Page 13 of Romance and Peppermint Lattes
“I... wouldn’t do that right away, if I were you.”
“Why not?”
“You just said you were quitting your job.” Nolan sounded uneasy. “I can see that I’ve set off an avalanche here, and I’m beginning to feel mildly concerned.”
“Where do you live?”
“Capitol Hill. Listen, if you’re serious about moving, you need to give some thought as to what kind of neighborhood you’re getting into. Seattle’s a great town, don’t get me wrong, but like any place we have our problem areas.” He hesitated. “Annie, I don’t feel comfortable with this.”
“No one’s ever called me Annie before.” Her eyes smiled into his. “What do you pay in rent?”
With his hands buried deep in his pants pockets, he mumbled something under his breath, then mentioned a figure that was one-third of what she was currently dishing out every month.
“That’s more than reasonable.”
Maryanne saw surprise in his eyes, and smiled again. “If you’re so concerned about my finding the right neighborhood,then you pick one for me. Anyplace, I don’t care. Just remember, you’re the one who got me into this.”
“Don’t remind me.” Nolan’s frown darkened.
“I may not have appreciated what you said about me in your column,” Maryanne said slowly, “but I’m beginning to think good things might come of it.”
“I’m beginning to think I should be dragged to the nearest tree and hanged,” Nolan grumbled.
***
“Hi.” Maryanne slipped into the booth opposite Nolan at the greasy spoon called Mom’s Place. She smiled, feeling like a child on a grand adventure. Perhaps shewasgoing off the deep end, as Nolan had so adamantly claimed the day before. Perhaps, but she doubted it. Everything felt soright.
Once the idea of living on her own—on income she earned herself, from a job she’d been hired for on her own merits—had taken hold in her mind, it had fast gained momentum. She could work days and write nights. That would be perfect.
“Did you do it?”
“I handed in my notice this morning,” she said, reaching for the menu. Nolan had insisted on meeting her for a late lunch and suggested this greasy spoon with its faded neon sign that flashed Home Cooking. She had the impression he ate there regularly.
“I talked to the managing editor this morning and told him I was leaving.”
“I don’t imagine he took kindly to that,” Nolan muttered, lifting a white ceramic mug half-full of coffee. He’d been wearing a frown from the moment she’d entered the diner. She had the feeling it was the same frown he’d left her apartment with the night before, but it had deepened since she’d last seen him.
“Larry wasn’t too upset, but I don’t think he appreciated my suggestion that Carol Riverside take over the column, because he said something I’d rather not repeat about how he was the one who’d do the hiring and promoting, not me, no matter what my name was.”
Nolan took a sip of coffee and grinned. “I’d bet he’d like my head if it could be arranged, and frankly I don’t blame him.”
“Don’t worry, I didn’t mention your name or the fact that your column was what led to my decision.”
Maryanne doubted Nolan even heard her. “I’m regretting that column more with each passing minute. Are you sure I can’t talk you out of this?”
“I’m sure.”
He sighed and shook his head. “How’d the job hunting go?”
The waitress came by, automatically placing a full mug of coffee in front of Maryanne. She fished a pad from the pocket of her pink apron. “Are you ready to order?”
“I’ll have a turkey sandwich on rye, no sprouts, a diet soda and a side of potato salad,” Maryanne said with a smile, handing her the menu.
“You don’t need to worry, we don’t serve sprouts here,” she said, scribbling down the order.
“I’ll have the chili, Barbara,” Nolan said. The waitress nodded and strolled away from the booth. “I was asking how your job hunting went,” Nolan reminded Maryanne.
“I found one!”
