Caught In A Bind. Gayle Roper
financial planner who over the years had made a mint in the stock market both for himself and his clients. Randy resembled him in size and coloring, a fact that gave the boy immense pride.
Tom on the other hand was a slight man, five feet eight inches in his hiking boots, gentle, pleasant and balding.
“He’s a car salesman!” Randy would mock, as if automotive retail was on a par with prostitution.
“Is Tom sick?” I asked.
Edie shook her head. “Not that I know of.”
Not yes or no. Not that I know of.
“Did he lose his job?”
Edie actually smiled at the thought of Tom losing his job. “Hamblin Motors would fall apart without him.”
I nodded. Even I, a relative newcomer to Amhearst, knew that Tom was Hamblin’s mainstay. Of course, my major source for this information was Edie, and I recognized that she was a wee bit biased.
“He just won a trip for two to Hawaii because of his winter doldrums sales. Only ten prizes were awarded in the whole country, and he won one.”
“Hawaii?” Jolene looked impressed. “When do you go?”
“In three weeks.” Edie looked uncertain, then nodded. “In three weeks.”
“Then what are you so upset about?” Jolene wouldn’t let well enough alone. “I mean, Hawaii!”
“I’m not upset.”
“And I’m not Eloise and Alvin Meister’s little girl.” Poor Edie. She was about to be slaughtered on the altar of Jolene’s curiosity and need to know.
“Jo,” I said quickly, “I think your plants need watering.” If anything would distract Jo from Edie, it would be her plants.
Jolene glanced around the newsroom at the lush greenery that made the place resemble a nursery. A giant grape ivy that had once tried to eat me alive sat on the soda machine. A huge jade plant graced the filing cabinet, and spectacularly healthy African violets sat in perpetually blooming splendor on the sill of the big picture window by the editor’s desk
She shook her head as she checked the soil of the spider plant on her desk. Baby spider plants erupted from the stems like little green and white explosions. “They’re all fine. I watered them yesterday.” She checked my philodendron and Edie’s croton, then returned to her grilling undeterred.
“Come on, Edie. I know something’s wrong. Of all the people who work here, you’re the most stable.”
“What?” I turned to Jolene, irritated. I was unstable?
Jolene grinned at me. “We all know I’m an emotional wreck, though you’ve got to admit I’ve been getting better in recent weeks.”
She paused a minute, looking expectantly at Edie and me. After a short pause, we realized what she expected.
“Right,” Edie said hastily. “You’re getting better.”
I nodded. “It’s church. You’re listening to Pastor Hal.”
Jolene shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.” Church was new to her and still made her uncomfortable. She returned to her commentary on office personnel. “We all know our noble editor Mac is so on edge over the buyout of the paper that he can’t think straight.”
Edie and I nodded. Mac was certainly acting strangely though I thought maybe Dawn Trauber, director of His House, had as much to do with his foul mood as the paper.
“And you, Merry,” Jolene continued, “are so bemused over Curt that you’re always on some far mental planet.”
“I beg your pardon,” I said, miffed. “I am very much in control, aware and on top of things.”
She gave her patented snort, the unfeminine sound always a surprise coming from someone as lovely as Jolene. “That control and awareness are why Mac has been waving at you for the past five minutes, I guess?”
“What?” I looked quickly over my shoulder toward the editor’s desk. Sure enough, Mac was scowling at me so intensely that his eyebrows were one long line from temple to temple.
“You could have told me.” I rose and made my way toward Mac. “And Edie, ignore her. You don’t have to answer any of her questions.”
Jolene agreed. “We’ll wait for Merry. She wants to hear what’s got you in such a tizzy too.”
Edie smiled weakly at me as I walked past her desk. “I’m okay,” she said with all the spunk of a groveling puppy.
Suddenly Mac’s bellow tore through the newsroom. “Edie, for goodness’ sake. Get over here!”
I stopped and pivoted to return to my seat.
“Where are you going, Kramer?” Mac snarled.
“But you said Edie.”
“I want you both.”
I turned back and walked to his desk. Mac had been acting editor for the past several months while the News was for sale. Recently the paper had been purchased by a man named Jonathan Delaney Montgomery. As I saw it, the greatest danger in waiting for Mr. Montgomery to decide whether Mac still had a job wasn’t Mac’s career. It was the incipient development of ulcers in everyone in the newsroom.
I spoke softly across his cluttered desk. “Please be easy with Edie. She’s upset about something, and if you yell at her, it won’t be good.”
“You mean she’ll cry?” he asked in disgust.
“Could be.”
Mac looked at me with barely concealed contempt, whether directed at me for offering unwanted advice, or Edie for being a possible crier, I couldn’t tell. “I am always considerate of my people,” he barked.
I bit my tongue and said nothing.
He turned from me to Edie. “Now, Whatley, I’ve got a great assignment for you. I want you to do an article on spousal abuse.”
Edie shuddered and actually swayed. She put out a hand to steady herself, gripping Mac’s desk hard enough to whiten her knuckles.
“Edie.” I grabbed her elbow. “Are you all right?”
“And you, Kramer.” Mac plowed on as if he hadn’t noticed Edie’s distress, and he probably hadn’t. “You are to do a profile of Stephanie Bauer, director of that organization that helps abused wives. You know the one. It’s down a couple of blocks on Main Street.”
I kept hold of Edie. “You mean Freedom House?”
“Yeah, that’s it. Find out how the place works and see if you can interview some of the abused women. You know, tear-jerker stuff like you did with those pregnant girls at Christmas.”
I nodded. Not a bad assignment.
“You two are to work together on this thing.” Mac looked from Edie to me and back. “Got that?”
I nodded. Edie just turned away, removing herself from my support.
“Edie!” Mac’s voice was abrupt.
She turned a white face to him, but he didn’t see. He was looking at something on his desk.
“Do you understand what I want?”
“Yes. But I hate it.” The last was under her breath.
“What?” Mac demanded.
“Nothing. Nothing at all.”
I blinked as I followed Edie back to our desks. She hated this most interesting assignment?
“What’s wrong, Edie? And don’t tell me nothing,” I said as she opened her mouth to say just that. She even got the noth out.
Edie