crayons. If you want Santa to fulfill your wish, you need to make sure you show respect.”
Goosebumps crawled up Maura’s arms, and she blinked back tears. She’d put hope in her cousins’ hearts. And Rick had helped. She sniffed back the tears and headed to her own room. “Ben?”
He covered his paper.
“What are you doing, sweetheart?”
“Writing a letter.”
“To Santa?”
He looked up and rolled his eyes, then shot a glance at the door. “No … I’m writing a letter to your boss. You know I don’t believe in Santa.”
She closed the door, then sat on the bed next to him. She brushed his long curls out of his face. “Oh, honey. You’re growing up way too fast.”
“Sorry, Mom.”
“It’s okay. You’ll always be my baby, no matter how grown-up you are.”
“I know.”
She reached for the page, and he pulled back. “Why can’t I see it?”
“Because you can’t. It’s private.”
She laughed. “You know … I headed up this project, so I might see it anyway.”
“Yeah. Brittany said that. But she also said there’s another guy on it, so I’ll write No Girls Allowed on the front.”
Maura dipped her head. “Okay. I won’t open an envelope marked No Girls Allowed.” She ran her hand over the top of his head. “You didn’t tell your cousins that there isn’t a Santa Claus, did you?”
“No, Mom. I wouldn’t do that.”
She nodded, thankful again for her son’s good-hearted personality. And oddly enough, he was younger than his nine and eleven-year-old cousins. Even the teenaged girl who lived with her mother in the third room didn’t behave as maturely as Ben.
“Hey!” she said. “I brought home chicken, so I’ll whip up some Kraft Mac & Cheese. You hungry?”
“Starving.”
“Good. Go wash up!”
He tucked the letter in his folder, then glared at her. “Don’t peek, okay?”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
He left the room, and she pulled out her phone. She’d already added Rick’s number to her favorites page. She clicked his name, then sent him a quick text. Thank you. The page is beautiful. You brought smiles to an entire family today. – Maura.
She waited a second, then shoved the phone into her purse’s side pocket.
A second later, her phone buzzed, so she pulled it out again. And you just brought a smile to my face. See you Saturday. – Rick
She whooshed out a breath. What have I gotten myself into?
Chapter 6
Between organizing Jessica’s schedule, arranging the woman’s travel for the upcoming month, sorting mail, and editing Jim Johnson’s articles, Maura barely had time to check her phone.
And yet, she did. Repeatedly. Too often. A ridiculous amount of times.
At one point, she had even called her mobile with her desk phone, then called her office with her cell.
It was only Thursday. Rick could text her where they were supposed to meet tomorrow or even Saturday.
But what if he doesn’t?
“Stop it! You’re acting as if you’re sixteen.”
Jim plopped onto the edge of her desk. “Who’s acting like they’re sixteen?”
“You!” She swatted him with the envelopes she was sorting. “Get off my desk.”
He obeyed, but all he did was lean against the cubicle wall, arms crossed. “Where were you Friday night?”
“It’s none of your business where I was.”
“So … you are seeing someone?”
She leaned back. “Jim, why must we keep doing this? I told you, I don’t date fellow employees.”
He shrugged, looking like a little lost boy.
His downcast eyes disarmed her. “What’s the matter? What happened?” Was there an announcement about the new CEO that she’d missed? Layoffs, maybe?
“Nothing’s the matter,” he said. “It’s just … you know how country folks are. We’re not used to being alone during the holidays.” He stared down at her, two tiny lines forming between his thick, but well-maintained eyebrows. “Don’t you miss your family, Maura?”
She blinked, waking herself up from the sudden trance. No way was she falling for this act. Sure, Jim might miss his family, but he’d tried every move in the book. This lonely act was just one more line, she was certain, so she shrugged off his question. “Sure, I miss my home state, but I have my son and cousins here.”
No sense in detailing the fact that she really didn’t have any family to return to even if she wanted. The last time she’d gone back was to attend her grandmother’s funeral. There was nothing left for her in North Carolina except memories. Many good, but the sad outweighed the good.
�
�Hmmm …” was all Jim said.
She found herself looking over Jim’s head, wondering if Rick might show up. He knew where she worked now, and the weekend was closing in — she mentally slapped herself. See, Maura. This is why you don’t date coworkers. What would she think if she walked into Rick’s office and saw a woman perched on his desk? She wouldn’t like it, she knew that. And she wasn’t even dating the guy. Hell, she didn’t even know where his office was … if he even had an office yet.
Maura closed her computer and gathered up her things. She flashed a look back up at Jim, who hadn’t moved. “Jim, why don’t you fly home for the holidays? You can submit your articles to me from there just as easily.”
His eyes widened, then he straightened and dropped his crossed arms. “I think I might do that.”
She smiled. The big oaf hadn’t been tossing out a line. He really did miss his family. Still … “I think that’s a good idea, Jim. Jessica will be traveling most of the month, so she probably won’t mind.”
“Hmmm … Jessica. Right.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Too bad you didn’t make the party. We had fun. Jessica sure can dance, and she’s not too bad a singer. I think I’ll go see her now.”
Maura imagined the two of them together and restrained a shiver. “Great, Jim. See ya!” She hustled out of the office before he suggested she go with him. She pressed the elevator Down arrow, finding herself looking for Rick to show up again.
The doors opened, but no such luck. Maura headed to the lobby, to the private washroom, changed into her black and white uniform, and joined Dawn behind the bar. “Kinda slow, huh?”
“Been slow all day,” Dawn said. “I may cut out early if it’s all right with you. We’ll probably get hit again tomorrow.”
“Of course,” Maura said. “I owe you one anyway.”
“Speaking of which …” Dawn wiggled her hips. “How was the party? We haven’t had a chance to talk since last Friday. Meet any hot execs?”
Maura shrugged as she tied her apron around her waist. “I never really made it to the party.”
Chicago Hope Page 4