There's Something About Christmas. Debbie Macomber

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       Chapter Two

      The first thing Emma did when she got home from the newspaper office that evening was check her medicine cabinet. Her relief knew no bounds when she found six tablets rattling around in the dark-brown prescription bottle. A few months earlier, she’d twisted her knee playing volleyball. Phoebe had conned her into joining a league, but that was another story entirely. The attending physician in the urgent-care facility had given her a powerful muscle relaxant. Her knee had continued to hurt, as Emma vividly recalled, but thirty minutes after she’d swallowed the capsule, she couldn’t have cared less. All was right with the world—for a couple of hours, anyway.

      Knowing how potent those pills were, she’d hoarded them for a situation such as the one she now faced with Oliver Hamilton. For the sake of her career she’d accompany him in his scary little plane, but it went without saying that Emma would need help of the medicinal variety. If she was going to be flying with Oliver Hamilton she had to have something to numb her overwhelming fear at the prospect of getting into that plane. She clutched the bottle and took a deep breath. For the sake of her craft and her career, she’d do it.

      Emma simply couldn’t survive the trip without those pills. One tablet to get her to Yakima and another to get her home. That left four, exactly the number she needed for the two additional trips.

      Thankfully, Phoebe had agreed to drive her to the airport and then pick her up at the end of the day. Emma was grateful—more than grateful. Once she’d taken the muscle relaxant, she’d be in no condition to drive.

      At six-thirty the next morning, Phoebe pulled up in front of the apartment complex. Carrying her traveling coffee mug, along with her leather briefcase, Emma hurried out her door to meet her friend.

      “Don’t you look nice,” her landlord said, startling her. She was sure that was a smirk on his face.

      Under normal circumstances Emma would’ve taken offense, but in her present state of mind all she could do was smile wanly.

      Mr. Scott leaned against his door, this morning’s Examiner in his hand. He was middle-aged with a beer belly and a slovenly manner, and frankly, Emma was surprised to find him awake this early in the day. After moving into the apartment, she’d stayed clear of her landlord, who seemed to be…well, the word sleazy came to mind. He didn’t like animals, especially cats and dogs, and in her opinion that said a lot about his personality, all of it negative.

      “Good morning, Mr. Scott,” Emma greeted him, making a determined effort not to slur her words. The pill had already started to take effect and, despite the presence of the loathsome Bud Scott, the world had never seemed a brighter or more pleasant place.

      “It’s a bit nippy this morning, isn’t it?” he asked.

      Emma nodded, although if it was chilly she hadn’t noticed. In her current haze nothing seemed hot or cold. From experience she knew that in three or four hours the pill would have lost most of its effect and she’d be clear-headed enough for what she hoped would be an intelligent interview.

      “I don’t suppose you know anyone who needs an apartment,” Bud Scott muttered. He narrowed his gaze as if he suspected she wasn’t sober—which was a bit much considering she rarely saw him without a can of Milwaukee’s finest.

      “I thought every unit in the complex was rented,” Emma said.

      “The lady in 12B had a cat.” He scowled as he spoke.

      He’d underlined the No Pets clause a number of times when Emma signed her rental agreement. Any infraction, he’d informed her, would result in a one-week notice of eviction.

      “Mrs. Murphy?” Emma cried when she realized who lived in 12B, two doors down from her. The sweet older lady was a recent widow and missed her husband dreadfully. “You couldn’t have made an exception?” she asked. “Mrs. Murphy is so lonely and—”