“Your mother mentioned his name, and when I called the paper, some woman named... Riverside, Carol Riverside, claimed this was his fault.”
“Dad, listen, it’s all rather complicated, so I think—”
“I don’t want excuses, I want facts. You decided to work on the other side of the country. Against my better judgment, I arranged it for you with the promise that I wouldn’t intrude—and look where it’s gotten me! To have you deceive us by—”
“Dad, please, just settle down.”
He seemed to be making an effort to calm himself, but more than likely the effort was thanks to her mother. Maryanne could hear her arguing softly in the background.
“Can I explain?” she asked, waiting a minute for the tension to ease, although she wasn’t sure what to say, what excuses she could possibly offer.
“You can try to explain, but I doubt it’ll do any good,” he answered gruffly.
Now that she had the floor, Maryanne floundered.
“I take it this all revolves around that columnist friend of yours from theSun?” her father asked. “That Adams character?”
“Well, yes,” Maryanne admitted reluctantly. But she didn’t feel she could place the whole blame on him. “Leaving the paper was my decision—”
“Where are you living?”
That was one of several questions Maryanne was hoping to avoid. “I—I rented an apartment.”
“You were in an apartment before. It doesn’t make the least bit of sense for you to move. The Seattle has a reputation for excellence.”
“Yes, Dad, I know, but moving was necessary.” She didn’t go on to explain why. She didn’t want to mislead her father more than she already had. But at the same time, if she told him she couldn’t afford to continue living at The Seattle, he’d certainly demand to know why.
“That doesn’t explain a damn thing,” Samuel Simpson boomed.
Maryanne held the phone away from her ear and sighed heavily. She was groggy from her nap and discouraged by her relationship with Nolan. To complicate matters, she was truly in love for the first time in her life. Loving someone shouldn’t be this difficult!
“I insist you tell me what’s going on,” her father said, in the tone she remembered from childhood confrontations about missed curfews and other transgressions.
She tried again. “It’s not that easy to explain.”
“You have three seconds, young lady, to tell me why you’ve lied to your parents.”
“I apologize for that. I’ve felt horrible about it, I really have, but I didn’t want to say anything for fear you’d worry.”
“Of course we’d worry! Now tell me exactly what it is we should be worrying about.”
“Dad, honestly, I’m over twenty-one. I should be able to live and work where I please. You can’t keep me your little girl forever.” This conversation was not only reminiscent of several she’d had with Nolan, it was one she should have had with her father years ago.
“I demand to know why you quit the paper!”
Maryanne refused to be intimidated. “I already explained that. I had another job.”
“Obviously you’re doing something you’re too ashamed to tell your parents.”
“I’m not ashamed! It’s nothing illegal. Besides, I happen to like what I do, and I’ve managed to live entirely on what I make, which is no small feat. I’m happy, Dad, really happy.” She tried to force some cheerful enthusiasm into her voice, but unfortunately she didn’t entirely succeed. How she wished she could brag about selling her articles. Surely she’d receive word soon!
“If you’re so pleased about this change in jobs, then why do you seem upset?” her mother asked reasonably, joining the conversation from an extension.
“I—I’m fine, really I am.”
“Somehow, sweetie, that just doesn’t ring true—”
“I don’t like the sound of this,” her father interrupted impatiently. “I made a mistake in arranging this Seattle assignment for you. It seems to me it’d be best if you quit whatever you’re doing and moved back to—”