Honeymoon for One (6 page)

Beth sat at the kitchen table dicing potatoes. She’d already cut up enough Idaho spuds to feed half the block but concentrating on the task at hand gave her something to think of besides how she’d betrayed her best friend. “She won’t take my calls.”

“What did you expect?” Steven yanked at the knot in his tie. “Sorry.”

Focusing on the slicing motion of every stroke, she fought the urge to cry. “She probably hates me.”

Steven didn’t say a word. What could he say? There was no excuse for what they’d done. She knew it, Steven knew it, and Michelle knew it.

A tear slipped down her cheek. “Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?”

“Us. You mean us.” His fingers rolled around her shoulders, kneading out the tension.

“No. This is
my
fault. I let this happen. I should have stopped agreeing to help long ago. Every time I stepped in for Michelle at some gala or other, or when she would leave a party early to be home for Corrie and ask me to stay and keep you company, my heart would beat double time. I knew I was falling in love with you, and I didn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I convinced myself there was no harm in stealing a little extra time alone with you. If I had been a good friend, the friend Michelle deserved, I would have let go, made up any excuse to say no. If I’d been stronger, you’d be married to her instead of me, and everyone would be happy.”

“Not everyone. You would have been miserable hiding your true feelings. Michelle and I might have been able to continue deceiving ourselves for a while, but the day would have come when we’d have realized getting married was a mistake. I love Michelle, I always will, but I’m not in love with her.”

He crouched in front of his wife, set the knife aside, and took both her hands in his. “I’m sorry. I know this is hard. But you and I agreed with a little time to step back and examine her feelings, Michelle will see that she and I were going with what was expected, not what we really wanted—”

“But—”

“No. I won’t let you blame yourself. Maybe rushing off to Vegas was a knee-jerk attempt to avoid my father’s wrath, but I still think in time Michelle will accept what you and I had already discovered, if she hasn't already.”

Blinking back the tears pooling in her eyes, Beth silently cursed the hormonal rush of emotions and smiled at her husband. Her husband. A dream come true. She loved him so much. Only in her dreams she was the happiest bride in the world, and Michelle was still her best friend. No, this was definitely not a dream. Except for being married to Steven, everything was all wrong.

***

“Why not?” Corrie’s whining tone grated on Michelle’s nerves like a screeching catfight at dawn.

“Corrie, now is not a good time. Our efficiency expert just fired Evelyn and Joyce from human resources. No one expected him to start swinging the ax so soon. We’re all running a little crazy trying to make sure we’re not next. Let’s discuss this when I get home.”

“Aren’t you listening? The game is
tonight
. I have to have the permission slip turned in by the end of the school day, or I have to ride the bus. That’s why I skipped lunch to come here and get you to sign it now.”

Michelle tried really hard to ignore what had become her sister’s standard sigh-and-roll gesture. The heavy breath blew out at the same time the eyes rolled 180 degrees. She hated it. “I just don’t know.”

“It’s a football game. Not an orgy,” Corrie blurted out loud enough for half the floor to hear, including Lloyd McEntire who at this very moment was making his way across the bull pen to Michelle’s desk.

“Great,” Michelle mumbled. “Just great. Here comes the new boss.”

“Is there a problem?” he asked.

“No, none at all.” She grabbed her sister by the arm and turned her on her heel. “You’d better get back to school.”

“Then I can ride to the game with Brittany and Billy instead of on the bus with all the losers?”

Michelle resisted the urge to do exactly the same thing she hated in her sister, sigh and roll. “No. It won’t kill you to ride the bus.”

“But—”

“Corrie. You’ll be late for class. Go.”

Corrie pressed her lips into a fine line, and Michelle knew it was only because her boss stood inches away that her sister stomped off without saying a word. Though the slamming of her boots with every step shouted her displeasure loud and clear.

Her boss’ gaze shifted from Corrie’s departing back to Michelle. “Bit of a temper?”

“A bit. I’m sorry about the outburst.”

“Hm.”

She could sense the question on the tip of his tongue. “Corrie’s my sister.”

“Hm.” He nodded, a short, curt gesture she’d become used to over the past several days. “Now that I have a complete picture of the operation, it’s time to implement changes. I’ve cut some of the nonessential support staff in HR.”

Michelle nodded. What more could she do? Joyce’s husband was a lawyer. He made good money so Michelle wasn’t too worried for her. But poor Evelyn was a single mom with two kids. Michelle had only one almost-grown sister to worry about and the thought of losing her job in this miserable economy scared her to death. If only newspapers weren’t closing their doors across the country faster than the time it took Google dinosaur, her stomach might not feel all twisted up like a carnival pretzel.

Lloyd McEntire handed her a sheet of paper. “I’m scheduling a meeting with department heads for nine tomorrow morning. I’d like you there.”

“No problem.” She nodded, unable to force a smile. He’d handed her a meeting agenda. Art department, building services, clerical support, editorial. At least her department wasn’t on the list. Surely that was a good sign. Wasn’t it?

***

Why was this so hard? Lloyd McEntire, the new Iacocca, had never had trouble trimming the fat on a company before. For now, Micki’s job was safe. The ad sales force was the last department he wanted to cut. For her sake, he wanted them to have time to improve the numbers. To toe the line. To give him a good reason not to reduce her  department. Local ad revenues had been dropping steadily. National revenues were currently carrying the burden of the small-town paper.

Tossing the papers he held onto his desk, he slid into the large leather chair and rubbed his hands along his face as though he could simply wipe away all the frustration. Pam could have emailed Micki...Michelle the agenda for tomorrow’s meeting along with the others. But he’d wanted to see her, hear her voice. Remember what it was like to stand near her and know she would be his.

God, why was he torturing himself? He needed to stop thinking of her as his Micki and look at her as Michelle, just another employee. And what was the deal with the sister? Maybe their folks were out of town on a trip or something, and Michelle was doing her due diligence as big sister. He’d had to bite his tongue when she’d told her sister no. As long ago as high school had been, he still remembered how it felt to be left out of the cool group, to feel like you walked around with a big
L
on your forehead. He’d actually felt sorry for the kid. Even if she did have an attitude problem the size of Mount Rushmore.

Kids. Nothing but trouble. He wondered how Dave was doing with the dog. According to his computer, it wasn't anywhere near lunchtime yet on the West Coast. What the heck. He tapped his phone and pressed speed dial.

“Dave Griffin.”

“How’s the puppy doing?”

“Kirk? Is that you, man? At...what time is it there, barely noon? Where you are?”

“How’s the dog?”

“The dog?” Dave chuckled. “Did you hit your head?”

“No. One of the staff had a little run-in with her kid sister. It got me thinking about how much trouble kids are, which got me thinking about the test child Deb gave you. How is he?”

“He ate my favorite loafers yesterday, and today he peed on Deb’s new Coach handbag. But Rover’s still alive.”

“I can’t believe you named your dog Rover. If you and Deb get around to having real kids, you’ll probably name them Dick and Jane.”

“It so happens I like the names Dick and Jane.” Dave hesitated. “Is something up?”

“The place is a mess.”

“Yeah.”

“It took over a week to update the computer system. The old publisher still ran things the way the previous owner did—badly.”

“That’s usually why they bring you in.”

“I know.”

“Fire the first round yet?”

“This morning. Two nice ladies from human resources.”

“Does this mean Ebenezer is growing a heart?”

“It means I thought I’d check up on my friend. Make one last-ditch effort to keep you out of the trap.”

“No thanks.” Dave’s words carried the lilt of withheld laughter. “I like my trap. And the names Dick and Jane.”

“I did my best.” Movement on the screen saver caught Kirk’s eye. “I’d better get back to the grindstone.”

“Right. Keep me posted.”

“Will do. Tell Deb I send my love.”

Kirk watched a pit bull travel across the screen chewing up icons and slipped his phone into his pocket. He thought of himself as the pit bull, separating the weak from the strong. Discarding the excess.

This place carried the staff of a paper with three times its circulation, maybe more. He had work to do. By the time he finished, the
Bluffview Tribune
would run efficiently with a fraction of its current employees and turn a profit for the first time in what looked to be over ten years. If the Harkness group hadn’t bought the paper out three years ago, the original owner would have good-heartedly run the paper into the ground in another year or two at most. Changes had to be made. He hit the tab on the keyboard. Art department was next. He wouldn’t think about advertising sales. About Michelle's job. Cutting Michelle's job. Not yet.

“You look like hell.” Pam dropped a hip on the corner of Michelle’s desk.

“Gee, thanks. You look lovely yourself.”

“Seriously. Anyone would think you were the assistant being run ragged the last couple weeks. You still not sleeping?”

“Who said I’m not sleeping?”

“The black rings under your eyes.” Pam shrugged. “Corrie might have said something. I ran into her as she was leaving. You really should consider loosening the reins a little. She’s got to learn to spread her wings a bit sometime. You hold on too tight and those wings are going to snap.”

“You mean more all-night parties at boys’ houses?”

“Doesn’t count if the parents are home. I know Kathy Webb. The woman has had a stick up her you-know-what since before you were born. Those kids would have been sorely disappointed if they expected any hanky-panky.”

“Yeah, well, an ounce of prevention.”

“Could kill the cat.”

“That’s curiosity.”

“Whatever. I’m just saying you might want to take it a little easy on your sister. Let her ride with her friends instead of the school bus. Give her a chance to have some fun. Then take some of that advice for yourself.”

“Don’t ride the school bus?”

“Have some fun. Take all that’s happened to you as a sign. You should learn to live a little.”

A sign.
Free as a bird
. The thought sprang to mind at the same moment her left hand closed tightly over the golden bird hanging from her other wrist. She’d had her fun.

Pam pushed to her feet. “You’re not listening, are you?”

Michelle smiled. Yeah she was listening, but that didn’t mean she was going to do anything about it.

“Okay. I give up. For now. But there’s a lot to be said for a good roll in the hay.”

“Pam,” Lloyd McEntire called from his door. “Where the hell have you been hiding?”

“Gotta run. The captain calls.” Pam took off across the way at a fast shuffle. That woman could manage to put a feminine sway into an Olympic sprint.

Two minutes later Pam scurried out of Mr. McEntire’s office and hurried up to Michelle’s desk. “He just discovered Mr. Harrison’s policy of noncancellation, cross-referenced it with the local advertisers. He wants to see you in his office yesterday.”

“Why me? I have nothing to do with circulation.”

“He didn’t say, and I didn’t ask. But you’d better go before he starts breathing fire and burns down the building.”

Michelle took a deep breath and strode up to the large wooden door. After a quick knock, she turned the knob and poked her head inside. “You wanted to see me.”

He waved her in. “Starting now there will be complete interdepartmental communication.”

“Yes, sir.” Michelle nodded and felt her stomach slip to her feet.
Now what?

“I have walked into some pretty sloppy operations in my time, but this place takes the cake. No newspaper in the country continues to deliver papers to people who have expired subscriptions.”

After a few seconds she realized he was waiting for her to respond. “Uhm, Mr. FitzGibbons, the previous owner, and Mr. Harrison felt it a gesture of goodwill to continue delivery until the subscriber renewed.”

“What planet did these men live on? Why renew if you can get the paper for free? Never mind the problems this creates with the circulation audit.”

“Yes, well—”

“And your department. A new contract from a delinquent customer isn’t worth the paper it’s written on. Belinda’s Bakery has been advertising in the Wednesday circular for...” He flipped through some pages on his desk.

“About fifteen years. Since before I came to work at the
Tribune
.”

“They haven’t paid for over eighteen months!”

“I’m aware of a few problems. Her husband broke his leg two years ago. It healed wrong. He needed a few surgeries. They don’t carry insurance—”

“Did all these clients break a leg?” He waved a stack of pages in front of her. “Over 5 percent of the advertisers are at least one year in arrears.”

She tried not to sigh, but the frustrated breath slipped out. “I know, sir.”

“And stop calling me
sir
.” He whirled around and threw the papers on the desk, leaning over his chair he stabbed at the keyboard. “By nine o’clock tomorrow I want a detailed accounting of every client under contract—”

Pam opened the door and flew into the room. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but this is important.” She turned to Michelle. “It’s Corrie. County Hospital just called. There’s been a car accident.”

A fist closed around Michelle’s heart.
Not again
. “How…how bad?”

“I don’t know. All they told me was the car flipped, and the ambulance just brought in all five passengers.”

“How?” she mumbled, looking around for her purse. Her keys. “I have to go.”

A strong hand wrapped around her arm, and she realized where she was. “I have to get my purse.”
The car flipped
. She looked at Pam. “But Corrie was in a bus.”

“No, honey.”

“Oh, God.” Fear surged, tears pooled rapidly behind her eyes. She blinked madly, scanning the room. “I need my keys.”

Pam shook her head. “You shouldn’t drive. Tony downstairs is sending the van around.”

“No.” Lloyd McEntire tightened his hold on her arm. “I’ll take you.”

***

Images of Corrie broken and bleeding flashed over and over in Michelle’s mind like the opening menu on a DVD. Her fingers twisted and pulled on a lone tissue. She wouldn’t think the worst. She wouldn’t. “You didn’t have to do this. Tony would have brought me.”

“I wanted to.” Lloyd McEntire reached across the car and folded his hand over hers. “She’ll be all right.”

He was being so gentle, considerate, so much like Kirk. He stole a glance in her direction, and she had to force herself to remember- this was not the Kirk she knew. This was Lloyd the liar. The man happy to sleep with her, but unwilling to tell her his real name

She looked away. “I keep praying.”

Pam had told him how to find the hospital, as they’d raced out of the building. To Michelle’s amazement, he’d remembered every turn without having to ask her, and now he pulled into a parking spot beside the emergency room doors. Before she could fumble with the handle, he’d circled the car and opened the door for her. “Come on.”

Inside, the smell of antiseptic, lemon, and fear smacked her in the face. She hadn’t noticed when he’d taken hold of her hand, not until he’d gently nudged her toward the counter.

“We’re looking for one of the kids brought in from the car accident.”

The lady behind the desk nodded without looking up. Her fingers clacking away at the keyboard. “Just a minute.”

“Michelle.” The high school principal, Phil Warren, stepped up to them. “I’m so sorry.”

She felt her legs wobble beneath her. Did he know something she didn’t? Panic raced through her. “She was supposed to be on the bus.” She didn’t know why she’d said that; it was all she could think to say besides,
please, dear God
. Her little sister wasn’t supposed to be in a carful of teenagers, but in a big safe bus.

From the way the older man looked at her, his brows meeting in a perfect V at the bridge of his nose, she knew something besides five kids in the ER wasn’t right. “What?”

“You didn’t sign the consent form?” he asked.

Michelle shook her head. A strong arm slipped around her waist. She didn’t know whether to lean into Lloyd McEntire’s strength or scream at the top of her lungs. This was all one horrible nightmare.

The principal glanced over her shoulder at the unfamiliar man, hesitated a moment, then shifted his attention back to her. “She turned in a consent form to ride with the Webb boy. Someone signed your name.”

Before she could respond, Kathy Webb came flying into the ER with a handful of panicked parents beside her. “How are they? Is it serious? They wouldn’t tell us over the phone.”

The woman was so frantic Michelle could see the beat of her pulse in her neck and the tremble in her hands.

“Calm down, Kathy,” the older man said in a soft yet reassuring tone.

Lloyd tapped a hand on the counter. “We need to know the status on the kids who were brought in here. I’m checking on Corrie Bradford.”

The woman clacked away, looked up at him, and then a huge smile spread across her face. “Miss Bradford is in exam room B, through the double doors.” Still grinning like a schoolgirl, she pointed to her left. “Only immediate family.”

“Thank you.” He draped an arm around Michelle, and the woman’s smile fell like a hundred-pound stone. “Come on.”

Without letting go, he maneuvered Michelle through the doors, past the counter, and down a hall to the next-to-last cubicle. The light blue curtains were pulled partly closed, and she found herself reaching for him, for her Kirk, grabbing his hand and squeezing hard. She didn’t care who he was or what his name was, she was scared. She needed to move the curtain, but she couldn’t bring herself to lift her arms.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “You have to be strong.” With his free hand he slid the curtain aside and faced a very alive, very annoyed-looking young woman staring up at them.

The second her gaze met Michelle’s, Corrie burst into tears. “You told me to take the bus. I signed the paper. No one ever looks at those things. I figured you’d never find out. We’d be back before the bus, and you’d never know. I’m so sorry.”

Michelle ran a hand along Corrie’s hairline. “You’re bleeding.”

“I hit something.” Corrie sniffled. “I think it was Greg’s foot or Amy’s shoe. I’m not sure.”

“And your wrist?” She lifted her chin, pointing at the splint on her sister’s arm.

“They have to make sure it's not broken.”

“How is everyone else?”

“I don’t know. I was in the backseat. By the time the ambulance came, it was pretty crazy. I think everyone is all right.” She wiped a few stray tears from her cheek with her good hand. “But I don’t know.”

“Okay.” Michelle prayed her sister was right. “Tell me what happened.”

“Nothing. We weren’t speeding or anything. Suddenly Billy swerved, bumped into something, maybe the divider, then the car flipped.”

“Cars don’t swerve or flip for no reason.” She took a deep breath and forged ahead. “Was Billy drinking? Were any of you drinking?”

“No!”

“Drugs? Did you take something? I have to know. Tell me the truth.”

“We didn’t do
anything
. Brittany was hungry, so we stopped for burgers on the way, otherwise we would have been right behind the bus.”

Michelle didn’t speak; she wanted to believe her little sister. God how she wanted to believe her, but wasn’t that the typical mistake, turning a blind eye to drugs and alcohol?

Corrie must have recognized Michelle’s doubts; she leaned forward and grabbed her sister’s hand. “Honest. I’m not lying. I don’t know what happened, but we weren’t drinking. We weren’t!”

Before Michelle could say a word, she felt Lloyd sidle up beside her. With the slightest of motions, he barely dipped his head in one of those curt nods she’d grown accustomed to seeing at the office. “I’m sure your sister believes you.”

How dare he! It was one thing to insist on driving her to the hospital when anyone else from the office could have brought her, but to stick his two cents into her personal life? He might know how to save a business, but she would stake a year’s salary Mr. Thrill-of-Living didn’t know squat about raising teenagers.

“You probably scared a good ten years off your sister’s life,” he continued. “She was too shaken up to drive.”

Corrie's eyes dropped to her wrist and more tears rolled down her cheek before she found the nerve to face her sister again. “I really am sorry.”

Michelle almost broke into tears herself at the sadness in her sister’s eyes. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she pulled Corrie into her arms and held on tight. “The important thing is you’re all right. Have they x-rayed your hand yet?”

“No.”

“Well, I’m going to go and see what I can find out about the other kids and your X-ray.”

Corrie leaned back on the bed and nodded.

“We’ll be back in a minute.”

As soon as she was out of earshot from Corrie’s cubicle, Michelle whirled around at her boss. “Who gave you the right to announce what I do or don’t believe? This is none of your business!”

Pulling her closer to him, away from the hallway traffic, he spoke in that low deep tone that under any other circumstances would have turned her to putty in his hands. “You were about to make a serious mistake.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“She isn’t drunk or on drugs.”

“And you know this how? Oh, wait.” She raised her hand, palm out. Her tone dripped with sarcasm. “I see, now you’re an expert on substance abuse, too?”