by Myra Johnson
She turned toward him, tears glistening on her lashes. He struggled to breathe against the stabbing pain under his heart. “It's going to be a good Christmas, Daniel, a perfect Christmas. Let Lissa come out to the farm. It'll be so good for Mom to have the family all together—”
Deannie popped into the office. “Sorry to interrupt, but Mrs. Nielsen's on the phone asking if it's too late to make a change in her daughter's wedding invitation. Can you talk to her?”
“Sure. I'm working on it now.” Natalie reached for the phone. “Daniel, I've really got to take care of this. Can we talk later?”
“Uh, sure,” he said, rising. Everything left unsaid boiled and churned in his belly. “But soon, okay? There's still a lot we need to—”
Natalie didn't give him a chance to finish. “Hi, Mrs. Nielsen. How can I help you?”
“You've got to forgive her.” Deannie took Daniel's arm and ushered him to the front office. “Things have been so hectic lately. But it's sure to let up with Christmas almost here.” She paused by the counter, her green eyes dancing. “Sounds like you're making some special plans for the holidays, huh?”
He arched a brow. What was this gal up to? And why should she be so interested in his Christmas plans? “Natalie's very excited about her mother coming home. She's—we're all—hoping for the best.”
He said good-bye and left, feeling as if he'd been trampled in a full-court press. Between Natalie's blind optimism and Deannie's irrepressible … whatever it was … he'd never even had a chance to approach Natalie with the truth about her mother.
Perfect Christmas? Not much chance of that. Not when his wife faced what might be the most painful Christmas of her life.
“It's fine, Mrs. Nielsen. I'm making the change as we speak,” Natalie said into the phone as she typed. “I'll have Deannie give you a call in the morning, and you can come by to okay the proof before we go to press.”
Nothing could ruffle her composure today, not with Mom coming home this weekend. Lissa would spend the Christmas holidays at the farm, and together they would help Mom begin painting therapy. It might be many more months before she'd be ready for a class at Reach for the Stars, but everything started with baby steps.
As if life could possibly get any better, Natalie breathed a sigh of relief that the rush of holiday advertising and promotional mailings would soon be over. She was on track to be completely caught up by Friday, thanks in large part to Deannie's help. For the first time since hiring Jeff's flighty, sometimes airhead niece, Natalie felt truly grateful to have Deannie around. She almost wished she could keep her as her assistant when she returned to freelancing.
A tiny twinge of anxiety crept in. She had yet to speak to Jeff about her intention to dissolve their partnership. She still hadn't found the right time or the right words—maybe this afternoon. Hard as it would be to break the news to him after all this partnership had done to boost her career, she couldn't put off the discussion much longer.
Deannie waltzed into the office. “Don't you just love Christmas?” Smiling smugly, she set an aromatic mug of spice tea and a massive frosted Christmas cookie on a poinsettia napkin in front of Natalie.
Natalie glanced up from her computer. “Wow! To what do I owe this special treatment?”
“Just spreading a little Christmas cheer. Mom sent over the spice tea mix, and Alan's girlfriend made the cookies.”
Natalie raised a brow. “Alan has a girlfriend?” Emphasis on the singular. Half the phone calls that came into the shop were some girl or another asking for the hotshot delivery van driver. If his ego got any bigger, his head would explode.
“Well, he's supposedly got a steady date for all the holiday parties.” Deannie released a moan that sounded almost envious before lifting her chin. “So … how are things with you?” She drew out the question with meaning.
“As in … ?” Natalie bit into the cookie, dropping yellow crumbs in her lap. She flicked them away with the back of her hand.
“Your family and stuff.” Deannie ran her finger along the edge of the desk. “You know, things.”
Natalie closed her eyes for a moment, mild irritation mixing with idle curiosity. Deannie had this infernal penchant for maneuvering personal topics into the conversation—topics that were really none of her business. “You already know we're bringing my mother home on Saturday. My dad had a hospital bed delivered, and the live-in caregiver is moving in Friday to get things set up.”
Deannie strolled to the window and gazed toward the brightly decorated tree across the street in the town square. “It'll be so wonderful to have your family all together again for Christmas.”
“Yes, it will.” Natalie perused the wedding invitation layout on her computer screen while she sipped from her mug.
“And I know Lissa's going to be thrilled to have you and Daniel back together—”
Hot spiced tea seared Natalie's throat as she swallowed to keep from spewing it all over her desk. It took her several sputtering coughs to recover.
Deannie pivoted from the window. “Natalie, are you all right? Do you need the Heimlich maneuver or something?”
“I'm fine.” Waving her assistant away, Natalie shook the crumbs off the Christmas napkin and patted her lips with it.
“Was it me? Did I say something that upset you?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact.” She had thought nothing could shake her mountaintop exhilaration. Leave it to Deannie.
“Oh.” Deannie's lips flattened. “You and Daniel. You're not getting back together, are you?”
Natalie stood, fingertips pressed so hard against the desktop, her knuckles throbbed. She nailed her assistant with a piercing glare. “Miss Garner, listen and listen good. The state of my marriage is not your concern, and I resent your offhanded comments and meddling.”
“Well, somebody has to meddle.” Deannie lifted her hands toward the ceiling, her face reddening to almost the same shade as her hair. “Because you're obviously too boneheaded to figure things out for yourself.” Flinging her curls, she stormed out of the office.
Natalie sank into her chair and rubbed her temples furiously. She took back all her earlier magnanimous praise for Deannie. The girl was hopeless, utterly hopeless.
So much for a peaceful end to the Christmas rush. Muttering, she returned to the wedding invitation for one last review before printing out the proof copy.
Mr. and Mrs. Frederick Howard Nielsen
and
Mrs. David Carl Simms
request the honor of your presence
at the marriage of their …
The screen went black for a moment. Then, just as abruptly, it cleared. Shoulders relaxing, she resumed her review from the top … and gasped in stunned shock.
Mr. and Mrs. Abraham Eugene Morgan
request the honor of your presence
at the marriage of their daughter
Natalie Rose Morgan
to
Mr. Daniel James Pearce
She shoved away from her desk with such force that her chair slammed into the wall.
“Deannie!”
She thundered down the corridor. It had to be some kind of computer trick, and who else but Deannie could be responsible? “Deannie Garner, I want to talk to you. Immediately!”
Jeff stepped out of his office, blocking her path. “What's going on out here? Keep it down, will you? There could be customers out front.”
“She's trying to sabotage me.” Natalie stared at him incredulously, so shaken she could hardly catch her breath. Each word scraped her throat raw. “That has to be it. How else—”
Jeff grabbed her arm and steered her into his office. Pointing her toward a chair, he closed the door and seated himself on the edge of his desk. “Just chill out and tell me what this is all about.”
She ignored the chair. Instead she paced the small space, one hand pressed to the back of her neck, the other clutching her heaving stomach. “I didn't want to believe it—I still don't have a clue how she
did it—but I'm absolutely convinced Deannie is behind all those mistakes I've supposedly been making lately.” She halted and locked her gaze with Jeff's. “Why? Why would she want to hurt me this way?”
“Deannie, sabotage your work? Do you realize how paranoid that sounds?”
She sucked in her breath, tried to rein in her stampeding emotions. “I'm sorry, Jeff. I know she's your niece.” She lifted her shoulders helplessly as all the fight drained out of her. “I just can't think of any other explanation.”
Jeff looked toward the ceiling and laughed softly. “Deannie's got her faults, I admit. She has an ambitious streak, but as for intentionally setting out to hurt you, or anyone else for that matter … ” He gave a doubtful shrug.
“Listen,” he went on, “you've been under a lot of stress lately—this whole year, in fact.” He placed his hands gently on Natalie's shoulders. “Maybe you need some time off.”
She suddenly forgot all about Deannie. She looked up at him with sorrowful eyes. “I haven't known how to tell you, but the truth is I need to ask you for a lot more than 'time off.' “
With difficulty she explained her plans to move into her parents' home and her desire to end the partnership. “Have our attorneys draw up the necessary paperwork, and you can buy me out for whatever amount you think is fair.” Her voice cracked. “Especially considering how useless I've been to you lately.”
“That's absolutely not true.” Jeff blew out through pursed lips. “Fact is, I don't know where this business would be without you. Your artistic talent, your business know-how, your rapport with the advertising clients—I'd never be able to replace you.”
She frowned and stared at the carpet. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I can't give the business the attention it deserves and still be there for my mom the way I need to. And eventually I'll return to freelancing part time, which means I could still accept projects from you like I used to.”
Jeff shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “I see you've made up your mind. But let's wait at least a couple of months before we finalize anything.”
“As far as I'm concerned, the decision is final.” Natalie raised her chin. “But if you'd feel better waiting, it's okay with me.”
“I think it's the wise thing to do. For now, this discussion is just between you and me.”
They agreed Natalie would take a few days off during Christmas week to get her mother settled in and then come in half-days for a week or two to wrap up any pending projects and pack her personal belongings. She thanked Jeff for his understanding and excused herself.
On the way to her office she glimpsed Deannie slipping quietly into the break room. Had Natalie become paranoid? Or was the girl really out to get her somehow? It did sound crazy now, after she'd calmed down. Warily, she walked behind her desk and gave the mouse a gentle push. The screensaver flickered and her “enter password” box appeared. She typed a few keys and the screen returned to the wedding invitation she'd been working on. With a thankful sigh, she saw everything appeared as it should.
17
I almost blew it.” Phone receiver tucked between her chin and shoulder, Deannie deftly folded a tomato-and-green-pepper omelet sizzling in a buttered skillet.
“What do you mean, you almost blew it?” came Lissa's exasperated response. “Christmas is next Tuesday. We were supposed to have this plan totally wrapped up by then.”
“Don't you think I know it?” Deannie frowned and rolled her eyes. She didn't know who frustrated her more—her pushy partner in crime or their hapless victim. “The whole problem is that your mom has a one-track mind. I got so upset with her, I lost my temper and almost gave myself away.”
Lissa gasped. “What happened?”
Deannie explained about Daniel's unexpected visit to the office and overhearing the last part of their conversation. “It sounded like they were making up, like everyone would be together for Christmas. But when I brought up the subject later, she denied it.” She slid the omelet onto a plate and cut off a steaming bite with the edge of a fork. “Ow! My tongue!”
“Are you eating? When we have so much at stake?”
“Hang on, okay?” Deannie blew several times, then grabbed an ice cube from the freezer and held it to the swelling blister on the tip of her tongue.
“Deannie!”
“Okay, okay. She was working on the Nielsen wedding invitation, and it gave me a brainstorm. I used the terminal at the front desk to hack into her computer—piece of cake, since we're on a network and you figured out how she comes up with all her passwords.” She rolled her eyes. “For an artist your mother is so unimaginative! The first and last letters of the client's last name, plus the date the project came in—”
“So she's better with graphic design than computer passwords. Get over it. Now will you get to the point, please?”
“All right, already. After I hacked into her system, I changed the names on the wedding invitation to 'Natalie' and 'Daniel.' She totally freaked out.”
Lissa burst out laughing. “Stroke of genius! That should have gotten her attention.”
“No kidding. She went straight to Uncle Jeff's office, and they talked for a long time.”
“About what? Did you hear any of it?”
“With everybody traipsing up and down the corridor, I didn't want to get caught with my ear to the door.” The omelet had cooled now, and Deannie spoke between bites, leaning against the counter of her tiny apartment kitchen. “But she looked awfully relieved when she came out.”
“Relieved?”
Deannie ran her tongue over her teeth as she replayed the scene in her mind's eye. “Yeah … like she'd come to some kind of decision.”
Silence fell between them for several seconds. “Deannie, this could be important. You've got to find out what they talked about.”
She tore a paper towel from the roll next to the sink and dabbed her mouth. “I suppose I could try to feel out Uncle Jeff about it, but I can hardly ever get him to talk shop with me.” She bit her lip. “That's what really bugs me about this whole plan. My part of the deal was to get in good with my uncle so he'd be primed to make me his partner after she's out of the picture. So far he still thinks of me as his dumb, klutzy, no-account niece.”
“Sorry, if you want your uncle's approval, you'll have to earn it yourself.”
Eyes stinging, she slid her empty plate into the sink and ran water over it. “I just thought maybe … this time … ”
“Hang in there. Maybe we can still both get what we want. I'm sure not ready to give up.”
Deannie caught her reflection in the dark glass of the microwave door. She shook off a niggling twinge of guilt, gave her red curls a toss, and summoned up what determination she had left. “Neither am I.”
Dr. Sirpless crossed to her desk and picked up a steno pad and pen. A frown pulled one corner of her mouth downward as she took her usual chair at Natalie's left. “Sounds like you've had quite a week. Your mother coming home, deciding to end your business partnership … a lot of change for anyone to handle.”
Natalie tapped her fingers on the navy velour armrest. She'd almost decided to cancel her Friday evening appointment, but anticipating an even busier few weeks as she moved out to the farm and helped with her mother's care, she might not have another chance to see Dr. Sirpless until well into the new year. It couldn't hurt to get a little professional perspective before she jumped off this cliff into the next phase of her life.
A shiver tightened her neck muscles. “I'm doing the right thing, aren't I?”
Dr. Sirpless gave a noncommittal smile and studied her notes. “Last time we met, you mentioned some unexplained errors at the print shop. What's happened with those? Have you cleared up the mystery?”
Natalie gave a short laugh. “Probably just me being paranoid.”
“Why would you say that?”
She flicked a strand of hair off her face. She didn't feel like talking about work, not with Mom occupying all her thoug
hts. “It's not important anymore. Nothing matters now except getting my mother home and well again.”
Dr. Sirpless laid her notebook and pen on the side table. “It's been nearly a year, Natalie. Are you sure that's a realistic expectation?”
“Dad thinks so.”
“Does he? Are you sure there isn't another reason he wants to bring your mother home?”
“Of course there is. It's Christmas. Their fiftieth Christmas together.”
“Natalie … ”
A pulsing sensation began in the center of her stomach, a brittle tensing that spread outward through her limbs. “If you're trying to make me admit how ridiculous it is to hope for my mother's recovery after all these months, I get it. It's a long shot. But God can do anything, right?” Her voice broke. “It's Christmas.”
Saturday morning at the print shop turned out to be relatively quiet, a double blessing after the difficult session with Dr. Sirpless last night. Just when Natalie felt she was making progress, finally digging out of her pit of discouragement, the doctor had to throw all these new angles at her—suggestions about unresolved anger, unrealistic expectations, misguided priorities.
At least the conversation had ended on a positive note. When Dr. Sirpless asked if Natalie had given any thought to restoring her marriage, she could truthfully answer that in the last couple of weeks she'd experienced a flicker of hope there too.
But one thing at a time. And today Natalie could only think about bringing Mom home. Jumpy with anticipation, she had to fight the compulsion to check her watch every five minutes while she reorganized her computer and client files. It was the least she could do to ease the transition for Jeff and whoever eventually replaced her.
Midmorning, she headed to the break room for a cup of coffee and a bagel. On the way, she passed Jeff's office and paused to glance in. Through the narrow glass beside the door she saw Deannie sitting across from him and almost didn't recognize the young woman. Deannie's normally confident posture had vanished, replaced by slumped shoulders and blotchy, tear-stained cheeks.