Almost Perfect (31 page)

One woman's dream is another woman's nightmare, so be careful what you wish for.

—
How to Have a Perfect Life

"What have I gotten myself into?" Maddy wondered aloud as she sat at the desk in the camp office. She could be signing prints for Sylvia's catalog, getting ready for trade shows and gallery appearances, working on new originals. Instead, she was sitting before a computer, creating a spreadsheet that was turning into a disaster.

Why had she taken this job?

Not that she had any grounds to complain. She'd made sacrifices to help Nigel with his business. How could she do less for Joe? Joe might not be sick, but if she loved him, she owed him the same level of commitment.

If only she could get this stupid spreadsheet to work!

She dropped her head to the desk in despair, only to have her forehead crack against the keyboard.

Ouch
! She raised up, rubbing her brow. Then her eyes widened at her computer screen, which seemed to have gone haywire. All the numbers in all the little boxes were ticking down like the timer on a bomb about to go off. "No! Stop! What'd I hit? Undo, undo!"

She frantically punched keys, until suddenly the numbers reversed, going up now, faster than the national debt. She froze in shock, watching it with horrified fascination.

Up until now, she'd always thought she was good with computers. She'd quickly learned that having an innate ability with graphic design software did not mean she had the same ability with bookkeeping software. Truth was, she made a much better business owner's wife than she did an office manager.

She'd done well helping Nigel run his business all those years because they'd had Betty manning the front desk. All Maddy had to do was carry files back and forth, boost morale, and keep tabs on how things were going. After the past two weeks, she was convinced Betty was the eighth wonder of the world for being able to run an office so smoothly.

Just then she heard Joe's pickup pull into the parking lot. He was back from meeting Derrick at the airport. Panic shot through her. She hit the monitor casing a few times in a desperate effort to stop the wildly growing numbers, then tried punching keys, ESCAPE! DELETE! UNDO!

Two truck doors slammed. Boot heels crunched on gravel.

She jumped out of the chair and onto the desk to block the computer screen with her body just as Joe stepped into the office. A tall, leanly muscled black man came in behind him.

"Hey, baby," Joe said, then frowned in curiosity at where she was sitting. "Is something wrong?"

"No. Not a thing."

Looking skeptical, he gestured to the other man. "Meet Corporal Derrick Harrelson."

"Hello, Derrick." She started to extend a hand in welcome but caught Joe trying to look behind her. She quickly shifted, reclining sideways. "We meet at last."

Derrick's eyebrows shot up, making her realize she was sprawled on the desktop like a lounge singer on a piano. "So you're, um, Maddy." He flashed a smile full of white teeth. "It's good to finally meet you." He sent Joe a look of approval.

Joe frowned at her. "You're sure everything's all right here?"

"Fine." She grinned. "Completely, one hundred percent under control."

"Because if you need help, I can ask Mom to come down and—"

"No!" She plastered her back against the computer screen. "I've got it. Seriously."

"Okay then." He hesitated. "I guess I'll leave you to it while I show Socrates to the Chief's Lodge."

"All right." She wiggled her fingers as they headed out the back door. "Good to meet you, Derrick."

The moment they were out of sight, she jumped back into the chair and looked at the screen.

The numbers had stopped going haywire. Which would have been a relief. Except that now all the little boxes were blank.

Heart racing, she pulled up the e-mail server and shot a post off, praying that at least one of her friends was online.

Message:
Help! I'm making a mess and I don't know how to stop
!

Amy:
Calm down. I'm here. What's the newest bookkeeping disaster
?

Christine:
I'm here too. Lord, Maddy, when are you going to stop digging this hole deeper and start climbing out
?

Amy:
Ignore her. Just tell me what's wrong, and I'll try to walk you through it
.

Christine:
What's wrong is she won't TALK TO JOE
!

Maddy:
Is there an echo in here? That's all I hear anymore. Talk to Joe. Talk to Joe. Well, I'm sorry, it's not that easy! Especially when I'm messing up his business. I want out of this job so badly I could scream
.

Christine:
So tell him
!

Maddy:
What, say "Joe I love you and by the way I quit"? Yeah, that's a great start to becoming a husband/wife team running a business together. No, I have to fix this first. Help him get the camp going. And pray for the day he can afford an office assistant who understands bookkeeping. Maybe by then I'll be married and pregnant and I can quit to raise children
.

Christine
: I canNOT believe you said that! Another woman, yes, but not independent Maddy. Besides, if you can't say "I love you" you'll never get to say "I do
."

Maddy:
I told you, we're getting there in our own time and way. You don't have to make it sound like we've been dragging it out for years. I've only been here three and a half months
.

Amy:
Excuse me. Can we stick to the current problem, please
?

Maddy deleted all of Christine's posts before responding just to Amy:
I'm afraid I did something serious this time. See, I thought maybe if I opened Carol's files to see how she keeps the books for the summer camp, I could figure out how to do this. And I guess I sort of hit something I shouldn't have. Because, well, now all the numbers in all the little boxes are sort of… gone
.

Amy:
Oh dear
.

"What have I gotten myself into?" Joe asked the world at large as he and Derrick headed for the

Chief's Lodge. "Do you think you could be more specific?"

"Maddy!" Stopping, he flung a hand toward the office.

"Ah, that narrows it down some, but I'm afraid not enough."

"I can't believe I hired her as our office manager."

"I don't know." Derrick scratched his cheeky looking back toward the office. "She looks pretty" good sitting on a desk to me. And she did a fantastic job with our promo material."

"Except she's completely incompetent at running an office." With his hands on his hips, he stared at his feet. After days of denial, the full magnitude of his blunder settled over him. "I'm going to have to fire her."

"Whoa, my man. I thought the plan was to marry her."

"It is!"

"Then might I suggest you propose before you fire her."

"Yeah." A dry laugh escaped. "Good plan."

"No, not 'plan.' " Derrick held up a finger. "Advice. I think you've done enough planning with this situation."

"No, I just need a new plan." He resumed walking, his mind racing. If only Maddy's art career would take off, he could encourage her to quit. Maybe he could do something there to help out. "Yeah, that's what I need. A new plan."

Groaning loudly, Derrick fell in step beside him.

Thank God for days off, Maddy thought as she packed for the party in Taos. If she had to spend one more minute reading software manuals that made no sense, her head would explode. Why couldn't she figure out how to make it all work? Although anytime she dealt with numbers, her brain turned to Teflon. The only reason she'd kept her math grades up in school was because of Joe and then Amy helping her.

No wonder he'd been shocked to learn she was such a good student in all her other courses.

As for the current situation, at least Joe never yelled at her the way her father yelled at her mother for every mistake, large or small. Joe just came quietly along behind her and fixed things.

Which made her feel awful. She was supposed to be helping him. Instead she was causing him more work.

Well, tomorrow they were heading for Taos, where she'd see her friends for the first time in months. Maybe if she sat down with Amy, they could figure out what she was doing wrong.

Comforted by the thought, she pulled two dresses from the closet to add to her growing pile of potential outfits for the night of the show. They were both simple, jersey knit, a flattering, forgiving fabric that could be dressed up or down. Stepping before the mirror that hung on the bathroom door, she held the hangers under her chin. The short red? Or the long black? Black was always great. Artsy. Sophisticated.

Funereal.

How appropriate.

Without warning she burst into tears. Loud, wet sobs shook her whole body.

Pressing the heel of her hand to her eyes, she wondered what was wrong with her lately. She always seemed on the verge of singing with joy or bawling her eyes out. If she hadn't just ended her period, she'd swear she was pregnant or PMSing.

She had no reason to be this way. Things were going great with Joe. Every day they were moving in the right direction, getting one step closer to the day when she would be able to say the words that felt like a living entity, trapped inside the center of her chest and struggling to get out. Christine was right; if she couldn't say "I love you," she'd never say "I do."

God, it hurt, physically hurt, not to voice those words. Once that happened, though, once she told him she loved him, maybe the rest would work out.

Who was she kidding? The rest would never work out. She was doomed to spend the rest of her life chained to the desk in the camp office, mucking up Joe's books and being miserable.

That thought drew her up short, had her sniffing back tears.

She wasn't miserable. She was happy! And she needed to stop all this stupid crying.

Moving to the sink, she splashed water on her face as her breathing steadied. She had a growing relationship with a man she adored. A new life helping him with his business. So of course she was happy.

As for her art, she hadn't given it up completely. Once the boot camp was up and running, she'd get back to it.

Lifting her head, she caught a look at her dripping face in the mirror. Good grief, she looked like hell. The curse of being a redhead was that her face turned blotchy at the first sign of tears. She ducked back down for a few more splashes of cold water, then reached for a hand towel and dared another look.

Okay, better, she decided. Not great, but not so noticeable.

She heard the slamming of a truck door and jolted. Was Joe already back from his trip into town? He and Derrick had gone to buy lumber for their obstacle course. A quick glance at the clock told her more time had passed than she'd realized. And here she was standing in nothing but her underwear so she could try on outfits as she packed.

She checked the mirror again, fluffed her hair, tried out a smile. Passable, she decided, then grabbed her robe and headed for the door. She opened it just as he reached the landing. "Hey, you're back. Great. You can help me decide what to pack."

He didn't take her into his arms for a kiss, as he normally did, or comment on her lack of attire. In fact, he didn't even return her smile.

"Do you mind if I come in?"

"What?" Since when did he ask to come in? "Of course not." Stepping back, she watched him stride to the middle of the room, wearing camouflage pants and an Army green T-shirt. His shoulders were set in a rigid line. "Is something wrong? You look upset."

He turned to face her. "I wanted to show off your artwork to Derrick, so we stopped by the gallery while we were in town."

Alarm snaked up her spine. "Oh?"

"Maddy—" He stared at her as if he'd never seen her before. "What the hell are you doing?"

"W-what do you mean?"

"Do not look at me like that!" Controlled anger vibrated in his voice. "Like you don't know what I'm talking about. Sylvia told me."

"Told you what?" Why was he so angry? What had Sylvia said?

"Everything!" He turned on his heels and paced. "I've spent the last several weeks thinking your career had somehow tanked before it even had a chance to take off, which made no sense to me. And now I learn it didn't tank. You thre.w it away! I can't begin to tell you—to explain what that means—how I feel— Christ! I can't even talk."

"Joe, I—" His fury had the blood draining from her face. "I told you, that's not the most important thing to me. Yes, I would have loved to accept her offer, but
this
is more important."

"This?" He shook his head, staring at her. "What 'this' are you talking about?"

"You and me." She took a step toward him. "I told you, I want a chance to make this work."

"Wait." He raised a hand to hold her off. "I

thought you were talking about your art career. Why didn't you tell me you were talking about us?"