The Christmas Edition Read online

  “On what subject?” He scratched the end of his nose.

  “You’re the editor so you get to decide.” She slapped her hand down on the paper.

  Joe nodded and then looked around for a place to sit. He chose a chair from the waiting area. Lucy watched him as he read the application and then thoughtfully filled in the blanks. Every now and then he looked up and caught her staring at him. He smiled but she quickly looked away.

  The Turtle Creek Newspaper employees began to quickly leave. “Don’t stay too long, Lucy, or you’ll be trapped in here for the weekend,” Abe warned her on the way out. For the first time ever, Ulilla was on his arm.

  “I won’t be much longer. I am dreaming of a cozy fire with hot chocolate.”

  “That’s only one of the things I’m dreaming of!” Ulilla gushed as she plunged through the doorway. Shocked over Ulilla’s sudden change of heart, Lucy couldn’t help but stare.

  Finally Joe stood to his feet and handed the clipboard back to her, the pen returned to the same position as when she had handed it to him. Now it was Joe’s turn to slide the paper across the counter to her. Lucy looked at it. Maybe she missed something. She flipped it over. Both sides were blank. She looked at Joe quizzically.

  “May I?” he asked nodding toward one of the computers.

  “Be my guest.” Lucy granted permission and then caught her reflection in a window. She quickly pulled off the Santa hat. Static electricity popped around her head like a lightning rod. She knew she was blushing and really hoped he wouldn’t notice.

  Lucy watched as his long fingers flew across the keyboard. Her keyboard. The tips of the fingers hit the center of the keys with great accuracy. Tap-tap-tap the keys sank and rose again. She was close enough to see the words without her glasses and didn’t see any red squiggly lines. At least the fella could spell.

  “Psst!” Monica called from the break room.

  Lucy turned around. “What?” she mouthed silently.

  With frantic movements, Monica motioned for Lucy to come talk to her. When Lucy walked into the room, everyone huddled around. “We need details.”

  Lucy gave a deep sigh happy to oblige. “His name is Joe McNamara. According to his application, he’s from Chicago, so I guess he must be relocating. He’s trying out for our paper by writing an editorial for me.”

  “Good idea,” Harold said while cramming the last sugar cookie into his mouth.

  “Why would he want to apply for a job with us?” Mike asked suspiciously as he tied the top of a plastic garbage bag closed.

  “That’s easy to answer. We are the best newspaper in the entire southern lakes region,” Harold answered shooting bits of cookie from his mouth like falling stars.

  “Yea, right,” Mike panned as he tossed the bag on top of the other bags.

  “You have to start at a small paper and work your way up to get into a big city paper,” Monica explained as she slipped on her winter coat. Then she winked at Mike. “He’s getting his start right here with us.”

  “Whoa, first I have to hire him, and once he hears what the pay is, he may just hop back on the Interstate.”

  “Finished,” a male voice spoke.

  Everyone turned to see Joe standing just feet away, holding out his paper.

  Lucy hoped he hadn’t heard everything. She snatched the paper from him and furrowed her brow. “That was fast.”

  “Not when you have something burning inside that you feel passionately about.”

  She held it between her fingers and read aloud.

  Saying Goodbye

  by Joseph McNamara

  What will I ever do without Café Books?

  Ever since the announcement that the independent bookseller was going out of business, I've been a mess. The big chain stores serve a purpose, sure, but they don't contain the atmosphere and warmth that emulates from the owners of Café Books. When I walk into their shop, it's like visiting family. Mr. and Mrs. Myers always greet me and everyone, with a genuine smile, and when are they not armed with a recommendation for a new title they know I'll enjoy? Just for me. They notice me. Me.

  Café Books is where I first went whale hunting with Melville and frog collecting with Steinbeck. How can I forget all the murderous adventures I shared with my good friend, Mike Hammer, or faced a scary, yet Brave New World with Huxley? I’ve read more than books on the leather sofa at Café Books. I've made friends. Lived a million different lives. Cried countless tears. And have laughed out loud so often, and so hard, that my stomach still aches from the memories alone.

  How does one say goodbye to such a place?

  I started patronizing Café Books just off Kenzie Avenue in Chicago about two years ago. And so when the owners announced suddenly it would be going out of business and closing its door yesterday, I made it a point to stop by.

  The room was busy with faithful shoppers who felt this place was a stabilizing source in their community. Lexie Jacobson, a 28-year-old hairstylist, scooped up discount novels and a couple of CDs. “I’m sure going to miss this place,” she said with a shake of her head. She was not alone with this feeling.

  “It’s hard to find bookstores that are not part of a national chain,” 35-year-old school teacher Samantha Jones said with a sigh.

  The sentiment was expressed again and again by dozens of patrons.

  In the never-ending search for bigger and better, give me the small and unique. Meet me at Café Books. Help me say goodbye.

  No one spoke. Lucy couldn’t take her eyes from the page. The words evoked warmth and sentiment. It was more than she had hoped for. He was it. This was her Christmas gift.

  It wasn’t the first sight of him that did it. It wasn’t the endearing way he drummed his thigh with the pen when he was nervously trying to figure out what to write down on his application that formed her opinion. Nor even his calm manner as he slid his fingers across her keyboard that made the difference. It was his words. These words. They were simple and brilliant. Words that had taken the breath from her soul. She looked up at him with new eyes. He got her—yet how could that happen when they only met minutes ago.

  “Wow.” She gulped.

  “Well, it was spontaneous.” Joe uneasily tugged at his collar. “If I had more time, I could have done much better.”

  They smiled at each other as if there was more to the words that hung in the air. Her mind was wandering where it shouldn’t. “I need to clarify something.”

  “Clarify away, Ms. Collins.”

  “Lucy.”

  “Lucy,” he repeated in a sweet tone.

  “Um, we can’t afford to pay you much. It’s obvious you’re quite gifted so I’m not sure we’re what you’re looking for in a newspaper.”

  “The experience is what is valuable here.”

  “How much notice do you need to give your old place?” Harold stepped forward to ask. “The sooner you can start the better.”

  “Dad!” Lucy cut in as blood rushed to her face.

  “Ah, my schedule is pretty well wide open, sir. I can start as soon as I’m needed, that is if I am hired. I really don’t need much—a roof over my head and...a new start.”

  Lucy saw it in his eyes. He wasn’t kidding.

  “You know, Harold, there is the small apartment above our garage. Mr. McNamara could stay there until he finds another place,” Margaret reminded him.

  “I’ll take it,” Joe was quick to accept.

  A gust of wind whipped through the building when Monica opened the door. “Better get a move on, people. I just heard on the radio that the Interstate is closed down. The town is pretty well socked in. It’s time for us to lock up and head for our homes. I love you all but no way do I want to be stuck in here with you.”

  Everyone went for their coats.

  “I better take you home, so I know you made it safely,” Mike told Monica.

  “If you shovel my walk too, there might be a reward in it for you.” Monica winked as she nudged his side with her elbow.


  “I love rewards.”

  “Mike, don’t be long. There are Christmas boxes in the attic I need for you to get down for me,” Margaret said following her son out to the parking lot. “We’re decorating the tree tonight and you can’t miss it.” She shut the door behind them.

  “Ah, is there something you want me to sign? A contract or something?” Joe asked, quickly looking from Harold to Lucy.

  “I never thought about a contract,” Lucy said, wondering if they had anything that resembled a contract.

  “We don’t do contracts here. A shake of my hand is how I operate.” Harold slid his arm down through his winter jacket and out the opening. “You better come along with us. You’ll never get back to the city tonight.”

  With a simple handshake, Lucy Collins’ day took a new direction.

  The Christmas Edition

  The Christmas Edition

  Chapter Two

  By the time they walked out of the office, Lucy and Joe’s cars were the only two left in the parking lot. She fished in her purse and in her pocket for her keys but couldn’t find them.

  “Come on, ride with me,” Joe coaxed.

  Lucy pulled back. “Maybe I should go back inside to find them.”

  “Suit yourself.” He shrugged. “I’ll wait for you here.”

  When Lucy pulled on the office door, she remembered she had set it on an automatic lock system. Since her dad had the actual turnkey with him today, there would be no going back inside for anything. There was one ride home this afternoon and Joe was it.

  Lucy climbed into Joe’s car, trembling from the inside out. Her stomach felt tight and her heart was pounding. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this giddy or nervous. It was a vulnerable feeling she wasn’t used to. After all she wasn’t a teenager anymore and this certainly wasn’t a date. Joe was simply driving her from point A to point B and staying the night—at her house.

  Before he even started the car, he reached for her. She drew back in alarm.

  “Sorry, but you’ve got snow all over your face and hair. May I?”

  She gave her permission with a nod of her head.

  Joe brushed snow from her cheeks with his fingertips. Then he slid the key into the ignition and turned on the heat. Lucy huddled in the seat trying to stay warm while Joe went back out to clear the windows. She knew she should offer to help but the gusts of wind were stronger now. Joe got back in the car and held his hands out to the heater. After a few minutes, he slipped the car in gear and they were on their way stirring up even more waves of snow.

  “Are you warm enough?” he asked her while keeping his eyes on the road.

  “I’m fine now,” she croaked out her answer as the words dried up in her throat. She couldn’t help but notice Joe biting back his amusement at her. It made her glower straight ahead at the road in front of them.

  Joe drove cautiously as Lucy gave him turn-by-turn directions. On the crest of a winding road, the car did a sideways spin but he was able to bring the car to a stop before going off the road. Just as Joe had the vehicle under control, he gave it a bit too much gas, which sent them into a tailspin.

  Lucy white-knuckled the dashboard as the car came to a stop.

  “Okay. Now I get it. I think I will coast for a bit,” Joe said determinedly.

  He was unflappable. She looked over at him as he appeared fairly calm and found herself impressed.

  “Turn here at the next roadside mailbox on your right.” Lucy pointed. “Our place is behind these trees.”

  Joe turned too sharply and ended up stuck in a snowdrift. He was able to back out easily and then followed the drive along until they reached the medium sized cabin with steam pumping up from the chimney. “Looks like my folks have the fire going all ready.” She was out of the car before he could free his seatbelt.

  “Come on!” she called to Joe over her shoulder as she hopped through the thick snow blowing across the yard. They reached the porch at the same time. “I didn’t mean to be rude by running on ahead, but it’s too cold out here to lag behind just for the sake of being well-mannered.” She laughed as she opened the door for him revealing a living room of log walls and leather furniture.

  Center stage was a picturesque eight-foot-tall Douglas fir rising from the floor in a splendid pyramidal shape. The top of it reached the tallest part of the vaulted ceiling. The scent of the fir reached into every corner of the cabin and was intoxicating, awakening feelings and memories of past holidays.

  The living room and kitchen had been combined into a single room as an open floor plan, years before it was popular to do so.

  “Right after dinner, we’re trimming the tree. You got stranded here just in time to help us,” Margaret informed Joe as she set fat pieces of chicken down into the hot oil. It sizzled and spat hot grease everywhere. Margaret clucked her tongue and began wiping up the mess with her dishrag.

  “But it’s still weeks until Christmas. What’s the hurry?” Joe asked, handing his coat to Lucy who in turn hung it in the closet.

  “What’s the hurry?” Lucy repeated as if he was daft. “Because it’s almost Christmas!”

  “That explains it.” Joe’s smile was charming. He took a seat near the fire across from Harold. “You have a nice place here, sir.”

  “Thank you; I appreciate that. I can tell just by looking at you that you are a fine fellow. Tell us something about yourself,” Harold asked over the top of his paper.

  “Nothing much to tell. Just another guy looking for work. And I found it, thanks to you,” he answered. “I honor your handshake.”

  Lucy started setting the table. “Have you lived in the city all of your life?”

  “As far as I can remember,” he answered over his shoulder.

  There was the sound from down the hallway of boxes being dropped from a height. “Look out below!” someone hollered as another box hit the floor.

  “Mike! Those noises I heard better not be the ornaments.”

  “Don’t worry, Mom. I checked the boxes before I dropped ’em down.” Mike appeared holding two boxes and shuffling a larger one along with his feet. When he saw Joe in the living room, he stopped short. His words were like a machete. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “The roads are closed, Mike.” Lucy mouthed, be nice.

  Mike’s look told her that was not about to happen. After he set the boxes by the tree, he sat on the armrest of the couch, a few feet away from Joe. Mike continued whacking away, “Tell us, Joe, what compels you to want to work for us at the paper?”

  Joe bristled. “Other than it’s a new challenge for me, I have never lived in a rural community and thought it might be a nice change.”

  “Change from what?”

  “From living in the city!” Lucy answered for him, suddenly feeling protective of Joe. She hated her brother’s insinuations. “You know…smog versus clean air. Traffic jams versus...”

  “Cow piles!” Mike finished for her. His laugh was hollow. “Of all the towns in all of Wisconsin, why did you come here to our town?”

  “Why not your town?”

  “Enough! Enough!” Margaret tossed her dishrag and hit Mike in the face with it. “Chew on that until dinner. Please remember that Mr. McNamara is our guest and newest employee. That makes him part of the family now. We do not want to scare him off before he even starts.”

  “You’ll have to forgive my brother,” Lucy told Joe. “He didn’t get any of the Collins charm.”

  “It’s really all right.” Joe laughed. “Actually, I admire Mike’s protective nature. I’d feel the same way if the situation were reversed. If you want to know something about me, I’ll tell you, but I must warn you, it’s quite boring.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” Mike said pertly, tossing the wet rag back and forth between his two hands.

  Joe didn’t hesitate for one minute. “I’ve lived in Chicago all my life. Went to Wheaton college and one of my undergraduate degrees is in journalism but never had a cha
nce to use it until now. I have always wanted to be a writer so thought this might be a good way for me to start.”

  “I agree!” Margaret nodded with delight.

  “Your application said you worked in a hospital,” Lucy said. “Being a file clerk must be boring work for a writer.”

  “I’d hardly refer to myself as a writer, but I am definitely ready for a career change.”

  “I take it you’re single,” Margaret flatly commented.

  “Yes, ma’am, I am.” Joe glanced back at Lucy who suddenly felt herself growing flush. She walked to the kitchen and turned her back on the men. Humming, she pretended to be busy while continuing to listen.