Nolan would deny it, of course, loudly and vehemently, and she’d have to counteract with a loud argument of her own. The smile appeared again. Her decision was made.
Feeling almost light-headed, Maryanne glanced down the street, eager for the bus to arrive so she could get home. The first thing she intended to do was march into Nolan’s apartment and demand the truth. If he tried to ignore her, as he usually did, then she had the perfect solution.
She’d kiss him.
A kiss would silence his protests in the most effective way she could imagine. Maryanne almost melted at the memory of being kissed by Nolan, being held in his arms. It was like walking through the gates of an undiscovered paradise. Just remembering those moments made her feel faint with desire, weak with excitement. He seemed to experience the same emotions, Maryanne remembered hopefully.
Cheered by the thought, she nearly applauded when her bus arrived. The ride passed quickly and she hurried into the building, eager to see Nolan.
Consumed by her sense of purpose, she went directly to his apartment. She stood in front of his door, took several deep breaths, then knocked politely. No answer. She tried again, harder this time.
“Who is it?” Nolan growled from the other side.
“Maryanne. I want to talk to you.”
“I’m busy.”
She was only a little discouraged by his unfriendliness. “This’ll just take a minute.”
The door was yanked open with excessive force. Nolan stood before her, dressed in a black tuxedo and white cummerbund, looking so handsome that he caught her completely by surprise. Her mouth sagged open.
“Yes?” he asked crossly.
“Hello, Nolan,” she said, aware that her mission had been thwarted. Nothing he could’ve said or done would have affected her as profoundly as finding him dressed like this. Because it meant he was going out on a date.
“Hello,” he said, tugging at the cuffs of his jacket, adjusting the fit. He frowned, apparently waiting for her to say something.
“Uh...” She tried to gather her scattered composure, and finally managed to squeak, “You’re going out?”
He scowled. “I don’t dress like this for a jaunt to the corner store.”
“No, I don’t suppose you do.”
“You wanted something?”
She’d been so confident, so sure she was doing the right thing. But now, seeing Nolan looking more dressed up and formal than he’d ever looked for her, she found herself speechless.
She couldn’t help wondering where he was going—and with whom. The “with whom” part bothered her the most.
He glanced pointedly at his wristwatch. “How long is this going to take?” he asked coolly. “I’m supposed to pick up Prudence in fifteen minutes.”
“Prudence?” His face, tight with impatience, drew her full attention. Prudence, her mind repeated. Who was this woman?
Then in a flash, Maryanne knew. It was all she could do not to laugh and inform him that his little plan just wasn’t working. No imaginary date was going to make her jealous.
He wasn’t seeing anyone named Prudence. Good grief, if he had to invent a name, the least he could’ve done was come up with something a little more plausible than Prudence.
In fact, Maryanne remembered Nolan casually mentioning a week or so earlier that he’d been asked to speak at a Chamber of Commerce banquet. There had also been a notice in the paper. Who did he think he was kidding?
Of course he wanted her to believe he was dating another woman. That was supposed to discourage her, she guessed. Except that it didn’t.
“It wasn’t important...” she said, gesturing vaguely. “The radiators were giving me trouble this morning, but I’ll manage. I was planning to go out tonight myself.”
His eyes connected with hers. “Another pity party?”
“Not this time.” She considered announcing she had a hot date herself, but that would have been carrying this farce a little too far. “Barbara and I will probably go to a movie.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“I’m sure it will be.” She smiled up at him, past the square cut of his jaw to his incredibly dark eyes. “Have a good time with... Prudence,” she said with a bright knowing smile.
Holding back a laugh, she returned to her own apartment. The rat. The low-down dirty rat! He was pretending to escort some imaginary woman to a fancy affair. Oh, he’d like nothing better than for Maryanne to think he considered her a pest. But she knew that wasn’t quite the case.
Where was the man who’d rushed to her rescue when the pipes needed a little coaxing? Where was the man who’d nearly been run over on a basketball court when he saw her standing on the sidelines? Where was the man who’d tried to set her up with someone else he thought more suitable? Nolan Adams had just proved what she’d suspected all along. He was a coward—at least when it came to love.
Suddenly depressed, Maryanne slowly crossed the living room and sank on to her sofa, trying to gather her wits. Ten minutes later, she still sat there, mulling things over and feeling sorry for herself, when she heard Nolan’s door open and close. She immediately perked up, wondering if he’d had a change of heart. He seemed to pause for a moment outside her door, but any second thoughts he might be having didn’t last long.
Barbara phoned soon after, full of apologies, to cancel their movie plans, so Maryanne spent the evening drowning her sorrows in television reruns and slices of cold pizza.
She must have fallen asleep because a harsh ringing jolted her awake a couple of hours later. She leapt off the sofa and stumbled dazedly around before she realized the sound came from the phone. She rushed across the room.
A greeting had barely left her lips when her father’s booming voice assailed her.
“Where the hell are you?”
“Hello, Dad,” she muttered, her heart sinking. How like him to get to the subject at hand without anything in the way of preliminaries. “How are you, too?”
“I want to know where you’re living and I want to know right now!”
“I beg your pardon?” she asked, stalling for time. Obviously her father had discovered her small deception.
“I talked to the managing editor of the Seattle Review this morning and he told me you haven’t worked there in weeks. He said you’d quit! Now I want to know what this craziness is you’ve been feeding your mother and me about a special assignment.”
“Uh...” By now, Maryanne was awake enough to know her father wasn’t in any mood to listen to excuses.
“You lied to us, girl.”
“Not exactly...” She paused, searching for the right words. “It was more a case of omission, don’t you think?”
“You’ve had us worried sick. We’ve been trying to get hold of you all afternoon. Where were you? And who the hell is Nolan Adams?”
“Nolan Adams?” she echoed, playing dumb, which wasn’t all that difficult at the moment.
“Your mother mentioned his name, and when I called the paper, some woman named...Riverside, Carol Riverside, claimed this was his fault.”
“Dad, listen, it’s all rather complicated, so I think—”
“I don’t want excuses, I want facts. You decided to work on the other side of the country. Against my better judgment, I arranged it for you with the promise that I wouldn’t intrude—and look where it’s gotten me! To have you deceive us by—”
“Dad, please, just settle down.”
He seemed to be making an effort to calm himself, but more than likely the effort was thanks to her mother. Maryanne could hear her arguing softly in the background.
“Can I explain?” she asked, waiting a minute for the tension to ease, although she wasn’t sure what to say, what excuses she could possibly offer.
“You can try to explain, but I doubt it’ll do any good,” he answered gruffly.
Now that she had the floor, Maryanne floundered.
“I take it this all revolves around that columnist friend of yours from the
Sun?” her father asked. “That Adams character?”
“Well, yes,” Maryanne admitted reluctantly. But she didn’t feel she could place the whole blame on him. “Leaving the paper was my decision—”
“Where are you living?”
That was one of several questions Maryanne was hoping to avoid. “I—I rented an apartment.”
“You were in an apartment before. It doesn’t make the least bit of sense for you to move. The Seattle has a reputation for excellence.”
“Yes, Dad, I know, but moving was necessary.” She didn’t go on to explain why. She didn’t want to mislead her father more than she already had. But at the same time, if she told him she couldn’t afford to continue living at The Seattle, he’d certainly demand to know why.
“That doesn’t explain a damn thing,” Samuel Simpson boomed.
Maryanne held the phone away from her ear and sighed heavily. She was groggy from her nap and discouraged by her relationship with Nolan. To complicate matters, she was truly in love for the first time in her life. Loving someone shouldn’t be this difficult!
“I insist you tell me what’s going on,” her father said, in the tone she remembered from childhood confrontations about missed curfews and other transgressions.
She tried again. “It’s not that easy to explain.”
“You have three seconds, young lady, to tell me why you’ve lied to your parents.”
“I apologize for that. I’ve felt horrible about it, I really have, but I didn’t want to say anything for fear you’d worry.”
“Of course we’d worry! Now tell me exactly what it is we should be worrying about.”
“Dad, honestly, I’m over twenty-one. I should be able to live and work where I please. You can’t keep me your little girl forever.” This conversation was not only reminiscent of several she’d had with Nolan, it was one she should have had with her father years ago.
“I demand to know why you quit the paper!”
Maryanne refused to be intimidated. “I already explained that. I had another job.”
“Obviously you’re doing something you’re too ashamed to tell your parents.”
“I’m not ashamed! It’s nothing illegal. Besides, I happen to like what I do, and I’ve managed to live entirely on what I make, which is no small feat. I’m happy, Dad, really happy.” She tried to force some cheerful enthusiasm into her voice, but unfortunately she didn’t entirely succeed. How she wished she could brag about selling her articles. Surely she’d receive word soon!
“If you’re so pleased about this change in jobs, then why do you seem upset?” her mother asked reasonably, joining the conversation from an extension.
“I—I’m fine, really I am.”
“Somehow, sweetie, that just doesn’t ring true—”
“I don’t like the sound of this,” her father interrupted impatiently. “I made a mistake in arranging this Seattle assignment for you. It seems to me it’d be best if you quit whatever you’re doing and moved back to—”
“Dad, I refuse to quit now.”
“I want you to move back home. As far as I can see, you’ve got one hell of a lot of explaining to do.”
“It seems to me,” Maryanne said after a moment of strained silence, “that we should both take time to cool down and think this over before one of us says or does something we’re all going to regret.”
“I’m calm.” The voice that roared over the long-distance wires threatened to impair Maryanne’s hearing.
“Daddy, I love you and Mom dearly, but I think it would be best if we both slept on this. I’m going to hang up now, not to be rude, but because I don’t think this conversation is accomplishing anything. I’ll call you first thing in the morning.”
“Maryanne...Maryanne, don’t you dare—”
She didn’t allow him to finish, knowing it would do no good to argue with him when he was in this frame of mind. Her heart was heavy with regret as she replaced the receiver. Knowing her father would immediately call again, she unplugged the phone.
Now that her family had discovered she wasn’t working at the Review, everything would change. And not for the better. Her father would hound her until she was forced to tell him she’d taken a job as a waitress. Once he discovered that, he’d hit the roof.
Still thinking about what had happened, she put on her flannel pyjamas and pulled out her bed. With the demanding physical schedule she kept, sleeping had never been a problem. Tonight, she missed the clatter of Nolan’s typing. She’d grown accustomed to its comforting familiarity, in part because it was a sign of his presence. She often lay awake wondering how his mystery novel was developing. Some nights she even fantasized that he’d let her read the manuscript, which to her represented the ultimate gesture of trust.
But Nolan wasn’t at his typewriter this evening. He was giving a speech. Closing her eyes, she imagined him standing before the large dinner crowd. How she would have enjoyed being in the audience! She knew beyond a doubt that his eyes would have sought her out....
Instead she was spending the night alone. She lay with her eyes wide open; every time she started to drift off, some small noise would jerk her into wakefulness. She finally had to admit that she was waiting to hear the sounds of Nolan’s return.
Some time in the early morning hours, Maryanne did eventually fall asleep. She woke at six to the familiar sound of Nolan pounding on his typewriter.
She threw on her robe, thrust her feet into the fuzzy slippers and began pacing, her mind whirling.
When she could stand it no longer, she banged on the wall separating their two apartments.
“Your typing woke me up!” Which, of course, wasn’t fair or even particularly true. But she’d spent a fretful night thinking about him, and that was excuse enough.
Her family had found out she’d quit her job and all hell was about to break loose. Time was running out for her and Nolan. If she was going to do something—and it was clear she’d have to be the one—she’d need to do it soon.
“Just go back to bed,” Nolan shouted.
“Not on your life, Nolan Adams!” Without questioning how wise it was to confront him now, Maryanne stormed out of her apartment dressed as she was, and beat hard on his door.
Nolan opened it almost immediately, still wearing the tuxedo from the night before, without the jacket and cummerbund. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled past his elbows and the top three buttons were open. His dishevelment and the shadows under his eyes suggested he hadn’t been to bed.
“What now?” he demanded. “Is my breathing too loud?”
“We need to talk,” she stated calmly as she marched into his apartment.
Nolan remained standing at the door. “Why don’t you come in and make yourself at home?” he muttered sarcastically.
“I already have.” She sat on the edge of his sofa and waited until he turned to face her. “So?” she asked with cheerful derision. “How’d your hot date go?”
“Fine.” He smiled grimly. “Just fine.”
“Where’d you go for dinner? The Four Seasons? Fullers?” She named two of the best restaurants in town. “By the way, do I know Prudence?”
“No,” he answered with sharp impatience.
“I didn’t think so.”
“Maryanne—”
“I don’t suppose you have coffee made?”
“It’s made.” But he didn’t offer her any. The fact that he was still standing by the door suggested he wanted her out of his home. But when it came to dealing with Nolan, Maryanne had long since learned to ignore the obvious.
“Thanks, I’ll get myself a cup.” She walked into the kitchen and found two clean mugs in the dishwasher. “You want one?”
“I have some,” he said pointedly, stationing himself in the kitchen doorway. He heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Maryanne, I’m busy, so if you could get on with—”
“My father knows,” she said calmly, watching him closely for some sort of reaction. If she’d been
looking for evidence of concern or regret, he showed neither. The only emotion she was able to discern was a brief flicker of what she could only assume was relief. That wasn’t encouraging. He appeared all too willing to get her out of his life.
“Well?” she probed. “Say something.”
“What the hell have you been telling him?”
“Nothing about you, so don’t worry. I did mention you to my mother, but you don’t need to worry about that, either. She thinks you and I... Never mind.”
“What does your father know?” Nolan asked.
She sipped from the edge of the mug and shrugged. “He found out I wasn’t on special assignment for the paper.”
“Special assignment? What does that have to do with anything?”
“That’s what I told my mother when I moved.”
“Why the hell would you tell her something like that?”
“She was expecting me to send her my columns, and call every other day. I couldn’t continue to do either of those things. I had to come up with some excuse.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “You might have tried the truth.”
Maryanne nodded her agreement. If she’d bungled any part of this arrangement, it had been with her parents. However, there wasn’t time for regrets now.
“Dad learned I moved out of The Seattle. I didn’t tell him where I was living, but that won’t deter him. Knowing Dad, he’ll have all the facts by noon today. To put it mildly, he isn’t pleased. He wants me to return to the East Coast.”
“Are you going?” Nolan’s question was casual, as though her response was of little concern to him.
“No.”
“Why not?” The impatient look was back. “For the love of heaven, Annie, will you kindly listen to reason? You don’t belong here. You’ve proved your point. If you’re waiting for me to admit I was wrong about you, then fine, I’ll admit it, and gladly. You’ve managed far better than I ever dreamed you would, but it’s time to get on with your life. It’s time to move back into the world where you belong.”
“I can’t do that now.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because...I’ve fallen—”
Glad Tidings: There's Something About ChristmasHere Comes Trouble Page 30