by Holly Jacobs
But then he smiled.
She forgot geek glasses and the bad suit as she smiled back.
"I'm Todd, by the way."
"I'm. . ." It took her a second to remember her name because he was still smiling and it was hard to think when faced with that.
"Annabelle," she finally managed to blurt, feeling breathless either from the effort of remembering her name, or because of Todd. She wasn't sure.
"I'm Annabelle," she repeated for good measure.
"Well, Annabelle, we're glad you're here. It takes a lot of courage to admit you have a problem with alcohol." He nodded at the small pin on his lapel. "Ten years for me. I wear this suit to meetings to remind myself of the decade plus I lost to alcohol. Then I found AA and. . . well, like I said, it's been ten years. This your first meeting?"
She nodded.
Meeting?
AA?
Alcohol.
Oh, no. Despite her resolution a few minutes ago, it would appear that she'd crashed an A.A. meeting. She should go. She should explain to Todd why she'd been in here.
"Want to help me set up?" he asked.
She smiled. "I would. I definitely would."
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
E.J., I'm leaving Pittsburgh and heading to San Diego for those interviews. I'll be staying at your apartment. . . thanks for the key. I'm not as excited as I thought I'd be. Maybe it's because I know you won't be there waiting for me, or maybe. . .
WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON, MORGAN BREATHED a sigh of relief. She was pretty sure that the interviews had gone well. Ellie Marx at Turner, Inc. had asked if she'd come back again the next day. Morgan was glad she'd booked a flight late tomorrow. She'd meet with Ms. Marx in the morning, then head back to Pittsburgh.
In the meantime, she had the rest of the day here in San Diego. She planned to reacquaint herself with the city, and in the process, she was bound to remember how much she loved it here and why.
She dropped her stuff off at E.J.'s, then headed to Manny's, her favorite restaurant. The food was great, but that wasn't what kept her coming back. Right after she'd moved to San Diego she'd discovered the midpriced restaurant and had fallen in love with the view.
She waited for the feeling of home to steal over her as she was led to a table on the deck. It was three o'clock, an off hour, so she lucked into a seat at the railing. She inhaled deeply and took in the sounds of the waves slapping the rocky shore. A cool breeze blew in off the water and tickled her bare arms.
Normally, this was a moment when she'd feel that deep sense of peace and purpose steal over her. Today? She felt as restless as one of the waves, washing back and forth. Back and forth.
"Hey, you," a voice said from behind her.
Morgan didn't have to turn to know who it was. She jumped up and simply drank in the sight of E.J. He was maybe five-ten on a good shoe day, and his reddish-brown hair was sorely in need of a trim. Oh, who was she kidding? The man had enough hair for six people and it seemed bound and determined to behave as if it were on six different people's heads, part of it curling, another part cowlicky, some just standing straight on end for the sheer heck of it. But when it was added to his abundance of freckles and devilishly wicked grin, it worked. E.J. would never be the kind of man women drooled over, but he was cute and he was here.
She couldn't hold back any longer. She hugged him. "E.J., how did you find me? When did you get back? How are you?" Questions tumbled out, one after another.
Seeing E.J., Morgan finally achieved a bit of the sense of coming home she'd been waiting for.
"I just saw your suitcase in the living room so I knew you were back in town. As for how I found you, it wasn't rocket science. You love this place. To answer your second question, I got in yesterday. My replacement showed up early, so I jumped on a flight right away. I e-mailed and called you—"
"I wasn't at home."
"I got that. So I tried your cell."
"I turned it off last night." She hadn't wanted to pick up any messages from her mom because she didn't want to answer any sticky how-did-the-interviews-go question. "I meant to turn it on when I got off the plane today, but obviously forgot."
"So, if you weren't here last night and you weren't at your place. . .Conner's?" She must have looked surprised because E.J. said, "I read your e-mails last night while I tried to get hold of you. All your e-mails. Your many, very frequent, at least daily e-mails filled with all the tidbits from your visit in Pittsburgh."
"Sorry," Morgan said. "You weren't home and weren't answering and I guess. . .well, the e-mails were sort of like a diary. 'Dear E.J., my life's a mess.' It was cathartic and sort of anonymous. I could keep sending them out, but nothing was coming back. I just forgot that eventually you'd come home and have to sift through them all."
He laughed in that E.J., you're-so-funny sort of way. "No problem. I felt as if I was here for it all. I missed you."
"How was the trip?" she asked, hoping if he talked about the last few weeks away saving the world she wouldn't feel so selfishly focused on her own turmoil.
"It went well." He got a weird look on his face. Mysterious.
"What?" she demanded.
"I know you don't want to hear the intimate details of my surgeries—even thinking about blood makes you sick to your stomach. And having experienced that once firsthand, I prefer avoiding a repeat performance. But I do want to hear the details of what you've been up to in Pittsburgh. How's Annabelle? Still crashing? And this Conner, please tell me he's more of a man than Marvin ever was."
"Marvin was a putz," she admitted. "He called me there once, wanting to get back together, but having some distance between us helped me realize that no matter what, that wasn't going to happen. I should have listened to you a long time ago."
"Yes, you should have. But then, your stubbornness is one of the qualities I like about you. . .except when you're stubbornly refusing to listen to my very sage, big brotherish sort of advice. Then I hate it. But back to the question at hand. Tell me about Conner."
"That's not a question, it's a decree." He just sat there, waiting. Morgan gave in. "He's definitely not a putz, but not my type. To be honest, it doesn't really matter if he's my type or not because if these interviews went as well as I think they went, then I'll be in San Diego soon."
"You used to say 'home.' San Diego was home. But now?"
"Send a surgeon to South America to save a few lives and he comes back thinking he's Freud," she groused. "San Diego is home. I belong here. I've built a life here. I have plans, goals that all center on my being here."
"Plans change. Goals, too. I know about your lists, but all it takes to change things on that is crossing out one goal and writing in another. So, the question isn't what did you plan, it's what do you want. What do you want now? That's what you have to answer."
"Freud. You think you're freakin' Freud. A man with all the deep psychological answers."
"No. I think I'm your friend. And from what I read in all those e-mails, I think the time has come for you to reassess your goals and maybe set new ones. What do you want now, Morgan? What's going to make you happy?" He reached out and took her hand, patting it in that big brother way. "That's all I want for you."
"What do I want? What's going to make me happy? Damned if I know," she muttered.
"Don't you think you'd better find out?"
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
E.J., it's so good having you home again. . . .
HOME.
That was Morgan's first thought as her plane set back down in Pittsburgh early Friday. She was exhausted after flying all night, but she was anxious to tell her mother and her friends about the interviews. She couldn't wait to pick up Gilligan and the cats.
And Conner? There were a whole host of things she couldn't wait to do with Conner. And it wasn't just what she wanted to do with him. She couldn't wait to tell him about the whole trip.
She'd thought about calling him half-a-dozen times while she waited for her plane. But it wa
s too early and she wasn't sure they had that type of relationship.
Oh, she wouldn't hesitate with E.J., but she knew exactly what their relationship was. Friends. Best friends. No hope of being anything more. Once a woman barfed on a man's shoes, she'd pretty much drawn a line in the sand that relationships were built on.
But Conner?
They'd slept together. They'd hung out. But their relationship couldn't go any further than casual.
The drive home from the airport seemed to take far longer than it should. She'd read somewhere that time wasn't stationary, that it expanded and contracted given the proper circumstances. So the fact that it was stretching, taking too long to get home couldn't possibly have anything to do with the turmoil her mind was in. It had to be some kind of time-warp thing.
Morgan turned the radio up as loud as it would go, hoping to drown out her way-too-active thoughts. But after about ten minutes she admitted that not only wasn't it drowning out her racing mind, it was giving her a headache, so she turned it back down.
When on earth had she become the kind of person who didn't listen to music blaringly loud?
Could it be that sometime when she wasn't looking she'd become a grown-up?
Not an enticing thought, because adults should have all the answers, and to be honest, though she didn't enjoy her music as loud as she used to, she wasn't sure she had any more answers than before.
She pulled into the drive at her house, and barely had the suitcase out of the backseat when her mother came out of her house holding Gilligan's leash and carrying the cat carrier.
She hurried over to Morgan. "So, how did it go?" Annabelle asked without preamble.
"Come on in and I'll tell you all about it."
Her mother followed her into the house and set the carrier down. "You're not looking as happy as I thought you would. But you don't look distraught, either." She unhooked Gilligan's lead.
Morgan set her suitcase down and watched as the dog walked around in a circle, sniffing the room, then collapsed in a heap.
"I'm happy," she said. "Of course I'm happy. It all went very well. I had a second interview with Turner, Inc., and they offered me the job."
"Oh. So, when are you leaving?" her mother asked, with what sounded like resignation in her voice.
"I didn't give them a definite answer. If I accept the position, I won't start for a few weeks. Enough time to get the house cleared out and on the market. If you're agreeable, I thought I'd have a power-of-attorney drawn up so that you could sign whatever papers need to be signed for both the real estate agent and the eventual closing."
"You don't want to come home for that?"
Morgan shook her head. "No, it's not that I don't want to come back. It's just that I don't know if I'll be able to. I'll be busy at a new job and there's just no way to know if I'd be able to get the time off."
Morgan knelt down next to the carrier and peeked in. "Hi, guys. I hope you'll come out a bit more often now." She unlocked the door. The two cats were out like a streak, and Morgan expected them to go back into whatever nether region of the house they liked to lurk in. But instead they went as far as the middle of the living room, where they found a patch of sunlight and sprawled in it, looking totally content to be home.
She stood and motioned for Annabelle to follow her into the kitchen. "Anyway, if you're able to take care of it, and willing, that's one less thing I'll have to worry about."
"You know I'll do it," her mother said. "But for the record, I don't like the thought of your leaving."
"I think I'd feel unloved if you were too overjoyed at the prospect of me going." Morgan was teasing, but it seemed to fall flat. "Anyway, thanks."
"Those animals are glad you're back," Annabelle said. "Have you thought about what you're going to do with them when you move back to California?"
"I figured if you didn't want them, I'd take them with me. I missed them."
"I guess it would be nice to have someone to come home to."
"I'll miss having you next door, popping in whenever." That surprised Morgan. She loved her mother, always had, always would, but living next to her? She hadn't anticipated enjoying it. But she did. She enjoyed working with her, as well. "Mom, about OCDR?"
"Your suggestions were wonderful, Morgan. But to be honest, I just don't want to expand. Mark's offer looks fair, and he'll promise to keep me and Sunny on the payroll. I think we could come to a deal. I was hoping you'd pin down the terms with him tonight. I've got a meeting set up."
"You know I will, if you're sure. Though, I think the expansion ideas would eventually make you a lot more money than selling will."
"But it would take a lot of time, I'm just not willing to spend that much on something that would be work. I like coming in on time, then clocking out. I know that you think I should expand and I'm sorry that I can't."
Morgan thought about the store, about all the potential. She was sure it would be a real success, but she could also tell that her mother just didn't have the heart for it. "You have nothing to be sorry about, Mom."
"I can see how enthusiastic you were about the expansion ideas. It was there on every page. Your plans are wonderful and I do see the potential. That's why, before I make any final deal with Mark, I wanted to discuss one other option with you." She paused, looking uncharacteristically unsure. "I thought I'd offer the store to you."
"What?"
"I'd like to let you buy the store," Annabelle said with deliberate slowness. "You could stay here and set your expansion plans into motion. We'd work out a way for you to purchase the store in bits and pieces, out of the profits the expansion generates. It would be all legal. You'd own it, run it, and I could go back to doing what I love, just working nine to five and living my life without all the worries and responsibilities."
"Mom. . ." Morgan couldn't quite decide how to answer. "San Diego's my home."
"So's Pittsburgh. There's nothing saying you have to go back to California. You could stay here."
"This new job is everything I always dreamed of. A lot more responsibility than my old one and room to move up the corporate ladder. It's what I went to school for, what I've worked for. What I've always wanted."
"Sometimes what we think we want isn't what we want at all."
"But—"
Annabelle held up her hand, silencing Morgan. "Don't say no. Think about it. And remember, the direction you've always been headed in might not be the right one for you anymore. You'd be leaving a lot behind if you leave. Your friends. The memories. Me."
"Oh, Mom, I know, but—"
ANNABELLE INTERRUPTED AGAIN. She had things to say, and she was finally going to say them all. "Morgan, honey, when you left five years ago you were hurt, you were running away from the pain and trying to find out who you were. Well, you've managed that splendidly. You know who you are. Anyone who meets you can't help but see who you are—a strong, intelligent woman with a great capacity to love."
"Mom. . ." Morgan let that one word hang there a moment. "I truly don't know what to say."
Annabelle looked at her, and studying her the way mothers sometimes do. Her daughter was amazing.
How on earth she'd ever raised such a smart, independent, talented girl was truly a mystery. Annabelle knew she'd never been a traditional mother, but she loved the woman sitting across from her.
It's true, they might not always see eye to eye, but God, she loved her.
"Listen, you just talk to Mark, then decide what you want to do. Don't make a decision based on what you think you should do, what you think I want, or what anyone else wants. Ask yourself what you want and where you really belong. If the answer is California. . .well, I'll just have to get used to making more cross-country flights."
Morgan leaned over and hugged her. "I can't promise anything other than to think about it," she said. "But one way or another, thanks for the option."
"Hey, what's a mother for?" They broke apart. Annabelle patted at her eyes, hoping her makeup hadn't ru
n. "Now, if you excuse me, I was just getting ready for a date when you pulled up."
"With who?"
"I don't want to jinx it, so I'm not saying."
"Mom," Morgan said, a warning note in her voice.
Annabelle had so much on her mind. Morgan. The store. And as much as they were both worries, her excitement about another date with Todd overruled everything.
"Fine. Don't jinx it. Go have fun."
Annabelle had confessed last night that she'd crashed—inadvertently crashed—the AA meeting.
She was done crashing. And all she could hope was that her daughter was finally willing to admit San Diego was a nice place to visit, but Pittsburgh was where she belonged.
MORGAN HAD A EUREKA MOMENT as she stood looking at Mark's receptionist. Well, not exactly at Mark's receptionist, but at the collection of photographs behind the woman.
"Ms. Miller. Mr. Jameson will take you right back."
Mark's face lit up when he let her into the office. "Morgan, what a pleasant surprise. I was expecting your mother." He gestured toward the couch and she took a seat.
"Mom asked me to come again. And it finally hit me, the missing piece."
"Missing piece?"
"You see, I couldn't quite figure it out why you were so intent on buying the business. Don't get me wrong, it has a lot of potential for growth, but it's not quite in the same league as most of your purchases."
"We're always looking for new—"
Her laughter interrupted him. "Save the spiel. Like I said, I figured out why you want the store. It's not so much about the business as it is about the building."
She opened her briefcase. "I'd already found this." She handed him computer printouts. "In the last five years, Jameson, Inc. has purchased a number of businesses in Oakland, all of them on Forbes or Fifth. And if I drove by those businesses today, I'll bet I'd find new high-rises that now house students, not just from your alma mater, but from the other universities nearby."
He nodded. "You've been doing your homework."
"Well, some. But I didn't put it all together until I saw the pictures behind your receptionist's desk. Which means if my mother does decide to sell OCDR to you, the price has just gone up substantially. And we'd want a guarantee that even if you build on the property, there will still be an office for the store, that you'll honor your agreement to continue to employ Sunny and my mom."