Truly Yours Contemporary Collection December 2014

by Joyce Livingston, Gail Sattler, Joyce Livingston

  He picked up the saltshaker and shook it gently over his baked potato. “That’s what she says, but El says a lot of things she doesn’t mean.”

  “Then why does she say them?”

  Bob glanced up at his teenage daughter’s lovely face. “Good question. If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say having children means commitment, and El isn’t about to let anyone tie her down.”

  “Doesn’t she get lonely now that Mr. Scrooge has passed away?”

  Bob forked a meatball and twirled it in the air. “I don’t know. Eleanor likes herself. I’m not sure she needs anyone else in her life.”

  Kari appeared thoughtful. “That’s pitiful.”

  He bit into the tasty meatball and chewed it slowly, savoring each bite. “You’re right. It is pitiful. That’s why we need to pray for her.”

  An adorable nine-year-old entered the kitchen, cradling a library book in her arms. “Daddy? I didn’t know you were home.”

  Bob reached out his arms, and she ran to him. “I thought you were asleep.”

  Ginny climbed onto his lap and kissed his cheek. “I was waiting for you. I miss you.”

  Bob’s gaze locked on the red mark on her otherwise unblemished little cheek. She was small for her age and the delight of his life. Though he loved his children equally, that port-wine stain made Ginny a little more special than the others. It was as if he owed her, as if he were personally responsible for her bearing that awful birthmark. How could he let another day go by without finding a way to relieve her of the agony of ridicule she faced every day? “I miss you, too, sweetie. I should have Mrs. Scrooge’s Web site finished in a few weeks, and then Daddy will have more time with his little girl. Just try to be patient, okay?”

  “I’ve been thinking, Dad,” Kari said, placing a slice of the carrot cake she’d baked that day on a plate. “I’m sixteen now. The man at the corner bakery asked me if I’d be interested in working a few hours each morning before school. He needs someone to help him box up the delivery orders.”

  Bob placed his fork on his plate. “Before school?”

  She nodded. “From four to eight each morning. That would give me plenty of time to get to school by eight thirty. He said he’d pay me a dollar more than minimum wage because he knew I’d be a good worker.”

  Bob gave his head a violent shake. “Twenty hours a week? Before school? Absolutely not! You need to concentrate on making the best grades you can if you want to go to college.”

  “Please, Dad, I want to help pay for taking that birthmark off Ginny’s face.”

  Bob’s heart was touched, and he found it hard to hold back tears. “That’s such a sweet gesture, honey, and I appreciate what you’re offering to do, but what you could make at the bakery in a year wouldn’t begin to pay for even one of Ginny’s treatments.”

  Blinking back her own tears, Kari stroked her little sister’s hair. “We have to do something, Dad. You don’t know what she goes through. People are so cruel. It’s not right that she has to face their awful stares.”

  Bob slipped his free arm about her waist and pulled her to him. “I know, honey. I know. Somehow, we’ll work this out.” Though he hadn’t mentioned it to his children, he was hoping Eleanor would be so pleased with his work on her Web site she would reward him with a big bonus when it was done.

  “Maybe Mrs. Scrooge would help with—”

  He huffed. “Mrs. Scrooge would be the last one to help. She’s a self-made woman who doesn’t believe in charity or benevolent acts of any kind.”

  “But why? She has more money than she’ll ever be able to spend. You’d think a woman that wealthy would be so thankful she’d want to help other people.”

  Bob cradled Kari’s cheek with his palm. “You’d think so, but it doesn’t always work out that way. Some people value their worth by the money they have. I’m afraid Mrs. Scrooge is one of those people.”

  “She needs God in her life.” Kari’s face showed concern. “I feel sorry for her. She must be very lonely without a family.”

  “I think she is lonely. I know many nights she works late then goes home and eats a frozen dinner she’s heated up in the microwave as she watches TV. What good is that big mansion she lives in without anyone to share it with her?”

  “Maybe we should invite her to dinner again.”

  Bob let out a sigh. “She won’t come. Now,” he said, rising and pasting on a smile, “it’s time for you children to get to bed.” He kissed each one tenderly. “I’m the rich one. I have you.”

  Five

  On September 30, Bob worked twenty-three hours straight putting the final touches on Scrooge’s Web site, arriving home on Sunday morning, just in time to take his family to church. With God’s help, he had met his goal. The newly renovated, much-touted Web site was online right on schedule.

  He stopped at a convenience store on the way home from church to pick up copies of the state’s Sunday editions of the newspapers, turning quickly to Scrooge’s full-page color ads. Eleanor had spared no expense. He wondered how many readers would hurry to their computers to check out the new Web site after reading about it. He had to admit, the ad was well done and quite eye-catching. Perhaps Eleanor knew what she was doing after all.

  The phone was ringing when they entered their home. Bob hurried to answer it.

  “Have you seen the TV ads?” Eleanor’s excited voice asked.

  “Only the newspaper ads. We just got home from church and haven’t had a chance to turn on the TV.”

  “Hundreds of people are visiting the Web site. I’ve been checking the visitor counter the way you taught me. You won’t believe the orders we’re already receiving online. I’m so glad I decided to revamp the Web site.”

  Are you going to give me a little credit here? I’m the one who worked night and day to get it done on time.

  “This is going to be the best Christmas Scrooge’s has ever had. Our sales are going to skyrocket,” she went on. “People all over the country will be doing their Christmas shopping on Scrooge’s dot com. I’m so anxious to tell you. . . .”

  Bob’s fingertips rubbed his forehead. “I’m going to have to cut this short, El. I worked on your Web site all night last night, got home this morning in time to take my family to church and Sunday school, and I’m asleep on my feet. Whatever it is will—”

  “You must come into the office today,” she continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “I’ve thought of several features I want to add to the Web site. We can capitalize on the—”

  “No,” he said firmly, his patience wearing thin enough to snap. “I have to get some sleep, El, and I want to spend time with my family. Whatever you want to add will have to wait until tomorrow.”

  “But I need to—”

  “Good-bye, El. I’ll see you in the morning.” He placed the phone back in its cradle, ignoring the still-talking voice on the other end. “That woman never knows when to quit!” he told his children as they gathered around him and gave him a group hug. “After we have lunch, let me get a couple hours of z’s and we’ll all go for ice cream.”

  ❧

  By two in the morning, most of the residents of Newport, Rhode Island, were sound asleep, but in the Scrooge mansion the lights in one of the upper bedrooms burned brightly as Eleanor sat in front of her computer staring at the screen. Perhaps I should have added another jewelry line to the Web site or maybe more lingerie. Both of those items are good Christmas sellers.

  She snapped her fingers as a delicious idea occurred to her. Maybe I should start my own signature line! Her mind whizzed with the possibilities. People all over the world would be wearing my fashions, my perfume, and my jewelry. What would I call my line? Eleanor’s? No, that isn’t hip enough. Scrooge’s? No! That would never do. The name would need to be short. Memorable. It should have a youthful sound. Maybe simply El! That has a classy sound. Her face screwed up in thought. The name is very important. I’ll have to think about it. It has to be just right.

  Moving the
mouse slightly, she clicked on the tab marked Gifts then gazed at the dozens of gift items Bob had placed on the page—each displayed with a small Christmas motif beside it. What good ideas Bob has. And to think he’s been hiding his talent from me all this time.

  As she scanned the items, another thought occurred to her. Maybe we should have a For Men Only section with ideas for gifts they could give their wives and sweethearts. We could even offer a special gift-wrapping service with special name tags made just for them. I’ll have to talk to Bob about it. I’m sure he could add it. Finding it difficult to contain her enthusiasm, she reached for the phone and dialed Bob’s number.

  “Hu–lo,” a sleepy voice answered on the third ring.

  “Oh, Bob, I’ve just had the most wonderful idea. I—”

  “El? Is that you? Do you know what time it is?”

  She glanced at the clock in the lower right-hand corner of the computer screen. “It’s after two o’clock? I had no idea.”

  “Can’t this wait until morning?” he asked with a yawn.

  She leaned back in her chair, releasing a disappointed sigh. “I suppose so, but I really wanted to—”

  “El, please, have a little mercy, okay? I’ve worked day and night for several months to get your Web site up on time. I’ve barely seen the family I love more than life itself. And, despite the good job my assistant is doing, I’m way behind in my work in the accounting department. My life has been on hold. I was hoping things would get back to normal.”

  She sat silently. Each word he was saying was true. He had dropped everything, with very little complaint. She should be more grateful. “I–I’m sorry, Bob. Please forgive me. I hope you won’t have any trouble getting back to sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow. Good night.”

  ❧

  Bob blinked hard at the receiver in his hand as he placed it back on its cradle. “Was I dreaming or did Eleanor just apologize? That’s a first!”

  He rolled over onto his side and closed his eyes, hoping to fall to sleep right away, but visions of the beautiful Eleanor flooded his mind.

  Eleanor. . .the day she graduated from high school, dressed in a white ruffled dress, her long, dark hair falling softly about her shoulders.

  Eleanor. . .the day she left for New York City, wearing the red suit he’d always liked on her.

  Eleanor. . .the day she silently crept back into Newport. Although she’d had to hang her head and eat humble pie as she confessed her New York adventure had been a fiasco, she had looked beautiful in her faded jeans and T-shirt, her hair pulled back in a ponytail and tied with a red ribbon.

  Eleanor. . .the day she’d married Everett Scrooge. She’d been a vision of loveliness wearing that fancy white satin dress with a long train billowing out behind her as she walked down the aisle. He’d never forget how beautiful she looked—or how beautiful she looked now. The Eleanor he worked with every day now was a few years older but every bit as lovely. Yes, Eleanor Baker Scrooge was one of a kind. She had the sort of natural beauty and a flair for style most women envied.

  Unfortunately, she knew it.

  He switched on the light, then lifted Lydia’s framed picture from the nightstand, held it lovingly between his hands, and stared at his deceased wife’s image. You may not have been as beautiful on the outside as El, but you had an inner beauty that outshone her. I loved you, Lydia, and I miss you terribly. I know you never believed I loved you as much as I loved El, but I did. It was a different kind of love. Sometimes I think what I felt for El was more of an infatuation than actual love. It was exciting to be around her. You never knew what was going to happen next. For some reason I felt responsible for her. I had since the day she moved into our neighborhood and I found her crying because some of the kids had made fun of her old, worn-out clothes. She was my best friend. It seemed my duty to protect her, stand up for her, and yes, even fight for her if necessary. Fortunately, I only had to do that a couple of times. He smiled. Even got a black eye out of one of those fights. Oh, was my dad mad. I still feel obligated to fight for her, Lydia. I guess, if I were honest, I’d admit I still have feelings for El. I probably always will.

  He carefully placed the frame back where it belonged, lingering over it before removing his hand. How I wish you were here with us. The kids need you, dearest Lydia. I need you. We had a great marriage, didn’t we, sweetheart? You and I always seemed to be on the same wavelength. I’m glad you wanted a big family. I sure did. I was never meant to live alone, Lydia. You knew that. I’ll never forget the way you took my hand when you realized you were dying and told me it was your desire that I marry again. That’s the kind of woman you were—always thinking of others. What a blessing it was to be your husband and to know you loved God as much as I did. I promise you, Lydia, I’ll continue to raise our children the way you wanted them to be raised, and I’ll do everything in my power to make sure little Ginny gets those treatments. Short of God answering my prayer and working out a miracle, I don’t know how I’m ever going to afford it, but I won’t stop trying. Good night, sweetheart.

  ❧

  As soon as he arrived at work the next morning, Bob tapped on Eleanor’s office door. “Okay, I’m here. This had better be good. I don’t take kindly to being awakened out of a sound sleep at two in the morning.” Without waiting for an invitation, he strode into her office and seated himself in the chair opposite her desk then leaned back, locking his hands behind his head.

  Trying to appear contrite, she peered at him over the rim of the half-glasses she wore only when working at her computer, noticing how handsome he looked in his pale blue polo shirt and tan khakis. For a man who didn’t have time to work out, he had a great-looking set of shoulders and muscular arms. “I honestly didn’t know it was that late.”

  “I don’t know how you do it, El. Staying up into the wee hours of the morning, getting to your office long before anyone else comes in. You always look—perfect, no matter what time of the day it is. Where do you get your energy?”

  Appreciating his compliment and delighted that he noticed, she tilted her head and gave him a shrug. “I don’t know, but, thankfully, my energy never seems to run out. I used to drive Everett crazy. That man couldn’t function intelligently without ten uninterrupted hours of sleep each night. Most days, he even took a mid-afternoon nap. That drove me crazy. I hate seeing anyone waste time.”

  “He was an old man, El! He needed that rest,” Bob countered with a laugh. Then, becoming serious, he asked, “Now tell me. What was so important you had to call me at two?”

  Though she tried, Eleanor couldn’t contain her excitement. “I’ve decided to add a whole new section to the Web site! An exciting new section that I know will add an entirely new dimension to our customers’ Christmas shopping.”

  With a teasing smile, he lifted a skeptical brow. “You’ve decided to add it? I wasn’t aware that you knew how to add things to the Web site.”

  She gave him a look of exasperation. “You know what I mean.”

  “Uh-huh. You mean—you’ve had the idea and now you expect me to do the work.” He stood and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Sorry, I can’t. I barely got the Web site up and running by the deadline. Except for a few changes here and there, I’m through with it. What you need now is a Webmaster. Someone to maintain it and do the regular updates, add and delete products, change the looks to match the seasons, and do all the things that need to be done to keep a first-class Web site online.”

  Eleanor’s jaw dropped. “But you can do all those things for me!”

  Giving his head a vigorous shake, he backed away a few steps, lifting his flattened palms toward her. “No, not me. I’m in charge of your accounting department. I’m no Webmaster. It’s time to turn your Web site over to someone else. A professional—with time to do it justice. My part in this was supposed to be a temporary thing. Remember?”

  “But—you were moonlighting, building and maintaining Web sites while you were working for me before!” she reminded him rat
her curtly, hoping he’d change his mind. “Why can’t you do it for me?”

  His face turning somber, Bob moved quickly to her desk, leaned over it and planted his palms on its highly polished surface, his face just inches from hers. “El, what I designed and placed online for the other Web sites I designed for Cal Bender’s clients were peanuts compared to what I did for you. They were extremely simple jobs, requiring no more than one or two weeks to create. Once I had them up and running, they hired someone or trained someone within their business to keep them up or had Cal’s company on a retainer fee.”

  “You’re already on a retainer fee here. You work for me.”

  He let out a long, slow sigh, frustration showing on his handsome face. “Yes, El, I do work for you. I’m your chief accountant. Accounting is what I was trained for—what I do best.”

  “I don’t see why you can’t do both!”

  He straightened and pointed to his watch. “Because, El, there aren’t enough hours in the day. Each of the jobs you want me to do is a full-time job. I cannot do both.”

  Eleanor glared at him. How dare he refuse her? He worked for her. Wasn’t an employee supposed to do what his employer asked?

  He gave her a frown. “Don’t look at me that way, El. You’re way out of line here. I had hoped when you called last night, you were so pleased with my work you couldn’t wait until morning to tell me and congratulate me on a job well done, maybe even offer to give me a bonus, but apparently I was wrong.”

  Eleanor felt her temper rising. No one talked to her that way. “A bonus? Why would I give you a bonus? I pay you a regular salary to do your job. Isn’t that enough?”

  The look he gave her made her angry.

  “No, it’s not enough! Especially considering all the extra hours I had to put in to get your Web site online. If you divided my salary by the number of hours I worked on this project I’d barely be making minimum wage, not to mention the mental and physical strain of trying to please you! Which, I might add, is never easy to do.”

  He’d never raised his voice to her before, and it made her furious. Her heart pounded, and she felt her temperature rising. How dare he? Clenching her fists at her sides, she glared at him then blurted out, “Perhaps it would be best for everyone if you did find yourself another job!”