Page 47 of Joy to Noel
I can’t help but sit up a little straighter as I answer, “I have! Three new clients have signed contracts in the past week. And one of them is literally my dream type of client. I can’t wait to start reading her manuscript when she’s done with her final revisions.”
“I’m so excited for you, Mads!” Clara exclaims. She and Clark ordered matching cheeseburgers sans any condiments, and they’re also somehow managing to hold hands while eating said burgers.
“How have the past few weeks been living in the house with the exec guy?” Clark asks. “He hasn’t done anything inappropriate, has he?”
I swiftly shut down the mental image of Liam walking into the house shirtless the first morning we lived there. The flush the memory would bring to my cheeks would only invite intrusive questions from Clara.
Instead, I turn up the sass dial as I roll my eyes at Clark. “Please. Zero inappropriate things are happening. We’re simply coexisting in the only rental space your tiny town has to offer.”
Clark glowers at me, as he always does when anyone dares insult his precious city. Or with pretty much zero prompting whatsoever.
As it turns out, coexisting really is the best description of the past three weeks between Liam and me. We haven’t had much personal interaction since the night he assisted me with the Christmas decorations and handed me the greatest gift I’ve ever,everreceived. I’ve been working hard to chase the dream that I think is really and truly my dream, and he works very long hours at the factory every day. Even on the weekends, we have short conversations during the brief times that neither of us is working.
I’ve continued cooking dinners most nights of the week, but Liam’s only been home to eat together a couple of times.
Which isfine—because we’re just roommates and sort of friends. Nightly dinners together are not required or expected. But I feel like I’m earning my keep, so, it’s a win.
“Hey, sorry we’re late,” Abby says as she and Beau join the table. “You’re not gonna believe what we have to tell y’all tonight. Well, what Beau has to tell.”
My attention is piqued, along with everyone else’s. Abby’s not one to take the lead in conversation, so for her to sit down and immediately draw attention to herself must mean there’s some serious tea to spill.
And if Beau is arriving late from work, I have a hopeful feeling that it has to do with Liam’s work at the factory. Am I still salty that Liam has remained entirely tight-lipped about his so-called “investigation” at Pure Fur All? Absolutely, I am. I’m a grudge-holder, 100 percent.
“Please, do tell,” Syd says, propping her chin on her hands.
Davis laughs next to her. “Syd’s always ready to board the gossip train.” Syd smacks him in the chest but doesn’t deny the statement. We all lean in a little closer as Beau begins talking.
“Okay, all of the official charges have been filed, so I can finally tell y’all what’s been going down at Pure Fur All these past few months,” Beau begins. There’s a brief pause while the waiter takes a food order from Beau and Abby, but we listen in rapt attention as Beau details the former plant manager’s embezzlement scheme. He speaks in a hushed tone as he explains the fraud and misdirectionthat Liam uncovered, and I find myself inordinately filled with pride over Liam’s accomplishment.
“That’s outrageous!” Syd exclaims as Clark and Davis mumble violent suggestions about what the plant manager deserves.
“The plant’s not in danger, though, is it?” Clara asks. Everyone’s most pressing question.
“No, it’s not. Mr. Park has worked really hard to get our production line in shape. We’re hitting all of the target numbers now, even though we’re short-staffed,” Beau says.
Abby squeezes Beau’s shoulder. “Because my man here has essentially been shouldering the work of two people the past few months,” she says with pride.
Beau smiles at her but is quick to dismiss the praise coming from the group. “Not just me. Lots of people are pulling extra weight. But no one more than Mr. Park. I wasn’t sure about him when he first arrived, but he’s whipped everything into better shape than I could have ever imagined. That demanding attitude sure gets things done. And he’s pushing hard to get a second production line added to open up even more jobs.”
“What do you mean, another production line?” James asks. Beau explains his idea to add the freeze-dried food line in the empty warehouse space and how Liam is doing everything he can to make it happen—including extending his stay here in Noel.
The more Beau shares, the more the conflict of emotions escalates in my mind. Pride, awe, and admiration for Liam battle the sense of aggravation, bitterness, and hurt over the fact that I’m hearing this from Beau. Not from Liam.
My smile is a frozen fixture on my face as I scoot French fries around my plate, pretending to listen to Beau answer everyone’s follow-up questions.
“Wow, has Liam said anything about this to you, Mads?” Becky asks. “I mean, I don’t know how much y’all talk at the rental house.”
I swallow an imaginary French fry to hide the injury I feel at her reasonable question. “Not really. We do talk some, but he’s very hush-hush about work stuff. Probably because of the legal charges.”
Everyone accepts my answer at face value and returns to sharing and dissecting each other’s thoughts and speculations. If anyone notices that I’m uncharacteristically quiet, they’re either too relieved or too polite to point it out.
When I arrive home after dinner, I see Liam’s SUV parked in the driveway. He’s rarely at the house by himself between the long hours he works and my work-from-home situation. Suddenly, I find myself desperately curious to see how he spends his solo time.
In full-on stealth mode, I quietly open the front door, slip off my shoes, and tiptoe the few feet through the entryway until I can peer around the wall to see the open living room and dining room. I hear Liam’s voice before I see him sitting on the couch, talking to his phone screen.
As I approach Liam’s back, a deep male voice with a British accent is saying, “It’s very late over there. You need to get some sleep, Hana. We’ll figure this out and call you tomorrow.”
I can make out a dual-screen video call with a couple in one half of the screen and a young woman in the other half. Right about the time I realize I maybe shouldn’t be intruding on Liam’s personal conversation, a young female voice exclaims, “Who is that? Is that Madison?”
