One Imperfect Christmas (29 page)

Natalie sank into her chair and rubbed her temples furiously. She took back all her earlier magnanimous praise for Deannie. The girl was hopeless, utterly hopeless.

So much for a peaceful end to the Christmas rush. Muttering, she returned to the wedding invitation for one last review before printing out the proof copy.

Mr. and Mrs. Frederick Howard Nielsen
and
Mrs. David Carl Simms
request the honor of your presence
at the marriage of their …

The screen went black for a moment. Then, just as abruptly, it cleared. Shoulders relaxing, she resumed her review from the top … and gasped in stunned shock.

Mr. and Mrs. Abraham Eugene Morgan
request the honor of your presence
at the marriage of their daughter
Natalie Rose Morgan
to
Mr. Daniel James Pearce

She shoved away from her desk with such force that her chair slammed into the wall.

“Deannie!”

She thundered down the corridor. It had to be some kind of computer trick, and who else but Deannie could be responsible? “Deannie Garner, I want to talk to you. Immediately!”

Jeff stepped out of his office, blocking her path. “What's going on out here? Keep it down, will you? There could be customers out front.”

“She's trying to sabotage me.” Natalie stared at him incredulously, so shaken she could hardly catch her breath. Each word scraped her throat raw. “That has to be it. How else—”

Jeff grabbed her arm and steered her into his office. Pointing her toward a chair, he closed the door and seated himself on the edge of his desk. “Just chill out and tell me what this is all about.”

She ignored the chair. Instead she paced the small space, one hand pressed to the back of her neck, the other clutching her heaving stomach. “I didn't want to believe it—I still don't have a clue how she did it—but I'm absolutely convinced Deannie is behind all those mistakes I've
supposedly
been making lately.” She halted and locked her gaze with Jeff's. “
Why?
Why would she want to hurt me this way?”

“Deannie, sabotage your work? Do you realize how paranoid that sounds?”

She sucked in her breath, tried to rein in her stampeding emotions. “I'm sorry, Jeff. I know she's your niece.” She lifted her shoulders helplessly as all the fight drained out of her. “I just can't think of any other explanation.”

Jeff looked toward the ceiling and laughed softly. “Deannie's got her faults, I admit. She has an ambitious streak, but as for intentionally setting out to hurt you, or anyone else for that matter … ” He gave a doubtful shrug.

“Listen,” he went on, “you've been under a lot of stress lately—this whole year, in fact.” He placed his hands gently on Natalie's shoulders. “Maybe you need some time off.”

She suddenly forgot all about Deannie. She looked up at him with sorrowful eyes. “I haven't known how to tell you, but the truth is I need to ask you for a lot more than 'time off.' “

With difficulty she explained her plans to move into her parents' home and her desire to end the partnership. “Have our attorneys draw up the necessary paperwork, and you can buy me out for whatever amount you think is fair.” Her voice cracked. “Especially considering how useless I've been to you lately.”

“That's absolutely not true.” Jeff blew out through pursed lips. “Fact is, I don't know where this business would be without you. Your artistic talent, your business know-how, your rapport with the advertising clients—I'd never be able to replace you.”

She frowned and stared at the carpet. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I can't give the business the attention it deserves and still be there for my mom the way I need to. And eventually I'll return to freelancing part time, which means I could still accept projects from you like I used to.”

Jeff shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “I see you've made up your mind. But let's wait at least a couple of months before we finalize anything.”

“As far as I'm concerned, the decision is final.” Natalie raised her chin. “But if you'd feel better waiting, it's okay with me.”

“I think it's the wise thing to do. For now, this discussion is just between you and me.”

They agreed Natalie would take a few days off during Christmas week to get her mother settled in and then come in half-days for a week or two to wrap up any pending projects and pack her personal belongings. She thanked Jeff for his understanding and excused herself.

On the way to her office she glimpsed Deannie slipping quietly into the break room.
Had
Natalie become paranoid? Or was the girl really out to get her somehow? It did sound crazy now, after she'd calmed down. Warily, she walked behind her desk and gave the mouse a gentle push. The screensaver flickered and her “enter password” box appeared. She typed a few keys and the screen returned to the wedding invitation she'd been working on. With a thankful sigh, she saw everything appeared as it should.

17

I
almost blew it.” Phone receiver tucked between her chin and shoulder, Deannie deftly folded a tomato-and-green-pepper omelet sizzling in a buttered skillet.

“What do you mean, you almost blew it?” came Lissa's exasperated response. “Christmas is next Tuesday. We were supposed to have this plan totally wrapped up by then.”

“Don't you think I know it?” Deannie frowned and rolled her eyes. She didn't know who frustrated her more—her pushy partner in crime or their hapless victim. “The whole problem is that your mom has a one-track mind. I got so upset with her, I lost my temper and almost gave myself away.”

Lissa gasped. “What happened?”

Deannie explained about Daniel's unexpected visit to the office and overhearing the last part of their conversation. “It sounded like they were making up, like everyone would be together for Christmas. But when I brought up the subject later, she denied it.” She slid the omelet onto a plate and cut off a steaming bite with the edge of a fork. “Ow! My tongue!”

“Are you
eating?
When we have so much at stake?”

“Hang on, okay?” Deannie blew several times, then grabbed an ice cube from the freezer and held it to the swelling blister on the tip of her tongue.

“Deannie!”

“Okay, okay. She was working on the Nielsen wedding invitation, and it gave me a brainstorm. I used the terminal at the front desk to hack into her computer—piece of cake, since we're on a network and you figured out how she comes up with all her passwords.” She rolled her eyes. “For an artist your mother is
so
unimaginative! The first and last letters of the client's last name, plus the date the project came in—”

“So she's better with graphic design than computer passwords. Get over it. Now will you get to the point, please?”

“All right, already. After I hacked into her system, I changed the names on the wedding invitation to 'Natalie' and 'Daniel.' She totally freaked out.”

Lissa burst out laughing. “Stroke of genius! That should have gotten her attention.”

“No kidding. She went straight to Uncle Jeff's office, and they talked for a long time.”

“About what? Did you hear any of it?”

“With everybody traipsing up and down the corridor, I didn't want to get caught with my ear to the door.” The omelet had cooled now, and Deannie spoke between bites, leaning against the counter of her tiny apartment kitchen. “But she looked awfully relieved when she came out.”

“Relieved?”

Deannie ran her tongue over her teeth as she replayed the scene in her mind's eye. “Yeah … like she'd come to some kind of decision.”

Silence fell between them for several seconds. “Deannie, this could be important. You've got to find out what they talked about.”

She tore a paper towel from the roll next to the sink and dabbed her mouth. “I suppose I could try to feel out Uncle Jeff about it, but I can hardly ever get him to talk shop with me.” She bit her lip. “That's what really bugs me about this whole plan. My part of the deal was to get in good with my uncle so he'd be primed to make me his partner after
she's
out of the picture. So far he still thinks of me as his dumb, klutzy, no-account niece.”

“Sorry, if you want your uncle's approval, you'll have to earn it yourself.”

Eyes stinging, she slid her empty plate into the sink and ran water over it. “I just thought maybe … this time … ”

“Hang in there. Maybe we can still both get what we want. I'm sure not ready to give up.”

Deannie caught her reflection in the dark glass of the microwave door. She shook off a niggling twinge of guilt, gave her red curls a toss, and summoned up what determination she had left. “Neither am I.”

Dr. Sirpless crossed to her desk and picked up a steno pad and pen. A frown pulled one corner of her mouth downward as she took her usual chair at Natalie's left. “Sounds like you've had quite a week. Your mother coming home, deciding to end your business partnership … a lot of change for anyone to handle.”

Natalie tapped her fingers on the navy velour armrest. She'd almost decided to cancel her Friday evening appointment, but anticipating an even busier few weeks as she moved out to the farm and helped with her mother's care, she might not have another chance to see Dr. Sirpless until well into the new year. It couldn't hurt to get a little professional perspective before she jumped off this cliff into the next phase of her life.

A shiver tightened her neck muscles. “I'm doing the right thing, aren't I?”

Dr. Sirpless gave a noncommittal smile and studied her notes. “Last time we met, you mentioned some unexplained errors at the print shop. What's happened with those? Have you cleared up the mystery?”

Natalie gave a short laugh. “Probably just me being paranoid.”

“Why would you say that?”

She flicked a strand of hair off her face. She didn't feel like talking about work, not with Mom occupying all her thoughts. “It's not important anymore. Nothing matters now except getting my mother home and well again.”

Dr. Sirpless laid her notebook and pen on the side table. “It's been nearly a year, Natalie. Are you sure that's a realistic expectation?”

“Dad thinks so.”

“Does he? Are you sure there isn't another reason he wants to bring your mother home?”

“Of course there is. It's Christmas. Their fiftieth Christmas together.”

“Natalie … ”

A pulsing sensation began in the center of her stomach, a brittle tensing that spread outward through her limbs. “If you're trying to make me admit how ridiculous it is to hope for my mother's recovery after all these months, I get it. It's a long shot. But God can do anything, right?” Her voice broke. “It's Christmas.”