by Myra Johnson
Natalie moved away from the door, her heart clenching. She'd finally convinced herself that her own jangled nerves had been the cause of the strange computer glitches. How selfish of her to blame Deannie, who obviously only wanted to make her uncle proud.
Besides, with Mom coming home, Natalie couldn't hold hard feelings against anyone. At noon she planned to meet Dad and Hart at Hope Gardens to pack up Mom's belongings. An ambulance would transport Mom to the farm, where the live-in nurse already had things ready.
Then on Sunday, after they had a chance to get Mom settled in, Daniel would bring Lissa out. Natalie floated down the corridor as she imagined spending the Christmas holidays with her family. With Mom soon on the road to recovery, and now the chance to reconnect with her daughter, her life finally seemed to be getting back on track. True happiness loomed on the horizon, almost within her grasp … except for the state of her marriage … except for Daniel.
She poured a mug of coffee and watched the steam rise. With all the angry words that had passed between them, was it even possible they could still reconcile? No question about it, getting back together would be the best Christmas gift they could give their daughter.
But it had to be right. They couldn't rush things. Daniel had so much to forgive her for, but would he? His recent efforts to get close to her again told her he surely must be willing, or at least intended to try. But could she ever fully accept his forgiveness, or anyone else's, until she found the strength to forgive herself?
A line from a psalm filtered into her thoughts: For I know my transgressions, and my sin is always before me. In her mind's eye, her sins loomed huge: failing her mother, shutting out her family, leaving her husband, neglecting her daughter.
She pressed a hand to her mouth and sank into the nearest chair. Dear Lord, give me the courage to face my mistakes. Tell me there's still a chance to make things right.
Deannie appeared in the doorway. “Oh, sorry. I, uh … ” She turned to leave.
Natalie had never seen her assistant speechless before. Her heart twisted at the telltale redness encircling those usually perky green eyes. “It's okay. Sit down.” She extended a hand toward the chair next to her. “I think we need to talk.”
The girl wavered, twisting a curl around her finger. “What about?”
Natalie rose and strode to the counter. “Would you like a bagel? I'm toasting one for myself.” She removed a plump cinnamon-raisin bagel from the wrapper.
“No, thanks.”
Natalie took several calming breaths as she slipped the bagel into the slicer and drew a serrated knife through it. She dropped the halves into the toaster and carried her coffee to the table. Taking her seat, she searched for a way to breach the divide between them. “I'm so sorry if your uncle is upset with you for something I said to him.”
Deannie clasped her hands together on the red Formica tabletop. When her eyes met Natalie's, they held a defiant look. “Uncle Jeff said you accused me of"—quickly she glanced away—“sabotaging you.”
Something in the girl's voice and expression stirred Natalie's old suspicions. She narrowed her eyes. “Did you?”
“How could you suggest such a horrible, mean thing?” Deannie shook her hair back and crossed her arms. “Haven't I done a good job for you? Haven't I bailed you out when—when—”
The girl suddenly burst into tears. “Okay, okay! I may be sneaky and underhanded, but I'm a lousy liar.” She stood abruptly and paced. “I already confessed to my uncle. Yes, I did it. All of it. Mr. Craunauer's Apple Cart flyer. The Moonbeams mailing. The wedding invitation you were working on the other day. There, are you satisfied?”
Natalie could only stare open-mouthed as shock waves pulsed through her. Yes, she'd suspected Deannie for a while, wanting to blame anyone but herself for the series of misprints. But even so, she had never quite believed the girl capable of this level of deception.
“Why?” Natalie asked. “Can you just tell me why?”
Deannie ripped a napkin from the dispenser and furiously wiped her eyes. Taking a shaky breath, she turned and leaned against the counter. “All I wanted was for my uncle to notice me, to give me a little credit for having some brains and talent. I kept thinking if I could make you look bad, and then be the one to catch your mistakes and fix them, Uncle Jeff would realize I could be an asset to his business. Then, if you left the company, maybe he'd make me his partner.” Her jaw clenched as she continued in a hard voice. “Garner and Garner Printing and Advertising. Nice ring, huh?”
“Oh, Deannie.” Natalie rose and took both the girl's hands in her own. “I'm sorry you felt driven to take such drastic steps. But I know your uncle loves you very much. Did you tell him what you've just told me?”
Deannie pulled her hands away and took a step sideways. “It only made him madder.”
“Let me talk to him. Maybe—”
“No, you'll only make things worse. He already thinks I'm a complete failure. This really cinched it.”
Natalie lifted a hand to smooth the tearful girl's curls. “Deannie Garner, you are not a failure. Anybody with the imagination and skill to break into my computer and make those changes … ” She gave a cynical laugh and shook her head. “How you managed it is totally beyond me!” Sobering, she continued, “I'm certainly not condoning what you did. There's no getting around the fact that it was childish and irresponsible. But if you'd only apply your talents legitimately, I know your uncle would be proud to have you working with him.”
Deannie sniffed noisily. “You're just saying that.”
Natalie put a hand to the girl's chin, forcing eye contact. “I saw your work the other day when I let you fill in for me. You really do have an eye for graphic design.”
“You honestly think so?” Deannie blinked rapidly as a fresh flood of tears poured down her cheeks. “Oh, Natalie, I'm so ashamed. Can you ever forgive me?”
Forgive you? How can I not, when I need forgiveness so badly myself?
“Of course I forgive you.” She drew the girl into her embrace. “Let me talk to Jeff. I know we can get this whole mess straightened out.”
Deannie tugged a tissue from the box on her desk behind the front counter and blew her nose one more time. Natalie had gone immediately into Uncle Jeff's office, and though Deannie couldn't make out what they were saying, she could hear their raised voices through the walls. From the sound of things, Natalie must be letting her uncle have it pretty hard.
“You are such an idiot,” Deannie chided herself. It was only at Lissa's persistent urging that she'd agreed to help break Natalie's confidence. If the plan succeeded, both Deannie and Lissa stood to benefit—the main reason Deannie had agreed to take part in the first place.
But she never expected to end up liking and respecting Natalie as much as she did right this moment.
Face it, Garner, you were a loser from day one. No wonder nobody, including your uncle, has any respect for you. The time had come to make some changes.
She steeled herself and lifted the telephone receiver, punching in Lissa's phone number. “Hi, it's me. I need to tell you something.”
“Deannie? How many times have I told you not to call me? It's too risky.”
“I know, but—”
“But what? Did something happen?”
“Yeah, something happened. I came to my senses. I can't do this anymore. Whatever you do from now on, you're on your own.”
Lissa's voice rose shrilly. “You can't back out now!”
“Remember what you said yesterday about how it's up to me to prove myself to my uncle? I realized what I've been doing lately isn't the way to go about it.”
“I know we've been sneaky, but you know what my mom's like. If you don't care about your own goals anymore, think about mine. How else am I going to get through to her?”
Deannie glanced over her shoulder. The door to her uncle's office remained closed; the discussion between him and Natalie continued. Even so, she turned her face toward the wall and lowered
her voice as she spoke. “Lissa, I'm telling you, it's over. Your mom is in my uncle's office going to bat for me, in spite of everything I've done.”
“Wha-what are you saying? You told her? She knows?”
“I never mentioned your name. No one has any clue anybody else is involved. And don't worry, I intend to keep it that way.”
Deannie's head snapped around at the sound of a door opening. Her uncle and Natalie emerged from his office. “Gotta go now. All I can say is I wish you luck. If your mom ever does find out you were involved, you're going to need it.” She dropped the receiver into its cradle as her uncle approached the front counter. Natalie had disappeared into her own office.
Deannie rested limp hands in her lap and looked sheepishly up at her uncle. “Am I totally fired?”
He folded his arms and appeared to examine a spot on the wall somewhere behind her head. “You should be, after those stunts you pulled. But Natalie has convinced me I should give you another chance.”
A surge of sheer relief sent shivers up her spine. Her feet did a small tap dance under the desk. “Yes!”
Bracing his forearms on the counter, Uncle Jeff skewered her with his stare. “Young lady, what you did not only undermined a good and talented woman's self-confidence but also risked serious financial losses for this company. It's going to take me awhile to forget such irresponsibility.”
Deannie bit her lip. “I promise, I've learned my lesson.”
He shook his head. “Thing is, if you're as bright and creative as Natalie seems to think you are, you have the potential to become a valuable contributor to this company.” His jaw tensed. Tiny creases formed in the soft skin under his eyes. “If I take a chance and promote you to graphic designer and customer liaison, can you assure me you'll channel those skills in the right direction?”
Deannie gulped. “What?”
His mouth stretched into a reluctant grin. “You heard me.”
She flew from her chair, dashed around the counter, and wrapped him in a bear hug. “I'll make you so proud, you'll wonder what you ever did without me!”
Over her uncle's shoulder she glimpsed the block lettering on the glass door of the entrance. Mentally, she changed GARNER & PEARCE to GARNER & GARNER. She gave a squeal of delight. If she cleaned up her act and buckled down, her dream might still come true.
18
Lissa perched on the edge of her bed and glared at the silent telephone. Panic knotted her stomach. “Deannie, you freakin' creep.”
They had been so close to getting Mom out of the office and back home, the crucial first step in getting her and Dad back together. At least one part of the plan remained on track. Today Grandma would leave the nursing home and go home to the farm. Surely Granddad wouldn't have checked her out if she weren't improving.
Lissa relaxed slightly as she remembered the day she'd taken the watercolors to her grandmother. In that tiny second when she detected recognition in Grandma's eyes, in those moments as Grandma's pale, bony hand reached for the paintbrush, gripping it with determination, Lissa's whole world had tilted. If she hadn't already been late for school, she'd have stayed and helped her grandmother paint something—a tree, a flower, anything. If she could only revive in her grandmother's frail body the smallest memory of her awesome talent, the rest would follow. It had to.
And when Mom said Grandma had actually tried to paint on her own? Chills tingled up and down Lissa's arms. Grandma would get better. She'd paint the new star for the manger scene. Mom would wake up to everything she'd been missing all these months and take Dad back. They'd be a family again. A real family.
A tear slipped down her cheek. As she reached for a tissue to blow her nose, guilt snaked up her spine. Okay, Lord, I admit it. I did some horrible things. But you didn't seem to be doing anything. I'm sorry. I really want to trust you, but can you just give me some little sign?
The slamming of the apartment door interrupted her prayer.
“Liss? You home?”
“In my room, Dad.” She tossed the tissue in the waste-basket and followed thumping and rustling sounds to the kitchen, where she found her father putting away groceries.
“Here, catch.” He tossed her a package of peanut butter cookies. “Early Christmas present.”
“Oh wow.” She faked a grin. “If this is a sample of what's to come, I can't wait till Christmas morning.”
“You know what a big spender your dad is.” With a laugh, he set a perspiring gallon jug of two-percent milk on the top shelf of the refrigerator.
Lissa slid her fingernail under the edge of the cellophane wrapper and tore open the cookie package. The tempting aroma of peanut butter filled the air. She shook out two golden-brown cookies and popped one in her mouth.
“Hey, don't spoil your lunch.”
She wrinkled her nose as Dad set two cans of pork and beans by the stove. “If that's what we're having, I'll stick with cookies.” Dusting crumbs off the front of her cable-knit sweater, she went to the cupboard for a glass. “How come we can't go with everybody to help move Grandma home?”
“Granddad didn't want too much commotion the first day. The move will be stressful enough.” Her dad folded and flattened a brown paper grocery bag. He wore a thoughtful look as he reached into the next bag and set two boxes of cereal in the cupboard beside the stove.
Straightening, he turned to Lissa. “I, uh, heard something interesting this morning.”
“Oh, yeah?” She retrieved the milk jug and filled her glass.
“I ran into Mrs. Garner at the market and she—”
“Deannie's mom?” Lissa stiffened. Her fumbling fingers would hardly work to screw the lid onto the milk jug.
“No, her aunt. Jeff's wife. She started rambling about what Jeff's going to do when your mom leaves the company.” He shrugged, his brow wrinkled in confusion. “Did you have any idea she was even thinking about it?”
Lissa took a slow slip of milk and hoped Dad didn't notice how her hand trembled. It was happening! She let the cool liquid slide down her throat while she worked to control her excitement. “I knew Mom planned to take some time off from work over the holidays to help with Grandma.” She looked askance at her father. “Mrs. Garner really said Mom's leaving the print shop?”
“Not in so many words, but she implied it's been a hot topic of discussion around their dinner table this week.”
Lissa turned away and swept a hand across her cheek. “But Deannie never said … ”
Her father stuffed the folded grocery sacks next to the trash can under the sink. “What about Deannie?”
“Oh, nothing.” She forced a light tone and a smile. “I'll be in my room for a while.”
Her thoughts were in a jumble as she trudged to the bedroom. Surely, Deannie would have said something if she'd known. After all, Mom's resignation had been their primary goal from the beginning. But if it were true, wouldn't Mom at least have mentioned it to her or Dad?
Pacing between the bed and dresser, she glanced at the clock. The red digital numbers read 11:48. Mom had probably left the office by now to meet Granddad and Uncle Hart at the nursing home.
But she had to know … and right away! She grabbed the phone and punched the number for the print shop.
Deannie answered on the second ring. “Garner and Gar—I mean, Garner and Pearce Printing and Advertising. May I help you?”
“Hey, it's me. And I caught that little slip, by the way.”
“Lissa.” Deannie released a nervous giggle. “What's up?”
“I just heard a rumor about my mom leaving the company.” Her tone dripped sarcasm. “Want to fill me in here, Miz Garner?”
“Huh? Are you sure?” To Lissa's dismay, the surprise in Deannie's voice sounded genuine.
“My dad heard it from your aunt in the grocery store this morning. Yeah, I'd say my source is pretty reliable.” She thrust her hip out and planted her fist on it. “Come on, Deannie, you've got to help me out here.”
Deannie sputtered into t
he phone. “What am I supposed to do, just walk into Uncle Jeff's office and ask? Under the circumstances, can you imagine what that would sound like to him? Uh-uh, no way.”
“Okay, if you won't ask him, I will. Transfer my call to your uncle.”
“You're crazy,” Deannie shot back, but a moment later Lissa heard several clicks as Deannie transferred the call.
“Jeff Garner,” came the distracted greeting.
“Hi, Mr. Garner, it's Lissa Pearce.” Her stomach knotted, but she forged ahead. “I … I'm so sorry to bother you, but I have to ask you about something.”
“Hi, Lissa. How are you? Bet you're looking forward to having your grandmother home. I know your mom is sure excited about it.”
“Yeah, we're all very happy.” Lissa ran her fingers through her hair and then twisted the ends. “Mr. Garner, has my mom said anything to you about quitting her job?”
Silence fell. “You mean she hasn't told you?”
It's true! Lissa scrunched her eyes shut and clenched her fist in a tiny victory dance. She took several shallow breaths before replying. “Well, not officially. But I, um, heard she was thinking about it.”
“Then I don't think it's my place to tell you anything more.”
“That's okay. I understand.” She thanked him and said good-bye. His hesitance didn't matter. She already had the answer she wanted.
She pumped her arms. Yes, yes, yes!
Daniel dumped the pork and beans into a saucepan, retrieved a couple of hot dogs from the refrigerator, and sliced them into the beans. The smell reminded him of Boy Scouts and scorched meals over campfires. He pursed his lips. No wonder Lissa would rather eat cookies.
While the beans warmed, his thoughts returned to his conversation with Mrs. Garner at the supermarket. How many times had he questioned Natalie's decision to go into business with Jeff? She was an artist, for crying out loud. She shouldn't be sitting behind a desk pushing papers and getting eyestrain and carpal tunnel syndrome at a computer. But the idea that she'd alter her whole life—again—based on false assumptions galled him beyond belief. Even worse, facing her mother's inevitable death might only drive her deeper into withdrawal and denial.