She’d told him. She’d actually told someone and she hadn’t spontaneously combusted. Nor, evidently, had he. He was a long way from impressed, and he definitely looked at her a bit sideways, but he hadn’t up and left the room. And he had a one-hundred-and-fifty-dollar reason to hate her now that he knew. While Mary could argue with herself that this didn’t rank very high on the scale of possible human secrets, she still felt like a thousand pounds had just flown off her shoulders. “I’m not proud of what I did,” she admitted. “Actually, I was proud of it back then, but now it just feels, well, hollow. A lousy use of whatever talent God chose to give me.” She dared to look him in the eye. “I won three awards for the pizza song, you know. And, according to Thornton, the Bippo Bear jingle has already been nominated twice. I could write my own ticket with Thornton if I wanted to go back. If.”
“But you don’t, do you?” Mac leaned back in the booth. “Mary Thorpe, jingle star. Man, I’m not sure I could walk away from all that money and attention. I’ve been trying to figure out how someone like you landed someplace like this, but it sort of makes sense now.” He shook his head. “Bippo Bears aren’t cute, you know. They’re all bug-eyed and smiley-faced.” He made a disturbingly accurate impersonation of the distinctive Bippo Bear face. “No offense.”
She managed a laugh. She hadn’t yet been able to laugh about her former job. The last day had been so horrible with Thornton. You’d have thought he’d never lost an employee before, the way he had ranted and raved. Granted, she hadn’t exactly given two weeks’ notice, but this wasn’t a situation that fell within the confines of normal personnel policies. Those final days, when the store orders came flooding in for Bippo Bears and the manufacturer’s rep had taken her and Thornton to lunch at a very ritzy restaurant and crowed about how much money they were going to make, how desperate kids would be to get their hands on Bippo Bears, Mary had been unable to eat. From that lunch until the moment she typed up her résumé, she’d barely been able to keep anything down. And here she was, laughing about it over pie. If that wasn’t God’s grace showing up in her life, then she didn’t know what was. “I can’t believe I actually told you. I told myself I wouldn’t tell….”
At that moment, as if by horrible design, the television behind Gina’s counter kicked into a commercial for Bippo Bears. Mary felt the tune and lyrics as if they were physical blows. She closed her eyes and gripped the table. And waited. For the excruciating moment she knew would follow.
“See that?” a tiny voice from across the room said. She didn’t even have to turn. She could picture the tiny, chubby hand pointing to the television while the other hand tugged insistently on Mommy’s sleeve. “I want that. I really want that. I gotta have one, Mommy! I gotta!”
“You and every other little guy on the planet, sweetie,” came Gina’s voice. “Rare as hen’s teeth, those are.”
Mary felt the collar of her turtleneck sweater tighten around her throat.
“We’ll see,” warned whoever’s Mommy, in that parental tone of voice everyone knows really means No, but I’m not going to say no right now.
She opened her eyes to find Mac staring at her. “Wow,” he noted quietly, “that really gets to you, doesn’t it?”
“I can’t wait to have success in something less dastardly.” Mary gulped down some coffee, feeling the warmth ease the ice-cold viselike grip that song had on her neck. “I used to love hearing my stuff on the television. Now it’s just awful.” She put down her mug, feeling the old anger rise up. “Did you know the company actually scans the Internet to find the highest current going price and sends out a press release? If they spent as much time and money on making more bears as they do on feeding the frenzy…” she didn’t even finish the thought.
The child at the diner counter had now dissolved into a nonstop, earsplitting “I wanna Bippo Bear” whine. “Okay,” he relented. “I can see why you might want to keep this under wraps.”
“I did that,” Mary confessed, inclining her head toward the drama playing out behind them.
“You did your job. And now you don’t do that job anymore. You got a fresh start, and maybe that was the best choice to make if it bothers you so much.”
Despite earlier frustrations, Mac had to consider it a pleasant evening. He’d scored his Bippo Bear—even if it had made him crazy and broke to do it—and patched things up with Mary Thorpe. Mac decided he couldn’t complain.
Until his phone rang within thirty minutes of getting home.
“Hello, Ma,” Mac greeted as he answered. “I got Robby his bear, so we’re all set.”
“Are we?” Ma asked in sugary-sweet tones. “Audrey Lupine just called to say she saw you and Mary Thorpe having a very serious conversation in quiet tones over at the diner. She’s a pretty girl, Mary is. Anything you want to tell me?”
I love Middleburg, Mac thought to himself, but then there are days where I just hate it.
There wasn’t a single empty branch on that Christmas tree. It was starting to look like a holiday catalog exploded in her living room. So when she opened her apartment door to find Emily Sorrent with three large boxes in her arms, Mary gulped. She’d thought Gil was exaggerating about Emily, but she no longer doubted the man. If she didn’t think of a new target for Emily’s decorating urges, she’d have trouble finding her furniture under all this.
“Emily,” she began congenially as the woman deposited the boxes on her dining room table. “You’ve done enough. Really. More than enough.”
“Oh, no, it’s nothing,” Emily countered, pulling the top off the first box. “Just a bit more extra stuff I’ve got.”
“I don’t think my apartment can hold much more. Look around. I think I’ve got more decorations than furniture.”
Emily actually looked around. Mary willed her to see the abundance that was bordering on ostentation. Would it be rude to call for a yuletide intervention? “Well, I suppose there’s a lot in here already, isn’t there?”
Mary offered the warmest smile she could produce. “How about we have a cup of tea instead of breaking out more mistletoe? I don’t need another decoration, Emily, but I’d love your company.” She pulled Emily toward the kitchen.
“I decorated the church yesterday, and I had this left over. I just hated to see it go to waste.”
“I’m sure you’ll find a place for it. And the church looks better than most of the department stores I’ve seen in Chicago. I’d say you’ve done more than your share.”
Emily settled herself into one of Mary’s chairs. “I guess you’re right. Gil says I should rest more than I do. But this Christmas, I just seem to be in constant decorating mode. Listen,” she said, shifting a bit in her chair. “Can you tell me how you cast the drama?”
“How?”
“You know, how you decided which person should get which part.”
There wasn’t much to say. In fact, Mary was a bit embarrassed by her casting method. “Well, actually, I just laid the script out on my table and said a prayer each time I looked over the list. I started with the smaller parts first, and then divvied the larger parts up from a list of people Pastor Dave thought would do a good job.” She’d gotten a weird feeling when she’d cast Emily as Mary, but she didn’t think that was the sort of thing she ought to share. “I just made it up as I went along, I suppose.”
Emily was paying very close attention to her process. “That’s how you did it? You prayed?”
Now Mary felt embarrassed. It felt important to pray over her decisions when she’d made them, but now, saying it out loud, it felt rather foolish. “Well, I tried to think things through from a practical standpoint, too. I knew Mac and Howard would need big roles based on the whole reason we were doing the drama.”
“But me, you prayed before you cast me?” There was something behind Emily’s questions, and Mary couldn’t decipher if it was a good something or a bad something. “Really?”
“Emily, are you uncomfortable with being Mary? It’s not too late to change it if you feel like you’d rather not.” It was a lie—it’d be a huge problem, but the look in Emily’s eyes was making her panic. Emily had looked ecstatic when she’d first found out she’d be playing Mary, which made the woman’s current questioning all the more baffling.
“No, I’m really glad to be Mary.”
“Is something wrong?”
“No, not at all. I just wanted to be sure before I told you.”
“Told me what?”
“Why it means so much to me that you cast me as Mary. And especially if prayer was involved in your casting, because that just confirms it.” Emily wasn’t making a whole lot of sense, until Mary watched her hand steal protectively across her abdomen, when it suddenly made a whole lot of sense. Within seconds, Mary could easily guess what news was coming next. “I’m pregnant,” Emily confided.
“That’s wonderful news,” Mary offered. She couldn’t help but smile—the expression on Emily’s face rivaled any of the twinkling lights she’d loaded onto Mary’s tree.
“It’s been a bit tricky, and we weren’t sure when to tell everyone. I’ve been bursting with the news, but the doctors told us to be cautious for another couple of weeks. And then, when I could barely stand it a moment longer, you told me I’d be playing the part of Mary. I knew it was God’s way of telling me everything would be okay.”
It was a disorienting combination of wonderful and awful. While it felt amazing to be used by God in such an extraordinary way, Mary felt like far too much was now riding on a very minor decision. Based on Dave’s information, there hadn’t been that many women to play Mary—many of the other women who were suited for the role were being used in other aspects of the drama. Emily could easily be reading far too much into a decision that wasn’t intended to be the portent of anything. Oh, Lord, is this right? “Do you think God really works that way? I mean, I know I’m new to this faith business, but…”
“I’m not saying that this makes everything fine—there’s still a lot Gil and I will have to face. But yes, I do think God answers prayers for comfort, and that’s what I was praying for. What I was most upset about, funny enough, was not being able to be publicly pregnant, if that makes any sense. I’ve waited so long to be a mom. Gil is my second husband. My first husband died before we could start a family. So when we found out, I was just exploding with the need to tell everyone, even though the doctors told us to take it slow. I wasn’t coping very well. If you can believe it, I was actually more…enthusiastic…about the holiday decorating at the farm.”
“Oh,” said Mary, “I can believe it.”
“I prayed that God would send me a way to cope with not being able to shout it from the rooftops. This is just what I needed.” She looked up sheepishly. “My goodness, that sounds crazy when I hear myself say it. You must think I’m insane.”
Mary could only smile. “I think you’re a woman who is just very, very happy to be pregnant. And I suppose if I believe God can work through anybody, then I’d better believe God can choose to work through me. Although I’m a bit freaked out, if you really want to know. It explains a lot. I mean, in a good way. I mean…”
“It’s okay. Gil’s hinted that I went a bit overboard in the holiday cheer department.” She paused, looking around the apartment. “I suppose I did, didn’t I?”
“It’s kind of nice. I feel so welcomed. I was worried I’d feel sad, that my apartment would feel empty.”
Emily broke into a chuckle. “No chance of that with me around. I promise I’ll take it down a notch from here on in, okay?”
He’d found her.
Mary suspected—knew down deep somewhere—that Thornton wouldn’t take her exit lying down. He was a controlling sort of man, incensed when he didn’t get the last word, and she’d certainly set her resignation to be just that. Despite the P.O. box and forwarding addresses she’d arranged with her parents, someone as skilled and determined as Thornton Maxwell would find a way. The fact that he’d contacted her, without her parents knowing he’d located her, just proved his ability to deceive.
And, just like Thornton would do, he’d been anything but direct. The final paycheck had arrived in an ordinary fashion, like any number of Christmas cards or electric bills mailed daily around the country.
It was her final paycheck. Hand-signed by Thornton, and mailed here, even though she’d not given the agency her Middleburg address. She’d purposely, carefully made sure the agency only had her parents’ address in Illinois, and her parents forwarded her mail to a P.O. box, but Thornton had her actual street address. The envelope held only a check—no written message. Then again, it didn’t need to. Without a word, without anything, Thornton’s delivered check broadcast, “I found you.”
Mary sank down on the step, too stunned to finish the flight of stairs to her apartment. He’d gone looking for her, which meant he still wanted her back, and Thornton was a man used to getting what he wanted. A man who’d built an empire on his persuasive abilities. She could imagine the lengths Thornton would go to, the incentives he would dangle, the pressure he’d apply. It was why she’d made the drastic step of running away—she wasn’t sure she could withstand the full-force of the former power and money.
She set the letter down while her head sank back against the wall.
Jesus, stay beside me. You gave me the strength to walk away from all that once. Am I strong enough to keep away? Especially if it’s Thornton doing the chasing? Her mind produced the verses of “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” as if pulling them out of the fog of her memory. Emmanuel. God with us.
“Hey, are you okay?” Mary opened her eyes to find Mac staring at her from the bottom of the stairs. After a second, he dropped his briefcase at the landing and walked up the half a dozen stairs to where she lay slumped against the wall. “You are definitely not okay. Not even close.” He noticed the pile of mail on the step below her. “Nasty Christmas card or something?”
“Sort of.” She couldn’t manage much more than that.
He looked at her. She felt like a good half of the time they’d ever spent together had been comprised of him looking baffled at her. “Should I check to see if something’s ticking?”
“A bomb? Too blunt for Thornton. He’s a hunter. A stalker. Explosions would be too quick and easy.”
“Thornton. Your ex-boss sent you something?” He found the envelope on the top of the pile and inspected it. “Looks like an ordinary check to me.”
“Exactly. That’s how I know it’s from Thornton. He’d know I’d know.”
“I’m not getting it. Why shouldn’t you get your final paychecks from your previous job?”
“I should, just not here. They don’t have this address. I made sure they didn’t have this address. All my mail from the agency is supposed to go to my parents in Illinois.” Mary grimaced. “He found me.”
“This guy sounds truly creepy.”
“Thornton goes beyond creepy.”
Mac set the envelope back down. “Look, I don’t know much about the whole situation other than the little bit you’ve told me, but do you think you might be reading too much into this?”
A huge part of her wanted to believe him. To give Thornton the benefit of the doubt and to believe she’d really made the clean getaway she planned. “That’d be nice, wouldn’t it?”
“Has this guy threatened you, Mary?” His voice was low and sharp. Mac’s eyes darkened to an intense glare as he sat back against the wall, his long legs extended across the narrow stairway. He’d formed a barrier between her and the door, protective, even though she was sure he hadn’t consciously done so.
“Thornton threatens everybody. He’s one of those people who’s a powerful friend but a more powerful enemy. But if you mean has he threatened me personally, physically, no. Again, that’d be too blunt for Thornton. That,” she said, pointing to the check, “is his way of letting me know that he knows where I am.” She tried to say it calmly, but it came out as the menace it was.
Mac was surprised at the worry in her eyes. She had an unsteady quality to her voice she probably thought she was hiding, but her body language was bordering on fear. “I think I get it now. You’d hoped to hide from this guy. Escape from the old Mary and her job out here in the middle of nowhere. Well, it explains a lot.” He paused for a moment. “I’m not sure it’s any of my business, but you look anything but calm. Are things more…personal than that between you and your old boss?”
“No. Well, he took my leaving very personally, but it’s not like you think. It’s just that no one walks out on Thornton Maxwell. He’d fire anyone in a heartbeat, but you don’t quit until he tells you to. He doesn’t want me back because he wants me, he wants me back because that way he wins.” She poked at the offending check with a cautious finger. “And Thornton will do just about anything to win.”
“If this guy worries you so much, don’t you think maybe you need to talk to the police?”
She forced out a tight laugh. “Oh, that’d do wonders for my entrance into the community, don’t you think? “New drama director reveals own stalker.” Harbinger of the Bippo Bear boogeyman—that’s just the first impression I’d want to make.”
“You didn’t choose this. People here wouldn’t hold that against you.” He tried to crack a joke to ease the tension. “As for the bear song, I can’t make promises, but no one in Middleburg would hold a jerk like Thornton against you.”
“He’d never come here.” It was the most unconvincing statement Mac had ever heard. She didn’t believe that—not for a second—and it came through in every word.
He moved a few inches closer to her on the stairs. “Mary,” he said, making his voice as gentle as he knew how, “would he hurt you?”
“No,” she replied far too quickly. When his gaze held her eyes for a moment, she said “Not really.” She broke away from his gaze and looked down. “I don’t know.”
That made Mac’s stomach ignite. “Over a job? Over stuffed bears? What kind of a monster is this guy?”
“His job is his life. The Bippo Bear account was his personal coup, and he thinks he needs me to keep it. I just figured he’d move onto his next protégé when he got tired of me. But then the campaigns became successful, and Thornton likes success enough to make very sure he stays successful. He told me I could never leave, never work for anyone else but him, and like I said, you don’t ‘just say no’ to Thornton Maxwell.”
Watch me, Mac thought. It struck him, as she pulled her knees up to hug them to her chest, that it made perfect sense now why she’d want to surround herself with people on Christmas Eve. If Thornton hadn’t actually threatened her physically, he’d come mighty close. And maybe it wasn’t even a conscious thought to her, maybe she really did think the potluck was a path to town unity and her fears just made the idea that more appealing. “Has he sent you anything threatening? A bear full of razor blades or something?”
“No.”
“That’s your money, right? You earned it?”
“Yes.”
“Then cash the check. There have to be ways to get yourself over this.” She needed to get into the community, get a jump start on this new life she seemed eager to build. “Like coming to Gil and Emily’s on Friday night. It’s going to be the Christmas party to end all Christmas parties, and you’ll be surrounded by people.”
“Emily’s already invited me, but…”
“But nothing. You need to go. I’ll even take you out there myself. Seems to me, the best defense you have against your old life is to get on with your new life and be happy.”
She looked unconvinced. “I don’t know.” She stood up and gathered the pile of mail.
“You don’t have to know,” he declared, deciding not to take no for an answer. “I know. I’ll pick you up at 6:30. If you own a Christmas sweater, this is the place to trot it out. You have to wear red or green or you don’t get in. Really.”