One Imperfect Christmas (18 page)

Heartsick, she pushed open the lid, revealing twenty-five hundred goldenrod-colored advertising flyers, neatly folded in thirds and banded for mailing. She slipped a flyer from one of the bundles and gingerly unfolded it. At first she didn't see anything wrong. The wording appeared correct, exactly what Miss Fellowes had requested, formatted in the prim English bookstore owner's standard 18-point Tribune, in navy to match the logo—

The logo!

Natalie steadied herself against a worktable. She couldn't—
wouldn't
—have made such a stupid mistake!

The logo for Moonbeams Bookstore had always been the smiling face of the man in the moon, beaming down upon a child sitting cross-legged with an open book in her lap. Natalie had designed the logo herself for Miss Fellowes when the retired school librarian first decided to open her own children's bookstore. In fact, Natalie's design had helped Miss Fellowes decide on the name for her shop. They'd brainstormed several ideas—Sunshine Books for Children, Starlight Dream Shop, Story Time Book Stop—but Miss Fellowes had fallen in love with Natalie's cheery, round man-in-the-moon sketch.

“It's so full of imagination,” she bubbled, “mysterious yet inviting.”

But here on these flyers, which were supposed to be mailed today in time to announce the January arrival of the latest release by a popular children's author, Natalie didn't see the man in the moon smiling back at her. Instead, she saw one of the earliest design ideas she'd presented to Miss Fellowes, a huge, bright star shining through a window and onto a sleeping child.

Clutching the flyer, Natalie stormed through the shop and slammed open her office door. With flying fingers she typed the password to open the Moonbeams file. She sucked in her breath when she saw the star in the window, exactly as it appeared in the flyer. By some horrible fluke she'd called up the wrong graphic.

“Bummer.” Deannie's softly spoken comment startled Natalie half out of her wits.

“Deannie! For heaven's sake!” She slapped a hand against her chest and spun around to see the girl hovering just behind her. “I
wish
you wouldn't do that.”

“What a freaky coincidence.” Deannie stepped to the side of Natalie's desk. “Miss F just happened by this afternoon. Said she wanted to pay on her account, and why not take a peek at her flyers while she was here?” With a look bordering on self-satisfaction, Deannie drummed her fingertips on her crossed forearms. “Aren't we lucky that she did?”

“Aren't we, though?” A knot of suspicion tightened in Natalie's stomach. Deannie waltzed out of the office as Natalie turned to the computer screen.

Correcting the error was a simple matter of point, click, replace, and resize. Reprinting twenty-five hundred flyers and getting them mailed before the weekend? That was another matter altogether. Once again, Natalie would be eating the costs, and eating her supper out of the snack machine. Once they got through the hectic Christmas rush, she wouldn't be surprised if Jeff decided to dissolve their partnership. Maybe Deannie's dream of going into business with her uncle would become a reality after all.

Natalie chewed her lip, her gaze locked on the empty doorway through which Deannie had just disappeared.
No. It couldn't be. She wouldn't.

Suspicious as these misprint “accidents” appeared, Natalie couldn't dwell on them right now. She needed to fix the problem. Leaving Deannie out of the loop, she printed out a fresh proof copy of the flyer and had five other staff members verify her corrections—something she thought she'd done the first time around, something she insisted upon with every piece of copy before getting final customer approval and releasing it for printing. There had to be a weak link in her proofreading process. Later, when things settled down, she'd dig out the originals and determine who had signed off on these blunders.

At four forty-five she phoned Miss Fellowes. “All I can do is apologize profusely,” she began. “I have a corrected copy ready if you'd like to okay it before we do the print run. I'd be happy to run it by the shop.”

“Oh, heavens, no, dear.” Miss Fellowes's clipped English accent remained as crisp as ever, even after more than thirty years in the States. “I trust you've taken care of the problem satisfactorily. It was an honest mistake, I'm sure.”

Getting chewed out, she could handle. Losing a customer, she could survive. But the one thing she hadn't expected, and suddenly couldn't deal with, was forgiveness. Natalie's chest caved and hot tears welled. “Oh, Miss Fellowes … ”

“Why, for goodness' sake, it's just a silly advertisement.” She said it in the British way, ad-
ver
-tiss-ment. “It's not the end of the world, my dear. You mustn't be so hard on yourself.”

“It's just … I can't seem to do anything right lately.” She reached for a tissue and blew her nose. “Sorry, I didn't mean to break down like that. This isn't your problem.”

“Nonsense. I'm sure releasing your frustrations is just what you needed. My dear, I have always firmly believed in divine intervention. Our Heavenly Father always manages to coax us into doing exactly what's best for us, or places us right where we need to be, even if it doesn't make any sense at all at the time.”

Miss Fellowes's words didn't make much sense to Natalie, but she thanked the woman for being so understanding and said good-bye.

Divine intervention?
Hard to see how not one but two costly printing mistakes could have anything to do with God's purposes. Hard to see how
anything
in Natalie's life these days could possibly be God's will.

12

D
aniel struggled to keep his mind on the basketball game. Putnam was down 54-22, with less than two minutes remaining in the first half. The varsity's best players had been missing rebounds and throwing away passes like third-string benchwarmers.

“Pearce, wake up, will you?” Carl Moreno's red polo shirt bearing the Putnam Panthers emblem strained across his husky torso. “I put you in charge of the defensive squad for a reason. Now earn your keep.” At a referee's whistle, he shot Daniel a warning glance and returned his attention to the basketball court, where another foul had been called on a Putnam player.

Daniel clenched his jaw. Even if he deserved the comment, it stung his pride to be called on the carpet by the head coach. Worse, he hated himself for disappointing his best friend. Carl had cut him too much slack already.

With a determined frown, Daniel focused his attention on the referee's call and checked his roster. Simms already had three fouls. The gangling six-feet-four eighth grader was their best rebounder. Better sit him out for now. He signaled the sweat-drenched boy to the sidelines and nudged the backup guard. “Petrie, you're in.”

The team had closed the scoring gap by a mere three points when a blaring horn ended the half. Daniel hustled his squad into the locker room, gave them a chance to gulp their sports drinks, towel off, and then settled them down to review strategy for the second half.

“I can't win the game for you.” He smacked a fist against his clipboard. “You know what your job is—keep the other team from scoring. We've practiced the plays a thousand times. You
know
what to do. Now get out there and do it.”

Coach Moreno covered the plays for the offense and chewed out the team for letting their opponents get so far ahead. Following a boisterous team yell, he dismissed them to warm up for the second half.

As Daniel marched out behind the players, Carl caught his arm. “You've been zoned out all night, man, even worse than usual.” His knowing smile morphed into a probing stare. “Got something you want to tell me, friend to friend?”

“Family problems. What else?” Daniel released a heartless chuckle and raked a hand through his hair. “I know I shouldn't let this stuff get in the way of my job, but lately things have been pretty tense.”

Carl sputtered a sardonic laugh. “Family problems. What a relief! I was afraid you were trying to figure out how to tell me you got offered a job somewhere else.” He slapped Daniel on the back and headed out to the court.

Daniel grimaced, his earlier guilt surging back with a vengeance. After Lissa's stunt this morning, he'd fully intended to call Coach Arnell and cancel the Langston interview. No way he could even think about making a move like that when his family was crumbling into ruin at his feet. But the day had gotten away from him, and Arnell would expect him to show up on time tomorrow. And now after Carl's comment, he realized breaking that kind of news to his friend and mentor would be almost as hard as telling his own wife and daughter.

The game finally ended as a loss, but at least not the walkover it started out to be. As they trekked out to their cars through lightly falling snow, Carl flicked his sweat-dampened face towel at Daniel's arm. “Hey, bud, join me for a burger?” Since both were usually too keyed up to eat a decent meal before a game, grabbing something afterward had become a regular habit.

“Sure.” Daniel fished the Bronco keys out of his pocket. “The usual place?”

Carl's pickup beeped twice as he punched his remote. “Where else? Meet you there in ten minutes.”

They settled into a corner booth in Casey's Diner, each ordering a double cheeseburger with the works. Carl ate with gusto, but after a few bites Daniel pushed his plate aside. He could already feel the rumbles of indigestion, an increasingly regular side effect of the stress he'd been under this year.

Carl took a long swig from his mug of decaf. “Keep this up and you're going to shrivel up to nothing. Baching it does not agree with you, my man.”

“You get no argument from me.” Daniel picked up a greasy French fry and swirled it through a blob of ketchup. He bit into it and chewed thoughtfully. “Parenting a teenager isn't agreeing with me, either.”

“Aha, now we get to the meat of the matter.” Carl dipped the corner of his napkin into his water glass and dabbed at a mustard stain on his red shirt. “So what's Lissa up to these days?”

“Oh, sneaking out of the apartment before breakfast, being late for school, the usual.” He filled Carl in on the details of Lissa's early-morning venture to the nursing home. “Natalie insisted on picking her up from school, so I decided to keep my distance and stay at the gym until game time.”

“I get you.” Carl gave him a knowing wink. He and Marie were raising two teenagers of their own. “No fair doubling up on the kid, since I'm sure her mom already let her have it with both barrels.”

“Exactly. But I'd love to have been a fly on the windshield listening to that conversation.” He took a swallow of iced tea before bracing his forearms on the edge of the table. Coach Arnell's phone call still lay between them, and he might as well get it out in the open. “Carl, there's something else. You weren't that far off base earlier when you made that joke about me getting another coaching job.”

“Oh, man … ” Carl collapsed against the green vinyl seat. “Where?”

Daniel waved a hand. “Nothing's official yet.” He paused and inhaled a bracing breath. “Langston High is looking for a new assistant basketball coach for next fall. Dave Arnell wants me to drive over tomorrow for an interview.”

His friend gave a low whistle. “This could be your big break. Arnell's not far from retirement.”

“Don't think I haven't considered those points. But now that I've had a chance to let the idea sink in … I don't know if I could do that to Lissa. She's so messed up these days.” Like he wasn't. He lowered his head and plucked at a piece of torn cuticle on his left thumb. “And it would mean a final break between me and Natalie. I'm not sure I'm ready to make our separation permanent. In fact"—his eyes stung—“I
know
I'm not ready.”

“I hear you, man,” Carl said softly. “I hear you.”

The next morning, Daniel poured himself a cup of strong coffee and plopped into his recliner with the cordless phone. One quick call and he could cancel the appointment with Dave Arnell.

But what else are you going to do with another lonely Saturday?
No games scheduled this weekend. Lissa had already made plans to spend the day with Jody. As for Natalie …
Don't go there.

Okay, if nothing else, he at least owed Arnell the courtesy of showing up. Besides, he might as well keep his options open … for the time being, anyway. If things did finally come to a head with Natalie and she pressed the divorce issue, maybe putting a little more distance between them would be the best thing after all, for Lissa's sake as much as for theirs.

He only hoped his daughter would eventually come around and forgive them both, whichever one she decided to live with permanently—another aspect of divorce that shook Daniel to his core. On top of everything else, how could he bear it if he moved hundreds of miles away and Lissa chose to stay with Natalie? The last thing he wanted to be—not counting being divorced—was an absent, uninvolved father.