Mrs. Scrooge Page 15

  "Macy's," said Patty. "The men's room is bigger."

  Murphy laughed out loud. "And how would you know that?"

  "My cousin James told me."

  Kevin looked up at his uncle with big hazel eyes. "I want Macy's."

  Murphy hadn't been a reporter all those years for nothing. These kids were up to something but since it was Christmastime—and he was definitely in a Christmas mood—he led them up to Herald Square.

  Macy's was jammed to the rafters with shoppers. In just the first two minutes he caught the assorted smells of Chanel No. 5, Brut, pine needles, and gingerbread, and that was just for starters. He heard Chinese being spoken on his left, Spanish on his right, and the particular blend of English known as Brooklynese all around him. He grinned, feeling right at home. Only in New York.

  He followed a sales clerk's instructions and found the rest rooms with a minimum of trouble. That solved Kevin's problem and any problem Patty might develop in the near future.

  "Okay," he said, when they met up at the water fountain between the two rest rooms, "now what? We can go back to Rock Center and hang out with your mom until she closes for the day. We can go to F.A.O. Schwarz and look at toys even Donald Trump can't afford. We can—"

  "Santa Claus," said Patty. "I want to see Santa Claus."

  "You're kidding."

  She shook her head and her pigtails slapped against her shoulders. "This is Christmastime and I'm a kid, aren't I?"

  "Sure you are, but I thought—"

  "I have something to ask him," said Patty with a quick glance toward Kevin.

  Murphy started to say something about still believing in St. Nick but he remembered his little nephew was the jolly fat man's number one fan. You're okay, Patty, he thought as he followed her to the toy department and Santa's workshop. He was the adult. He should have come up with the idea of visiting Santa Claus. But it had been Sam's remarkable little girl who'd thought of it. Her fifty megaton IQ may have been a gift from the gods, but her generous heart came straight from her mother.

  The line to see Santa was long. He couldn't remember the last time he saw so many little kids in one place before. Kevin was hyper with excitement and Patty held the kid's hand and pointed out the different elves and, unless Murphy was sorely mistaken, seemed pretty excited herself as they moved closer to the chubby guy in the red suit who received visitors on his velvet throne.

  Next to his niece and nephew, Patty was the first kid in years who actually got to him. He'd spent most of his life not even noticing the shorter members of the human population. They spoke another language. Ernie, Big Bird, Oscar the Grouch. Murphy hated feeling stupid and talking to kids usually made him feel that way within ten seconds. It wasn't until his sister had Kevin and Laurie that he'd begun to feel comfortable with kids and, to his amazement, enjoy their company.

  He'd felt comfortable with Patty instantly. She was smart and funny and almost fiercely independent but it didn't take a genius to see there was a little girl hiding behind that very adult persona. "You can't walk out on those two," his father had said that very morning, meaning Sam and her little girl. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

  I'm not going to hurt you, he thought as he looked at Patty's face, flushed with excitement as she sat upon Santa's knee. And I'm sure as hell going to do my best to make sure I don't hurt your mother.

  Patty whispered something to Santa and then, to Murphy's surprise, the two of them turned and looked straight at him. Patty whispered something else and her happy smile was warm enough to melt the snows outside. Santa Claus winked at him, then flashed Patty a thumbs-up sign.

  Murphy had the strangest feeling his future had just been decided for him.

  * * *

  "BUT I CAN'T!" said Sam as Murphy knelt down in front of her.

  "Sure you can." He took her foot and rested it on his lap.

  "It's been years since I last did it."

  "You know that old saying . . . ." His large hands caressed her ankle and teased her calf.

  "This isn't like riding a bike, Murphy."

  "It's easier. You can let me do all the work."

  "You mean, just go along for the ride?"

  "Lean on me. I won't go faster than you can handle."

  "I shouldn't."

  "Of course you should."

  "It's dangerous."

  "Not if you're careful."

  "You're tempting me, Murphy."

  "That's the general idea."

  And just like that the last of her defenses fell.

  * * *

  WHAT A BEAUTIFUL CITY, Sam thought a half-hour later as Murphy guided her around the skating rink. Fun City. The Big Apple. The most glorious, glamorous place in the entire world at Christmastime and she was right there in the middle of the excitement.

  "You're doing great, Sam." Murphy eased them into a gentle turn, all to the rhythm of a Strauss waltz floating from the loudspeakers. "Next thing you know, you'll be going for Olympic Gold."

  Sam laughed then grabbed his hand more tightly as her feet threatened to slip out from under her. "I don't think Kristi Yamaguchi is in any danger. I'm just trying to stay off my keister."

  "Hold on to me."

  She looked up at him, her heart so filled with emotion she could scarcely breathe. "That's what I intend to do."

  Chapter Thirteen

  "Murphy!" Sam giggled as Murphy maneuvered her into the kitchen at Fast Foods for the Fast Lane. "What if someone sees us?"

  Murphy pinned her against the refrigerator and kissed her soundly. "The only way the crowd out there would notice is if the food runs out."

  Sam leaned her forehead against his shoulder as a wave of pure pleasure rippled through her body. "Did you know they were planning this?"

  Murphy shook his head. "Only thing I knew was to keep you away until they unloaded the supplies."

  The masquerade ball had turned out to be only the beginning of the wonderful changes in Sam's life. Christmas was in the air, and so it seemed was magic. There was Murphy, of course, and the joy she felt each time she saw him—not to mention the look of sheer happiness on Patty's face whenever she saw them together. And if that wasn't terrific enough, her father, her cousins Teddy and Frank and assorted uncles had commandeered the storefront to perform a little magic of their own. In the next three days they intended to transform her shop into a surefire winner with fresh paint, spanking new wallpaper, and a ceramic tile floor to die for. Sam had only to fill her cupboards and stock her refrigerator and she was ready to open for business.

  She sighed deeply. "Can you believe it?" she said, looking up at Murphy. "I actually have time on my hands."

  He waggled his eyebrows in a deliciously wicked way. "I can think of a number of ways to use that time, Samantha."

  She lowered her gaze to his mouth. "So can I, Murphy."

  * * *

  SAM SOON DISCOVERED there was any number of delightful ways to spend her free time.

  She made Patty country breakfasts then drove her to school each morning. Caroline took to stopping by on her way to work for coffee and conversation, and Sam could barely keep herself from throwing her arms around her best friend and pledging eternal fealty. If Caroline hadn't railroaded her into going to the masquerade ball, Sam and Murphy might still be having snowball fights in the parking lot.

  Not that they were suddenly above snowball fights, mind you. She and Murphy had enjoyed a down-and-dirty battle right in her front yard just the other night. The only problem was that even though she had time to spare, time alone with Murphy was almost impossible to come by. She had her responsibilities toward Patty and her family. He had the bar to take care of. By the time the bar closed well after midnight, Sam was calling it a day.

  And so they found stolen moments for long and lingering kisses, but those moments only left her hungry for the taste and smell and feel of him. She had no experience at all in juggling a social life and a family life and the notion of staying out an entire night—even if her mo
ther took care of Patty—was as alien to Sam as the notion of flying to Saturn under her own steam.

  Her personal code of behavior had been formed a long time ago and she was comfortable with it. To his credit, Murphy didn't push her to give more than she could, even though she knew he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

  She was an old-fashioned woman in a world that held little store in old-fashioned values. She had made love with Ronald Donovan because her heart and soul had belonged to him; because she'd believed she would grow old alongside him. As deep as her feelings were for Murphy, she couldn't delude herself into believing he would still be around when her hair started to turn gray. Paris called to him, and Beijing and London and other exotic cities around the world. She needed more than a few nights in his arms. She would rather never be with him than love him and then lose him to his career.

  But in the darkness of her room, alone in her bed, her imagination soared. It was a simple task to conjure up the image of his bare chest as it had looked that first morning she went to O'Rourke's: Every muscle, from his stomach to his shoulders to his biceps, had been imprinted on her memory. She lingered on each one, ran her tongue along the tracing of vein at the bend in his arm, buried her nose where his arm met his shoulder, let her hands slide over his ribcage and down to the round, muscular buttocks.

  She knew how he would feel as he covered her body with his. She knew how she would open for him, welcoming him with all her heart and soul. In the quiet heart of the night she could hear the sounds of passion, catch the hot, heavy scent of sexuality, taste herself on his lips—

  But she needed more in the way of forever than he could possibly give and they both knew it.

  And so they spent their time talking and kissing and talking some more, as the days before Christmas disappeared one by one. Central New Jersey had another snowfall, and if the weather stayed cold they planned to take Patty and Kevin ice-skating Sunday at the pond in Cranbury, a picture-postcard town not far from Rocky Hill.

  With all that extra time also came the opportunity to spend some of it at O'Rourke's with Murphy and the rest of the gang. Instead of carting the sandwiches and appetizers over there on trays as she had in the beginning of their arrangement, she began cooking right on the premises. Bill O'Rourke had settled on an ex-sailor named Donahue to be their full-time cook; he would begin the day after Christmas. Sam intended to take full advantage of her position of power while she could.

  Scotty deemed himself her helper and they laughed and joked while Murphy tended the bar. She loved the brilliant professor. He had taken an interest in Patty, confirming what she'd been told since her little girl was old enough to form her first thoughts: Patty's potential was unlimited.

  "I'd like the chance to work with her on some mathematical concepts," said Scotty one afternoon in the week before Christmas. "Perhaps after school?"

  Sam hugged him and laughed at Murphy's raised, eyebrows. "That's wonderful! I'll pick her up this afternoon, and we can put you two at a table in the back of the bar."

  "Great," muttered Murphy, with a twinkle in his eye. "This is a bar not a nursery school."

  "You don't know me as well as you think you do," came a voice from the bottom of the rear staircase. "You bring that little girl of yours around later," Bill O'Rourke said to Sam, after he kissed her on the cheek. "Anything to keep this old Scotsman out of trouble."

  Murphy turned away and Sam's heart went out to him. It hadn't taken her long at all to determine that the relationship between the O'Rourke men was complicated, to say the least. Murphy had grown up without the loving support of a mother, and the three men—Murphy, his father and his brother—each had donned an impenetrable shield to protect himself from the pain that came with being a family.

  And yet she had seen Murphy with her daughter and his nephew, seen the easy-going way he'd handled both their tears and their laughter, felt the warmth and affection that seemed as natural to him as breathing. He would make a tremendous father someday. It was no wonder Patty had been drawn to him from the start.

  "Your burger's ready." She garnished the plate with a semi-circle of pickle rounds and a sprig of parsley, then handed it to Murphy. "Eat up. You may never see its like again once Popeye starts work here." It was a brilliant burger, if she did say so herself, with two types of cheese melted over the top, sliced red onions, and three strips of perfectly-grilled bacon.

  He forced a laugh and for an instant she saw through his gruff exterior and straight to the center of his heart.

  "Thanks, Sam," he said. "I could get used to having you around.

  Her own heart fluttered dangerously. "Sorry," she said, "but you wouldn't want to disappoint Mr. Donahue, would you?"

  Murphy was more wonderful than she'd ever imagined a man could be. To think that ten days ago they had been strangers—the footloose reporter and the earthbound mother and entrepreneur. It never should have worked between them and yet it had, beautifully! He had become a part of her life in the blink of an eye, and with each day that passed she found it increasingly difficult to remember what her life had been like before she met him.

  Life seemed brighter, happier, more filled with promise than it had since she was a teenager. Her entire family was still buzzing over the Christmas lights she'd strung in the blue spruce tree in front of her tiny house and the mistletoe and holly she'd scattered about her living room. "Don't you know it's Christmas?" she'd asked Patty when her little girl questioned the pine boughs draped across the mantel and the shimmering ornaments nestled amidst the greenery.

  And Sam didn't have to look far to discover the reason for her metamorphosis.

  Murphy.

  Sam's world lit up whenever Murphy O'Rourke entered the room. It was as simple as that.

  The delivery man showed up with that week's shipment of beer, and Murphy, hamburger in hand, went off to take care of business. Bill O'Rourke, however, stayed behind.

  "How are you feeling?" Sam asked, putting together a low-cholesterol sandwich for him. "I must say you're looking well."

  "I'm getting there," said Bill, his lean face creasing in a smile, "but I'm worried."

  "I would think that's natural after all you've been through the past couple of months."

  He waved his hand in the air between them. "Not about that. I'm worried about you."

  "Me? Why on earth would you be worried about me?" This was the happiest time of her adult life. Worry seemed as far away as the twenty-fifth century.

  He gestured toward Murphy who was laughing with the delivery man on the opposite side of the bar room. "You like him, don't you?"

  Sam, never one to mince words, nodded. "Very much."

  "He likes you, too."

  She felt her cheeks flame, the same way Patty's did. "I'm pleased."

  Bill's hazel eyes, so like Murphy's own, clouded over with sympathy. "The thing is, he won't be around forever."

  She touched Bill's forearm in a gentle warning to tread softly through treacherous waters. "Neither will I. I open my store on January first. We'll have to rearrange our schedules."

  "That's not what I'm talking about, Samantha. He's been running since the day he was born and he's not about to stop running now."

  "I understand that, Bill. I wouldn't ask that of him any more than he would ask me to abandon my catering shop." Especially not now, when she was on the brink of spreading her wings.

  Bill, however, was deep in his own thoughts, caught up in an entire web of family history. "The offer came in."

  Sam's breath caught. "I know about the Telegram." She'd met Dan Stein on one of his frequent visits down to the wilds of New Jersey to woo Murphy back to the Big City.

  "Not the Telegram, Samantha."

  "The foreign beat?" Her voice was a whisper.

  "The foreign beat." Bill patted her shoulder awkwardly. "Looks like we might be saying good-bye to our boy before we know it."

  * * *

  THAT EVENING, Sam, Caroline and Patty sat around the dinin
g room table. Newspaper clippings were scattered everywhere, along with photocopies of magazine articles. In a perfect example of bad timing, Patty had taken it upon herself to do some library research on her favorite topic: Murphy O'Rourke:

  "Isn't it wonderful?" Patty's face glowed with excitement. "He's as famous as Bruce Springsteen."

  "I wouldn't go that far," said Sam. But there was no mistaking the power of his prose. Murphy O'Rourke was a well-respected, hard-working member of the Fourth Estate.

  "Look at this." Caroline slid a photocopy of a People magazine article toward Sam. "He was the main interview in this piece on the immigration hearings."

  "And he was on Nightline," Patty sighed.

  "He's brilliant," said Caroline.

  "He's adorable," said Patty.

  "He has what it takes to be the Walter Cronkite of the print world."

  "He could be on television."

  "He could be the White House correspondent."

  "He could win a Pulitzer Prize!"

  Sam looked at her daughter and her eyes filled with tears. Murphy O'Rourke was all of those things, but the one thing he wasn't was a bartender in Rocky Hill, looking for a wife and daughter who wanted nothing more than to stay exactly where they were.

  * * *

  "YOU REALIZE my family's going to talk about this, don't you?"

  "You mean they stop eating long enough for conversation?"

  Sam laughed as she turned the Blazer into the parking lot of Quakerbridge Mall a few nights later. "We do think about food a lot, don't we?"

  "Think about it? Did you see the pile of wrappers Teddy and Frank left behind yesterday? You'll turn a profit just from your family alone."