The New Year's Wish (6 page)

“No.”

“Why not?”

He put the bowl of popcorn and two drinks on a tray, lifted Gracie from the counter, and put her on the floor. “Olivia has her own family, Gracie. I'm sure she's spending Christmas with them.”

“Oh.” She looked at him with disappointment clouding her eyes, and a pang of regret shot through him. Then her eyes cleared. “I know! She can come to Times Square with us on New Year's Eve!”

The regret turned to guilt. He held her gaze but still didn't have the heart to tell her he couldn't take her to Times Square on New Year's Eve as they'd planned. Couldn't even spend the night with her at all, actually. “We'll see, Gracie. Maybe.”

Her answering smile soothed him, but only for a moment. He had to figure out what to do about New Year's Eve. How would he attend the Harrises' party without disappointing his daughter?

SEVEN

O
LIVIA TOSSED THE FOLDER
onto the desk and leaned back. She rubbed her eyes, hoping to ease some of the strain, but it didn't help. She just couldn't read another thing. “I need a break.”

Garrett looked up from the computer screen. He hesitated, glanced back down, and closed the top. “You're right.” He massaged the back of his neck.

Olivia stifled the impulse to move behind his chair and do it for him. A smile played at the corners of her mouth.
I wonder what he'd do.
Maybe if I just—

“What's so funny?”

She looked up to find him staring at her. “Ummm . . . I was just thinking about something.”
Yikes, better change the subject. I do not want to go there.
She stood and stretched her back. “You know what? I'm going to take a break and grab something to eat. Do you want to come with me? We could come back and finish organizing these files after we're done.” She held her breath and waited.

He glanced at his watch and pushed his hand back through his thick, dark hair, a move he'd repeated numerous times throughout the night, leaving it sticking up in tufts around his head. “All right. We may as well. I'm not getting anywhere here.” He pushed up from the chair and almost ran into Olivia. His gaze locked onto hers. Held. “I'm sorry . . . I . . .” He lifted his hand to tuck a few strands of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered, brushing a featherlight caress along her jawline.

She couldn't look away. Her heart rate kicked up, hammering through her. She didn't bother to resist the urge this time. She raked her fingers through his hair, smoothing the mess he'd made of it back into place.

The rhythm of his breathing changed, increased, and became more shallow. He didn't pull back. His fingers traced a line down her neck and he leaned toward her. Slowly.

Ring . . .

He jerked back, tearing his gaze forcefully from hers.

I am going to murder
somebody.

Garrett busied himself, shoving folders into his briefcase. “Aren't you going to answer that?”

Her gaze lingered on him a moment longer. “Sure.”
May as well.
She fished the phone out of her bag and looked to see who had just ruined her life. “Hmmm . . . that's weird.”

Garrett glanced at her but quickly turned away.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Olivia.”

“Hi, George. What's going on? Is everything okay?” Silence met her from the other end, and she pulled the phone away from her ear and checked the screen to see if she'd lost the connection. “Are you there?”

“I'm here.” He sucked in a breath that echoed loudly through the line. “Olivia. I'm really sorry about this.”

Oh . . . no. No, no, no.

“I've had to cancel your New Year's Eve party.”

“What are you talking about, George? I booked that over a month ago. You can't just cancel it.” Olivia's pulse hammered through her head, keeping time with the pounding of the headache that had settled there.
What am I going to do?
George's frantic apologies finally broke through the haze of fear enveloping her, and she struggled to focus her attention on what he was saying. Maybe she could find a way to salvage this.

“Senator Gordon found out about it and squashed the whole thing. I got a call from the owner about an hour ago, telling me to call you and apologize. He wanted me to tell you we'd accidentally overbooked.” George's indignation found its way through the line.

Olivia exhaled slowly. “Okay, George. It's not your fault.” If Chip's father wanted the party canceled, there was no way around it. Cresthollow wouldn't be hosting her party. “Thank you for being honest with me.” She hurried through her good-byes, tossed the phone on the desk, and flopped back onto the chair.

What could she do? The senator still placed the blame for Olivia and Chip's breakup squarely on her shoulders. Of course, he didn't know about George. She sighed and rubbed her eyes.

“Is something wrong?” Garrett was staring at her, concern etched in his frown.

She blew out a breath. “That was George, from Cresthollow Country Club.” She paused, dreading the rest of the conversation, wishing desperately she didn't have to deal with this. “They've canceled the New Year's Eve party.” She winced as the full implication of those words slammed through her.

“What do you mean? They won't let you have it at the country club?”

She bit her lip, hesitant to answer, and then sighed. “My father is very influential at Cresthollow, and George is an old . . . friend. I called George and asked him to set up the best New Year's Eve party ever, and he agreed.”
But Dad must not have as much pull as Senator Gordon
.

Garrett stiffened.

“He was taking care of everything. The venue, the food, the music . . .” Bile crept into the back of her throat.

Garrett just stared at her.

“So you called Daddy and had him take care of it for you?” Anger poured from him in waves.

Olivia bristled.
Why is he so angry about this? What difference does it make who plans it as long as the Harrises have a great party?
Besides, her father hadn't had anything to do with it, really. The people at Cresthollow simply went out of their way to accommodate her because of his name. “That's not fair. I got bulldozed into organizing this thing, and you know it. I just wanted it to be nice!”

“I'm sorry, Olivia. I shouldn't have said that.” The apology seemed sincere, yet there was still a distance between them that hadn't been there before. “What are you going to do now? It's kind of late to find a venue for—”

“Ms. Calloway.”

Olivia glanced over her shoulder as the door slammed open and bounced against the wall, revealing a very stern-looking Charlotte Harris.

Ugh . . . can this get any worse?

“I just received a phone call saying my New Year's Eve party is canceled. Is that true?”

Apparently, it can get much worse. Think, think, think.
What could she say? There really was no way to resolve this. “Yes, Ms. Harris. I'm sorry, I—”

Ms. Harris put her hand up, palm toward Olivia. “I don't want to hear it. It's too late at this point to put together another party. You're fired, Ms. Calloway. Collect your things and go.”

Olivia stared at Garrett for a split second, then picked up her bag, slung it over her shoulder, and stormed out the door. As she strode toward the reception desk, Jill's smirk followed her out the door. She lifted her chin and kept walking, fighting off the tears until she reached the street.

OLIVIA SLAMMED THE DOOR
shut behind her and threw her bag onto the nearest chair. She tried to wrestle the sobs under control. How could she have screwed this up? She wanted to keep this job so badly and had tried so hard.

She grabbed a box of tissues and flung herself onto the couch.
Garrett.
A dull ache settled in her chest. She'd probably never see him again. He'd never forgive her for messing this up.

Anger seeped in. It began to fester and grow, starting to nudge some of the sadness aside.
Chip.
“This is all
his
fault.
If he had the nerve to be honest with his father, the senator wouldn't have done this to me.” She ripped the phone from the base and punched the numbers that would give her a target for her anger.

Barney whimpered and padded over to sit beside her. He lowered his massive head onto her lap and pinned her with his soulful stare.

Her finger hovered over the final number. She bit her lip and lowered her hand. “It's not really his fault, is it, boy?”

The thought of calling her father briefly flitted through her mind, but she dismissed it just as quickly.

Barney lifted his head, and Olivia set the phone gently back into its base. She inhaled deeply. Barney tilted his head to the side and she reached out to scratch his head, allowing the easygoing dog to bring her comfort.

“You're right. This whole thing is nobody's fault but my own. I shouldn't have asked George to plan the party. I should have done it myself.” She sighed.

Barney followed her when she pushed off the couch and headed for the kitchen. Filling the teakettle, she wracked her brain for a solution. Nothing came. She put the kettle on the burner, grabbed a mug, and dropped a tea bag into it. Her mind was a total blank. No answers jumped out at her, and she returned to feeling sorry for herself.

The resentment that had poured off Garrett would be hard to overcome, but maybe he'd listen if she apologized.
Who am I kidding? He probably hates me.
A vision of his eyes, hardened in anger directed at her, assaulted her.

The kettle's whistle dragged her from her pity party. She couldn't deal with all of this right now. She put her tea on the table, grabbed her computer, placed it beside the mug, and sat. Barney lowered his bulk to the floor beneath her feet. “All right, boy. First things first.” She turned the computer on and took a sip of tea. Warmth flowed through her, doing nothing to relieve the chill that had overtaken her.

“I need a job.” She blew the wavy bangs off her forehead and studied the help-wanted ads. “There has to be something I can do. Everyone's good at something. Right?” She glanced down at the big dog, but he only snored in response.

She returned her attention to the computer screen. She scanned through the list of available jobs.
No, no, no . . .
A small ad caught her eye.
Hmmm, maybe.
Be your own boss, work from the comfort of your home, set your own deadlines.

A gust of wind rattled the window, and Olivia turned toward the sound. The gray sky mirrored her mood. She took another sip of tea. An image of herself—snuggled in a blanket, cup of tea at her side, computer in her lap—took form. “This is perfect. I'll be able to stay home with you and work.” She clicked on the ad and read through the terms of use.

Barney rolled over to lay spread-eagle on his back. “You could be a little more appreciative, you know.” A ding from the computer called to her as she scrolled through the list of available jobs.
Website building. No. Graphic design.
She laughed.
No.

“Here's one. Proofreading. How hard could that be?” She forced her attention to the task at hand. A small surge of satisfaction started to blossom. She didn't need the Harrises. She would start her own proofreading business. That had been her original goal, and with only three weeks left before New Year's Day, it was time to act on that resolution.

She filled out the sections needed to create a profile, then sat back and stretched. Now she just had to wait for people to send her work. The sense of accomplishment was short-lived, though, as images of Garrett flooded her now unoccupied mind. Garrett shoving his hand through his hair in frustration. Garrett smiling at her after she'd screwed something up. Garrett hugging Gracie close, a look of pure love shining in his eyes.
Gracie.

A stab of grief shot through her. Olivia had become more attached to the little girl than she'd realized. The subtle way she managed to get her father to do what she wanted, the bubbly smile when she was excited about something, and the awe that filled her eyes when she'd seen the first giant balloon coming toward her down the street.

A small measure of comfort finally offered some warmth. She pushed her chair back, and Barney surged to his feet. “Oh well, at least Gracie will get to spend New Year's Eve with her dad,” she said out loud, a wry smile in her voice. Gracie's happiness at having her daddy with her on New Year's Eve was the only silver lining in this mess. “Maybe he'll even take her to Times Square.” She dropped her cup into the sink and headed down the hallway with Barney on her heels. “Stay, boy. I'm going to take a bath.” She rubbed her eyes, still strained and puffy from her earlier crying jag, and trudged off to let steam and bubbles do their magic.