She poured the espresso into the cup and started steaming the milk for the latte. The bells above the door jingled, signaling another customer. She didn’t notice who it was until he stepped up to the register. Her heart did a funny flip that felt good and bad all at the same time.
“Hey, Linn,” Adam said, his smile making her insides heat up faster than the milk she was steaming. With his neatly combed hair and long overcoat, he looked every inch like the preacher he would someday be.
A petite woman slid up and nestled against his side. He put an arm around her waist.
“Tara, Linn, this is Elizabeth, my fiancée. Lizzy wanted to come in and meet you.”
Elizabeth reached across the counter and shook Linn’s hand. “I’ve heard so much about you guys; I wanted to put faces with names.” Her honey-colored hair was clipped up on the sides except for a few wavy tendrils that framed her delicate face.
Tara extended a hand with long nails that were about as fake as the smile on Linn’s face.
Linn poured the steamed milk into the cup, stirred, and placed a lid on top. “Snickers Latte,” she called.
The customer, a tall guy who sometimes flirted with her, winked at her as he took the drink, his gaze lingering. “Thanks.”
When she darted a glance at Adam, he was watching the tall guy walk away.
Tara took their orders, then Adam and Elizabeth slid down the counter to where Linn had started brewing shots of espresso. Elizabeth removed her coat, revealing a sweater and skirt set, both flattering and conservative. The black sweater had a draping collar that showed off her elegant neck, and the skirt flared out at the knees in a way that was flirty, yet innocent.
“Been busy tonight?” Adam asked.
“Yeah, pretty much.” Linn didn’t dare look at him as she answered. Her stomach had curdled up into a sour ball at the sight of Adam’s fiancée. She was cute and petite and looked every bit like the perfect wife for Adam. Linn focused on the espresso machine, trying to keep her expression neutral. Could Adam tell she was bothered? She’d never been good at hiding her feelings.
She was relieved when Elizabeth struck up a conversation with a customer who was seated at a nearby table.
“It’s almost midnight,” Adam said.
Why did he have to have such a rich, deep voice?
“I know.” Duh. Could I sound more stupid?
Catching a whiff of his musky cologne, she bit the inside of her mouth until it hurt while she poured the shots of espresso into the grande cup.
As she started more shots, she noticed that Elizabeth had found a seat by the window.
“Are you OK?” he asked. “I’m sorry you had to work tonight.”
Adam had requested the night off so he could go to some event at the seminary with Elizabeth. When she glanced up at him to answer his question, she knew immediately it was a mistake. His brown eyes were injected with a dose of guilt that reminded her of a puppy dog that has just been caught chewing a shoe.
“It doesn’t matter. I didn’t have plans anyway.” She would not look at him again. She wouldn’t.
But her eyes darted helplessly toward him and stuck. Flecks of snow still clung to his hair, and already he had a five-o’clock shadow. Her gaze traveled down to the cleft in his chin, and she thought once again that he was way too handsome to be a preacher. Every woman in his church would be fighting temptation because he was everything a woman wanted in a man.
Except he was taken. Why did she always want the guys who were taken?
Linn cleared her throat and turned to pump the vanilla flavoring into Elizabeth’s cup. She was glad to turn her heated face away from Adam. If she could just get these drinks made, maybe he’d take his fiancée and leave. Surely they had someplace else they wanted to be when the clock struck midnight . . . even though a glance at the clock told her there were only minutes to go.
She poured the steamed milk into the cups, and Adam put the lids on. “So you’re not mad at me?”
For being so perfect? For making me fall for you? For throwing your fiancée in my face? “Why would I be mad?”
Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw him shrug.
“For sticking you with New Year’s Eve.”
“It’s just another night to me, Adam.” Her voice was more clipped than she’d intended. She threw a smile his way to soften it, but the smile felt as brittle as thin ice.
He had both drinks, so why wouldn’t he just leave? Turn around and go back to Elizabeth, who was undoubtedly waiting to greet him with her friendly smile and missionary demeanor.
“Sugar-free raspberry granita,” Tara told Linn, handing her the clear plastic cup.
She’d have to go to the back to make this one. Relief flooded through her at the chance to escape Adam.
“You guys have a good evening,” she said without looking directly at him before she turned to go.
“Wait.” He took hold of her wrist, and her pulse jumped even while his fingers slid away.
He paused until she glanced up at him. One look into his brown eyes, and she nearly melted into a puddle of chocolate. Adam was everything she’d ever wanted in a man. Kind, considerate, compassionate, protective.
Except he was taken.
Why did she keep forgetting that?
Worse, he was taken by a sweet, innocent, selfless woman whose past was undoubtedly as pure as the snow falling outside the window.
As opposed to Linn, who’d had an affair with a married man, broken up the marriage, and nearly aborted the child conceived by that relationship. If Elizabeth was as clean as the freshly fallen snow, Linn was as dirty as the slush lining the street curbs.
“Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . .” The patrons began counting down the last seconds of the year, their voices picking up momentum.
With Adam’s eyes still locked on hers, Linn felt as frozen as the winter ground.
That is, until Elizabeth tugged him to her side, turning his face toward her.
The patrons continued their countdown, “Three . . . two . . . one . . . Happy New Year!”
Elizabeth cupped Adam’s face and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips.
Linn hurried to the back of the shop with the plastic cup in hand. In the background, party horns went off, echoing the chaos in her heart.
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
Paula slid into her desk chair and set her bag on the floor beside her. The newsroom was empty this time of night, but she’d been so busy reporting, she hadn’t had time to keep up with things at the office. She needed to sort through the stack of mail that was mixed in with all her notes, business cards, and receipts she’d thrown down as she passed her desk. She was beginning to see she’d never have the time if she didn’t forego sleep.
In the almost three weeks since her “Switched at Birth” story had aired on Good Morning America, the Morgans had appeared on the Today Show, and numerous newspaper articles had appeared around the country. The story was hot, and if Paula didn’t get organized, some other reporter was going to beat her to the punch.
She pulled the chain on the little desk lamp she’d brought from home to illuminate her workspace. The office was quiet—eerily so when she was used to the noise of the newsroom during the daytime.
Oddly, she found the quiet more distracting than the noise. After opening the program on her computer that had all her findings on the Morgan story, she began typing in notes. She had three weeks’ worth of information taken from interviews she did herself and tidbits she collected from the articles other reporters had written.
If she could only be the one to solve the mystery, her career would take off like a bottle rocket on the Fourth of July. Miles intimated that she’d be a shoo-in for the anchor chair, and who knows what else would follow once the national media got wind that she’d solved the mystery?
After she input all the information into the program, she saved the data, then tossed her notes into the trash and began sorting through her mail. Most of it was fa
n mail from viewers and thank-you notes from people she’d interviewed.
Her hands stopped when she unfolded a sheet of notebook paper. The familiarity of the dark handwriting sent shivers down her spine.
I hope you liked my poem.
We need to mete soon.
Your very pretty.
If the handwriting caused shivers, the words inflicted dread. She dropped the note on her desk and glanced around the darkened newsroom. The note wasn’t in an envelope as if it had been mailed. How long had it been on her desk? She’d seen it yesterday, she thought, but it could have been there for a week, amid all her piles.
She caught sight of Darrick’s desk several yards away. Could he be playing a prank on her? Maybe he was trying to psyche her out to distract her from the anchor job.
Well, she wouldn’t let it happen. She wadded up the note and tossed it into the trash can. Even though Darrick put on a good face around her, she knew he had to be seething inside about the success of her story on the Morgans. Miles had taken her out for lunch at least once a week since Christmas, and she knew Darrick had to be feeling the sting of that setback. Not to mention the weekend anchors, Jaron and Roxy.
Paula had become well known very quickly as the Morgans’ story was splashed across newspapers from Maine to California. Deb had phoned the previous day and told her that Good Housekeeping wanted to run the story in their magazine. The Morgans had been inundated with reporters and interviews.
Still, even after all those reporters had undoubtedly snooped into every possible angle of the story, it remained a mystery. What had happened to the Morgans’ birth child, and whose birth child was Faith? Maybe they’d never find answers, but Paula wasn’t about to give up.
A creak sounded from somewhere, and Paula jumped. Her eyes darted down the hallway while her blood zinged through her veins. Was someone here? Even the janitor was gone this time of night. Maybe a door was sliding shut or the furnace had creaked when it came on. She wasn’t familiar with the little sounds the building made since they were covered with the chaos of a newsroom during the day.
She was ready to go home anyway. She gathered up her purse and coat and left the room, taking the opposite hallway. It was a longer route, but after the creepy love note and the mysterious noise, she wasn’t taking any chances.
The building emptied into the parking garage, and as she entered the deserted garage, her heart could have substituted for a bass drum in a rock band. Her hands shook as she slid her key into the car door. Somewhere down at street level, a truck roared by.
She yanked open the door and got inside, shutting and locking the door. She breathed a sigh of relief and started the car with a turn of the key.
Suddenly she remembered when her sister Natalie had been attacked in her own car. She turned to make sure the backseat was empty.
You’re being ridiculous, Paula. For heaven’s sake, get a grip.
If only Darrick could see her now, he’d probably laugh his head off. She gave a wry laugh herself as she drove out of the parking garage and drove the short distance to her apartment.
As her anxiety drained away, she turned her thoughts to David. She missed talking to him today, but there would probably be an e-mail from him when she got home. Their relationship had come so far since New Year’s. He was a different man, and she felt like a different woman when she was with him. They still had the major obstacle of where to live between them, but they decided to table that discussion for the time being. Although David had to know the anchor job was within reach.
When she got home, there was a message on her voice mail from Natalie, asking her to call in the morning and saying it was important.
After getting into her pajamas, she went online and retrieved a sweet e-mail from David, telling her he missed her and was taking this coming Saturday off so they could spend it together. She sent a quick e-mail back. On her way to bed, she stopped at the living-room window where her African violet sat. She’d watered it regularly, taking care to keep the water off the leaves, kept it at seventy degrees, but even so, the flowers had faded and the leaves were turning pale yellow. Substituting the plant food couldn’t make that much difference, could it? She’d never been much for houseplants, but surely she could keep a little plant alive.
Too weary to do anything about it, she decided to turn in for the night.
* * *
When the buzz of her alarm woke Paula the next morning, she felt like she was coming out of a coma. Could it possibly be time to get up already? As she sat on the edge of the bed, snippets of a dream came back to her. She’d been in a dark building with David, and a doctor was telling him about the abortion.
She’d been lying on a hospital bed and couldn’t talk. She tried to stop the doctor, but her mouth wouldn’t open. She watched while the doctor told David everything, and that’s all she remembered. The alarm must’ve gone off then.
She shook off the dream with a lingering, warm shower, then dressed in her favorite Anne Klein pantsuit. Over breakfast she remembered she was supposed to call Natalie, but a glance at the clock told her it was too early back home to call. She made a mental note to call later.
The morning flew by in a rush of interviews, phone calls, and note taking, and she was on her way back to the newsroom when her cell phone rang.
“This is Paula.”
“Oh, good, I’m glad I was able to reach you.”
Natalie.
Paula grimaced. “I meant to call you back. Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. Listen, I have a favor to ask. Remember what I told you over Christmas about Linn’s apartment situation?”
Paula braked at a light. She remembered Natalie’s telling her about Linn’s roommate moving out and that she might have to find another place to live.
Paula closed her eyes. No. This isn’t happening.
“Well, she’s being evicted. I’m sorry for the late notice, but Linn didn’t tell me until last night. Her landlord has already given her extra time, but he’s found a new tenant, so she has to be out by tomorrow.” Paula wanted to do what she always did: hand over a check to smooth over the situation. She was always willing to help people. But between the house in Jackson, the apartment rental in Chicago, and plane trips home on weekends, she and David weren’t exactly rolling in disposable income right now. David was already distressed about the extra expenditures, and she didn’t want to ruin the rapport between them now.
“Paula? Are you there?”
“I’m here.”
A car honked behind her, and she saw that the light had turned green. She accelerated.
“I’m really sorry to ask you this, but I don’t know how else to help her. With the down payment on the new house, Kyle and I are tapped out.”
Nat sounded sorry. Sorry that she couldn’t help and sorry that she had to ask Paula for a favor. Well, Paula was sorry too. She worked hard all day, and when she came home, she didn’t want to baby-sit a college girl.
“I know what you’re thinking, but Linn is really easy to have around. When she lived with me, she made my life so much easier. And it would only be until she found something else.”
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, Paula thought. It wasn’t like she was home all that much anyway. And Linn had college and a job to keep her busy too.
“She’s a sweet kid who just needs a break.”
Paula knew Linn’s past—knew about her lazy, alcoholic father. Her mom had died of some disease, and her sister had been killed in a car accident. Linn had gotten pregnant out of wedlock and gave up her baby to Natalie for adoption. The kid had experienced enough tragedy in her short lifetime for two people. How could Paula not help?
“All right, all right. She can stay with me for a while.” The words were out before Paula could stop them. She hoped she wouldn’t regret her decision.
“You won’t be sorry, I promise.”
Famous last words.
Paula sighed quietly. “Give me her number, and I’ll call h
er.”
“She doesn’t have a phone, but you could call her at the coffee shop. No—wait—I’ll just call her and tell her to call you. I haven’t said a word to Linn about this yet, so I’ll need to explain what’s going on. It’ll be a complete surprise to her, and she’s going to be so grateful and helpful. You’ll see.”
Three hours later Paula was sitting at her desk when her cell phone rang again.
“Is this Paula?”
She knew immediately the young-sounding voice had to be Linn’s. She greeted the girl while opening the program that held all her notes on the Morgan story.
“Natalie told me you’d be willing to let me stay with you for a little while. I really appreciate that.” The relief in the girl’s voice came through loud and clear.
“Sure. No problem. I guess we need to arrange for your things to be moved to my place.” Paula scanned the files for the Morgan document but didn’t see it.
“Well, not really. I don’t have much, and I can bring all of it with me on the bus if you give me your address. I need to be out by tomorrow, so maybe I could meet you there after work?”
Paula hardly heard a word. She kept scanning the short list of files in her program. She only had a dozen or so. Where was it? Where was the file that contained all her notes?
“Paula?”
“What?” She snapped the word . . . and immediately regretted it. “Sorry, I’m a little distracted. Listen, can I call you back? I’m right in the middle of something.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. You can call me at the coffee shop anytime the rest of the day.”
After Paula hung up, she closed the program and reopened it, hoping for some miracle. While the program logo flashed on the screen, she tapped her nails on the keyboard.
Come on. Be there.
The program opened, and she scanned the list of documents once, twice, three times. She hadn’t backed them up. She’d always been negligent about that. Frustrated, she shoved the keyboard back and smacked the edge of her desk with her palm.
Finding Faith Page 11