Jan Freed - The Last Man In Texas

That’s when, according to Tim’s panicked news flash, she’d quit her job. Loudly. As in “She yelled like a fishwife.” Elizabeth. Then she’d stormed past his office, followed minutes later by Cameron, looking meek and worried. Susan and Pete had reported the same Twilight Zone sight.

Talk about role reversal. No wonder they’d freaked!

Elizabeth was not only the driving force behind new business acquisition, the lifeblood of the agency, but also a calm buffer between the boss’s notorious temper and every tochus in the place. Beyond that, she was genuinely loved by everyone, and interested in their personal lives and aspirations…though she shared very little of her own.

Rachel supposed since she’d worked here the longest—seven years and counting—she understood being asked to interpret the high drama. It was no secret she and Elizabeth had become close friends. Rachel’s co-workers had wanted reassurance that all would return to normal. Still, she wasn’t a mind reader.

A schlemiel, yes.

A psychic, no. She couldn’t even predict what her husband of fifteen years would do. So why had she told the trio not to worry, that Cameron would smooth things out? What if her instincts were wrong?

Frowning, she recalled Elizabeth whizzing through the lobby earlier with flushed cheeks and glittering eyes. Eyes that had studiously avoided Rachel’s. Eyes that could’ve been bright with unshed tears as well as fury.

Maybe Elizabeth had truly and finally had it with the brilliant mercurial Cameron Malloy. Maybe the way she looked at him when she thought no one watched—the same way Rabbi Levitz looked at the Torah on Shabbat—didn’t mean she secretly loved him. Maybe his gentler temper around her, his use of the pet name “Lizzy” when he thought other employees couldn’t hear, wasn’t a subconscious response to feelings he wouldn’t admit.

And maybe you shouldn’t kibitz in their relationship when your own marriage is no rose garden, Rachel Rosenfeld.

The beloved voice had delivered countless tender scoldings and unsolicited advice throughout Rachel’s life. Her heart squeezed.

“Mama?” she whispered.

A jangle from her telephone answered. Blushing, she glanced quickly at both hallway entrances to the lobby before picking up on the third ring. She connected a freelance photographer to the art department, dealt with a subsequent incoming call, then sank back in her chair, still embarrassed by her earlier delusion. Mama had died of a stroke three years ago.

Funny, Rachel mused, how her mother’s “meddling” used to make her crazy. Now she’d give anything to soak up all that love and wisdom. She was a schlemiel, all right. Only a fool would fail to treasure loved ones until after they were gone.

She ripped off her glasses, gathered a pinch of the broomstick silk draping her thigh and briskly rubbed the lenses. If only she hadn’t focused all her energy and attention on Ben’s schoolwork, his baseball and swimming, his upcoming Bar Mitzvah celebration—his needs and wants. They’d left her little time for Steven. And in her diligence to be a good mother, she’d neglected to be a good wife. So easy to see in retrospect.

But three months ago, when Steven had moved abruptly out of the house, needing “time and space to think,” she’d been as shocked as their sweet little boy.

She’d told no one of their separation. Not even Elizabeth.

Rachel’s vigorous rubbing slowed. And now her sweet little boy bristled with hostility. He wasn’t so little anymore, either. The last time he’d let her hug him, right after his father moved out, she’d been able to prop her chin on the crown of his shorn black hair. This morning, she’d rushed out of the kitchen as he rushed in, and they’d collided nose-to-nose.

She blinked rapidly and shoved on her glasses. Enough self-pity!

Rising, she put the phones on forward, then grabbed a bulging folder from her desktop. The agency vendor invoices wouldn’t file themselves.

The instant she entered the left hallway, her gaze jumped ahead to Elizabeth’s office. Pete and Mitch stood eavesdropping shamelessly outside her closed door. At Rachel’s sudden appearance, the men snapped to military attention, saw who she was, then resumed their straining cocked-ear poses.

Squelching a powerful desire to join them, she ducked into a large room filled with file cabinets, office supplies and two photocopy machines. What were her co-workers hearing? she wondered. Probably he was talking himself back into Elizabeth’s favor. Cameron could charm the coat off a freezing person.

But he was more likely to offer that person the coat off his own back.

Four years ago Steven, a victim of downsizing, had lost his job and insurance coverage for the whole family. Soon afterward Cameron had walked in on Rachel crying because she’d forgotten to reorder nondairy creamer for the coffee room.

Next thing she knew, he’d added not only her, but also Steven and Ben to Malloy Marketing’s group insurance policy. It had taken Steven nine demoralizing months to land a comparable management position in the oil industry, and two more for his new insurance coverage to kick in. In the meantime, his emergency appendectomy and Ben’s bout with influenza drained Rachel’s emotions, but not her family’s savings account.

There was much more to Cameron than charisma and a face to die for. He was a mensch. A good man. Though sometimes, like today, he was as big a schlemiel as she’d ever been.

Rachel moved to a long worktable against one wall and laid her folder next to the humming network laser printer. The output tray was full. A paper jam waiting to happen. She snatched up the offending sheets and began slipping each one into wall folders bearing the appropriate employee’s name.

Halfway through the stack, she scanned the top page and froze.

So much for her instincts. So much for Cameron’s legendary charisma and powers of persuasion. So much for a buffer between his temper and everyone’s tochus.

Oy!

CAMERON STARED ACROSS Lizzy’s desk, his mind struggling to process her stunning revelation.

Did not compute.

He must, indeed, be going deaf. “You’re what?”

A fiery blush belied her frosty glare. “Is my getting married so impossible to fathom?”

Damnation, the woman had a talent for twisting his words! “Did I say that? No, I did not say that.”

“Then why are you so shocked? Because my social life is obviously more ‘active’ than you thought?”

Yes! “No. Will you stop answering your own questions and let me finish?”

She pursed her mouth and examined a short unpolished fingernail.

Now what? “Look, you can’t blame me for being surprised. You’ve never talked much about your personal life. But I figured if you ever got involved with someone, you’d at least tell me.”

Her gaze sliced up. “I figured if you ever got interested in my personal life, you’d at least ask questions once in a while.”

They exchanged a righteous wounded look.

Cameron rallied first. “I respected your privacy. Besides, I thought you were completely committed to your career at Malloy Marketing.”

“You know I was. But I also want more from life than a satisfying career. Most people do. At some point in their lives, they want to meet their soul mate, settle down and raise a family. And that includes men people, no matter what they say or others think.”

She’d found her soul mate?

“Your brother Travis is a perfect example,” she continued, warming to the subject. “He’s so excited about Kara’s pregnancy he’s like a little kid waiting to open a present. But when he was single, you told me he never wanted to remarry, much less have children.”