Page 57 of Romance and Peppermint Lattes
Crouched in front of her mother, Maryanne gently patted her hand. Muriel wasn’t given to fainting spells; clearly, she’d been worried sick about her daughter, which increased Maryanne’s guilt a hundredfold.
“My little girl is safe, and that’s all that matters,” Muriel whispered.
“Listen here, young man,” Maryanne’s father said sternly to Nolan. “It seems you two have some explaining to do.”
“Daddy, please.” Jumping to her feet, Maryanne stood between her father and Nolan, loving them both so much and not sure which one to confront first. She took a deep breath and blurted out, “I’m in love with Nolan.”
“Sir, I know the circumstances look bad, but I can assure you there’s nothing between me and your daughter.”
“What do you mean there’s nothing between us?” Maryanne cried, furious with him. Good grief, she’d just finished spillingout her heart to the man! The least he could do was acknowledge what they shared, what they both felt. Well, if he wasn’t so inclined, she was. “That’s a bold-faced lie,” she announced to her father, hearing Nolan groan behind her as she spoke.
Samuel Simpson, so tall and formidable, so distinguished and articulate, seemed to find himself dumbstruck. He slumped onto the sofa next to his wife and rested his face in both hands.
“Maryanne,” Nolan said from between gritted teeth. “Your parents appear to think the worst. Don’t you agree it would be more appropriate to assure them that—”
“I don’t care what they think. Well, I do, of course,” she amended quickly, “but I’m more interested in settling things between you and me.”
Nolan frowned impatiently. “This is neither the time nor the place.”
“I happen to think it is.”
“Maryanne, please,” her mother wailed, holding out one hand. “Your father and I have spent a long sleepless night flying across the country. We’ve been worried half to death about you.”
“She didn’t answer her phone,” Samuel muttered in dire tones, his eyes narrowing suspiciously on the two of them. “If Maryanne had been at her apartment, the way she claims, then she would have picked up the receiver. We must’ve called fifteen or twenty times. If she was home, why didn’t she answer the phone?”
The question seemed to be directed at Nolan, but it was Maryanne who answered. “I unplugged it.”
“Why would you do that?” Muriel asked. “Surely you know we’d try to reach you. We’re your parents. We love you!”
“That’s it, young lady. You’re moving back with us.”
“You can’t force me to leave Seattle. I refuse.”
“This place...” Muriel was looking around as though the building was likely to be condemned any minute. “Why wouldyou want to live here? Have you rejected everything we’ve given you?”
“The answer is obvious,” her father bellowed. “She’s living here to be close tohim.”
“But why didn’t her... friend move into her apartment building?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Samuel stood abruptly and stalked to the other side of the room. “Adams couldn’t afford to live within a mile of The Seattle.” He stopped short, then nodded apologetically at Nolan. “I didn’t mean that in a derogatory way. You seem like a fine young man, but frankly...”
“I wouldn’t care where Nolan lived,” Maryanne informed them both, squaring her shoulders righteously. Any man she fell in love with didn’t need to head a financial empire or be related to someone who did. “I’d live anywhere if it meant we could be together.” Her eyes softened at her mother’s shocked look.
“Don’t you remember what it’s like to be young and in love, Mom?” Maryanne asked her. “Remember all those things you told me about you and Dad? How you used to argue and everything? It’s the same with Nolan and me. I’m crazy about him. He’s so talented and—”
“That’s enough,” Nolan interrupted harshly. “If you’re looking for someone to blame for Maryanne’s living in this building and working at Mom’s Place—”
“What’s Mom’s Place?”
“A very nice diner,” Maryanne inserted quickly. “We do a brisk lunch trade and carry a limited dinner menu.”
Her mother let out a cry of dismay. “You’re... you’re working as a waitress?”
Miserable, Maryanne nodded. “But I’m doing lots of freelance work. None of the feature articles I’ve written have sold yet, but it’s too soon for that. I just found out the communitynewspaper’s buying a couple of my shorter pieces, and I plan on selling them lots more.”
“You might have warned me they didn’t know about your being a waitress,” Nolan muttered under his breath.
Samuel drew a hand across his eyes, as if that would erase the image of his daughter waiting on tables. “Why would you choose to quit the newspaper to work as a waitress?” Asking the question seemed to cause him pain.
