Page 41 of Romance and Peppermint Lattes
“I’ll be finished with it soon.” Maryanne glanced at her watch and was about to close the conversation when her mother asked, “How’s Nolan?”
“Nolan?” Maryanne’s heart zoomed straight into her throat. She hadn’t remembered mentioning him, and just hearing his name sent a feverish heat through her body.
“You seemed quite enthralled with him the last time we spoke, remember?”
“I was?”
“Yes, sweetie, you were. You claimed he was very talented, and although you were tight-lipped about it I got the impression you were strongly attracted to this young man.”
“Nolan’s a friend. But we argue more than anything.”
Her mother chuckled. “Good.”
“How could that possibly be good?”
“It means you’re comfortable enough with each other to be yourselves, and that’s a positive sign. Why, your father and I bickered like old fishwives when we first met. I swear there wasn’t a single issue we could agree on.” She sighed softly. “Then one day we looked at each other, and I knew then and there I was going to love this man for the rest of my life. And I have.”
“Mom, it isn’t like that with Nolan and me. I... I don’t even think he likes me.”
“Nolan doesn’t like you?” her mother repeated. “Why, sweetie, that would be impossible.”
Maryanne started to laugh then, because her mother was so obviously biased, yet sounded completely objective and matter-of-fact. It felt good to laugh again, good to find somethingamusing. She hadn’t realized how melancholy she’d become since her last encounter with Nolan. He was still making such an effort to keep her at arm’s length for fear... She didn’t know exactlywhathe feared. Perhaps he was falling in love with her, but she’d noticed precious little evidence pointing to that conclusion. If anything, Nolan considered her an irritant in his life.
Maryanne spoke to her mother for a few more minutes, then rushed out the door, hoping she wouldn’t be late for her shift at Mom’s Place. Some investigative reporter she was!
At the diner, she slipped the apron around her waist and hurried out to help with the luncheon crowd. Waiting tables, she was learning quite a lot about character types. This could be helpful for a writer, she figured. Some of her customers were pretty eccentric. She observed them carefully, wondering if Nolan did the same thing. But she wasn’t going to think about Nolan....
Halfway through her shift, she began to feel light-headed and sick to her stomach.
“Are you feeling all right?” Barbara asked as she slipped past, carrying an order.
“I—I don’t know.”
“When was the last time you ate?”
“This morning. No,” she corrected, “last night. I didn’t have much of an appetite this morning.”
“That’s what I thought.” Barbara set the hamburger and fries on the counter in front of her customer and walked back to Maryanne. “Now that I’ve got a good look at you, you do seem a bit peaked.”
“I’m all right.”
Hands on her hips, Barbara continued to study Maryanne as if memorizing every feature. “Are you sure?”
“I’m fine.” She had the beginnings of a headache, but nothing she could really complain about. It probably hadn’t been agood idea to skip breakfast and lunch, but she’d make up for it when she took her dinner break.
“I’m not sure I believe you,” Barbara muttered, dragging out a well-used phone book. She flipped through the pages until she apparently found the number she wanted, then reached for the phone.
“Who are you calling?”
She held the receiver against her shoulder. “Nolan Adams, who else? Seems to me it’s his turn to play nursemaid.”
“Barbara, no!” She might not be feeling a hundred per cent, but she wasn’t all that sick, either. And the last person she wanted running to her rescue was Nolan. He’d only use it against her, as proof that she should go back to the cosy comfortable world of her parents. She’d almost proved she could live entirely on her own, without relying on interest from her trust fund.
“Nolan’s not at the office,” Barbara said a moment later, replacing the receiver. “I’ll talk to him when he comes in.”
“No, you won’t! Barbara, I swear to you I’ll personally give your phone number to every trucker who comes into this place if you so much as say a single word to Nolan.”
“Honey,” the other waitress said, raising her eyebrows, “you’d be doing me a favor!”
