Almost Home

by Macomber, Debbie; Duarte, Judy; Lamb, Cathy; Mary Carter

  “That’s right. We moved in this past weekend and opened for business on Monday.” Marc settled into his seat. “But what I’d like to promote is the scholarship foundation I’ve created for disadvantaged high-school students who can’t afford to attend college without assistance.”

  “That’s a good cause.”

  Marc thought so. He had no idea where he’d be if he hadn’t received financial aid in college. “With June approaching, I’d like to get the word out as soon as possible.”

  Bagley placed his elbows on his desk and leaned forward. “Well, the Fairbrook Times can certainly help you with that.”

  Marc glanced out the glass-enclosed office and into the newsroom, where Jenn stood at a reporter’s desk. She held several envelopes. When she looked toward the editor’s office, Bagley lifted his meaty hand, motioning for her to come in.

  “Will you excuse me for a minute?” he asked Marc. “My new advice columnist is here to pick up the mail, and I need to talk to her before she leaves.”

  Marc watched as Jenn approached the office. She appeared to hesitate at the door before letting herself in.

  “You wanted to see me, Frank?” She glanced at her boss, then at Marc, and back to the editor.

  Frank pushed back his chair and got to his feet. “I’m going to let you have an opportunity to prove yourself, Jennifer. There’s a ten-year high-school reunion coming up. Sabrina Goodman was going to cover it for us, but she went into premature labor last night. The doctors managed to stave off contractions, but she’s on bed rest indefinitely. So I’m going to give the story to you. There’s a committee meeting this evening, and Sabrina made arrangements to be there. She thought it would put a different spin on the story if she covered the planning of the event, and I agreed. So you’re up.”

  Jenn tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sure, Frank. I’ll go to the meeting and write the article.”

  Bagley crossed his arms and shifted his weight to one hip. “For a woman who’s been chomping at the bit to get a real story, you don’t seem all that excited.”

  A class reunion didn’t seem like a real story to Marc, and he wondered if that’s why he didn’t see the ol’ Go-Wildcats spark in her eyes.

  “I am happy, Frank.” She managed a smile that appeared to be genuine. “It’s actually my class reunion that’s coming up. And to be honest, I hadn’t planned on attending.”

  Marc knew it had been ten years since graduation, but he hadn’t heard anything about a reunion. Yet an even bigger surprise was that Jenn hadn’t planned to attend. There hadn’t been many social events in high school that she hadn’t been involved in, and a reunion should have been the kind of event that was right up her alley.

  “Well, it looks like your plans have changed. That is, if you agree to cover the story. If you’d like, I can ask someone else.” Frank looked out into the newsroom as though ready to select another reporter.

  “No, don’t give it to anyone else. I’ll take it. And I’ll do a great job.”

  A slow smile stretched across Bagley’s face. “Good. And we’ll take it from there. Show me you can do more than write a report of the event, and you just might land a job reporting for the Times.”

  Was she embarrassed to have her job prospects talked about in front of a stranger? Marc would have been. He wondered what kind of boss Frank Bagley was and suspected he could benefit from some supervisory training.

  Jenn’s gaze drifted to Marc, connecting for a moment—long enough for him to see her lift her chin in pride and, at the same time, to sense another flash of attraction or interest in him.

  “Forgive me for being rude,” Bagley said. “Jenn, I’d like you to meet Marc Alvarado, one of Fairbrook’s newest businessmen. And Marc, this is Jennifer Kramer, or rather Dear Diana, our advice columnist.”

  Marc stood and reached out his hand, felt her fingers wrap around his in a warm grip that lasted a beat longer than usual.

  He could have clued her in right then, telling her they’d met before—and he probably should have—but the geek inside held him back, reminding him that he’d always been a little speechless around her.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” he said instead.

  “Thanks. You, too.” She drew back her hand almost reluctantly and tore her gaze from his to address her boss. “I’ll get right on it.”

  “Good,” Bagley said. “I’ll look forward to reading that story.”

  She nodded, then excused herself.

  It took all Marc had not to watch her walk away. Strange, he thought, how some old flames never quite burned out.

  He took his seat. “So, Jennifer is the advice columnist?”

  “Yes, and doing a great job of it. I probably shouldn’t introduce her as Dear Diana. I wouldn’t want people thinking her life is anything but picture-book perfect.”

  “It isn’t?” Marc asked, his mounting curiosity about Jenn trumping his distaste for Bagley’s indiscreet revelation about his employee’s personal life.

  “Oh, you know, just the typical California drama. She’s a single mom who was divorced last year and is living at home. But I suspect that the readers who’ve been writing to her would like to have the illusion of perfection. Know what I mean?”

  Marc nodded. He figured those with problems would want to think their advice came from someone who’d made all the right choices in life, and in that sense, he supposed Jenn hadn’t. She’d been a lot smarter than she’d ever given herself credit for, and he’d always thought she’d sold herself short when she’d gotten married right out of high school.

  “At the first of the year, our advice columnist went on her honeymoon, and I was scrambling to find a replacement. Jenn had just applied for a job, and I was about to drop her application into the circular file. But then I wondered if she’d be able to temporarily fill the position. She jumped on the chance and quickly impressed me with her witty advice and her tendency to put a personal spin on her responses. Letters from readers—some with problems and others with comments on the column, her advice, or her candor—began to pour in. Before long, I had no choice but to give her the job permanently.” Bagley leaned forward and lowered his voice. “In fact, I haven’t told her yet, but there’ve been some whispers of syndication.”

  “I’ll bet she’ll be happy to hear that.”

  “Yes, I’m sure she will be, although she’d rather be a reporter. But she doesn’t have much experience.”

  She’d worked on the high-school newspaper, but Marc supposed that wasn’t enough to propel her into a full-time journalist position.

  “Hey,” Bagley said. “Let’s get back to your scholarship foundation. Why don’t we run an article in Sunday’s paper? That ought to get the ball rolling.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Marc glanced out into the newsroom, watching as Jenn headed for the elevator with the letters in hand. “Why don’t you assign the scholarship article to Ms. Kramer?”

  “To Jenn?” Bagley sat back in his seat, the springs creaking in protest. “Like I said, she really doesn’t have any experience. And I’d rather see what she does with that reunion article first.”

  “I understand, but I’ve always been one to root for the underdog. I like to give people a chance to succeed. In fact, that’s the whole philosophy around the Elena Alvarado Scholarship Foundation. So in that sense, Ms. Kramer would be a perfect choice.”

  “All right. If you have a business card, I’ll have her give you a call and schedule that interview.”

  “Good. I’ll look forward to hearing from her.” Marc stood, shook hands with Bagley, handed him a card, then headed for the elevator. He wasn’t sure why he’d insisted that Jenn write the article for the paper. Or why he even wanted to see her again.

  When they’d been at Fairbrook High, and he’d learned she was struggling in algebra, he’d offered to tutor her, and she’d taken him up on it.

  “I can’t believe this,” she’d said one day. “You explain things so much better than Mr. Ragsdale.
”

  And when things finally clicked for her and she caught on, she’d given him a hug that had nearly steamed up his glasses.

  She’d been so pretty…so breathtaking, that he’d had no choice but to swallow his pride and ask her out.

  But boy, had that been a bubble-bursting mistake. She’d stiffened and told him that he wasn’t her type.

  But who hadn’t known that? She’d been a teen goddess, a fairy-tale princess, and he’d been a toad with no sign of a magic wand in sight.

  From that day on, she’d acted as though she didn’t know him, as if he’d never helped her turn that D- into an honor roll-saving C+.

  At one time Marc hadn’t been good enough for Jennifer Kramer, but now it appeared the tables had turned.

  And maybe the skinny, four-eyed geek who still lived deep inside of him just wanted to gloat for a moment or two over the fact that he had the upper hand now.

  Chapter Three

  Jenn had no sooner arrived home than Frank called, asking her to set up an appointment with Marc Alvarado. She’d been pleased to get a second assignment, yet was a little uneasy about seeing the handsome businessman again.

  In truth, she found him far more attractive than she was comfortable admitting, and if he sensed she had the least bit of romantic interest in him, she could jeopardize the opportunity she’d been given to prove herself as a professional reporter.

  Since her only income was a moderate child-support check and what she earned working part-time for the paper as Dear Diana, she didn’t want to remain strapped for cash indefinitely. So she’d called Mr. Alvarado’s office and spoke to a woman who’d identified herself as Elena.

  “Mr. Alvarado is expecting your call,” Elena had said, “but he’s not available right now. He asked me to make the appointment for him. Would four o’clock this afternoon be okay?”

  Jenn would have shuffled her schedule to make it work, but as it was, she didn’t have to. “Four o’clock is perfect.” The timing would give her a chance to pick up a bite to eat afterward and arrive early enough at Jessica’s house to play catch-up with the reunion plans.

  How was that for luck? Jenn had gone from having no assignments to two in one day.

  She spent the rest of the afternoon responding to letters and planning tomorrow’s column. So far, she’d written to a seventy-four-year-old widower who’d grown tired of warding off the advances of several unattached ladies in his bowling league and a bride whose future mother-in-law was refusing to attend the wedding ceremony unless it was performed at the church she attended, a church the bride considered a cult.

  Jenn glanced at the clock above her desk. She still had time to read one more letter.

  Dear Diana,

  I’m a high-school senior and have received a scholarship to attend a college out of state. My parents don’t think I’m ready to leave home and want me to attend the local junior college and stay in town. How do I convince them that I need to spread my wings?

  Homebound Senior

  Jenn slumped in her seat. At this point in her life, she was kicking herself for not spreading her own wings when she’d had the chance.

  Ten years ago, she’d been the homecoming queen of Fairbrook High and had the teenage world at her feet. And now she was facing her class reunion, and her only claim to fame was that of being an advice columnist for the local paper.

  So far, other than giving birth to her precious daughter, her adult life had been one big waste. She’d spent nearly a decade with a man who refused to put his wife and child above his gambling addiction, and now she was approaching her thirties with no real job, no real home…no real future.

  Jenn certainly had a knack for advising the troubled people who wrote to Diana. Too bad she couldn’t rewind the past and take some of the advice she dished out to others these days. But she’d taken to heart an eye-opening realization she’d had a few months back, and from here on out, she was determined to make something of herself rather than rely on a man to make her happy.

  She’d grown disillusioned when it came to love and marriage, and the letters and e-mails from the lovelorn she received daily didn’t nurture the white picket-fence dream.

  Maybe if her parents hadn’t split up, if she had some kind of living example of a romance in full bloom, she would have been more inclined to believe in happy ever after.

  Jenn returned her full attention to the letter on the screen, reading it one last time. Maybe it would be best if she responded to this one tomorrow, after her interviews, when her own future would seem a whole lot brighter.

  After shutting off the computer, she dressed in a black suit and a pale blue blouse. Then she brushed her hair and used the curling iron on the ends.

  While she leaned forward and applied lipstick, a pint-size knock tapped at the bathroom door, followed by Caitlyn’s voice. “Mommy? What are you doing?”

  “I’m getting ready for an appointment.” Jenn opened the door, letting the five-year-old inside. “Grammy is going to watch you while I’m gone. Why don’t you find your new markers and pick out a coloring book to take with you?”

  “Okay.” Instead of dashing off, as Jenn had expected her to do, Caitlyn remained in the doorway, a slow, bright-eyed smile stretching across her lips. “You look really pretty, Mommy.”

  “Thanks, honey.”

  Admittedly, Jenn had put a little extra effort into her appearance, but not for Jessica and the reunion gang.

  “How come you’re not wearing the necklace I gave you for Mother’s Day?” Caitlyn asked.

  Last month, in Sunday school, the kids had made gifts for their mothers out of red yarn, dry macaroni, and colored beads. Caitlyn had been so proud of her creation that she’d insisted Jenn open it up the minute they got in the car. But as sweet as the gift had been, it wasn’t at all a professional accent to business attire.

  “You said you loved it,” Caitlyn added.

  “Oh, I do.” Jenn turned and stooped to give her daughter a hug. “Thanks for reminding me. I’ll put it on now.”

  “Want me to get it for you?” Caitlyn asked.

  “It’s too high for you to reach, honey. I put it in my jewelry box with my other valuables.”

  Jenn strode to the chest of drawers, where the jewelry box her grandparents had given her for her fifteenth birthday sat next to a picture of Caitlyn. She opened the lid, removed the necklace, and slipped it over her neck. A tag made out of masking tape and bearing Caitlyn’s name scratched at her neck. She adjusted it, then turned to her daughter and grinned. “How do I look now?”

  “Even prettier than before.”

  “Good. This meeting is really important, so I want to look my best.” She would, of course, remove the handcrafted pasta necklace once she got in the car. She’d just have to remember to put it back on before she returned home tonight.

  “Now give me a hug and a kiss good-bye.”

  “I love you a whole-lot-a-bunch, Mommy.”

  “I love you, too, honey.”

  After taking her daughter to the big house so her grandmother could watch her, Jenn climbed into her twelve-year-old Honda Civic and drove to the professional building across from Mulberry Park.

  She didn’t immediately spot Marc Alvarado’s silver BMW, which was a bit disappointing. He hadn’t been available when she’d called his office earlier, and she suspected that was still the case.

  Either way, she did her best to put some confidence in her steps as she made her way to the red-brick building. Armed with a notepad, as well as the virtual press kit she’d downloaded from the company website, she entered the lobby and took the elevator all the way to the top floor.

  At five minutes to four, she entered Alvarado Technologies, an imposing office that had been professionally decorated in forest green and shades of brown—and not very long ago, she realized. The scent of fresh paint and new furniture lingered in the air.

  Floor-to-ceiling windows provided a panoramic view of the city, making both the man and his bu
siness even more impressive than ever.

  A woman whose gray hair had been swept into a twist sat at a massive mahogany desk adorned with a couple of potted plants and a bouquet of open yellow roses. She glanced up from her work and smiled. “Can I help you?”

  “I’m Jennifer Kramer from the Times. I have an appointment for an interview with Mr. Alvarado.”

  “Oh, yes. I talked to you on the telephone. I’m Elena.” The woman rolled her chair away from the desk and stood. “Marc’s been tied up in meetings all afternoon, but I expect him back any minute. Can I get you a cup of coffee while you wait?”

  “No, thanks. I’m fine.”

  Elena was much older than Jenn had anticipated—late sixties to early seventies, maybe?—and seemed to look Jenn over for a moment. A slow grin softened the wrinkles on her face and lit her dark eyes. “That’s a pretty necklace.”

  Jenn’s hand plopped onto her chest, and she fingered the yarn and dry-pasta gift she’d meant to leave in the car. She’d been so busy rehearsing her interview questions that she’d forgotten all about it.

  So much for her plan to come across completely professional.

  “It…uh…was a gift from my five-year-old daughter.” She thought about taking it off, but decided to let it stay put. If Elena or Marc thought she was somehow lacking because of it, so be it.

  “It’s really sweet. My little boy gave a similar one to me a long time ago, and it’s still one of my most cherished possessions. I wore it until the pasta began to break apart.”

  Before Jenn could respond, the glass door swung open and Marc Alvarado swept in wearing the same sports jacket, the same dress shirt open at the collar, the same expressive brown eyes and heart-strumming grin that he’d worn earlier today when she’d met him at the newspaper office. Yet he seemed to be even more handsome in his own territory.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” he told her.

  “Don’t be. I just arrived.” She reached out her hand in greeting. “I’m Jennifer Kramer,” she said, reminding him in case he’d forgotten her name.