The Women in Joe Sullivan's Life

by Marie Ferrarella

  When he questioned her about it, she smiled broadly and the tiny line of tension he’d noticed in her jaw disappeared. It was the first unguarded moment Joe had observed during the interview.

  “If you employ family members and friends, Mr. Sullivan, you have people working for you who feel as if they have more than just a cursory interest in the business. They’re building something with you.”

  Studying her, he decided that she really believed what she was saying. He played devil’s advocate. “And just what do they get out of all this effort, besides their paychecks?”

  “Pride. And a share of the profits. A share in the company they’re building.” Maggie was quite adamant about that. Everyone who worked at Magnificent Cookies owned a piece of it.

  She leaned back, in her element now. Maggie made it a point to know everyone who worked for her. The company was still small enough for that. She hoped it always would be. “I believe in fostering a sense of family togetherness here.”

  She wasn’t just mouthing platitudes that would look good in print; she was serious, he thought. Maybe that was the secret to the company’s rather astronomical rise from nothing to a contender in less than five years. Maybe she was on to something at that. He glanced at the cookie he’d set aside when he began writing.

  “The cookie with a heart.” Joe looked at her with a grin. “Not bad for a slogan.” It was time to hone in on the true focus of his series. He indicated his notes. “I’m going to need more background.”

  Ada had brought her several of their promotional pamphlets that Maggie customarily used in her marketing blitzes. She and Ethan had personally flown to meet with the presidents of several supermarket chains and talked their way onto the markets’ shelves, leaving a flattering paper trail in their wake.

  Maggie indicated the pamphlets, pushing them toward Joe. “It’s all in there.”

  Joe dutifully collected the pamphlets and deposited the literature into his briefcase. “Thanks, but the background I was interested in was yours.”

  Their eyes held for a moment as something seemed to crackle between them. Maggie forced a smile to her lips as she spread her hands. “What you see is what you get, Mr. Sullivan.”

  He sincerely doubted it. She was being elusive. It was becoming very obvious that he wasn’t going to get any more information out of her on that score. Yet.

  Joe knew there had to be more. There always was. He felt his interest being aroused. Just what was her story? Who was she? What motivated her? These were questions he knew the readers wanted answered.

  And so did he.

  He leaned forward in his chair, his eyes on her face. “Yes, but what exactly do I see?”

  His question, though delivered with humor, was far too personal for her liking. This kind of probing was one of the reasons she had discouraged past interviews. She didn’t like the idea of being exposed to satisfy the public’s curiosity.

  Or anyone else’s, she added silently, looking at Joe. Though she was outgoing, underneath it all she was a private person with private hurts she wasn’t about to uncover.

  What mattered was the integrity of the product she sold, nothing else.

  “What you see is a successful businesswoman,” she replied.

  Maggie slid her fingers idly along the small statuette that stood on the corner of her desk, the one she’d been given by the League of Southern California Businesswomen. She would have been lying if she had said that it hadn’t been a thrill to win it. Receiving the recognition had validated her and the struggle she’d gone through. It validated the energy she’d devoted to making something of herself and bringing her family along with her.

  But it wasn’t the end of the line. She doubted that there ever would be an end of the line for her. There was always one more hill to climb, one more mile to place between herself and the specter of poverty she never seemed to be able to escape.

  Though she appeared cool and in control, Joe felt as if he’d somehow struck a nerve. He just didn’t know which one and why.

  “All right, and what made you that way?”

  He didn’t give up. Tenacity was a quality she’d nurtured in herself and encouraged in her brothers. It made her just a wee bit nervous in someone else.

  “Drive.”

  Not good enough, he thought. This wasn’t going to be the easy puff piece he’d envisioned when he’d originally pitched it to his editor. He did his best work when challenged. Joe dug in. “Why?”

  Maggie unconsciously raised her chin, defensive. “Why not?”

  She wasn’t about to give an inch, he thought. Why? What was she hiding so zealously?

  “This is an interview, Ms. McGuire, not a free association test.” He indicated his notes. They could be transcribed into an enjoyable article, but as it stood, what he had down was hardly penetrating. It offered less than a glimpse into the soul of the woman who’d accomplished a great deal in a very short time. The fact that she didn’t allow that glimpse, he thought, was rather telling. There was a real story here. “I want something a little meatier than this.”

  Maggie felt as if she were being hemmed in and she didn’t care for it. She rose abruptly. She was still pleasant, but a great deal of distance had suddenly erupted between them. “I can take you on a tour of the plant.”

  Joe gained his feet just as she moved past his chair, uncoiling more than actually rising. The very movement seemed to challenge her. Instinctively, Maggie took a step back, though she didn’t lower her eyes.

  The lady had a hell of a lot more than just cookies and secret recipes going for her. “That would be very nice, but I’m not doing a story on how cookies are made. I’m doing a story on how a successful businesswoman is made—”

  His manner wasn’t threatening so much as relentless. But she was more than a match for it. And she’d given him as much as she intended to.

  “Then I’m afraid—”

  Maggie’s words were cut off by a heartwrenching, pitiful moan. She and Joe turned to look at the girls, whom they had all but forgotten in the last few minutes. Jennifer moaned loudly again, clutching her stomach, as her sisters gathered around her.

  Christine looked fascinated and repulsed at the same time.

  “Uncle Joe, Jenny’s sick.” Her mouth became a perfect O as she looked at her younger sister, and then she squealed. “She’s going to—”

  There was no need for Christine to finish her high-pitched announcement. It was abundantly clear to everyone what Jenny was about to do.

  The next moment, she did it.

  Startled, concerned, embarrassed and numbed, Joe watched in horror as his four-year-old niece proceeded to swiftly recycle the cookies she had been polishing off with such abandonment and aplomb.

  Joe felt as if his feet were glued to the rug. He was at a loss as to what to do first, other than to issue a heartfelt apology to the woman whose furnishings were being rechristened.

  “Oh, Ms. McGuire, I’m sorry. I—” Joe didn’t know whether to snatch Jennifer up and hold her, or begin cleaning the rug and coffee table. Or both. He’d never been within six feet of a sick child before without someone present who knew what he or she was doing.

  Maggie hardly heard his apology. Her attention and her empathy was completely centered on Jennifer. Maggie had spent her share of evenings sitting beside a sick brother, holding his head and offering comfort as well as a bucket to retch in when the time called for it.

  Wasting no time in answering Joe’s apology, Maggie quickly grabbed her empty wastepaper basket and positioned it in front of the little girl. On her knees, unmindful of the small, messy streak along the hem of Jennifer’s dress, Maggie held the child as Jennifer coughed and finished emptying out her stomach.

  “Better?” Maggie asked.

  Hiccuping, crying, Jennifer looked up at Maggie. Her eyes were bewildered and frightened.

  “I guess not,” Maggie murmured softly.

  Pulling out a fistful of tissues from the dispenser on the coffee tabl
e, Maggie slowly cleaned the little girl’s mouth. As she worked, she murmured soothing words to Jennifer.

  Only partially aware of the fact that Sandy and Christine had clustered around him for moral support, Joe watched Maggie. Her kindly competence made him feel helpless, relieved and impressed all at the same time. Above all, he was grateful that she was here to handle this.

  He bent down to Jennifer’s level to attempt to reassure her. Jennifer hardly looked at him. His youngest niece was clutching Maggie as if Maggie was her only road to salvation.

  “You have children of your own?” Joe addressed the question to the back of Maggie’s head. He hadn’t even found out that much, he realized. She had been very cagey in this interview.

  Maggie offered Jennifer an encouraging smile. There was pure misery in the girl’s blue eyes. That would be gone within the hour, Maggie judged.

  “I raised my brothers,” she answered mechanically, without thinking. She looked at him sharply. “I mean I helped raise them.” Jennifer whimpered. “It’s going to be all right, honey.” Maggie smoothed Jennifer’s hair away from her face. “You weren’t supposed to try to eat a pile of cookies that are taller than you all by yourself. That’s the secret.” She winked.

  Jennifer absorbed the words as gospel. The corners of her mouth drooped as she looked up at Maggie. “I don’t feel so good.”

  Maggie successfully swallowed her laugh. “No, I don’t imagine that you do.” She felt Jennifer’s forehead. It was cool. Nothing more than a severely upset stomach here, she decided. Guilt nudged her. She should have paid some attention to the girls. If she had, this wouldn’t have happened. Her fault for letting her nerves get the better of her.

  She looked over Jennifer’s head at Sandy. “Sandy, would you please tell the lady outside my office that I need some soda pop sent in and quickly.”

  Eager to please, Sandy streaked out of the room.

  Rising, Maggie picked Jennifer up. Carrying her easily on one hip, the way she once had Richie, Maggie crossed to the newly paneled wall on the far side of the office. As she lightly touched a space just at eye level, an entire floor-to-ceiling panel sprang open. Just inside was a small bathroom decorated in shell pink. This was the one luxury she allowed herself, in memory of all the times the six of them had had to share one tiny bathroom. To Maggie the bathroom was a sign that she had arrived.

  If Christine’s eyes had opened any wider, they would have fallen out, Joe thought, following in Maggie’s wake.

  Christine stood on the threshold of the bathroom, peering in hesitantly. “Is that like Aladdin’s cave?”

  Maggie laughed. “Only when Aladdin had to go to the bathroom.”

  Very gently, she set Jennifer down on the pink-tiled counter and turned on the faucet. The little girl was pumping her legs back and forth nervously as she watched Maggie. “Let’s wash your face, okay?”

  Pleased to be consulted, Jennifer nodded solemnly. “Okay.”

  With gentle strokes, Maggie washed away the telltale signs of recent distress from the girl’s mouth. She was aware of the fact that Joe was silently watching her every movement, and it made her self-conscious. Maggie shut out the sensation and concentrated on the little girl.

  “Lucky most of that yucky stuff hit the floor and not this pretty dress.” Maggie shut off the faucet and smoothed the light yellow skirt. “Did you pick this out yourself?”

  Jennifer nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  It was becoming apparent to Joe that Christine lived to contradict. “No, she didn’t.” Christine jerked a thumb at him. “Uncle Joe did.”

  Maggie saw the look of distress mounting again in Jennifer’s face and was quick to smooth out the storm clouds. “Well, Uncle Joe has good taste.”

  Christine cocked her head, frowning as she tried to understand. “He didn’t eat it, he picked it.”

  This one was going to be a lawyer, Maggie thought. If her sisters didn’t kill her first.

  “My mistake.” Maggie picked Jennifer up and walked back into her office. Christine shadowed her steps.

  “Soda’s here,” Sandy announced loudly, running in front of Ada.

  Holding a can she’d gotten from the vending machine down the hall, Ada stopped short of the center of disaster. Her eyes were as wide as any of the children’s had been. “Maggie, what’s all that?—”

  Maggie waved a dismissive hand, cutting Ada short. She didn’t want to embarrass Jennifer any more than she assumed the little girl already was. “Call Maintenance for me and ask Pete to come up, will you? We’ve had a little accident.”

  “That’s for sure.” Ada backed up, though she was nowhere near the actual target area. She looked at the child in Maggie’s arms. Maggie looked natural that way, Ada thought. Decorum indicated that she ask. “Do you need any help?”

  Joe expected Maggie to readily surrender the situation to an underling. Anticipating her, he stepped forward to claim his niece. But Maggie surprised him by shaking her head. Jennifer remained in her arms as Maggie took the soda can from Ada.

  “No, everything’s under control here.” Maggie sat down and placed Jennifer on her lap, then popped the top on the can. She offered it to Jennifer. “Just sip a little of this, sweetie, and your tummy’ll feel better soon.” Knowing how much a child needed the assurance of an all-knowing adult, she added, “I promise.”

  Grasping the can with both hands, Jennifer did as she was told. Her eyes never left Maggie’s face. Maggie smiled and smoothed the tangled hair away from the girl’s face again.

  To the best of his recollection, Joe couldn’t remember ever seeing Jennifer this subdued except when she was fast asleep. He felt himself growing steadily more intrigued by the woman sitting on the sofa.

  “Better?” Maggie asked again, hoping for a positive answer this time.

  Jennifer raised her head. A drop of soda dribbled down her chin. She managed a crack of a smile. “Better.”

  Maggie looked over Jennifer’s head at Joe. “I’d take her home if I were you. Nothing but clear liquids for the rest of the day. Then some crackers tonight.”

  Joe took his niece into his arms. He felt her reluctance to leave Maggie. Under similar circumstances, he would be reluctant, too, he mused.

  The corner of his mouth quirked as he took in her advice. “And chicken soup?”

  In her opinion, chicken soup was highly underrated. “Not a bad idea.” Maggie rose and dusted off her skirt. It was going to need a trip to the cleaners. “Don’t feed her anything you can’t see through.” She ticked things off on her fingers from long experience. “No juices except for apple. Give her gelatin tonight.” She glanced at the tray Ada had set down on the coffee table less than an hour ago. “And no cookies.”

  “Awwww.” The mournful cry rose from the other two girls.

  She saw the slightly haggard look entering Joe’s eyes. “I tell you what. My secretary will give you each a big bag of my cookies to take with you as long as you promise not to have any more until tomorrow.” Maggie held up a warning finger before any of the girls could say anything. “And then only a few at a time.” She looked from one girl to another. “Sandy, Christine, have we got a deal? We don’t want you getting sick like Jennifer, now, do we?”

  The girls solemnly shook their heads. “No,” they both agreed.

  Maggie saw the bemused look on Joe’s face. Curious, she had to ask. “What?”

  “You remembered their names.” It was his job to remember people’s names and he still managed to get them confused. Sandy and Christine looked so much alike, they were practically interchangeable to an outsider. Why would she remember who was who?

  Maggie didn’t understand why he would think that so unusual. “It’s not as if you brought in the Mormon Tabernacle Choir with you. Just three little girls.” Like flowers turning their faces toward the warm sun, the girls shifted their gaze toward Maggie, and she smiled at them. “My attention span can handle that.”

  “And a lot of other things as well, it seems
.” He didn’t want to end it here. There was a host of questions he wanted to have answered. “Listen, we didn’t exactly complete the interview—”

  She was already walking him to the door. “Your editor told me that there was a deadline.” That was one of the reasons she’d decided to agree to this. The deadline was soon. That meant there would be one interview and one interview only.

  “There is. In a manner of speaking,” he added vaguely.

  As a fairly regular contributor of long standing, Joe was privy to the magazine’s layout for next month. His mind was already juggling articles and working through negotiations. He could easily slip in another piece in place of the one on Maggie. He’d already done the legwork on it and all that was needed was a little polishing. Although the article was currently slotted for the following month, moving it up would leave him a window of time to work on this interview.

  And he really wanted to work on this interview. In depth.

  “But I think you’ll agree that your interview was abruptly cut short and my piece still needs some fleshing out.”

  Something about the way he said that made her leery. “Isn’t that where you come in? To flesh it out?”

  He fervently wished the girls weren’t here, hanging on every word, looking at Maggie as if she were the latest flavor of ice cream. Or chocolate chip cookie. “I need to know my subject a little better before I can do that. Could we continue this?—”

  She shook her head, cutting him off. There were meetings to go to. She and Adam had one lined up with a new ad agency later this week. And there were the stock reports to review. “I’m sorry. My schedule’s really full.”

  He was ready for her. “So my editor said. How about over dinner, then?”

  She hadn’t been prepared for that. “Dinner?”

  “You know, the meal that comes before dessert?” He’d like that, he thought, having dinner with her. He’d like that a lot.

  She looked at the girls. “Where? At Family Fun House?”

  Joe shuddered at the name of the fast-food chain. It was where he went every time he took the girls out. An hour and a half of mediocre pizza, arcade games and ear-splitting noise.