Monkey Wrench (24 page)

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Authors: Nancy Martin

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BOOK: Monkey Wrench
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“I haven't changed,” Susannah agreed. “Maybe I've recognized a few things, but I—I can't give up being Oh, Susannah. Not for Granny Rose. Not,” she said meaningfully, “for anyone.”

“Why not? If it's ruining your life, trapping you into a corner—”

“I can't turn my back on success, Joe.”

He gave a snort. “Success! You're being smothered, Susannah. This week, I've gotten to know the real you. And I think it's a damned shame you're going to let this guy walk in here and drag you back to—”

“He's not dragging me anywhere.”

“Oh, no? Just why do you suppose he's come?”

“To make sure I'm still part of the team, I suppose.”

“To make sure he hasn't lost his star player,” Joe said bitterly. “He can't get along without you, so he's come to take you back before we poison your mind.”

“You make me sound weak,” Susannah snapped. “I'm not easily influenced by anyone—not you
or
Roger. I have to think about all the people involved with ‘Oh, Susannah!' before I make any rash decisions, Joe. I can't quit my job on a whim.”

“I thought,” he said, “that I was more than a whim.”

Susannah felt her face grow hot. “Let's keep our perspective, shall we?” Her voice hardened. “You and I have never discussed a relationship of any kind, let alone one that required me to leave my job and—”

“We've reached a lot of conclusions this week, Susannah. Maybe we didn't say the words, but don't deny you haven't thought about the possibilities.”

“The possibilities are rather limited, considering your circumstances, Joe.”

His frown deepened. “What circumstances?”

Before she could think straight, Susannah blundered ahead,
saying angrily, “I had to hear about your friend Angelica from your
daughter.

Joe's face went blank. “Angelica?”

“Yes, Gina told me all about her.”

“Gina told you?” Joe asked, his gaze narrowing.

At the mention of his daughter's name, the pieces suddenly came together in Joe's mind. Susannah's reluctance to let their relationship grow. The sly remarks from Mrs. Atkins about “any other lady” in Joe's life; he'd assumed she was referring to Gina herself.

“She
does
exist, doesn't she?”

What's that kid doing to me now?
he asked himself. Heaven only knew what kind of lies might spring from Gina's fertile imagination if the circumstances were right.

Seizing Susannah's arm once more, Joe asked, “Just what exactly did Gina tell you?”

“Nothing that should have surprised me,” Susannah replied, endeavoring to look calm. “After all, you're an attractive single man. I'd be a fool to assume you didn't have a...a—”

“A lover?”

Susannah colored. “A friend, I was going to say. Is it true?”

Joe wanted to blow up then and there. But not in Rose Atkins's house, and not before he confronted his daughter. He squelched his temper, suddenly aware that many of Rose's guests were shamelessly eavesdropping from the parlor.

Joe lowered his voice. “We have a lot of things to set straight, Susannah.” With a supreme act of self-control, he said, “But not now. I don't want to spoil the party. And I have something to take care of first.”

“People are starting to whisper,” she agreed, glancing toward the parlor. “We'll discuss this another time.”

“But it can't wait long, Miss Suzie.” Joe pulled her around again until he could look deeply into her eyes, and he didn't give a damn who was watching from the other room. “I care
about you, Susannah. Don't pretend you don't understand. I've fallen in love with you.”

She stared at Joe, her expression full of conflicting emotions. For an instant, she couldn't speak.

So Joe decided to take full advantage of the moment.
Let her be good and rattled,
he thought. Swiftly, he pulled her close and kissed her fully on the mouth, even forcing her lips apart for a long, hot, penetrating kiss that should have sent her senses reeling. And judging by the dazed expression on her face when he set her back down on her feet again, the kiss had done exactly that. Susannah put a shaky hand on a chair to steady her balance.

“My goodness,” she whispered, blinking.

“Think about that,” Joe said darkly, “when you go to bed tonight.”

He left the house then, without bothering to say good-night to Mrs. Atkins or to retrieve his topcoat. After turning up the collar on his sport jacket, Joe walked home. Anger at Gina kept him plenty warm enough.

Once in the house, he marched up the stairs to confront his daughter. But Gina's bedroom door was closed, and no light shone from beneath it. So Joe proceeded to his own room, stripped off his clothes and climbed into bed to seethe.

Women! They could drive a man crazy. Joe never pretended to understand the intricate moods of his daughter. He couldn't guess what had prompted her to create the story of Angelica. Jealousy? Or had she taken an instant dislike to Susannah and decided to drive her away?

The telephone rang about an hour later. Joe was still wide awake and ruminating on the fairer sex. He picked up the receiver on the first ring.

“Joe?”

It was Susannah's voice—a little breathless and hushed. “Did I wake you?”

“Who can sleep?” He relaxed into the pillow again, holding the receiver to his ear. “I've been thinking about you.”

She hesitated for a moment, and Joe envisioned her face—
probably troubled, but lovely just the same. She said, “I haven't had a chance to do much thinking yet. But I can't leave things hanging this way until tomorrow. I put my grandmother to bed—”

“How is she?”

“Tired,” Susannah admitted. “Granny Rose went straight to bed as soon as all the guests left.” Her voice changed. “I'm even more worried about her than ever, in fact. She forgot Inger Hansen's name tonight, Joe.”

“Have you spoken with the doctor?”

“No. It's not really my place, is it? She has promised to see him right after Christmas.”

“Is that soon enough?”

Susannah sighed. “I hope so. I can't force her to do anything, Joe. She's an adult with free will and...well, dammit, she's so stubborn. I hate fighting with her.”

“I know,” he murmured.

A short silence ensued, then Susannah whispered, “You know a lot of things, don't you?”

“Not everything,” he said, matching her tone.

“Joe, I...”

“Yes?”

Susannah was silent for a long time. Then she said, “I wish my life were simple, but it isn't. I can't give up everything just like that.”

“I'm not asking you to give up anything. I just want us to be together.”

“But that means I have to give up everything else,” she argued reasonably. “Unless you want to move to Milwaukee.”

“I can't do that. Gina's home is here in Tyler. She needs some stability, and this is the best I can do for her.”

“I know. But my work is in the city. And I can't conduct a relationship on weekends. I work then, too. Roger needs me—”

“He can't control every minute of your life. And he does,
Susannah. He doesn't even want you to take time to see your grandmother. He's afraid of losing ‘Oh, Susannah!”'

With another sigh, Susannah said, “I'm beginning to see that. But what can I do?”

“I'll tell you what. You can start by—”

But she laughed. “That was a rhetorical question, Joe, not an invitation for you to take charge of my life.”

“But—”

“I'm not your daughter or one of the elderly ladies you manage to control with your combination of charm and bossiness. I'm not giving up ‘Oh, Susannah!' I can't. I just have to find more balance in my life. And I have to do it myself, not at your command.”

“Susannah...”

“I won't have you running my life.”

“Roger does.”

“He tries,” she admitted. “But he also accepts the fact that I have a mind of my own. I'm not sure you do.”

“I'm starting to realize it.”

She laughed lightly, but didn't sound amused. “I just wanted to tell you how I felt. I'm sure we'll talk again. But for now...”

“Susannah—”

“I've had enough for one night,” she said, cutting off his argument kindly. “Let's think things over before we continue this discussion.”

“I'll be over first thing in the morning.”

“No, don't do that. Roger will be here. I need to get a few things straight with him, all right?”

Joe had work to finish at Timberlake, anyway. “All right,” he agreed. “If that's what you want.”

“You see?” she asked, a smile in her voice. “You're getting better already. Good night, Joe. Sweet dreams.”

It was five minutes before Joe realized he hadn't settled the matter of the imaginary Angelica. But the more he thought about it, the more Joe realized that Angelica was a problem Gina had created. She should be the one to resolve it.

* * *

I
N THE MORNING
, Susannah faced Roger over breakfast. Naturally, he came downstairs freshly showered and dressed casually—as casually as Roger Selby ever dressed. His wool trousers were neatly creased and he wore a cardigan sweater over a starchy button-down shirt.

He was astonished to find Susannah still in her bathrobe.

“Oh, excuse me,” he said, faltering in the doorway. “I'll come back when you're decent.”

“For crying out loud, Roger, I'm perfectly decent!” Susannah made space on the cluttered counter for the coffee maker and plugged it in. “Come in and sit down. I'll get you a muffin.”

“Do you have any bran cereal?”

“Of course,” she said patiently, guiding Roger by one stiff arm to the table. “Now, sit. I'm sorry about the mess. Granny Rose and I were too tired to clean up after the party last night. I guess we have our work cut out for us today.”

Roger seated himself in one of the comfortable kitchen chairs and proceeded to look completely
un
comfortable. He wasn't accustomed to chatting with women in their kitchens. Roger much preferred to conduct business from across the neatly arranged expanse of his office desk. But he made an effort at conversation by asking, “Where is your grandmother this morning? I didn't get a chance to thank her for her offer of a room last night.”

“She's still in bed. I checked on her a few minutes ago, and she's still sleeping.” Frowning at the thought, Susannah busied herself at the kitchen counter. “She looked terribly exhausted by the end, don't you think? I'm very worried about her.”

“Actually, Susannah, I didn't come to Tyler to discuss your grandmother's health. It's your career that's on my mind.”

Susannah withheld a sigh of resignation. She knew there was no avoiding the discussion to come. But she didn't want to suffer through one of Roger's patented “career-plan strategies.” He could go on for hours talking about the future of the television station and Susannah's vital role in it.

She set a place at the table for him, then dished him up a bowl of bran cereal and poured skim milk over it. Setting the bowl in front of him, she said firmly, “I know what you're going to say, Roger. But for once, will you let me have the first word?”

Roger looked startled. “By all means.”

Susannah sat down across from him and propped her chin in her hands. “Look,” she began, “it's not that I don't appreciate everything you've done for me in the past, Roger. I have you to thank for my success.”

It wasn't quite true, but Susannah was feeling generous and wanted to butter up her boss.

While Roger ate his cereal, she continued, “But I'm starting to think I need to make some drastic changes in my life, Roger. I'm not happy in Milwaukee.”

“Not happy!”

“I feel as if I'm going through the paces, that's all. I'm not living my life anymore. I'm letting you and ‘Oh, Susannah!' guide it.”

Frowning, Roger said, “You're blaming me for a personal problem?”

“No. I'm sorry if it sounds that way. I meant that my life hasn't felt very full. And I feel as if my time is starting to run out. Can you understand that, Roger? I want to
have
a life before I miss my chance.”

“What do you mean?” Roger had raised his spoon to his mouth, but he froze, milk dripping onto the table, as shock set in. “You're not leaving ‘Oh, Susannah!'?”

“No,” she said at once. “I'm not. At least, not yet. But I have to cut back, Roger. I can't be consumed by the show every waking minute of my life. I want more.”

“More what?”

Susannah lifted her hands helplessly. “Family. Friends. And passion! Passion for something other than ratings and time slots.”

Roger put his spoon back into the bowl. “Do you feel
passion—” he stressed the word distastefully “—for that big fellow who was here last night?”

“His name is Joe.”

“How appropriate,” Roger said, allowing an unpleasant smile to flicker on his mouth. “And he's some kind of mechanic, your grandmother tells me?”

“He's a carpenter, Roger, and don't be condescending, please. Just because a man works with his hands...well, Joe may not have the ability to schedule television programs like you do, but he's very talented in other ways.”

“Now who's being condescending?”

It was impossible to argue with Roger. He used every trick in the book. If he wasn't being manipulative and making Susannah feel guilty, he was turning the tables so it was impossible for her to do likewise. Susannah sighed, hoping to hang on to her temper for once.

“I'm not going to argue the good qualities of Joe Santori. Why, I've only met the man recently. But he's helped me come to a few conclusions about myself, Roger. I've got a lot to give, and I can't go through life just giving it to a television audience.”

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