Glad Tidings (31 page)

“You might have warned me they didn’t know about your being a waitress,” Nolan muttered under his breath.

Samuel drew a hand across his eyes, as if that would erase the image of his daughter waiting on tables. “Why would you choose to quit the newspaper to work as a waitress?” Asking the question seemed to cause him pain.

“It’s honest work, Dad. I don’t understand why you’re acting like this. You’re making it sound like I’m doing something that’ll bring disgrace to the family name.”

“But your education is being wasted,” her mother said, shaking her head. “You could have any job in publishing you wanted.”

That much was true when it was her family doing the hiring, but when she was looking on her own her employers were more interested in her job skills than who her father was.

“I’m afraid I’m the one who started this,” Nolan interrupted. “I wrote a column about Maryanne,” he said bluntly. “It was unfortunate, because I was out of line in some of the things I said, but—”

“Nolan didn’t write anything that wasn’t true,” Maryanne hastened to say. “He made me stop and think about certain aspects of my life, and I decided it was time to prove I could make it on my own.”

“By denouncing your family!”

“I never did that, Dad.”

Samuel’s shoulders sagged with defeat. The long hours her parents had spent travelling were telling on them both. They looked at her blankly, as though they couldn’t quite believe, even now, what she’d been doing for the past month and a half.

“I did it for another reason, too.” All three of them were staring at her as if they suspected she’d lost her mind. “I’d met Nolan and we had dinner together and I discovered how much I liked him.” She glanced at the man in question and saw him frown, knitting his brow, obviously searching for a way to stop her. “I’m sorry, Mom and Dad. I hated lying to you, but I couldn’t see any way around it. I didn’t want to worry you,” she said, stepping next to Nolan and wrapping her arm around his waist. “I belong here with Nolan.” There, she’d said it! “I won’t be returning to New York with you.”

“Maryanne, sweetie, you can’t go on living like this!”

“I have a wonderful life.”

Her father was pacing again. “You’re in love with this man?”

“Yes, Daddy. I love him so much—enough to defy you for the first time in my life.”

Her father’s eyes slowly moved from his only daughter to Nolan. “What about you, young man? How do you feel about my daughter?”

Nolan was quiet for so long it was all Maryanne could do not to answer for him. Finally she couldn’t stand it any longer and did exactly that. “He loves me. He may not want to admit it, but he does—lock, stock and barrel.”

Her father continued to look at Nolan. “Is that true?”

“Unfortunately,” he said, gently removing Maryanne’s arm, “I don’t return her feelings. You’ve raised a wonderful daughter—but I don’t love her, not the way she deserves to be loved.”

“Nolan!” His name escaped on a cry of outrage. “Don’t lie. Not now, not to my family.”

He took her by the shoulders, his face pale and expressionless. She searched his eyes, looking for something, anything to ease the terrible pain his words had inflicted.

“You’re sweet and talented, and one day you’ll make some man very proud—but it won’t be me.”

“Nolan, stop this right now. You love me. You’re intimidated because of who my father is. But don’t you
understand that money doesn’t mean anything to me?”

“It rarely does to those who have it. Find yourself a nice rich husband and be happy.”

She found his words insulting. If she hadn’t been so desperate to straighten out this mess, she would have confronted him with it. “I won’t be happy without you. I refuse to be happy.”

His face was beginning to show signs of strain. “Yes, you will. Now, I suggest you do as your family wants and leave with them.”

Every word felt like a kick in the stomach, each more vicious than the one before.

“You don’t mean that!”

“Damn it, Maryanne,” he said coldly, “don’t make this any more difficult than it already is. We don’t belong together. We never have. I live in one world and you live in another. I’ve been telling you that from the first, but you wouldn’t listen to me.”

Maryanne was too stunned to answer. She stared up at him, hoping, praying, for some sign that he didn’t mean what he was saying.

“Sweetie.” Her mother tucked an arm around Maryanne’s waist. “Please, come home with us. Your friend’s right, you don’t belong here.”

“That’s not true. I’m here now and I intend to stay.”

“Maryanne, damn it, would you listen to your parents?” Nolan barked. “What do you intend to do once Mom’s Place closes for remodeling?”

“Come home, sweetie,” her mother pleaded.

Too numb to speak, Maryanne stared at Nolan. She wouldn’t leave if he gave the slightest indication he wanted her to stay. Anything. A flicker of his eye, a twitch of his hand, anything that would show her he didn’t mean the things he’d said.

There was nothing. Nothing left for her. She couldn’t go back to the newspaper, not now. Mom’s Place was closing, but the real hardship, the real agony, came from acknowledging that Nolan didn’t want her around. Nolan didn’t love her.

She turned her back on him and walked to her own apartment. Her mother and father joined her there a few minutes later, trying to hide their dismay at its bleakness.

“I won’t need to give my notice,” she told them, sorting through the stack of folded clothes for a fresh uniform. “But I’ll stay until Mom’s closes. I wouldn’t want to leave them short-staffed.”

“Yes, of course,” her mother answered softly, then suggested, “If you like, I can stay with you here in Seattle.”

Maryanne declined with a quick shake of her head, trying to conceal how badly Nolan’s rejection had hurt. “I’ll be fine.” She paused, then turned to her family. “He really is a wonderful man. It’s just that he’s terribly afraid of falling in love—especially with someone like me. I have everything he doesn’t—an
education, wealth, and perhaps most importantly, parents who love me as much as you do.”

Maryanne hadn’t known it was possible for two weeks to drag by so slowly. But finally her last day of work arrived.

“The minute I set eyes on Nolan Adams again, I swear I’ll give him a piece of my mind,” Barbara declared, hands on her hips.

Nolan hadn’t eaten at Mom’s once in the past two weeks. That didn’t surprise Maryanne; in fact, she would’ve been shocked if he’d decided to show up.

“You keep in touch, you hear? That Nolan Adams—he’s got a lot to answer for,” Barbara said, her eyes filling. “I’m gonna miss you, girl. Are you sure you have to leave?”

“I’m sure,” Maryanne whispered, swallowing back her own tears.

“I suppose you’re right. That’s why I’m so furious with Nolan.”

“It isn’t all his fault.” Maryanne hadn’t told anyone the embarrassing details that had led to her leaving Seattle.

“Of course it is. He should stop you from going. I don’t know what’s got into that man, but I swear, for two cents I’d give him—”

“A piece of your mind,” Maryanne finished for her.

They both laughed, and hugged each other one last time. Although they’d only worked together a
short while, they’d become good friends. Maryanne would miss Barbara’s down-to-earth philosophy and her reliable sense of humor.

When she arrived home, her apartment was dark and dismal. Cardboard boxes littered the floor. Her packing was finished, except for the bare essentials. She’d made arrangements with a shipping company to come for her things in the morning. Then she’d call a taxi to take her to Sea-Tac Airport in time to catch the noon flight for New York.

The next morning, dressed in jeans and a loose red sweatshirt, Maryanne was hauling boxes out of her living room and stacking them in the hallway when she heard Nolan’s door open. She quickly moved back into her own apartment.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, following her in. He was wearing the ever-present beige raincoat, his mood as sour as his look.

“Moving,” she responded flippantly. “That was what I thought you wanted.”

“Then leave the work to the movers.”

“I’m fine, Nolan.” Which was a lie. How could she possibly be fine when her heart was broken?

“I guess this is goodbye, then,” he said, glancing around the room, looking everywhere but at her.

“Yes. I’ll be gone before you get back this afternoon.” She forced a trembling smile to her lips as she brushed the dust from her palms. “It’s been a pleasure knowing you.”

“You, too,” he said softly.

“Some day I’ll be able to tell my children I knew the famous Nolan Adams when he was a columnist for the
Seattle Sun.
” But those children wouldn’t be his….

“I wish you only the best.” His eyes had dimmed slightly, but she was too angry to see any significance in that.

She didn’t reply and the silence stretched, tense and awkward.

“So,” she finally said, with a deep sigh, “you’re really going to let me go.”

“Yes.” He spoke without hesitation, but she noticed that his mouth thinned, became taut.

“It may come as a surprise to learn you’re not the only one with pride.” She spoke as clearly and precisely as she could. “I’m going to do what you asked and leave Seattle. I’ll walk away without looking back. Not once will I look back,” she repeated, her throat constricting, making speech difficult. She waited a moment to compose herself. “Someday you’ll regret this, Nolan. You’ll think back to what happened and wish to hell you’d handled the situation differently. Don’t you know it’s not what you’ve done that will fill you with regret, but what you haven’t done?”

“Annie—”

“No, let me finish. I’ve had this little talk planned for days and I’m going to deliver it. The least you can do is stand here and listen.”

He closed his eyes and nodded.

“I’ve decided to haunt you.”

“What?” His eyes flew open.

“That’s right. You won’t be able to go into a restaurant without believing you see me there. I’ll be hiding behind every corner. I’ll follow you down every street. And as for enjoying another bowl of chili, you can forget that, as well.” By now her voice was trembling.

“I never meant to hurt you.”

She abruptly turned away from him, wiping the tears from her cheeks with both hands.

“Be happy, Annie.”

She would try. There was nothing else to do.

“H
ave you had a chance to look over those brochures?” Muriel asked Maryanne two weeks later. They were sitting at the breakfast table, savoring the last of their coffee.

“I was thinking I should find myself another job.” It was either that or spend the rest of her life poring over cookbooks. Some people travelled to cure a broken heart, some worked—but not Maryanne. She hadn’t written a word since she’d left Seattle. Not one word.

She’d planned to send out new queries, start researching new articles for specialty magazines. Somehow, that hadn’t happened. Instead, she’d been baking up a storm. Cookies for the local day-care center, cakes for the senior citizens’ home, pies for the clergy. She figured she’d gone through enough flour in the past week to take care of the Midwest wheat crop. Since the holiday season was fast approaching, baking seemed the thing to do.

“But, sweetie, Europe this time of year is fabulous.”

“I’m sorry, Mom, I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but travelling just doesn’t interest me right now.”

Her mother’s face softened with concern. “Apparently, baking does. Maryanne, you can’t bake cookies for the rest of your life.”

“I know, I know. If I keep this up I’ll look like the Goodyear blimp by Christmas.”

Her mother laughed. “That obviously isn’t true. If anything, you’ve been losing weight.” She hesitated before adding, “And you’ve been so quiet.”

When she was in pain, Maryanne always withdrew into herself, seeking what comfort she could in routine tasks—such as baking. She was struggling to push every thought of Nolan from her mind. But as her mother said, she had to get out of the kitchen and rejoin the world. Soon she’d write again. Maybe there was a magazine for bakers—she could submit to that, she thought wryly. It would be a place to start, anyway, to regain her enthusiasm. Soon she’d find the strength to face her computer again. Even the sale of three articles hadn’t cheered her. She’d stared at the checks and felt a vague sense of disappointment. If only they’d arrived before she left Seattle; then she might have considered staying.

“Is it still so painful?” Muriel asked unexpectedly. Nolan and Maryanne’s time in Seattle, were subjects they all avoided, and Maryanne appreciated the opportunity to talk about him.

“I wish you and Dad had known him the way I did,” she said wistfully. “He’s such a contradiction. Rough and surly on the outside, but gentle and compassionate on the inside.”

“It sounds as though you’re describing your father.”

She pondered her mother’s words. “Nolan
is
a lot like Daddy. Principled and proud. Independent to a fault. I didn’t realize that in the beginning, only later.” She laughed softly. “No man could ever make me angrier than Nolan.” Nor could any man hope to compete when it came to the feelings he evoked as he kissed her. She came to life in his arms.

“He drove me crazy with how stubborn he could be. At first all I could see was his defensiveness. He’d scowl at me and grumble—he always seemed to be grumbling, as if he couldn’t wait to get me out of his hair. He used to look at me and insist I was nothing but trouble. Then he’d do these incredibly considerate things.” She was thinking of the day she’d moved into the apartment and how he’d organized the neighborhood teens to haul her boxes up four flights of stairs. How he’d brought her dinner. The morning he’d fixed her radiator. Even the time he’d tried to find her a more “suitable” date.

“There’ll be another man for you, sweetie, someone who’ll love you as much as you love him.”

A bittersweet smile crossed Maryanne’s lips. That was the irony of it all.

“Nolan does love me. I know it now, in my heart. I believed him when he said he didn’t, but he was lying. It’s just that he was in love with someone else a long time ago and he was badly hurt,” she said. “He’s afraid to leave himself open to that kind of pain again. To complicate matters, I’m Samuel Simpson’s daughter. If I weren’t, he might’ve been able to let go of his insecurities and make a commitment.”

“He’s the one who’s losing out.”

Maryanne understood that her mother’s words were meant to comfort her, but they had the opposite effect. Nolan wasn’t the only one who’d lost. “I realize that and I think in some sense he does, too, but it’s not much help.”

Her mother was silent.

“You know, Mom,” Maryanne said, surprising herself with a sudden streak of enthusiasm. “I may not feel like flying off to Paris, but I think a shopping expedition would do us both a world of good. We’ll start at the top floor of Sak’s and work our way straight down to the basement.”

They spent a glorious afternoon Christmas shopping. They arrived home at dinnertime, exhausted yet rejuvenated.

“Where was everyone after school?” Mark, the older of the Simpson boys, complained. At sixteen, he was already as tall as his father and his dark eyes shone brightly with the ardor of youth. “I had a rotten day.”

“What happened?”

Every eye was on him. Mark sighed expressively. “There’s this girl—”

“Susie Johnson. Mark’s bonkers over her,” fourteen-year-old Sean supplied, grinning shrewdly at his older brother.

Mark ignored him. “I’ve been trying to get Susie’s attention for a long time. At first I thought she’d notice me because of my brains.”

“What brains? Why would she do anything as dumb as that?”

Samuel tossed his son a threatening glare and Sean quickly returned to his meal.

“Some girls really go for that intelligent stuff. You, of course—” he looked down his nose at Sean “—wouldn’t know that, on account of only being in junior high. Which is probably where you’ll stay for the rest of your life.”

Samuel frowned again.

“Go on,” Maryanne urged Mark, not wanting the conversation to get sidetracked by her two brothers trading insults.

“Unfortunately Susie didn’t even seem to be aware I was in three of her classes, let alone that I was working my head off to impress her. So I tried out for the soccer team. I figured she’d have to notice me because she’s a cheerleader.”

“Your skills have been developing nicely,” Samuel said, nodding proudly at his eldest son.

“Susie hasn’t noticed.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Maryanne said.

“No, it’s true.” Mark signed melodramatically, as if the burden of his problem was too heavy to bear. “That was when I came up with the brilliant idea of paying someone—another girl, one I trust—to talk to Susie, ask her a few questions. I figured if I could find out what she really wants in life then I could go out of my way to—” he paused “—you know.”

“What you were hoping was that she’d say she wanted to date a guy who drove a red Camaro so you could borrow your mother’s to take to school for the next week or so.” Samuel didn’t succeed in disguising his smile as he helped himself to salad.

“Well, you needn’t worry,” Mark muttered, rolling his eyes in disgust. “Do you know what Susie Johnson wants most in this world?”

“To travel?” his mother suggested.

Mark shook his head.

“To date the captain of the football team?” Maryanne tried.

Mark shook his head again.

“What then?” Sean demanded.

“She wants thinner thighs.”

Maryanne couldn’t help it; she started to smile. Her eyes met her younger brother’s, and the smile grew into a full-fledged laugh.

Soon they were all laughing.

The doorbell chimed and Maryanne’s parents ex
changed brief glances. “Bennett will get it,” Samuel said before the boys could vault to their feet.

Within a couple of minutes, Bennett appeared. He whispered something to Maryanne’s father, who excused himself and hurried out of the dining-room.

Maryanne continued joking with her brothers until she heard raised voices coming from the front of the house. She paused as an unexpected chill shot down her spine. One of the voices sounded angry, even defensive. Nevertheless Maryanne had no difficulty recognizing whose it was.

Nolan’s.

Her heart did a slow drumroll. Without hesitating, she tossed down her napkin and ran to the front door.

Nolan was standing just inside the entryway, wearing his raincoat. Everything about him, the way he stood, the way he spoke and moved, conveyed his irritation.

Maryanne went weak at the sight of him. She noticed things she never had before. Small things that made her realize how much she loved him, how empty her life had become without him.

“I’ve already explained,” her father was saying. Samuel managed to control his legendary temper, but obviously with some difficulty.

Nolan’s expression showed flagrant disbelief. He looked tired, Maryanne saw, as if he’d been working nights instead of sleeping. His face was gaunt, his
eyes shadowed. “You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?”

“You’re damn right I do,” Maryanne’s father returned.

“What’s going on here?” she asked, stepping forward, her voice little more than a whisper. She was having trouble dealing with the reality that he was here, in New York, in her family’s home. But from the look of things, this wasn’t a social call.

“My newspaper column’s been picked up nationally,” Nolan said, his gaze narrowing on her. “Doesn’t that tell you something? Because it damn well should!”

Maryanne couldn’t conceal how thrilled she was. “But, Nolan, that’s wonderful! What could possibly be wrong with that? I thought it was a goal you’d set yourself.”

“Not for another two years.”

“Then you must be so pleased.”

“Not when it was arranged by your father.”

Before Maryanne could whirl around to confront her father, he vehemently denied it.

“I tell you, I had nothing to do with it.” Samuel’s eyes briefly met Maryanne’s and the honesty she saw there convinced her that her father was telling the truth. She’d just opened her mouth to comment when Nolan went on.

“I don’t suppose you had anything to do with the sale of my novel, either,” he said sarcastically.

Samuel Simpson shook his head. “For heaven’s sake, man, I didn’t even know you were writing one.”

“Your novel sold?” Maryanne shrieked. “Oh, Nolan, I knew it would. The little bit I read was fabulous. Your idea was wonderful. I could hardly force myself to put it down and not read any more.” She had to restrain the impulse to throw her arms around his neck and rejoice with him.

“For more money than I ever thought I’d see in my life,” he added, his voice hard with challenge. Although he was speaking to Samuel, his eyes rested on Maryanne—eyes that revealed a need and a joy he couldn’t disguise.

“Oh, Nolan, I’m so happy for you.”

He nodded absently and turned to her father again. “Do you honestly expect me to believe you had nothing to do with that?” he asked, more mildly this time.

“Yes,” Samuel answered impatiently. “What possible reason would I have for furthering your career, young man?”

“Because of Maryanne, of course.”

“What?” Maryanne couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It was ridiculous. It made no sense.

“Your father’s attempting to buy you a husband,” Nolan growled. Then he turned to Samuel. “Frankly, that upsets me, because Maryanne doesn’t need any help from you.”

Her father’s eyes were stern, and he seemed about to demand that Nolan leave his home.

Maryanne stepped directly in front of Nolan, her hands on her hips. “Trust me, Nolan, if my father was going to buy me a husband, it wouldn’t be you! Dad had nothing to do with your success. Even if he did, what would it matter? You’ve already made it clear you don’t want anything to do with me.”

His only response was silence.

“I may have spoken a bit…hastily about not loving you,” Nolan said a moment later, his voice hoarse.

Samuel cleared his throat, murmuring something about giving the two of them time to talk and promptly left the room.

Maryanne stood gazing up at Nolan, her heart shining through her eyes. Nolan
did
love her; she’d known that for a long time. Only he didn’t love her enough to discard the burden of his self-doubts. The boy from the wrong side of the tracks. The self-educated, self-made newsman who feared he’d never fit in with the very people who were awed by his talent.

“You were right,” he grumbled, the way he always grumbled, as if he felt annoyed with her.

“About what?”

His smile was almost bitter. “About everything. I love you. Heaven knows I tried not to.”

Maryanne closed her eyes, savoring the words she’d never expected to hear. Her heart was pounding so furiously that her head spun. Only…only he didn’t say he loved her as though it pleased him.

“Is that such a terrible thing?” she asked. “To love me?”

“No…yes.”

He seemed trapped by indecision, dragged down by their differences, yet buoyed by the need to see her again, hear the sound of her voice, gaze at her freckle-dotted nose and run his fingers through her hair. Nolan didn’t have to say the words for Maryanne to realize what he was thinking.

“When everything started happening in my life, I thought—I assumed—your father was somehow involved.”