Romance Through the Ages

by Amy Harmon

  Noah nodded. “I would, actually, like to meet the man who brought up such an unconventional daughter.”

  Was that a compliment? Breezy wasn’t sure from the words, alone, but his voice sounded like he approved. “He’s right over here. Next to the punch bowl. I guess he got tired of waiting for me to bring him a drink.”

  Why did she feel sad about turning down Noah? It was wisest not to date at work. Especially when the one who wanted to date you thought of you as Pollyanna and was possibly chasing Pamela Gladstone.

  But, darn it, he still looked as delicious as cherry pie à la mode.

  Shaking her head to rid it of the image, she led the way, careful to avoid even brushing up against him.

  * * *

  After chatting with Breezy and her father, Noah watched them return to the head table for the rest of the festivities. He stood for a few minutes after that, knowing he wasn’t exactly welcome at a party for a man whom he’d given no choice but to retire. He made his way to the exit, realizing that for him, it was time to leave the party.

  He’d come because Paul had invited him, and he wanted to show support for an excellent anchorman who had served the station well for many years.

  And, if he was totally honest with himself, he’d come to see Breezy in a social setting.

  He’d been surprised when Breezy had turned him down for dinner, and more so at how disappointed he’d felt when she did so. He rarely asked a woman out, but when he did, they usually said yes.

  How had she gotten under his skin so badly? When had he started even wanting to date her? What would she do if he kept asking?

  Shaking his head, he pushed through the revolving glass hotel doors and stepped into the evening air. Drawing in a deep breath of after-rain freshness, he nodded to a woman standing there, and walked around the corner toward the parking lot and his Corvette.

  The night was dark and cool, the parking lot lights reflecting off the wet pavement from the earlier sprinkling of rain.

  “Noah!” a woman called out.

  Glad Breezy had changed her mind, he turned, a smile on his lips.

  The smile faded as Pamela minced across the pavement in her high heels and short dress. “Wait up. What’s your hurry?”

  Noah wasn’t in the mood for Pamela and her games tonight. She might look like eye candy, but she was really a sweet treat that left you with an upset stomach. He’d had enough of her chasing him. “I have some things I need to look over tonight.”

  “Anything I can help you with?” As she leaned in close—always too close—her flowery perfume hit his senses.

  He took a step back. “No. Some personal work.”

  “Oh.” She looked down at the ground, almost demurely. Then back up with a bat of her eyelashes. “I have something I need to discuss with you. Work related. Do you have five minutes?”

  Resisting the urge to look at his watch, he leaned against his car and crossed his arms. “Sure. What’s up?”

  “I have a big problem with someone who is undermining my work. I think the only solution is for you to fire her.”

  Pamela had a habit of causing problems and then complaining about them. Not for the first time since coming to Aspen Grove, he wished he hadn’t been forced to bring her here. “That’s pretty harsh, even for you.”

  “Spoken by the man known as the Firing Squad, I find that almost amusing.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Who do you want fired?”

  She grew serious. “Breezy Jones.”

  He tipped his head, unsure he’d heard correctly. “Breezy Jones,” he repeated dumbly.

  “I know you like her personally, Noah, but you really can’t let your personal feelings interfere with your work. Mr. Bentley wouldn’t like that.”

  At her blatant threat, her clumsy attempt at intimidation, Noah bristled. Bentley may have insisted on Pamela taking Breezy’s place, but he wouldn’t agree with firing Breezy. Noah was sure of it. “Breezy is creating all of your forecasts. And doing an award-winning job. She’s doing the work so you can just go on screen and look not only pretty but accurate.”

  “You think I’m pretty?” She sidled closer.

  “You also need to be accurate.”

  She sighed. “I can’t take Breezy’s attitude any more. It’s affecting my work.”

  Attitude? Breezy? Those two words in the same sentence just didn’t fit. “Give me an example.”

  She stared at him hard and put a hand on his forearm, moving in too close again. “Noah, we’ve known each other a long time. I think you know I want to make this station as good as it can be. And Breezy is detracting from that. She’s undermining me. Everyone is rooting for her to get back in the saddle, as it were. If she were gone, they’d have to accept me.”

  “She’s creating the forecasts,” he repeated.

  “Most weathercasters get forecasts from the usual sources. I’ve done it before. Look, I left a job I really liked in LA to help you—and Mr. Bentley—out here in Aspen Grove. Now I need your support in doing the job you asked me to do.”

  Noah paused. He wasn’t going to fire Breezy. It had been bad enough when he’d had to demote her from meteorologist to basically being Pamela’s assistant. No, he wouldn’t fire her. He couldn’t. She’d done nothing but do her job and do it excellently. And, even after he’d demoted her, she’d done nothing but still do her job, even though it must have killed her.

  He actually felt guilty. She was a hard worker and everyone liked her, colleagues as well as viewers. No. He refused to fire her.

  Perhaps there was another solution. He bet Breezy was even more tired of working with Pamela than Pamela was working with Breezy. He knew Pamela was no picnic to work for. So what if he moved Breezy somewhere else? Had her report to someone else? Gave her another raise? People might talk, but he was going to do it.

  He shook his head. “I won’t fire her.”

  “Oh, come on, Noah.”

  He put up a hand to stop her from talking. “But I will move Fiona back into her weather producer job so you don’t have to work with Breezy directly.”

  Pamela narrowed her eyes. “What will Breezy be doing?”

  “You let me worry about that.”

  “You’re letting your emotions play too large a part here, Noah. You never used to be this soft-hearted.”

  “You let me worry about my soft heart. And you’d better start worrying about improving the accuracy of your forecasts from other sources.”

  She inhaled sharply, and must have realized he was dismissing her, for she said, even more coldly, “I’ll see you around.”

  “Yes.” Noah lowered his arms and reached for his car keys.

  * * *

  Thursday, May 2

  It had been five days since Paul’s retirement party, and Breezy hadn’t even caught sight of Noah, who’d been holed up in his office. She shouldn’t feel so disappointed. After all, she was the one who had turned down his social invitation, and surely he could see that it was for the best.

  Still, she felt almost regretful. She’d watched him leave the party, and seen Pamela scrambling to catch up with him. She was beginning to think that Pamela’s version of who was chasing whom was as accurate as her forecasts would be if she was making them herself.

  Chad handed her a sheaf of printouts. “Hey, Babe, would you mind taking these up to Mr. Drake’s office.”

  “Babe?” She raised an eyebrow. “I’ve killed men for less than that.”

  He grinned mischievously. “I thought that was your new title around here. I’m so sorry for making that mistake. Ms. Gladstone seems to think you’re a babe.”

  “You’re not as funny as you think you are.” Breezy sighed. “Chad, I’d love to take them up, but I have statistics I’m compiling for a special report and there’s a deadline.”

  “Isn’t there always in this business? Actually,” Chad came around the counter, said hi to Fiona, and pulled a computer chair over next to Breezy. “I was just up in Mr. Drake’s off
ice and he personally asked me to come down and ask you to come to his office. He also asked me to send these papers back up to him. So I got thinking that maybe, you know, two birds with one stone and all. You’ll be going up there, anyway.”

  She rolled her shoulders to loosen the knot that had settled there. “Why does he want to talk with me?”

  Chad held up his hands in question. “Who knows what the big fish want with the little fish.”

  “Usually to eat them. That’s why I’m a little nervous. And your gossip is usually more informed than this.” She tapped the papers. “Fine. I’ll take your papers up to the big fish.”

  He squeezed her shoulder and stood. “You are such a nice little fish.”

  “Whatever. More like I’m a guppy,” she said affectionately. “Go find some real work to do, will you?”

  “For you, anything.” He lifted his arm as if wielding a sword, and rode off a few steps on his charger before settling back into his usual amble.

  Shaking her head, Breezy turned to Fiona. “You catch all that?”

  Fiona lowered the fingernail she’d been nibbling, a habit she had only taken up again since the buyout. “What bad thing is going to happen now?”

  “Why can’t it be good news?”

  “You just keep thinking that.” Fiona looked skeptical. “We work for Hurricane Pamela, remember.”

  “Okay. And when Pamela blows through, tell her where I am, okay? I wouldn’t want to get in trouble.”

  Fiona snorted and rolled her eyes as she turned back to her monitor, lifting her finger back toward her lips.

  Breezy grabbed Chad’s papers, slipped them in a manila folder to keep them neat, then proceeded up the stairs to the third floor. She needed the walk, and the extra time, to control her own worries. She might not be chewing her fingernails—yet—but she was definitely nervous about what new, unpleasant change might be coming. Was this work-related? Or was it date-related? Was he going to ask her out again? There was some exhilaration mixed with her anxiety.

  She stopped in the hallway and drew in some deliberate long, deep breaths. Okay. She was as calm as she was going to be, which wasn’t calm enough.

  She knocked on Noah’s office door, he called out to come in, and she did.

  He was frowning. That probably wasn’t a good sign.

  Disappointed, she reminded herself that he only smiled at social events. “Chad said you wanted to see me. And he asked me to bring up some papers.” She handed him the folder.

  He set it on his desk, motioned toward the chair, and almost smiled. “Have a seat. Please.”

  She did and put her hands demurely in her lap. She waited. Patiently. And then less patiently.

  As if he couldn’t stand the tension, either, he opened the manila folder and flipped through the papers, taking his own sweet time getting to why she was there.

  Finally, he closed the folder, looked up at her, and glanced away. “I have good news.”

  Since he couldn’t even meet her gaze, she doubted that. “I can hardly wait to hear it.”

  “I have a raise for you. You’ll be making ten percent more as of your next paycheck.”

  “Another raise?” That wasn’t what she’d expected. “That’s very generous of you. But why? I’m not even doing the meteorologist’s job.”

  “Well, actually, it’s generous of you.”

  Confused, she said, “I don’t understand.”

  He cleared his throat. “I’m giving you a new job assignment.”

  “Meteorologist?” She brightened, joy bubbling up within her. She’d be back on-air, doing what she loved most in the whole world, sharing her love of weather with everyone who watched their station’s broadcasts.

  He shook his head. “No. You will be the new assistant to the general manager.”

  Her dream balloon popped and thudded her back into stark reality. “Is that even a real job position?”

  “It is now.” He glanced at her again and this time held her gaze.

  Quietly, she said, “But that’s not even in weather.”

  “No, and I’m very sorry about that. I’m hoping the raise will help make up for that somewhat.”

  So what exactly had just happened? She turned him down for dinner and he retaliated by taking away what she wanted most? She would have never thought him capable of that kind of vindictiveness. But how else to explain his actions?

  He was offering her a job that wasn’t even in weather and thought that money could possibly make up for stealing her dream? Mere money? She already made more than nearly anyone else at the station, and he was giving her yet another raise? To bribe her to take another demotion? She struggled to untangle all of her conflicting emotions.

  He looked at her again and smiled, but it seemed forced. “You’ll begin next Monday.”

  “No,” she said simply.

  “No?” He looked as surprised as she felt.

  “No.” She leaned forward. “Do you know what my father always tells me about change?”

  He seemed surprised. “Noooo,” he said hesitantly.

  “My father always says If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. This station isn’t broken, Mr. Drake.”

  He tilted his head, studying her.

  She couldn’t work like this. She was a meteorologist, darn it. She’d trained and certified and gotten three degrees and she wanted to forecast and broadcast the weather. If she had to, she would move out of town in order to be able to do what she loved. Paul had been right. It was time for her to move on, even if it meant moving away from her family. It was time to reclaim her career goals and her life.

  “I’ve watched you work and been very impressed with what I’ve seen. That’s why I requested you for the position. I know how hard you work and I know you’ll do an excellent job. You always do.”

  “Thank you,” Breezy said.

  “You’re welcome. I mean it. I admire your work.”

  “Not for that.”

  “Then what?”

  “Thank you for making this decision so easy for me.” Now that Breezy had decided, she smiled. “I quit.”

  He sputtered. “What? Why? You’re getting a raise.”

  “I’m not even working in weather any more. I hope you’ll understand the reason why, though I would normally give as much notice as needed to find a replacement, I don’t feel you’ll need any time. Fiona is an excellent weather producer. And you have a meteorologist. Oh, wait, you don’t, but you have someone who thinks she’s even better than a certified meteorologist.”

  She gathered up her purse and stood. “Good day, Mr. Drake.”

  He stood and called after her.

  “I’ll finish compiling the statistics from home and email them in before the deadline, but that’s my last work-related task.”

  As she walked out his office door, for the first time in weeks, her heart was light.

  Chapter Nine

  There will be a rain dance Friday night, weather permitting. —George Carlin

  “Breezy, wait!” Noah called out as she disappeared out the office door. He followed her into the hallway, but she was booking it. “Breezy!”

  She turned, waved, and smiled. “Good luck with everything, Noah.”

  She looked happy as she stepped into the elevator. Why? She didn’t even have a job any more. He started to follow her down the hall, but caught himself. What was he doing? She was making a stupid choice, but it was hers to make.

  As he went back into his office, he wondered what her problem was. He’d offered her a raise. Two raises. He’d never done that before. He hadn’t fired her. Maybe that was his mistake. He should have told her that he wasn’t going to fire her, but instead he was giving her a promotion and a raise.

  Gabe poked his head in. “Busy?”

  “Trying to figure out women.” Noah shook his head.

  “Good luck with that impossible task. Anyone in particular?”

  “Breezy just walked out of here, smiling.”

  “Sm
iling? Breezy? How surprising.” Gabe closed the door behind him. “I take it she was happy with whatever you told her.”

  “She quit.”

  Gabe stopped and tipped his head in surprise. “Really? What did you tell her?”

  “I said I’d give her another raise. Ten percent.”

  Gabe laughed.

  Noah glared at him. “This is not funny. I just lost a top-notch meteorologist.”

  Gabe collapsed into the chair just vacated by Breezy. “You’re barely utilizing her talents as it is.”

  “Pamela threatened to leave and talk with Mr. Bentley if I didn’t fire her, but I didn’t want to lose Breezy. She’s a hard worker. So I made her my official assistant.”

  “So let me get this straight. You gave a meteorologist—someone obsessed with all things weather—a position not in weather. And you’re surprised she quit.” Gabe chuckled and shook his head again. “I told you that you were going to lose her.”

  Noah frowned at him. “Maybe I’ll fire you today. Pamela would probably like that.”

  Gabe chuckled again. “Oh, yes, well, we wouldn’t want to do anything that Pamela might not like, would we?” He stood. “Noah, may I share one word of advice?”

  Noah raised a warning eyebrow. “One.”

  “Go after Breezy. She’s one in a million.”

  Noah watched Gabe leave his office.

  Breezy didn’t know how good she had it, apparently. It wasn’t easy to get a new job in this economy. He hoped she’d realize that and be back. He’d give her some time to realize what a good offer he’d made her.

  And when she came back, if he still needed an assistant, he might just hire her back. But without the raise.

  * * *

  Breezy knocked on Dani’s door.

  On the drive over from the station, her anger had faded somewhat and now tears were so close to the surface that she’d almost kept driving. But she needed a friend to talk to. Even if she cried. Though she hoped she didn’t because once the floodgates opened, she might not get them closed for days.

  Dani opened the door, took one look, and concern flooded her face. She pulled Breezy into a hug, then released her and asked, “Are you okay?”