Holiday Kisses. Gwynne Forster

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      “That’s remarkable. I don’t know of another private citizen who’s made such a gesture. Was this among your plans while you studied dentistry?” He held his breath, hoping that he’d given her a question that would enable her to open up and reveal herself to the viewers.

      “Not specifically. But I spent a lot of thought on the most effective way that I could give something to the community in which I earn my livelihood. I had wanted to spend one afternoon a week at a senior citizen center, but I couldn’t make the necessary connections. I suppose I wanted results too quickly.”

      “I imagine you’ll have more than you can handle on Thursday afternoons.”

      “Treatment is by appointment. I require that the children get follow-up exams. All patients should have follow-up care. Dental surgery is surgery. Just because a doctor doesn’t use a scalpel doesn’t mean that aftercare isn’t essential,” she said, looking him in the eye with a cool and impersonal expression on her face.

      After they talked for fourteen of the allotted fifteen minutes, he stood and presented her with the plaque. “Thank you, Mr. Jackson. I’m honored to have been chosen for this award.” She extended her hand for a shake. “Goodbye.”

      “Goodbye, Doctor Moran. Thank you for coming.” She had flawless manners, he thought, and he felt as if he’d just had a blast of sleet in the face while trudging against the wind in a winter storm.

      He reminded himself that when he sat down again he would still be facing the camera and that he should keep his reactions to himself. But that was easier said than done. Neither by word nor action did she let on that they’d met before. He had expected her to indicate that she was his dentist or at least to say it’s nice to see you again. But, oh no. The lady had cloaked herself in a thick layer of professional ice and stuck to the point. She looked as feminine and sexy as he remembered, but that was as far as it went.

      He completed the program and went to his office. Sitting at his desk, he reached for a candy bar and unwrapped it. Damn! She’d just showed him that she was as expert as he at giving the brush-off. He wasn’t frivolous enough to go after her for the sport of paying her back. Besides, as he’d just discovered, he wasn’t immune to her. He saw a lot in her that he liked, but he didn’t have time for a relationship. He put his heart and soul into whatever he did, so he’d placed that part of his life on hold while he drove toward his goal. But Kisha Moran was definitely getting his attention.

      He picked up his copy of the station’s daily journal and glanced through it while he munched on the candy. Suddenly, he sat bolt upright. The six o’clock local news anchor would be moving to a managerial post, and the job was up for grabs. He put aside the candy and typed a note to the station manager, giving his credentials and stating that he believed he was the best person for the post. It was not a network position, but six o’clock anchor beat five o’clock in status and seven was even better than six. Telling himself to put his best effort on the table, he got busy editing material that he had planned to air the following week and when he went on the air that evening, he presented his program on Baltimore’s homeless and the rate at which their numbers were swelling.

      At the end of the program, viewers’ calls jammed the station’s telephone lines, and he knew he’d done the right thing. Still, three days passed before he received a call from his superiors.

      “Come in, Craig, and have a seat,” Milt Sardon, the station’s manager said. “I have your application here, and I’ve given this a lot of thought.” Those words sent chills down Craig’s back, but he didn’t flinch.

      “I have to tell you that I never thought you capable of the kind of warm repartee in front of a camera that would make you a good ad-lib mixer with your on-camera colleagues or when conducting interviews. But seeing you sit on the ground beside those homeless people and talk with them as if you were one of them moved me. And your interview with that dental surgeon was an eye-opener. You displayed a lot of warmth and caring, and your viewers could see that. Although you asked her some tough questions, you wanted her to make a good impression.

      “We think you deserve to anchor the six o’clock news. Congratulations. I’m expecting great things from you in the years to come.”

      He resisted letting out a long breath. “Thank you, Milt. I’ll do my best.”

      “That will be good enough,” Sardon said. “The office on the sixth floor is much larger and has a better view. I’ll have your things moved up there.” They shook hands, and Craig walked out into the hallway where, at last, he could let out a long breath of pent-up anxiety.