Honeymoon for One (11 page)

For the fourth time this morning Kirk found an excuse to walk casually past Michelle's desk. Twice as many times he'd reached for his cell phone. For all the good it would do. He didn't have her number programmed. And why should he? She was an employee. A passing liaison.
Shit.

"Pam?”

The busy redhead perked up. "Yes, Mr. McEntire?"

"Where is Michelle?"

"She had an appointment." The woman's face was unreadable.

"Is it her sister?"

Pam shook her head, her expression still blank. "She didn't say. Can I help you with something?”

"No. I just thought it might be Corrie."

Pam shook her head again.

"She's a good kid under all the attitude."

This time Pam smiled. "Michelle's done right by her.”

"Mm." With his usual departing nod, he escaped to his office. Everything was getting out of hand. He wasn't supposed to be concerned about the jobs he had to cut. Especially not about any one person in particular. And worrying about their extended family was beyond absurd.

So why was he turned inside out with worry? He didn't do worry. Ever.

Twelve thirty. Ten thirty in California. He stabbed at the familiar numbers.

"Griffin here.”

"What's Rover eaten now?"

"Two calls on one assignment? We must be living right."

"Funny." Kirk glanced toward his door, as if he could will Michelle to materialize.

"Nothing.”

"Excuse me?"

"Your question. What's Rover eaten now? Nothing. We bought him a tug-of-war rope and one of those massive bones that's almost as big as he is. Apparently they taste better than my shoes."

"I'm glad. And Deb. How's she doing?"

Dave paused before slowly responding, "She's fine. Is something up?"

"No. This job is just...different from all the others."

"How is that?"

"I've gotten to know the people."

"The people?"

Kirk picked up a pencil. "One in particular. And her sister.”

"I see.”

"The sister, Corrie, she's at that feel-all-grown-up-but-not-legal-yet stage of life, and it's giving Michelle some hard times."

"Michelle?"

"The employee." Kirk rolled the pencil between his fingers.

"How old's the sister?"

"Seventeen."

"And you like her?" There was sincere confusion in Dave's voice.

"She's a good kid. A bit of attitude at time. But, yeah. I like her."

"I see.”

"I got the word Saturday. Michelle's entire department is on the hit list.”

Dave let out a sharp whistle. "Ouch.”

"I worked the numbers most of last night. It makes sense to keep one person on in the department during the transition. That'll buy us at least a month or two."

"Us?" Dave repeated.

"Her. But that's all I can offer. Honestly, I'm not sure after all is said and done if even I can salvage this place.”

"Okay, who are you, and what have you done with Kirk McEntire?"

"I'm serious." The pencil snapped.

"So am I. Lloyd Kirkland McEntire does
not
doubt his business skills. And he definitely doesn't do women with children. Or kid sisters. You do swinging singles, easy liaisons. Hell, you've even done law students who strip for tuition."

"She's not like that. She's a nice person."

"I see.”

"Stop saying that!"

"Sorry, buddy. But I'm delighted to inform you that
you
, Lloyd Kirkland McEntire Jr., have bought the bill of goods." Dave didn't even try to hide his mirth. "Lock, stock, and little sister."

***

Michelle's gaze dropped to Beth's stomach. Without a coat, Beth's thin frame made it easy to spot the baby bump. "You're pregnant?"

On the verge of tears, Beth offered a feeble nod.

Good Lord. How long had Beth and Steven been
together?
Michelle's mind scrambled back in time calculating how long had it been since
she
and Steven had been intimate. The wedding would have been a month ago. There were so many details coming together the month before a wedding. Corrie had homecoming the month before that. Start of school was always time-consuming. Corrie was home a lot in the summer. Dear Lord, she couldn't remember. No wonder he had turned to someone else. "How far along?”

"I'm due May 25th.”

Beth was almost four months pregnant. Good God, Michelle had been either blinder than a bat or dumber than a post. Or both. How the hell did she not notice something had changed between the two people closest to her for at least three months before the wedding? Taking a step back, she laid a hand to her queasy stomach. "Congratulations, but I have to go.”

"Wait." Beth took hold of Michelle's arm. "I have to know. How far along are
you
?"

Michelle's gaze dropped to Beth's hand. She wasn't prepared to deal with any of this. Not here. Not now. "I'm sorry. I have to go.”

She left Beth standing in the doctor's office. Her thoughts teetered from dumbfounded revelation of how blind was she really, to
so much for the 99 percent effective birth control rate
, to the bubbling excitement of having a baby, to
Now what?
Pausing frequently on
a baby.

In the end, fate, or habit, answered
What now?
She found herself parked at the
Tribune
.

This would be good. Work would keep her busy, distracted. Give her some time to adjust. To think. Or not think.

And to see Kirk. Panic washed over her. What was she going to say to him? Slowing her pace, she reconsidered going to work. Perhaps a full day off would be better? No. She'd faced Kirk every day for over two weeks ignoring the white elephant in the room. She could certainly work a little longer ignoring the pink or blue one.

***

Bought the bill of goods.
Yes, Michelle was nice. Yes, he liked her sister. Yes, he cared if they became destitute. But he had
not
fallen into the tender trap.

Tapping on his keyboard, Kirk pulled up his email. Distracted by Michelle's unexpected absence today, he'd ignored his email most of the morning. By now he probably had a backup that would stretch clear to Albuquerque. Seventy-two emails. And not a single foreign solicitor among them. Things were looking up.

Departmental reports could be filed. Office supplies, delete. Carbon copy from janitorial services, delete. Thirty emails later, he'd either deleted, answered, or moved the cluttering correspondence. Email thirty-one he hit pay dirt.
We are pleased to inform you your proposal for our upcoming project has been accepted....

"Yes!" Kirk punched the air, then scanned the remainder of the email for pertinent information. Corporate housing would be provided. A car. Driver. Translator. Everything as expected. In two months he would be on his way to Cairo.

He did it. An international project. Soon, he'd be playing with the big boys.

His glance danced over to his office door. His mind turned to the woman who hadn't shown up for work today. "Cairo.”

***

So much to think about. In the short ride up the elevator, Michelle's to-do list had grown exponentially. What to tell Lloyd Kirkland McEntire Jr. was at the top.

"I didn't think you were ever going to come in." Pam swooped in behind her, whispering in her ear. "McEntire has been prowling like a caged lion. What did you do?"

Michelle froze in place. He couldn't possibly have figured out the same thing she did this morning. Could he?
Nah.
So what if she threw up on a policeman's shoes yesterday. Before leaving to change uniforms, the officer had reassured them she wasn't the first person, nor would she be the last, to do so.

She moved toward her desk. "I can't imagine what he's so anxious about.”

"In that case, I think you should know something." Pam leaned a hip on Michelle's desk while she put away her purse.

"If it's not good news, I don't want to know.”

The redhead dressed in neon green today, glanced around the office, then leaned in closer. "No one likes bad news, but it's your job, honey.”

Damn.
"Let me sit. Okay, what?"

"Your area is being absorbed by the national ad department. McEntire got the memo Saturday."

Her stomach rolled, and Michelle prayed Pam's shoes wouldn't be her next victim.

"Only this morning," Pam continued, "Harmon called to tell me that McEntire shot a new set of numbers to the board, and you are the sole survivor.”

"Sole survivor?"

"You'll be staying on to oversee the transition. Our hatchet man bought you at least a couple more months of employment."

"He did?" Was that the price of a guilty conscience? "What about Jolee?"

Pam shook her head.

"But she has ten years seniority on me?"

Pam shrugged.

Michelle pinched the bridge of her nose. She should have stayed in bed this morning.

"Crap," Pam muttered beside her.

Do I really want to know?
"Now what?”

"Rat Bastard is getting off the elevator and headed this way. He looks ready to breathe fire."

"Great." Now would be a really good time for the world to stop so she could get off.

Completely ignoring Pam, Steven stormed up to Michelle. "Are you okay?"

"Peachy."

"Then we need to talk.”

"Not now. I'm not feeling well.”

"I know. Beth called me.”

No surprise there
. "I also have a job to do. And my desk is no place to have this conversation.”

"Then take a break. This is important.”

Pam was right. Michelle had never seen Steven look quite so...determined.

"I told you"—she grabbed a file—"now is not a good time."

Steven folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the desk beside Pam. "Then we'll talk while you work, but I can't just walk away without making sure you're all right. I still care about you. Is
whoever
going to be here for you?"

Now
he's worried about her being left alone? "News flash. I'm not your responsibility anymore. Go home to your wife.”

Like a skinny person sandwiched between two fat people on a bus, Pam's head turned left than right, sizing up the people on either side of her.

The elevator dinged in the distance and all three heads turned.

Michelle let out a groan. Just what she needed at this circus—Beth. If the woman broke out in tears again, Michelle was climbing under the desk.

Beth nodded a smile at Pam, and shot daggers at Steven, before turning back to Michelle. "I tried calling, but your phone is off."

Rummaging through her purse, Michelle found the phone. "Darn it."

"I brought you a few things." On a mission, Beth opened the cloth bag hanging from her elbow and began removing items. "I guessed you gave up your lunch hour to go to the doctor, so I brought you something to eat.”

Like the children in
Mary Poppins
, Pam, Steven, and Michelle watched Beth pull one thing after another from her bag.

She set a drink down in front of Michelle. "It's a vanilla milkshake. You need calcium.”

A plastic sandwich container followed. "Tuna. It's wonderful brain food.”

"She already has a brain." Pam looked at Beth as though the woman had announced she was from Mars.

"Not her brain." Beth sighed. "The baby's.”

Pam's mouth dropped open. Her gaze flew to Michelle's still flat tummy, then darted over to Beth, finally landing on Steven. Who at least had the good sense to inch away at the vile glare.

"I know what you're thinking," Beth told Pam. "I was crushed when I heard the news. Even though Steven and I had only slept together that one time, and by accident—"

"You had sex by
accident
?" This time Pam stared at Beth as though she really
was
from Mars. Beside her, Steven merely groaned.

"Long story." Beth waved off the question. "My point is, it hurt to think he'd told me they hadn't slept together for months only to have her turn up pregnant, too." Beth spun around to face Michelle. "And then I realized no matter what I had
thought
you must be feeling, the awful hurt I felt this morning
was
how you must be feeling. So, I decided on the spot that our babies are the most important thing. We've gotten through everything else since kindergarten, and we can get through this.”