Love Finds You in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin

by Pamela S. Meyers

  Meg trailed behind and slid onto the seat.

  “Well, the only redeeming thing in that movie was the strong woman lead. Imagine taking on the government like she did.” Helen slipped off her coat and let it puddle around her.

  “It was okay.”

  “Okay? Where’s the movie critic who’s always ready to point out plot flaws?” She tilted her head and studied Meg. “What’s with you tonight?”

  Meg shrugged. She couldn’t admit she had no opinion about the movie because she’d been distracted by visions of Jack whirling Ginny around the office and having a fancy lunch with her. Mr. Zimmer returned after lunch alone, and Jack never did come back. He was likely enjoying another meal, this time at a table for two. All the more reason not to get involved with the man.

  The waitress appeared and took their orders.

  When the girl left, Helen leaned across the table. “How did yesterday go?”

  Meg shrugged. Yesterday felt like a million hours away. “He came to church and then showed me his house. Have you ever been to the Elgin Club?”

  Helen shook her head. “No. What kind of home does he have? Pretty fancy, I bet.”

  “I only saw the outside. It’s big and comfortable, but not a mansion.” She focused on a young couple sharing sodas and lovesick stares and then glanced back at her friend. “We sat on the porch swing and talked a bit. Later we had dinner at my house. It was a good time.”

  “And then came today.” Helen touched Meg’s arm. “Sorry I couldn’t stay on the phone earlier. I’m dying to hear the rest of the details about the mystery woman.”

  Their sodas arrived, and they attacked the frosty drinks.

  Helen looked up. “I’m still waiting.”

  Meg launched into a full description of Virginia Colson’s grand entrance, including her snotty comment about the bathroom. “I saw neither hide nor hair of either of them for the rest of the day.”

  “Didn’t he say she was an old college friend?”

  “No one hugs an ‘old college friend’ of the opposite sex like that unless they have a history. And the way Mr. Zimmer practically rolled over at her feet at the mention of her working for the New York Times…” Some of the soda she’d just swallowed rose into her throat, and she pushed the glass away. “If Mr. Zimmer changes his mind about women reporters, it’s obvious Ginny would benefit. If I want to get ahead, I need to move. I wish I’d hear from Mattie.”

  Helen grinned. “I have news you’ll love. Mom’s been feeling a lot better, and Beatrice, our beautician friend, was over yesterday. To tell you the truth, I was leery of leaving Mom, the way she’s been feeling, but since she’s better now and Beatrice is eager to start working, I see no reason not to plan the move.”

  Meg wiped her palms on her skirt and forced herself to breathe. “I thought we weren’t making definite arrangements until I could secure a job.”

  “Well, Beatrice can’t do anything until summer. I feel it in my gut that you’ll receive good news from Mattie. Besides, I want to be here for the new building’s grand opening, and I know you do too.”

  Excitement coursed through Meg’s veins. “Of course I do.”

  Helen grinned. “The dance will be our going-away party.”

  Helen was moving ahead like a steam locomotive. Even if there were openings at the Examiner, the pay had to be enough to live on. “Moving is going to cost money. If we want to save enough by summer, it may mean foregoing our weekly movie date.”

  Helen bobbed her head. “That’s okay unless it’s a Harlow picture.”

  Meg stabbed her straw against the bottom of her glass. It folded like an accordion. “You sure are anxious to go all of a sudden.”

  “I’ve been dreaming about this for years. You know that. Mom’s all for it and I don’t want to wait too long. She may change her mind.”

  Meg stared into her friend’s dreamy expression. How could she back out and disappoint Helen? Mattie’s letter had to hold a positive answer.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jack’s stomach rumbled as he pulled the Ford into a parking place near the News-Trib on Tuesday morning. The toast he’d eaten earlier would never hold him. Served him right for spending most of Saturday at the typewriter instead of going to the market. He checked his watch. If he hurried, he had time to grab some breakfast.

  Leaving his briefcase in the car, he set out for the café, whistling “I’ve Told Ev’ry Little Star” as he strolled. The lyrics ran through his mind, followed by the memory of a conversation he’d had with Ginny. It was high time he stopped keeping his feelings to himself.

  He reached the intersection at Main and Broad, and his heart raced. Meg stood on the opposite corner, wearing the same red beret she’d worn that Sunday they’d bumped into each other in the park. Was this a coincidence? The traffic light changed, and she stepped off the curb.

  His gaze locked with hers, and he grinned. “Morning. I was just heading to the café for a quick bite. Care to join me?”

  She blinked as though in a trance. “No thanks. I already ate.”

  He ignored the itch to ask what was troubling her. “Not even a cup of coffee?”

  She shook her head as her eyes sparked. “I have a deadline. ‘Town Talk’ is due for proofing by tomorrow.”

  His spirit sagged. Did she think him a slacker? Hadn’t he mentioned on Sunday how he’d spent most of Saturday roughing out this week’s story? “Suit yourself. I’ll see you at the salt mines.”

  One fried egg and two pieces of bacon later, Jack arrived at work.

  Meg looked up from her typing as he passed her desk, and a corner of her mouth curved up. At least she’d thawed some—but he kept walking.

  Oscar walked up. “Jack, good morning. Can I see you for a minute?”

  In the boss’s office, the men sat and Oscar leaned back, his old wood chair creaking. He linked his hands behind his head. “I enjoyed meeting Ginny. Accomplished young woman. Did you help her see the light of working for a weekly?”

  Jack shook his head. “It’s hard to convince her that a weekly can have the same excitement as the Times. She wants me to put in a good word with my father.”

  “How does he feel about women reporters?”

  “He doesn’t think it’s right.”

  “Nor do I, as you may have gathered.” Oscar stared out the window. “I talked to the editor of the paper over in Burlington. He’s not against women reporters, and there’s a spot open there.” He scribbled on a piece of paper and handed it to Jack.

  Jack frowned as he skimmed the information. “I take it this is for Ginny?”

  Oscar nodded.

  “I’ll give her a call.” At least Oscar didn’t say the information couldn’t be passed on to Meg after Ginny declined. He crossed his legs. “Oscar, if you’ve known all along that the editor in Burlington is willing to give women a chance, why didn’t you tell Meg about this position?”

  Oscar ran his hand down one of his suspenders. “It has nothing to do with her ability to write, but I prefer to keep my reasons to myself.”

  After delivering the want-ads to Composing, Meg returned to her desk. Next to her, Jack laughed into his phone. Ever since she saw him on the sidewalk that morning, she’d regretted her abruptness. The surprising strong feelings she’d felt at Ginny’s sudden appearance yesterday had thrown her off guard.

  “I think it’s a great opportunity for you to look into, Gin,” Jack said. “And you would love living here. I’ll see you later.”

  Despite emotions with more ups and downs than a yo-yo, Meg finished her “Town Talk” article an hour later. She skimmed the words, pleased that she’d managed no typos on her first try.

  “Hello, Meg. Good to see you again.”

  Meg looked up. Ginny’s eyes seemed even bluer than yesterday, thanks to her periwinkle coat. No turban today. Just a simple hat, placed at a jaunty angle on top of her curls. “Nice seeing you too. Are you enjoying your visit to Lake Geneva?”

  Next to Meg, J
ack hurried through a rushed good-bye on the phone.

  Ginny’s eyes sparkled. “I may soon be more than visiting. I’m about to find out.” She winked. “Wish me luck.”

  The sound of Jack’s receiver hitting its cradle interrupted them. “Ginny. Good timing. Oscar’s free. Let’s go see him.” Jack came up beside her. “Better get your coat off, or you’ll roast to death.”

  Meg feigned interest in her work as the rustle of Ginny’s removing her coat, no doubt with Jack’s assistance, grated against her ears. The words blurred. She should have accepted his offer to co-write that story. Stubbornness had gotten in her way again.

  Across the room, a door clicked shut. Without them nearby she’d have some peace. If she blocked out the trills of laughter coming through the walls. Memories of enjoying laughs with Jack last Sunday flowed into her thoughts. She supposed Ginny and Jack had had their share of laughs too. Maybe more.

  By the time Meg left for lunch, Mr. Zimmer’s door still hadn’t opened. She slid onto a stool at Arnold’s Drugstore fountain and studied the menu scratched onto a blackboard above the back counter. The choices hadn’t changed in days, but she always checked. She ordered a tuna fish sandwich and settled in to wait.

  Jack plopped onto the next stool.

  She jumped. “What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you.”

  A wave of electricity ran down her spine. “Where’s Ginny?”

  “On her way to Burlington. I lent her the Ford.” He grinned. “Hope she drives better now than she did in college.”

  “I thought she had a car.”

  “She’d borrowed her friend’s, but Ellie needed it today. Oscar arranged an interview for her at the Burlington paper.”

  Meg tensed. “For what kind of job?”

  Jack stared at the counter. “Seems the editor over there is more forward thinking than our boss.”

  The soda jerk brought Meg a Coke then asked Jack for his order. When the man left, Meg glanced at Jack. He’d leaned both elbows on the counter, using his clasped hands as a prop for his chin. He stared straight ahead.

  “I want to apologize for my touchy behavior this morning.”

  He faced her, his eyes full of concern. “That’s okay. I figured you had a lot on your mind. I did defend you to Oscar this morning, but he shot me down.”

  Pressure built at the back of Meg’s eyes, and she turned away.

  The soda jerk brought Jack’s Coke then looked from Jack to Meg. “Anything else?”

  Yes, please go away and don’t come back. Meg shook her head

  Jack took a sip. “Is your father still insisting you work for him?”

  “Mom got a part-time job at the library, and that took the strength out of his argument. But I wouldn’t have done it anyway.”

  The sandwiches arrived, and their attention went to their lunches. Meg relished the silence.

  “I wish you’d rethink moving away.”

  Meg stared at him, touched at the sudden expression of caring. It also frightened her. She picked up her Coke and sipped. “I have to move.”

  “Why the urgency?”

  “To get ahead. You know that.”

  “Nothing to do with those secret rewrites for Lester?”

  The syrupy drink lodged in her throat as though she’d swallowed molasses. She picked up her napkin, wadding it into a ball. “I thought you didn’t know.”

  “Didn’t you realize I’d overheard you and Lester that day?”

  “At the time I thought you had, but when you never mentioned…”

  He looked away. “Didn’t think it was my business.”

  “And now it is?”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed. “No. I’m just concerned.”

  “The article I’m working on is my last with Lester.”

  “How did it start?” He took a bite of his sandwich.

  Her tongue felt as if it were glued to the roof of her mouth. “I was Lester’s proofreader, and I ended up rewriting a lot. Mr. Zimmer didn’t like that it was more my work than Lester’s and ordered me to stop helping him.

  “Later, Lester asked for help, and we agreed I’d tutor him after work. I rewrote paragraphs as examples, but he copied them verbatim. When Mr. Zimmer praised his work, Lester asked for more help. It’s been going on for almost a year.”

  “And Oscar never found out?”

  She shook her head. “If he did, I’d probably be out of a job.”

  “I don’t know. He seems quite taken with you in a fatherly way.”

  She huffed. “Between him and my real father, I’d do better as an orphan.”

  “I came across a statement in the Bible that says He’s always thinking about us and doesn’t wish us evil. It sounds like God always has our best interests at heart.”

  She picked up her half-eaten sandwich and studied it. “I’ve been trying to trust God, but it’s not always easy.”

  “I’ve been working to apply that verse to my situation with my dad. Maybe—”

  “Your circumstances are different. You’ll eventually have a large fancy office at the Beacon.” She set her uneaten sandwich on her plate.

  He stared at his lap. “True. But with my dad’s health problems…”

  “You haven’t heard anything since his doctor’s appointment?”

  “I plan to call tomorrow if I don’t hear.” He shoved the rest of his sandwich into his mouth then reached into his pocket and pulled out some coins. He dropped them on the counter next to the bill.

  She gathered her belongings. “Thanks for the lunch.”

  He glanced at her plate. “You’ve hardly touched your food.”

  “I’ve had enough. If you’d rather I’d pay…”

  “Hush. We’d better get back to the office.”

  Sadness washed over her as she let Jack help her with her coat. If his dad were seriously ill, in a couple months’ time, he might be working in Chicago while she and Helen apartment hunted on the West Coast. Would he notice her absence, or would Ginny occupy his thoughts so much that he’d scarcely notice?

  Outside, they passed First National Bank with its imposing gray edifice; then at Moore Hardware, she waved at Mr. Moore through the store window. As they passed the bakery, Mrs. Blackwood, the florist’s wife, stepped out, and Meg greeted her. In California, she wouldn’t know anyone except Mattie and Helen. But if she were honest with herself, the one she’d miss the most was Jack.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jack stepped through his back door, and the telephone jangled. He tossed his keys onto the counter and dodged around the table, catching a chair with his thigh. He rubbed his upper leg as he ran toward the phone. It had to be Dad. “Don’t hang up.”

  The ringing stopped. He grabbed the receiver and jabbed at the switch hook.

  “Operator.”

  “Who was calling 5550?”

  “Oscar Zimmer. Do you want me to ring him?”

  Jack frowned and rubbed his thigh. “Yes. Put me through.”

  Zimmer answered with a weak “Hello.”

  “Oscar, it’s Jack. You called?”

  “I’ve got a nasty flu bug, and I’m not going to make it in tomorrow. This week’s layout needs to be done. Lots to do…”

  Jack dropped to the seat. “Don’t worry about a thing. I’ve done layouts be—”

  “I’ve assigned Lester. No time like the present to see if he’s a chip off the old block. But can you stick around the office?”

  Jack’s throat felt as if he’d swallowed a cotton ball. He slumped against the wall. They could only hope Les had a knack for laying out other people’s words. “You can count on me.”

  “Good. I have a feeling there’s some ink in my boy’s blood. I need to get back to bed.”

  A click sounded. Jack moved to hang up then poised his hand over the switch hook. Should he call Meg? After their lunch conversation that day, hearing that she’d be needed would boost her confidence. He returned the receiver to its cradle. Tomorrow was soon e
nough. She’d need her sleep tonight.

  Meg shrugged out of her coat. She had at least a half hour before people would arrive for the day. Time enough to finish Lester’s article. Pressure pushed against her chest wall until a sour taste rose in her throat. This had to be the last time. Period.

  Across the room, light from Mr. Zimmer’s office caught her eye. Why wasn’t he at his weekly breakfast meeting with the mayor? If she started typing, he’d probably step out to see who was there. She went to her desk and slid the folder containing the edited article into a drawer then went to the open door.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  Lester looked up and stared at her with eyes that seemed to have sunk deeper into his head. “Dad’s sick and he asked me to take over. I barely slept last night, and the layout must be done today.” He waved his hand over the papers strewn across his dad’s desk. “I’ve already messed this up, and I don’t remember what was to be on the front page.” He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands then put on his glasses.

  Meg stepped closer. “What’s wrong with your father?”

  Lester shrugged. “Influenza, I guess. Hopefully the twenty-four-hour kind.” He stubbed out a cigarette then pulled a pack of Camels from his breast pocket. Tapping it against his index finger, he shook out a smoke and stuck it into his mouth. Letting the cigarette dangle from his lips, he looked at Meg. “I don’t think I can do this.”

  Her eyes ranged over the disarray strewn about the desktop. “Of course you can.” If only she could believe her words.

  He struck a match and lit the cigarette. Streams of smoke emerged from his nostrils while he extinguished the flame with a flick of his wrist.

  Meg pulled a chair over to Lester’s side, blinking against the sting in her eyes. “He starts by assessing the stories he has and those he knows are coming, then develops the layout.” She reached for an article. Lester pushed her hand away. A glowing ash flew onto a stack of papers.

  She grabbed a dictionary and dropped it onto the ember. “Maybe you should refrain from smoking while you’re doing this.”

  His face reddened. “What I need is to work alone. Dad’s counting on me. Besides, you said you didn’t want to help me anymore.”