Christmas Miracles: Mega Mail Order Bride 20-Book Box Set: Multi-Author Box Set

by Jenny Creek Tanner

  Lisa became a respected colleague, in part because James Devlin knew that if she simply offered her services as a speechwriter, there were a half dozen or more legislators who would jump to hire her, either piecemeal or as a full-time writer.

  Once he recognized that, James began to reward her. He had a large, rambling house in an affluent part of Annapolis where most of the legislators lived, and James brought in a builder who hired several carpenters to set up a separate, adjoining apartment for her. Lisa had no idea how he squared that away with his spouse, a mousy little thing who was more like a servant than a wife.

  For all intents and purposes, though, Lisa didn't care. She had most of what she wanted—a good job with a purpose, a comfortable place to live, and friends who meant a great deal to her.

  Her life was lonely in ways she didn't want to think about, but perhaps this was the best she would be able to do.

  Not wonderful, but not a bad lot in life, she thought, all things considered.

  Even though there simply had to be more.

  And there was, even though it came to her in a roundabout way.

  Lisa was home writing that evening, as usual, after learning that her latest speech would be largely negated by Harlan Galvin's corrupt ways. It was her own way of drowning her sorrows, in a manner of speaking—rather than take defeat lying down, Lisa simply decided to write a better speech, in the futile hope that sooner or later one of them would make a real difference.

  Just after she finished the opening paragraphs, there was a knock on the door. Lisa got up, surprised, thinking it must be Sally Galvin, her best friend, popping over for a surprise visit.

  But her guest had a different kind of surprise for her. It was Katie Simmons, who'd been showing signs of wanting to be friends with Lisa, helping type the copy for her speeches. She also corrected the typos and occasional errors Lisa made, a service for which Lisa was quite grateful.

  Now she stood at the door, with something under her arm, her expression bright and eager.

  “Hi!” Katie said, greeting her with a relentless enthusiasm that had its own peculiar kind of charm to it. “I'm terribly sorry to stop by after the dinner hour, but I simply had to talk to you.”

  “No trouble at all,” Lisa assured her, thinking about the speech she'd just started. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  “No, no, everything's fine,” Katie assured her as Lisa ushered her in. She took Katie's cloak and scarf and hung them in the foyer, then waved toward the sofa in the living room.

  On the way, though, Katie passed the side door leading to the study and gave the room a quick glance. The lamp that was lit, with papers scattered about and that was when she knew that Lisa had been working.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed, nearly stopping in her tracks. “I didn't realize you were writing.”

  She grinned. “That looks like another speech to me.”

  Lisa chuckled at how easy it was to figure out. “Please, think nothing of it,” she replied. “That's all I do, for the most part, is work. Fortunately, I do some of my best writing in the evening.”

  “Well, I don't want to keep you,” Katie said as Lisa pointed to the sofa.

  “Believe me, you're not,” Lisa smiled. “Would you like some tea?”

  “Oh, no, I couldn't impose on you,” Katie replied.

  “No imposition at all. The water's on, and I just made a cup of chamomile for myself.”

  “Well. . .if you don't mind,” Katie said, grinning.

  “Not at all.”

  Lisa went to the kitchen and prepared the tea, which sent a delightful aroma wafting through the living room. She sat down in the chair across from the sofa and crossed her legs in a ladylike fashion.

  “So. . .what is it you need to talk about?” she asked.

  “Oh!” Katie said, looking under her arm for whatever it was she'd brought with her. Then she realized that she'd put the newspaper she'd been carrying down on the sofa next to her, so she reached over and unfolded it.

  “I just wanted to show this to you,” Katie said, smoothing out the wrinkles in the paper a bit before passing it to Lisa.

  “What is it?” Lisa asked, genuinely curious.

  “A new newspaper one of the junior legislators told me about today,” she explained. “It's called The Frontier Times.”

  “Huh,” Lisa said, spreading it out in her lap and scanning the headlines. “Looks interesting.”

  “Its more than that,” Katie insisted. “It's a new format as well.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It's a political paper,” she explained. “One of the first in the West to take that particular approach.”

  “Now that is interesting,” Lisa said, tilting her head as she opened the paper to see if there was a table of contents. “Any particular slant or orientation?”

  “What?” Katie asked, looking perplexed. “I'm not sure what you mean.”

  Lisa smiled, reminding herself that Katie was still relatively new to the nuances of political life in Annapolis.

  “Most political papers have a point of view,” she explained. “Like the newspapers around here, and they offer commentary of a sort as well. So I was just wondering if that was the case with this paper or not.”

  “Oh!” she exclaimed. She blushed slightly. “Yes, I am familiar with those things. I just didn't recognize the terminology you used.”

  Lisa laughed slightly, chiding herself for being so immersed in the language and the political process. “Trust me, you'll get used to it,” she said. “The legislature has a tongue all its own.”

  “Oh, I know that,” Katie said. “Unfortunately for me, a lot of that goes whizzing right over my head. But you're much brighter than I am, Lisa, so I thought you might be interested in this.”

  “Don't sell yourself short,” Lisa retorted. “You're a pretty sharp girl. I've heard several of the junior legislators compliment you on your work.”

  Katie blushed. “They just think I'm cute, or fetching, or something,” she said, shaking her head. “I've had one or two ask to see me socially.”

  “Really? That's never happened to me,” Lisa said, feeling a twinge of sadness at the loneliness of her life.

  “That's because they're afraid of you,” Katie explained. “A girl with a mind is a dangerous thing.”

  Lisa laughed and shook her head. “Not so sure about that,” she said. “But you're probably right about them being intimidated. Or something.”

  She sighed. “Or perhaps I'm just not that attractive in ways men find fetching.”

  “Oh, but you are!” Katie insisted. “It just takes time to find the right one.”

  “Perhaps forever,” Lisa said, instantly regretting the severity of her words when she realized how gloomy she sounded. “I'm going to end up an old maid, I'm afraid.”

  “No!” Katie insisted, and she brought her hand to her mouth when she realized she'd spoken louder than she wished to. “You'll be as successful in love and marriage as you are as a speechwriter, Lisa. I'm absolutely certain of it.”

  “Well, I hope so,” Lisa said, sighing again. She turned her attention back to the paper.

  “Was there something specific you wanted to show me? In the paper itself?”

  And in fact, there was.

  Katie pointed to the back of the paper from her seat on the sofa. “Its near the end,” she said excitedly. “I think about five pages or so. I dog-eared the page for you so you wouldn't miss it.”

  Lisa found the page, then straightened out the folded corner as she opened it. It was a classified section of some sort, which she found strange. Why did Katie want her to look at this?

  “I don't understand,” she said. “It looks like a fairly normal classified section.”

  “It is, for the most part,” Katie replied. “But if you look down in the lower right corner of the page, you'll see a box that I've outlined for you.”

  “Ah, OK,” Lisa said, honing in on the box. She squinted at the t
iny print and realized this would go better with a magnifying glass, or perhaps the spectacles she normally used for reading.

  “I'm afraid I can't quite read all of it,” she said. “Can you summarize it for me?”

  “Oh. . .I'm so sorry,” Katie replied. “I should have realized that. Here, let me help.”

  Katie reached into a pocket of her dress and pulled out a small magnifying glass. “Here, this should make things a little easier for you.”

  Lisa reached across the coffee table and took the magnifying glass, then perused the ad.

  “Ah, I see what you're up to here,” she said when she was finished.

  “I think it would be perfect for you,” Katie said enthusiastically. “It's an ad for a speechwriter. In Denver. For a young legislator.”

  “I can see that,” Lisa said, smiling. “There's just one little problem.”

  “What's that?”

  “I'm a woman, Katie,” Lisa said, shaking her head, then folding the paper up and returning it to Katie. “There's no way I'd be accepted for this position.”

  “How do you know?” Katie asked. “Maybe it's different out there. In the West, you know?”

  “Perhaps,” Lisa acknowledged. “But not that different.”

  “How do you know?” Katie asked again, her tone insistent.

  She shrugged. “I don't, really, I suppose,” Lisa acknowledged. “It is a bit of an assumption. . .but it's just the way things are, you know?”

  “Maybe,” Katie said, her eyes burning fiercely in defiance. “But I don't think you should give up.”

  “Well, I appreciate your bringing the paper for me,” Lisa said, folding it so she could give it back to Katie. “It was a very kind and thoughtful thing to do.”

  “No, no,” Katie protested, waving the paper off. “You keep it. I think you should read this, the paper, I mean. And keep it in mind.”

  Lisa smiled. “All right,” she said, relenting as she put the paper back in her lap. “I know you mean well.”

  “It's more than that,” Katie insisted. “I know you think I'm far too optimistic, but I really do have a feeling about this. And it's a strong one, too.”

  “What kind of feeling?” Lisa asked.

  “That there's something here for you,” she said. “Something that will change your life completely.”

  They spoke for a while longer, exchanging social niceties. Katie was more than a bit of a gossip, and within ten minutes Lisa was caught up on everything that was going on in the secretarial pool with the young legislators. Not to mention some of the rumors about some of the more established politicians.

  It really was a shame, Lisa thought, that there wasn't a place to put this information where everyone could access it. Half of it was just rumor and innuendo, but she knew virtually everyone who worked in the legislature would love to read about it on an ongoing basis, even if it was unsourced and unverified. It would be pandering, for sure, but perhaps there would be parts of it that could lead to positive change.

  When Katie left, Lisa turned her attention to the rest of the paper. Some of the layout was quite clumsy, and much of the writing was lazy, bordering on inept.

  But there was definitely something different about it. Frontier Times had a bright, vital energy to it, the kind of energy that was distinctly missing from Maryland politics, which felt stodgy and common by comparison.

  As she flipped through the paper, Lisa vaguely realized that she was neglecting her speech, the new one that she'd actually been enthusiastic about when she started working.

  But perhaps it was time for something new. She definitely felt like she was stuck in a rut, and the paper was definitely activating her curiosity, which hadn't happened for some time.

  Lisa returned to the classifieds, to the page Katie had singled out for her. She looked at the advertisement for a speechwriter again, shaking her head in sadness. If only it were so, that she could be seriously considered for such a position!

  She began to flip through the rest of the classifieds, her attention drifting. Lisa knew she was neglecting her speech, and she tried to will herself back to a point where she could focus and reapply herself.

  Then she saw it. Lisa was flipping through the final few pages, losing interest by the second. The print was getting smaller and harder to read, and she realized that she'd forgotten to give Katie her magnifying glass when she'd left. She made a mental note to return it to her the next day, then turned her attention to the ad.

  It wasn't the sort of thing that normally would have attracted her attention. One of those mail order bride advertisements, and part of what drew Lisa's attention was how out of place it seemed in a political newspaper.

  But perhaps that was the way it was in the West. Lisa had heard so many things about new ways and things being different; it was hard not to be curious.

  Especially when the ad turned out to be placed by a young Denver legislator named Jackson Carson.

  That was definitely different—anyone placing any kind of ad like that in Maryland would have been excoriated by the political ramifications. Politicians here had to be married and established, preferably with wives who had family connections, like that mousy little thing James Devlin had married.

  Answering the ad on her own behalf was definitely too racy and adventurous for Lisa. Still, there was a place for it, and she knew who it would be perfect for:

  Her best friend, Sally Galvin.

  She returned the copy of The Frontier Times to Katie the next day, shortly after she arrived at work. Lisa smiled sheepishly when she handed Katie the magnifying glass, then apologized for having kept it.

  “I should have given this to you right away,” she said. “I'm so sorry.”

  “It's all right,” Katie said, cheerful as ever. “I realized I'd forgotten it when I got home, but we have one here that the secretaries use as well.”

  Katie took the paper back somewhat reluctantly, giving Lisa a curious stare. “So are you going to do it?” she asked.

  “Do what?”

  “Apply for the speech writer's position.”

  “Oh. . .no,” Lisa replied, turning slightly sad. “Of course not.”

  “But why not?” Katie asked, pleading with her. “You know you're perfect for it.”

  “As far as qualifications go, yes,” Lisa said. “The rest of it. . .well, lets just say I don't think so.”

  Katie snorted. “You know, you told me last night not to sell myself short when I said I wasn't bright enough,” Katie said. “But I think you're doing the same sort of thing now.”

  Lisa frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “You think that just because its a man's world, you can't make your mark,” Katie explained. “You're right to some extent, but the truth is that's not so.”

  “To some extent?” Lisa said, smiling slightly at the qualifier.

  “Yes,” Katie said, nodding. “If it was completely a man's world, you wouldn't be here now, doing what you're doing. Writing speeches for James Galvin.”

  Lisa pondered her words. “You're right, I suppose,” she replied, then smiled. “To some extent.”

  Katie smiled, pleased and proud to have out-debated someone like Lisa, even if it was just on one small point. Then she turned slightly sad, looking forlornly at her copy of The Frontier Times as she folded it in half.

  “So nothing will come of this?” Katie asked more softly.

  Lisa shrugged. “I'm not sure what you mean by 'come of it',” she said, playing possum with Katie.

  “If you're not going to apply for the speech writer's position,” Katie said. “I thought giving this to you would help you get out of the rut you've been in.”

  “Rut?” Lisa asked.

  “Yes,” Katie replied, nodding. “Its been obvious for quite some time.”

  “Hmm.” Lisa cupped her chin in her hand, not having realized it was that obvious. “What do you mean?”

  Katie snorted again. “Anyone can see you're meant for better things
, Lisa,” she explained. “But you're not going to find them here.”

  “I'm not?”

  “Of course not,” Katie said.

  “And why is that?”

  “Because you're stuck on James Devlin,” she said. “You're not going to get over it like the rest of us did. It's going to continue to cast a shadow over you.”

  Lisa felt a pain in her chest as soon as Katie spoke the words, and the pain told her how right Katie was. As wonderful as it was in some ways, seeing James every day was like watching a dark gray cloud that was about to pass to reveal the sun, but never quite got there.

  For all her bubbly cheerfulness, Lisa realized that Katie could be quite insightful when she put her mind to it. But Lisa was uncomfortable going any further into the issue at the moment, so she decided to change the subject.

  Lisa looked at the paper, then pointed to it.

  “Actually, it turns out this isn't a totally lost cause,” she said.

  “What do you mean?” Katie asked, eyeing the paper in confusion.

  “Go to the last page if you would,” Lisa directed her. “Actually, the next to the last page. . .the inside of the back page.”

  “All right,” Katie said dubiously, flipping through the paper while Lisa waited.

  When Katie reached the designated page, she saw that an entirely different box had been circled. It was much smaller than the job posting for a speechwriter had been, and Katie squinted, then quickly realized it was her turn to reach for the magnifying glass.

  “What is this?” she asked as she reached for the glass.

  “Just read it,” Lisa replied, grinning.

  “All right.” Katie spread the paper open on the desk, then used the magnifying glass to clarify the text. The first thing she saw was the headline, and she smiled and giggled slightly, barely able to read the rest of the text.

  “You can't be serious,” she said.

  “I am,” Lisa replied, then paused. “But not for me.”

  “Huh?” Katie said, obviously confused. “What are you talking about?”