Until I Found You (12 page)

“Me, too.” Bending forward, he brushed a kiss on her cheek. As tender as the caress was, it made her tingle all over.

He opened the door wider and she climbed into the car. After a final wave, she headed home, inhaling the lingering smoke from the house fire and wondering with every breath why Sutton Advertising suddenly seemed so small and far away.

W
ith the golden warmth of october
fading to the gray chill of November, the newspaper staff revved up for the busiest time of year. Kate spent hours designing the holiday advertising insert, pouring her talent into making it fresh and true to Meadows. Instead of the standard ads the
Clarion
had run in the past, she asked business owners to provide personal photographs and a holiday memory. With each ad she designed, she fell more in love with Meadows and the people who made it unique. Most special of all was the campaign to help the Smith family. If the initial interest was an indication, Colton and his family would be inundated with toys, clothing, gift cards, and cash.

With a happy little shiver, Kate turned her gaze from the monitor on Leona’s desk to the snow-covered parking lot. It was Friday and she was alone because of last night’s storm. Maggie was home with her kids for a snow day, and Eileen couldn’t get out of her driveway until the plow truck arrived. If anyone showed up to work this morning, it would be Nick. Driving in the snow didn’t bother him at all, but it terrified Kate. She was in the office only because the roads to Leona’s house were among the first to be plowed and sanded.

She hoped he would arrive soon. He’d been gone all week on a story for
California Dreaming
, and she missed him, which was silly because they spoke every night on the phone. He called about the
Clarion
, but somehow she had shared everything about her life—her disappointments and dreams, even about Joel and how he’d left to work in New York. Nick understood her in a way no one else did. She couldn’t imagine not being his friend, not talking to him every day and rooting for him to sell his book. When they were together, Sutton and Eve’s Garden faded into a different reality.

A clump of snow plopped down from a branch, reminding her of winter and the holiday supplement. As she turned back to the computer screen, her phone trilled with “Für Elise
,
” the ringtone she had assigned to Sutton. Expecting Julie and a report on the IVF treatments, she answered with a cheerful, “Hey, how’s it going?”

“Kate?”

The voice belonged to Roscoe Sutton himself. Stunned, she spun the chair back to the desk and snatched up a pen. “Hello, Roscoe. This is a surprise.”

“Am I calling too early?”

“Not at all.” Her whole body tensed. Roscoe never called anyone at nine o’clock in the morning. Pen in hand and her pulse racing, she sat ready for anything. “What’s up?”

“Eve Landon is with me.”

Kate’s jaw dropped.

“She’s changed her mind about delaying that national advertising campaign. That means we need a proposal from you as soon as possible.”

“That’s great.” Ideas tumbled through her mind—pictures of the spa, slogans, color schemes that spoke of bold elegance. But in the next minute, her stomach plummeted like a falling elevator. Leona still needed her, and she couldn’t abandon the
Clarion.
Swallowing hard, she stifled her confusion. “This is big news. I’m . . . excited.”

“Good,” Roscoe declared. “Because I need you back in the office.”

Her gaze darted to the dry erase board with next week’s print schedule and then to the stack of bills on her desk. The
Clarion
needed her, but the Eve’s Garden account was lucrative for Roscoe and everyone involved, including herself. Money wasn’t Kate’s primary motivation, but she liked feeling secure and being able to help Leona.

Eve’s voice warbled in the background. Roscoe mumbled something Kate couldn’t make out then spoke again into the phone. “I’m putting you on speaker.”

“No—”

“Eve insists. I explained you’re on leave and returning in January. She knows the situation is complicated.” A click followed by background noise indicated he had already put her on speaker.

Eve Landon’s famous contralto came on the line. “Kate, dear. How are you?”

“Just fine.”
Be professional. Stay calm.
“Congratulations on the expansion.”

“It’s an exciting time,” Eve acknowledged. “And it’s time for a serious marketing strategy. Your work on the first campaign was stellar. I still get compliments on the ads you designed, particularly that one with the willow tree.”

Kate’s gaze zipped to the poster of the ad on the office wall. It had been nominated for some prestigious awards and still made her puff up. “It’s a personal favorite.”

“Mine, too. Kate, darling, I’ve missed you. We work well together, don’t we? I can’t wait to see what you have in mind for the next step.”

Kate couldn’t help but preen a little. “Thank you.”

“Now,” Eve continued. “When can we meet?”

Kate tapped the pen on the desk in a rhythm that matched her racing heart. This was her career, a dream come true; but the joy was mixed with anxiety, and she felt strangely ambivalent. “I have to check my calendar.”

Roscoe interrupted. “Monday at nine o’clock. My office.”

“That’s too early in the day.” Sutton was a hundred miles away. She’d have to leave at dawn when the roads were still frozen. “How about eleven?”

“Fine.”

Eve interrupted. “Kate, I have a commitment on Monday morning, but I’m free in the afternoon. Why don’t you meet with Roscoe first, then come to the spa?”

“That would be nice.” Despite the emotional havoc, Kate meant it. During last year’s campaign, Eve had taken Kate under her wing and mentored her.
“If you don’t love yourself, who will? Life
is meant to be savored.”
Eve’s philosophy had appealed to Kate and it still did, but her mind flashed to Nick and his regrets. Savoring life had consequences that were sometimes unsavory.

Roscoe ended the call, leaving Kate alone in a silence so deep her breath echoed in her ears. Snow had a way of paralyzing Meadows. No cars rolled down the street, no squirrels bounced in the trees. The only noise was the low buzz of a failing fluorescent light, until her phone blasted “Für Elise” for the second time
.
Sure it was Roscoe, she snatched it to her ear. “We need to talk. I can’t just pack up and leave—”

“We need you, Kate.”

“I know, but—”

“You’ll get a raise out of this. Hire someone to take care of Granny.”

Kate’s lips tightened at the disrespect. “Her name isn’t Granny. It’s Leona. And you gave me two months’ leave.”

“I know. I know,” he grumbled. “But you know how Eve is.”

“She wants her way.”

“And right now she wants you on that project.” Papers rattled on his desk. “Look, I’ve assigned Julie and Brad Martin to work up some ideas. I pitched the three of you to Eve as a team, but you’re the person she knows best. And you know her. I don’t have to tell you how much money is involved. I’ll be straight with you, Kate. Business is down, and I’m considering layoffs. The Eve’s Garden account means job security for a lot of people.”

Kate thought of Tom Dawes in accounting, Maria in the mailroom, Julie and the expensive IVF treatments. Their jobs depended on her, but so did Leona. Kate couldn’t be two places at once, but she could compromise if Roscoe would bend his rules about working from home. People asked for the privilege all the time, and he gave the same speech at every staff meeting. Kate knew it by heart:
“Creativity comes from rubbing two
sticks together. You are a stick. You need other sticks
to make fire. That’s why I want you in
the office.”

He didn’t care what people actually did in the office. They could chat in the halls, do cartwheels, or play with the new products in what he called the playpen—a corner of the office full of beanbag furniture, Slinkys, Play-Doh and other toys. There was one rule—no phones, computers, or video games.
“This
is for the right side of your brain,”
Roscoe insisted.
“That’s where new ideas are born.”

Kate took a breath. “If you’ll bend the rules, I’ll work on the account from here.”

“Ah, Kate . . .”

“I know. It’s Pandora’s box.” If he bent the rule for her, he’d be asked to bend it for others.

“I don’t like it, but Eve’s pulling the strings. Until January, you can work from Meadows with one caveat.”

Her brow furrowed. “What is it?”

“Come to the office once a week.”

“I can’t promise that, but I’ll be in on Monday.” She’d have to work extra hours to keep the
Clarion
on schedule, but it was doable. “We’ll hash out the details then.”

“All right. But Kate?”

“Yes?”

“Do yourself a favor. At least consider assisted living for your grandmother. My father had Alzheimer’s. I know what you’re dealing with.”

“Leona’s mind is fine.”

“But she needs help, right?”

“Yes.”

“The situation will suck the life out of you. Don’t let that happen. Your grandmother wouldn’t want you to sacrifice your career for her—not if she loves you.”

“She does, but the situation is a little more complicated.”
I’ve met someone. I like it
here.
The admission shocked her. A month ago she wouldn’t have even considered trading Sutton for the
Clarion
, yet today the tug in her heart was as real as the snow blowing off the trees.

Trembling, she managed a calm good-bye to Roscoe, then spun the chair back to the window and the snowy day. Her feelings for Nick ran counter to everything she believed about her career, the world, herself. She wasn’t naïve about men and relationships, yet the girl in her longed to believe in happily-ever-after. Suddenly she wanted to run outside and make snow angels and snowmen with carrot noses. But Kate wasn’t a child. She was an adult with responsibilities, goals, and dreams. Working from Meadows would put her out of the loop at Sutton, but it was the only way she could manage the
Clarion
and Eve Landon.

Which meant she’d have to roll with the punches.

And go with the flow.

Keep the balls in the air.

She yearned to talk the dilemma over with Leona but couldn’t. The conversation would raise her grandmother’s hopes that she’d stay in Meadows. Neither could she speak with complete openness to Nick. He was part of the equation, a bigger part than she wanted to admit. Where could she turn for advice? She knew what Leona would do—she’d ask God for help. So would Nick. Since Kate couldn’t talk to the people she trusted, maybe she’d talk to God.

With eyes focused on the tallest pine, she murmured, “God, are you listening?”

Silence.

“Leona thinks you’re real. So does Nick. But I can’t see you, or hear you.” The silence seemed even thicker. “Who
are
you?”

Nothing happened, except for a singular impression of a man on a cloud sitting behind a big desk. The nameplate read “CEO of the Universe,” and the cloud was littered with notes and papers, much like the Clarion on a busy day. If the man on the cloud was God, he looked a lot like Sean Connery.

“Maybe I should send you an e-mail,” she said drily.

Why not? Desperate to sort her thoughts, she turned to the computer and tapped out a memo.

Dear God, whoever you are . . .

My name is Kate Darby. We met briefly when my father died. Family members assure me that he’s with you in heaven. Please tell him I remember him and miss him. I miss my mother too and hope she’s happy.

I’m writing to you today for advice. As you know—that is, if you’re really God—I have a decision to make. I’ve sorted out the pros and
cons but am unable to come to a solid conclusion. Sutton or the Clarion? Los Angeles or Meadows? And then there’s Nick Sheridan, a friend of yours. While I’m grateful for his friendship, I confess to being stymied by his values. Perhaps I should add one element to this personal debate: Are relationships forever or just for now?

If you have any insight into this predicament, I’d be delighted to hear from you.

Regards,

Kate Darby, Acting Editor-in-Chief, The Clarion

Lips pursed, she let out a sigh that hissed like a tire losing air. Suddenly flat in a soul-deep way, she deleted the silly memo and decided she needed hot chocolate to lift her mood. She put on her coat, hat, and gloves, stuck a five-dollar bill in her pocket, and locked the office door behind her. With light snow falling, she tromped down a path that cut across a field to a convenience store. Kicking the snow as she walked, she swung her arms and did everything she could to shake off the tension, but her breath only rasped louder in her ears. The wind whistled through the scattered pines, a lonely cry that put an ache in her chest. Snow as light as ash blew across the field, leaving behind a clean slate.

It was a beautiful scene, a beautiful day.

A lonely day . . . so lonely.

“God, are you there?” she said for the second time.

She didn’t know if the CEO of the Universe was listening, but she had a sudden urge to fall backward into a drift and make a snow angel, which was exactly what she did.