Cupid's Christmas

Cupid's Christmas by Bette Lee Crosby

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Authors: Bette Lee Crosby
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see,” he said, but I’ll get back to you within the next two weeks.
    When Lindsay left the building, she sat in her car for almost ten minutes before she switched the ignition on. She was weighing the pros and cons of her interview. He seemed to like her that was a plus. She’d gone to Rutgers; that was another plus. He’d liked her resume and that was definitely a plus. The possibility that he might call some of the companies and ask if she’d done those things was a very big minus, as was the fact that he was seeing other candidates.
    Lindsay drove home with uncertainty riding on her shoulders.
     

Cupid…A Change of Plans
     
    T he day after Lindsay’s interview, she took to carrying her cell phone around in her pocket, it went to the bathroom with her, it sat on the dinner table and although there was not even the slightest chance Jack Morrissey would call in the middle of the night, she slept with it held in her hand. She did that for seven days, then on the eighth day, she mistakenly left it on the breakfast table when she went upstairs to brush her teeth.
    When the phone rang, Eleanor looked at it and hesitated. Her relationship with Lindsay was tenuous at best, so she had to wonder which would be the lesser of evils—answering the phone could be viewed as an invasion of privacy, yet she knew Lindsay had been nervously awaiting the call. The phone rang a second time—maybe she could grab the phone, run up the stairs and hand it to Lindsay before it stopped ringing—probably not. The arthritis in her knee forced her to take the stairs one at a time—slowly. The phone rang a third time. It was now or never, she had to make a decision and she had to make it fast.  On the fourth ring Eleanor nervously lifted the phone from the table, pressed her finger to the call icon and said “hello.”
    “Lindsay Gray?” the caller asked.
    “No,” she answered, “but hold on and I’ll get Lindsay.”
    With the phone in her hand, Eleanor climbed the stairs as fast as her knee would allow and then rapped on the bathroom door. Lindsay knew who it was by the soft tap-tap-tap. When her father rapped on the door it was a loud knuckle knock, Eleanor’s was soft like a kitten scratching to come in. “I’m busy,” Lindsay garbled through a mouthful of toothpaste.
    “Your phone rang and I thought you might be waiting for this call…” Eleanor said.
    Lindsay’s hands dropped to her pockets, she felt for the cell phone, but it wasn’t there. Spitting a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink and not bothering to rinse, Lindsay opened the door and snatched the phone from Eleanor’s hand. 
    “This is Lindsay Gray,” she said in a somewhat gritty voice.
    “Morrissey here.” Using an efficiency of words, Jack Morrissey went on to tell Lindsay she had gotten the job. He said nothing about checking her references, but did mention that one of Rutgers’ new recruits had pulled a tendon. “Out for at least a month,” he said. He went on to explain that Lindsay was to report to the Personnel Department to fill out the insurance forms at nine o’clock on January third. After that he said goodbye, wished her a Merry Christmas and hung up.
    When the line snapped off, Lindsay, ignoring the toothpaste grit stuck to her lips kissed Eleanor’s cheek. “I got it,” she sang out, “I got the job, I got the job!” She grabbed onto Eleanor’s hands and danced her around until she remembered she wasn’t all that fond of the woman. Lindsay stopped suddenly and said, “I’m sorry. I guess hearing that I’d got the job made me so excited…”
    “That’s quite all right,” Eleanor smiled, “I rather enjoyed it myself.” The arthritic knee that had been troubling her for almost two weeks seemed somehow better.
     
    That evening Lindsay’s new job was the main topic of conversation at the dinner table. When she spoke of it her eyes twinkled. She told of the plush carpet, the numerous cubicles, the art decorating the

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