“What?” Dawn’s shoulders drooped, deflated at missing the chance to hear juicy details. Even though Dawn didn’t work for the same company, she knew enough of the employees to enjoy gossip. “Then why did I pull a double?”
Maura’s cheeks burned. “I didn’t say I didn’t go out.”
Dawn picked up her pop and leaned back against the bar. She stuck the stirrer stick in her mouth, then talked around it. “Spill!”
Maura scanned the area, but it appeared everyone was occupied. “Well, I did go to the party, but I didn’t make it past the elevators when I realized it had fizzled out, and I hadn’t eaten, so I turned to leave.”
“You and forgetting to eat.” Dawn rolled her eyes and grabbed a handful of her hip. “Wish I forgot a few meals.”
“Oh, please. I wish I had half the curves you do.” She pushed back her friend’s long red hair. “And I’d kill for just half of your hair. I’ve got mousy brown hair and not even enough to make a decent ponytail.”
Dawn wiggled her wide beautiful hips. “I should work at the Tilted Kilt, huh? I could wear one of those push-up bras and talk sassy to the men.”
Maura laughed and picked up a bottle from the well, wiping it down. “As if you don’t talk sassy.”
Dawn followed her lead, picking up a bottle from the other side. “Girlfriend, you sure know how to change the subject from you. No wonder you’re going to be a journalist.”
Maura felt her lips turn up even more. “I am a journalist. Well, my name isn’t on it, but I got an article published.”
Dawn bounced on the rubber mat, her ample bosom jiggling. “OMG! More, more, more! What happened?”
Maura had to admit, as much as she tired of working two jobs and living with her cousin, the girl time with Dawn and Brittany was priceless. She wasn’t sure what she’d do without either woman.
From the elevator meeting to the pizza, wine, dessert, and the front-page article, to the And you just brought a smile to my face too text, Maura broke down the last six days for her friend.
“And you’re spending the day with him Saturday?” Dawn asked, her golden-brown eyes wide and sparkling.
“He hasn’t called or texted me what time to meet, but I know he doesn’t want to go through all the letters himself.”
Dawn grinned. “I’m sure going through letters isn’t the only thing he wants a partner for.”
Maura rolled up the bar towel she was using and snapped her friend. “Stop it. It’s a business meeting. He hasn’t even called or texted since Tuesday, and I texted him.”
Dawn scanned the bar area, then gathered her purse from beneath the register. “Well, now that I have all the details, I think you can handle the place on your own.” She inhaled deeply, then let it out. “I so enjoy love stories that start like this … Innocent and sweet …”
“Get out of here, you nut! Go watch some of your Christmas Hallmark movies.”
Dawn flashed a smile over her shoulder. “I think I might.” Then she pointed to the end of the bar. “You have a guest.” And she jogged off, singing and swaying her hips to the pop-style Christmas music Maura was already tired of.
Maura headed toward the end of the bar. The man’s back was to her, head down. Appeared he was reading something.
“Hey there. You have about two minutes ’til Happy Hour ends. Tap, domestics, wells, and house wines are fifty percent off.”
The man stuffed the paper into his coat pocket. “I’ll have —”
He looked up, and she gasped for no reason she could fathom. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t met nearly every employee from her day job at her night job. “Rick. Umm … Hi!”
“You work here, too?”
This time not only did her cheeks burn … she felt the warmth all the way down her neck. “Yeah, a few nights a week. It’s convenient, ya know.”
“I’d say.” He removed his coat and draped it over an empty barstool. “I hadn’t planned to stay long, but since you’re here,” he looked around the empty room, “and you’re not busy, do you mind?”
“Oh, gosh. Of course not. Why would I mind?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Hey … Who was the woman who just left? Does she have a kid?”
Maura felt like he’d slapped her. Why was he asking about Dawn? “Umm … you mean the tall redhead who just left? That’s Dawn. I don’t think she has kids. Why?”
Why are you asking about her? She wanted to ask. Then again, Dawn didn’t work for the same media site as he did, so why wouldn’t he ask about her? She was pretty, after all. And as Maura had stated earlier, Dawn had a heck of a body. Maura hadn’t inherited much of her mother’s curves.
“No reason.” Rick repositioned himself on the barstool. “I was just … she looked familiar.”
“Oh. Well, she’s lived in Chicago her entire life, so maybe you’ve met.”
“Maybe.”
The air between them was cooler than Friday night. He seemed … nervous.
“Well, what would you like?” she asked perfunctorily. No need to make him — or herself, for that matter — feel uncomfortable. As he’d said last week, he just wanted to hear her ideas. An idea he hadn’t put her name on. Which is okay, she quickly reminded herself. At least he’d published something she wrote, something that would ultimately help the community. Jessica had never published anything she’d written.
“Whatever red you suggest,” he said, his tone back to his easy-going style.
She opened a bottle of their house cab, which was pretty good as house wines went. He didn’t come off as pretentious, and he hadn’t asked for a wine menu, so she hoped his preference mimicked hers. As long as it tasted good, she’d drink it. She pulled a red wine glass from the rack and poured.
He raised his hand as she started to pour more than she was supposed to. “Five ounces is good. I’m driving.”
She set down the bottle and filled a glass with water for herself. “So … how is it going? The letters, I mean.”
He took a sip, nodded, then set down the glass. “Surprisingly well. I thought for sure that kids would be asking for gifts for themselves, but they’re sticking to the rules. Some ask for the community; some are asking for family members.” He stared into the mirror behind the bar, which reflected the city. “Good kids here, huh?”
“The best. I love the kids in my neighborhood. They’re all very respectful.”
He took another sip, then leaned back. “I’ve gone through nearly all that we’ve received already, so maybe we can just start checking them out on Saturday?”
“Ohhh …”
“I’m sorry. Are you disappointed? I told you I’m not scheduled to start until January, so this gave me something to do. Reading the letters is …” He looked up as if searching for the right word. “Addictive. But I’ll save some for you if you want.”
She couldn’t help but smile. Who would have thought that a man in a five-thousand-dollar suit would enjoy reading letters from inner-city children? “No, that’s wonderful. I’ll be able to concentrate on the best letters that you handpicked.”
His right hand moved to his pocket as if checking that he hadn’t lost his wallet. She recognized the movement. Before she left home, work, a coffee shop, the park … wherever, she’d always pat down her back pockets and purse, the two places she stored her phone. Credit cards, driver’s license, makeup … everything in her purse was replaceable. Her phone wasn’t. Smartphones cost a fortune, and she was required to have one for work so Jessica could reach her by text or email 24/7.
Maura couldn’t help but wonder what Rick was worried about in his pocket since the guy obviously made great money. Probably got a hundred-thousand-dollar signing bonus, too.
For the first time since Maura could remember, she wasn’t upset by the lack of clientele. She only had to stop talking to Rick a few times to take care of customers.
He ended up ordering the most expensive bottle of red they served to go with the dessert he ordered, but then asked her to seal it in a wine to-g
o bag.
“You only had one glass of the bottle,” she said, setting down the leather folder that held the bill. She would have comped him a drink. The owner allowed her to comp a few hundred dollars in drinks a month … to keep her regulars happy and coming back. But she couldn’t comp a bottle of this stuff.
“I’m driving. No more than one per hour, right?”
She looked at her watch. It was nine. Where had the last two hours gone? “Oh. Wow! I lost track of time.”
He glanced around. “Do you always close down the bar?”
“Just a few days a week.”
“Does someone walk you out?”
She smiled. How cute. “Yes. Your back has been to the lobby, but security has passed by several times, making sure all is cool.”
“Oh … Okay. Are you working tomorrow night?”
She blinked, feeling warmth crawl through her. “Yeah … I pretty much work every Monday, Thursday, and Friday.” She wondered if he were asking, so he could ask her to work on the project … or out on a date. Either way, she had to work. Tony would fire her if she took off another Friday night without notice. She wished she knew why he asked, though. They obviously weren’t going to be working in the same office; she would have heard by now if Jessica had hired a new journalist. Other employees dated people from different departments …
He nodded. “All right. Guess I’ll see you Saturday, then. I’ve mapped out the areas I want to check out. Want to just meet here in the lobby around nine?”
Maura forced a smile. “Sure. Nine is perfect.” Of course, he had been wondering whether she could work on the project. He’d been nice, but what interest would he have in her? Especially since he now knew she moonlighted as a bartender.
Rick stood and pulled on his coat. He stuffed money into the wallet and handed it to her. “You sure you’re okay to close up alone?”
“I’ve been doing it for nearly three years.”
He nodded. “It was slow tonight, and it’s the Christmas season, so I added a little extra tip. It’s what I do, so please don’t take it the wrong way.”
Maura accepted the leather folder and nodded. “Thank you.” She didn’t look, of course. She never looked at a tip before a guest left. “Good night. I’ll see you Saturday.”
He smiled and walked away. From behind, she noticed how high and tight he wore his hair. And how well his gray suit was tailored to every inch of his body.
She shook her head as her view of him was blocked by the closing elevator doors. Only then did she look at the bill folder. She pulled out the two crisp hundred-dollar bills for the eighty-dollar check. It wasn’t the first time she’d received a generous tip. One time, she’d received a hundred-dollar tip on one Jack and Coke. That man had just won the lottery, though.
As much as she was excited about the tip, which she would use for Ben’s Christmas present, the note he’d scrawled across the bill had her heart thumping faster: Can’t wait to see you Saturday.
Chapter 7
Typically, Maura would have been upset that Ben wanted to stay at a friend’s house two weekends in a row. But since she had plans — work — and her son bemoaned that it was Billy’s birthday and that all the boys his age were sleeping over and going to laser tag on Saturday, how could she object?
How she wished she could throw extravagant birthday parties, inviting hundreds of kids.
For the hundredth time since she stepped off the bus, Maura checked her watch: 8:45. She had arrived way too early, but public transportation could be unreliable. She always arrived fifteen minutes to a half-hour before a scheduled event, just in case.
When her eyes weren’t on her watch, they were on the elevator. Each time Rick had arrived or left, he’d done it via the elevator … the garage. She assumed since they needed a vehicle today, he’d arrive that way again.
Other than a few tourists checking out the lobby, the security guard making rounds, and the Saturday workaholics who headed directly upstairs, the first floor was barren.
Maura had first chosen to sit on one of the leather sofas, but then had moved twice when she realized that sitting on the sofa, or any deep-cushioned chair, didn’t offer the most flattering view of her body. In the end, she chose a stool at a hightop table that offered a great view of the elevator corridor.
The bar where she worked nights was closed, but she’d filled a highball with water so she had something to keep her hands occupied.
She glanced at her watch again: 8:50. “Where is he?” She lifted her phone. No messages. Had he stood her up? She wagged her head at her own stupid thoughts. How can he stand you up when it’s not a date? Business, Maura!
But … Another voice chimed in her head. A man only interested in business doesn’t leave you a hundred-dollar tip and write down that he can’t wait to see you. Then again, he’d said that he always leaves good tips during the holidays. Ugh! Stop it, Maura!
She stared down at the nicest jeans she owned and the red silk blouse she had chosen to wear. Yeah, she told herself that it was professional looking and festive all in one. But really, next to the LBD, it was the most expensive outfit in her closet. Brittany had given her the blouse Christmas past, and her cousin had exquisite taste.
Maura jumped when someone touched her shoulder. “Oh!” She looked up to see Rick. Her hand flew to her chest. “I was totally lost in thought.” She laughed, breathless.
“I noticed.” He pulled out a barstool and sat. “Even wearing tennis shoes, I honestly didn’t think I was that quiet. Sorry.”
“You’re fine. Totally me.” She waved her hand. “I was off in La-La Land, I guess.”
“What were you daydreaming about? I lived in La-La Land for a while, and I can tell you it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”
She laughed again, then searched for a change of subject. “So, what’s on our agenda?”
He cocked his head as if he was going to ask a question, but then smiled and flopped a messenger bag onto the table. He dug inside, pulling out a thick stack of pages held together with a massive binder clip. He pulled out another pile of clipped-together pages, nearly the same thickness, the top sheet a printed map with a location circled in red ink.
While he set up the table with items from the bag, Maura studied him. He wore his hair high and tight, the way her husband had, even after he’d left the military. He was dressed simply in a long-sleeve black T-shirt and jeans, but she noticed that there wasn’t a wrinkle or speck of lint on his shirt. Definitely a military background.
He tapped the first stack. “These are all the letters that I’ve narrowed down so far.” He picked up the second stack. “And these are the locations I want to check out. And this …” He unfolded a map of downtown. “Each number on the map coordinates with one of the addresses, so we can go in order. That way, we’re not driving back and forth.”
She threw her hand over her mouth to hold back a chuckle.
“What?” he asked.
“You’re so … organized.”
His brow furrowed, the first chink in his armor she’d seen. “Is being organized a bad thing?”
“No, not at all. I’m just … not used to it. Typically, I’m the one organizing everyone else. I’m not used to —” She waved her hands. “It’s great.” And she suddenly realized she was overdressed. This was a business day. But that’s a good thing, she reminded herself. Good for your career and for the Chicago youth.
Rick handed her the stack of letters. “Don’t shift them out of order, or we’ll be here for weeks.”
She peeked up, and he flashed a wide grin. Was it her imagination, or did that smile indicate he wouldn’t mind if they had to work together for weeks?
Not that they had time. Christmas was fast approaching. Her eyes on the pages, she smiled.
Dear Santa,
Please bring my school art supplies. We used to have some when I was little, but now the teacher says the school can’t afford them. I want my little brother and his friends to like art
the way I did when I was little. I’m nine now, so I don’t need it as much.
Love,
Timmy
“Ohhh …” She looked up at Rick, and his face was as drawn as hers felt.
“That’s far from the saddest. I put the pages in order by the map. We might very well be here all day.”
“I know … I just …” She sighed. “I just realized I complain too much.”
His lips quirked up. “I haven’t heard you complain.”
She tapped her head. “Mostly, I complain in my head.” She didn’t want to tell him that she heard her words through her son and cousin and even her coworkers. That was one rule she never broke; she never talked about her home life at work. He didn’t need to know her troubles … or the fact that she has a child. Although it was against the law to discriminate against single mothers, she knew companies did it. They didn’t come right out and ask if a woman had a child, but they asked in other ways. Not once had she called in sick, using the excuse that her son was ill or that she had an event, so they could never hold it over her head. But several times when Jessica had requested she interview a potential employee, she’d asked her to find out if the woman was married or had kids. Sad, that even a woman would stoop that low. But Jessica didn’t have kids. It didn’t appear she was getting married any time soon either. So the woman would continue working seventy-two hours a week, and expect everyone else in her employ to do so as well.
“Well,” Rick said with a wink, “don’t we all complain when no one else can hear?”
She couldn’t imagine what he could complain about. He acted like he had the world by the tail. Instead of voicing her thoughts, she flipped to the next letter.
Dear Santa,
My mother asked me to write this letter, even though you never bring me what I ask for …
Maura inhaled a deep breath. Maybe she’d been wrong. Perhaps this wasn’t a good idea.
Rick touched her hand. “What happened?”
“Am I wrong? What if this project makes the children even more hopeless?”
Chicago Hope Page 5