Hanukkah Hearts Page 2

  After purchasing his food, Sam rounded the corner and stopped at her table.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  “Not at all,” Becky tried to dial down her smile from a thousand watts to five hundred.

  He placed his tray down then sat. “Figured out who sent you the candy yet?”

  She shook her head. “Nope. The girls think Trevor’s the Hanukkah Elf.”

  “Might be. He seems to be hound-dogging you.”

  “That’s not new.”

  “Really?” Sam quirked an eyebrow as he laid a napkin on his lap.

  “He’s barking up the wrong tree with me. Mister hound dog is going to find himself neutered, if he doesn’t back off.”

  Sam laughed.

  “I mean it. I’ll report him to Mr. Ralph if I have to.”

  “Trevor’s one of our biggest authors. I hear his agent is negotiating for a movie deal.”

  “A movie?”

  “Yep. And if it gets released, we’ll have to send our plant into overdrive to keep up with the demand for his books.”

  “That’s good for the company, right? But maybe not the best time to report him?” She frowned.

  “The buck always comes first. I’ll speak to him.”

  “Thanks. He needs to take ‘no’ for an answer.” She raised her glass of juice to her lips.

  “How are you doing?” He narrowed his eyes.

  “Fine.” She cast her gaze to her food. Damn, he hadn’t forgotten.

  “About Hanukkah. Your mom.”

  “Yeah. Well, Mom’s still in the hospital. And Hanukkah’s still cancelled.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “Crummy. I hate that she’s sick. Hate not being able to be there to help out. I hate having no holiday. It sucks.” Emotion gripped Becky. She put down her sandwich. Sam took her hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry.”

  “I feel guilty about the presents thing. I know I shouldn’t expect anything, but we’ve done it for so many years. Last night I lit the first candle by myself. I felt empty.”

  “Is your mom going to be okay?”

  “I don’t know. It’s touch-and-go. Dad says she has a good chance. And she’s a fighter. So I’m hopeful.”

  “Maybe tonight’ll be better. At least you got a present today.”

  “The candy? Probably Joy or Bridget. A joke or something. Stringing me along, making me wonder who it is so I won’t think about the holiday or Mom.”

  “Really?” He raised his eyebrows.

  “Yeah. It’s either one of them, or that sleazebag, Trevor Gorman. Probably one of the girls.”

  “You lit the lights by yourself?” He took a forkful of meatloaf.

  She nodded. “My roommates aren’t Jewish. They were curious last year, but the novelty’s worn off. I like to keep up the tradition, even if it’s just me. What about you?”

  “On the weekend, I’ll go to my brother’s place. He’s married. Got a couple of kids. Hanukkah is great with kids. They can hardly wait.”

  “I remember how it used to be. I have two older brothers. We’d press our noses against the picture window, waiting for Dad.”

  “Me, too. I can still feel the butterflies in my stomach as he walked through the door and my mother struck the first match.”

  Becky smiled. “Innocent times. Now I’m so far away.”

  “Where does your family live?” Sam speared a string bean with his fork.

  “In Milwaukee. I’m the only one to fly the coop. My father didn’t want me to come to New York. But the publishing business is here. If I wanted to be an editor—which I do—I knew I’d have to be in New York. What brings you to the Big Apple?”

  “I’m from New Jersey. Northern Jersey. My parents own a restaurant there. I’m in the city five days then two at the plant, about twenty miles from their place.”

  “Nice. Just a brother or do you have other siblings, too?”

  “Two sisters. One older, one younger. The baby’s in the city now, but her husband is looking for a job somewhere they can afford a house and a backyard.”

  “So it’ll be just you here?”

  “My older sister’s here, too.” He scooped up some potatoes. Becky glanced at his plate.

  “Is that stuff any good?”

  “It’s not exactly home cooking. But it’ll do. On a bad weather day, hot food works.”

  She licked her lips. What she wouldn’t give for a hot, home-cooked meal. But her budget didn’t allow for cafeteria hot food, just a drink and maybe a dessert occasionally. Otherwise, she brought her lunch. A sandwich—often, peanut butter and jelly—cheapest eats on the planet.

  When his gaze met hers, she realized she’d been staring at his food. She peeled her banana.

  “You bring lunch every day. Don’t you get tired of it?”

  “I get tired of a lot of things, but I have to do them anyway.”

  “Budget?”

  She nodded.

  “Do you think your mystery person will give you something tomorrow, too?”

  She shook her head. “I can count on the girls for one good deed, but I don’t think I should push my luck.”

  Sam checked his watch and pushed back his chair. “Time to get back.”

  “Oh. Yes. Me, too.”

  Together they walked to the elevator. Curious to learn everything about publishing, Becky peppered Sam with questions about book production. When others pushed in next to them, they were squeezed together. She got a whiff of his aftershave. Smooth, very smooth, with a touch of sweetness. She took a couple of deep breaths and sighed.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Fine.” Lowering her gaze, she hoped to hide her burning cheeks.

  They got off on the seventh floor. “See ya,” he said, heading for his office.

  Becky glanced at his back as he walked away. His suit jacket pulled just a tiny bit across his broad shoulders. Even his walk exuded power. A few female heads turned as he sauntered by. The man had magnetism, and, obviously, she wasn’t the only one to feel it.

  She enjoyed talking to Sam. He seemed to show an interest in her drab little life and didn’t come on to her. Not that she would have rejected him, but it showed respect. He had one quality often rare in a man—he was a good listener. His attention had lifted her spirits on such a cold, wet, miserable day. She smiled to herself. Only Sam Golden made a snowy, damp day sing.

  Chapter Two

  The next morning, Becky pulled on her heavy-duty boots for the second day in a row. Last night, three inches of snow had accumulated. She tromped through the slippery mess to her office, arriving early. The gray, windy day stole her good mood, leaving her feeling mopey and sorry for herself. She stomped off the snow and headed for her cubicle. Stopping to take off her coat, she almost sat before she saw the tiny shopping bag on her chair.

  It was a shiny, metallic pink—her favorite color. Once again, fear filled her as she gazed at the gift. She picked up a pen and gingerly used it to pull open the top, to see what was inside without disturbing the package. No luck.

  “I’m going to hang up my coat, get coffee, and maybe it will be gone when I return.”

  Becky added milk to her beverage and returned to her desk. In her absence, the rest of the staff had gathered. The gift still sat proudly taking possession of her chair. A card dangled off the bag’s handle.

  Joy whipped around the partition and stopped. “Another present?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Trevor Gorman ambled over. “I heard about this yesterday. What’s in there?”

  “Don’t you know?” Joy asked in a flirty voice. “I thought you were her Hanukkah Elf.”

  Trevor’s face colored. “Me? Uh. Well. You never know.”

  His weak denial convinced Becky he’d lied. Damn, it was him!

  “I’ve got a meeting,” he said, disappearing down the hall.

  “Oh my God. Another present?” Bridget was joined by a woman from accounting and Sam’s secretary.

&nbs
p; The women clustered around. “Open it. Open it!”

  Becky couldn’t resist. If it came from Trevor, it couldn’t be a bomb because he wasn’t smart enough to make one. Besides, he wouldn’t blow her up until he’d slept with her. So, she was safe. She picked up the bag by the handles and reached inside, her fingers brushed against something soft. She pulled it out.

  Damn! A pug Beany Baby! A small, soft, stuffed pug dog, just like Trixie and Norton, her parents’ real-life pugs. Her eyes watered at the thought of the beloved dogs she hadn’t seen in ages.

  “A pug! How adorable!” Bridget said, snatching the gift. She and Joy cooed over it.

  “What’s all the fuss?” Maryann asked.

  The young women murmured something and scattered like roaches in harsh light.

  “Hmm. Stuffed animals in the office? Not professional, Rebecca.”

  Becky opened a drawer and placed the gift inside.

  “Better,” Maryann said. “Please come in after my meeting with Trevor. I have a few things for you. Have you finished that new manuscript by Gordon Albright?”

  “Not yet.”

  “What are you waiting for. I need your evaluation by end of day, latest!” The tall, thin woman turned on her four-inch heels and strode away.

  “So romantic! Just like from a book. An anonymous lover,” crooned Joy, over the partition.

  “Whoever he is, he knows I like turtles and pugs. The live ones, I mean.”

  “Guess he does. Do you think it’s Trevor?” Joy asked.

  “I think it’s you,” Becky said, hiding a smile.

  “Me?” Joy’s mouth fell open.

  “Yeah. It’s crazy nice, like something you’d do.”

  “Wish I could take credit. But it wasn’t me. I guess Trevor must have a nice side,” Joy said.

  “We’ve never seen it,” Bridget added.

  “We haven’t seen it because it doesn’t exist.” Becky pulled up the manuscript Maryann had referenced. “I’ve gotta finish this.”

  Joy returned to her cubicle. Becky leaned back in her chair, resting her feet on her trash can, and clamped a pen between her teeth as she read. This was her favorite part of the job, reading submissions. She had to wade through a lot of crappy, wannabe books, but when she found a good one, electricity shot through her.

  Acquisitions was the first step toward creating a bestseller and a famous author. Her interest piqued. Maybe this book would be the one to rocket its writer into fame and fortune and launch her right into the promotion of her dreams.

  Still running behind at noon, Becky ate at her desk and kept reading. Truth be told, she’d gotten so engrossed in the story, she didn’t want to put it down, even to take a chance that Sam would be in the cafeteria.

  The romantic adventure had a protagonist every woman fantasized about: handsome, brave, and funny. She pictured the character of Washington Smith as another Indiana Jones. Inhaling her food while her eyes flew across page after page, she finished eating in twenty minutes.

  “Got that evaluation yet?” Maryann popped her head out of her office.

  “Almost.”

  “How’s it look?”

  “Like a blockbuster.”

  BECKY STAYED UNTIL six thirty to finish writing her evaluation of the adventure book. A quick glance outside told her it had stopped snowing. She bundled into her down jacket and shoved a hat down over her brown curls. Exhaustion seeped through her. She yawned as she pushed through the door.

  The frigid air jarred her awake as she headed for the subway and prayed it wouldn’t be crowded. She caught the train at 14th Street and rode it all the way to 96th.

  Fortunately, it was late, and she snagged a seat. The ride seemed to take forever if you had to stand. Dipping her hand into her purse, she closed her fingers around the squishy stuffed pug. The covering was soft and velvety, reminding her of Trixie’s fur. Becky sighed. How she’d love a snuggle with her pugs. The little cloth companion would have to do.

  When she reached the apartment, there was enough Chinese food leftover to serve as dinner. Her roommates watched Serendipity, with John Cusack. Becky padded into her room and put candles in her menorah. Taking out her pug, she rested it up against the windowsill as she lit the lights and said the prayer. Watching the small flames, she Skyped her family. Joe, her oldest brother, answered.

  “How’s Mom?” Becky asked.

  “About the same. No change, yet. But the doctor is hopeful.”

  Becky’s shoulders sagged. “Oh.”

  “But look who’s here!”

  A bark greeted her ears as her brother picked up both pugs and held them close to the phone. Norton mushed his face right up against the device. All Becky could see was something dark, and then wetness smeared across the screen. She laughed in spite of the dispiriting news.

  In the background, she heard, “No, Trixie, stop. Come on Norton. Get down, guys. Down.” The picture wobbled, then focused on a pug sporting a wide grin. Norton had always been a ham. Joe put down Trixie while managing to keep the male pug from falling.

  “Best laugh all day, Joe.”

  “Figured they’d cheer you up.”

  “You’re coming home soon, right?” David asked.

  “Yeah. Sunday. Early. You’d better be there.”

  “We will,” Joe said.

  She heard the sound of the doorbell in the background.

  “Pizza’s here,” David announced.

  “Haven’t either of you learned to cook?” Becky cocked an eyebrow.

  “Nope. And it’s not looking like that’s happening anytime soon. Gotta go, squirt, before David eats it all. Love you, Beck.” After a few barks, the screen went dark.

  Becky changed into a nightgown and crawled into bed. She took the stuffed pug with her and switched off the light. Touching the little critter, she recalled Norton and Trixie. Remembering some of their antics put a smile on her face. The rescue dogs were eight years old. Becky had brought them home from college on vacation.

  When she entered the house with the dogs, her parents had gone ballistic. Reiterating a thousand times how she couldn’t keep them, her folks fell under the pugs’ magic spell. By the end of vacation, her mother had surprised her.

  “I hope you hadn’t planned on taking Trixie and Norton back to school with you,” her mother had said.

  “Actually, I had.” Becky opened her suitcase on the bed.

  “They’re staying here. They’ll get better care here. Regular walks, regular meals. Treats. You can’t afford to take them to the vet. Can you even afford dog food?”

  “Really?” She stopped long enough to give her mother a hard stare.

  “I know what we said. But they’re happy here.” Her mother fidgeted with the hem of her sweater.

  “What about Dad?” Becky rested her hands on her hips.

  “Dad? It was his idea.” Her mother grinned.

  And so, the pugs had found a new home. Thoughts of home, memories of conversations with her parents and siblings created an ache in her heart. Even though she’d spent summers either traveling or at camp, Becky had never been homesick. To her, life was an adventure and something wonderful, terrifying, or amazing awaited around every corner.

  Now, remembering her family brought pain. For the first time, Becky missed home. She longed to be back with her parents, brothers, and the dogs—and for her mother to be well.

  She closed her eyes and pictured Washington Smith, the hero of the great book-to-be, on the big screen. With a smile on her face, she fell asleep.

  WHILE SHE DRESSED ON the third morning of Hanukkah, Becky hoped to find another gift on her desk. Guilt at enjoying the one-sided gift-giving warred with gluttonous delight in anticipating another anonymous present. Pushing through the doors of the office building near Hudson Street, Becky felt her heartbeat jump, like the beat of a native drum. Excitement grew in her veins with each floor she passed in the elevator. Finally, the doors opened on seven. Trying not to look anxious, but failing, she brush
ed past reception with a quick “hello” and made a beeline for her desk.

  Yes! There it sat, in all its glory. A small rectangular package wrapped in gold with a blue ribbon.

  “Open it,” Bridget commanded.

  Becky reached for the card taped on top. “From the Hanukkah Elf.”

  “This is creeping me out,” Joy said.

  “It’s like having a guardian angel,” Becky replied. “The Hanukkah Elf.” She picked up the gift and shook it. No rattle, so she tore off the paper. A leather-bound volume of her favorite book, Pride and Prejudice, its title etched in gold leaf, rested in her hand.

  Tears welled in Becky’s eyes. “This is my all-time favorite book.”

  “Anyone could know that. You said it at the Christmas party. Remember? We went around and everyone had to mention their favorite book?” Joy said. “Is it signed?”

  Becky opened the volume, bending slightly and sniffing to take in the new-book scent. There was an inscription.

  “Yes. It says ‘To read over and over. The Hanukkah Elf.’ Wow.” She smoothed her palm over the cover, enjoying the feel of the soft, supple, expensive leather.

  “That cinches it. Only Trevor has the bucks to buy this,” Bridget said, then flounced back to her desk.

  “Harmon in accounting makes good money. He’s single. He could be the one,” Joy put in.

  “What about Carson Diller in publicity? Didn’t you go out with him a couple of times?” Bridget asked.

  Becky sucked her lower lip between her teeth, could it be Harmon or Carson? Maybe her Hanukkah Elf was Cody in production? She’d never dated Harmon or Cody, but she had gone to lunch a couple of times and to the movies once with Carson.

  “Carson Diller! Carson Diller!” Joy said, jumping up and down.

  “Could be,” Becky nodded.

  Nothing came of her dates with Carson except friendship. Had he changed his mind?