Chapter Two: In Which Emma Suffers Multiple Disappointments

Disclaimer: All rights to the Mother-Daughter-Book-Club series belong to Heather Vogel Frederick.

I feel as though my world is crashing down around me. Literally. I've spent the past five years building a life that's mine and now Stewart Chadwick is not only in Seattle, but he's going to be working at the same newspaper, on the same articles, in the same cubicle.

Hobson is still talking to Stewart, informing him of workplace policies and what his job consists of. Then he turns sideways so he can introduce me. "Chadwick, this is Emma Hawthorne. She's your partner which means she'll be working alongside you when you write up articles and interview people."

Stewart steps forward to shake my hand and I can see he doesn't look nearly as shocked as me. "Oh, Emma, hi." He turns to Hobson. "Yeah, Emma and I go way back. We grew up in the same town and worked on the school newspaper together."

I'm surprised to see that Hobson looks, well, gleeful. He claps his hands. "Well that'll be great because that means you already have experience working with each other."

I force a smile which feels more like a grimace. "Yeah, I guess so."

Hobson claps his hands again. "All right, I'll leave you two to work things out." Glancing at the second desk in the cubicle which is covered with my stuff, he adds, "Hawthorne, you might want to make some space for Chadwick there."

"Of course," I mutter, watching his back reproachfully as he heads back to his office. Why does he like Stewart so much? He barely knows him.

Stewart and I are left in an awkward silence. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his pants and he's looks down at his shoes and I take the chance to observe him out of the corner of my eye. His blonde hair is neatly trimmed and he looks freshly shaved. A neatly pressed suit and a pair of shiny black shoes complete the professional look, a stark contrast to when I last saw him five years ago. And as much as I try to stop them, my eyes wander to his left hand. My heart does a little tap dance routine when I notice there's no ring, and I'm immediately cross with myself.

"So it's nice to see you again," Stewart finally says, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards.

"Oh, don't pretend this is some kind of happy, normal reunion," I snap, still annoyed by the fact my subconscious got excited when I noticed he wasn't married. "Why are you here anyway?"

His gray eyes widen innocently and he has the audacity to look offended. "I'm here to start my new job," he says.

"And so it's just a coincidence that you end up at Seattle working as a senior reporter with me?" I ask waspishly.

Stewart shrugs. "I needed a new job and this seemed like a good opening. Besides, I have a thing for ferry boats and Seattle has them."

"Please you totally took that from Grey's Anatomy," I snort, even though I'm feeling a tinge of nostalgia. Back when we were in college we'd make a point of watching Grey's Anatomy together every week. "So you had absolutely no idea I was working here," I continue skeptically.

"I took the job and then to see what I was getting into I bought a copy of the paper and boom, there was your column. E.J. Hawthorne," he says with that little smile on his lips again.

I frown. When did that habit start? I can't remember him doing that when we were dating.

"Fine, since you're here and clearly not going anywhere, you may as well help me with this article," I say, deciding it's not worth my time to argue with him anymore. I may as well let him help with the work load.

"Sure thing," he says, striding towards his desk. "Mind if I move this stuff?"

"I'll do it," I say crossly, and with a sweep of my arm I've gathered my bag and all the papers and put them on the floor. I then rifle through a file draw that's next to my desk and pull out a thick stack of papers in a manila folder. Dumping them in front of him I explain, "This is about that CEO who committed fraud. In there are all the statements I've collected and a rough draft of the article that's due in two days."

"Thanks," he replies stiffly and immediately begins to sort through the folder.

I watch him critically for a moment and then sit at my own desk where I begin to type up my column which is about the pros and cons of healthcare. Not very original, but something a lot of people are interested in. However, I can barely concentrate since Stewart is sitting barely two feet away. The cubicle is tiny and most of the noise from the rest of the office is muffled so I can hear everything: the rhythm of Stewart's breathing, the faint rustle of the papers, and the brush of fabric when he moves his arms. Something else that I find highly distracting is the scent of his cologne, something I remember vividly from when we were dating.

I realize I'm staring at my computer screen, not doing any work and contemplate heading to the break room to get a coffee. Before I can leave, though, Stewart turns around, holding my rough draft of the article.

"You hand write your articles?" he asks incredulously.

His tone, which I take to be condescending, rubs me the wrong way. "Yeah," I say defensively. "Is there anything wrong with that?"

"No, um nothing at all," he backpedals quickly and I can tell he's searching for an explanation. "It's just that back at my paper in New York, my editor required that we type our drafts so it would be easier for him."

"Well, you're not in New York anymore," I say coldly, staring him down with my hands on my hips. "Right now, I'm choosing to hand write my articles because it's easier for me to think things through. But if you care so much then you're welcome to type it up and email it to me."

Stewart stares at me, his mouth hanging open. I'm not surprised. I rarely speak so sharply and I'm already regretting it since I know at some point I'm going to have to apologize. Spinning on my heel, I stalk out of the cubicle and towards the break room, glowering. How can he evoke such a reaction when he's barely been here an hour?

The break room is empty and quiet, save for the humming of the vending machine. I throw myself into a chair and cover my face with my hands. What is wrong with me? Pull yourself together, Emma, I tell myself sternly. All you have to do is act professionally so it's clear that you only think of him as a coworker. Nothing more.

I groan. It's impossible: Stewart has always brought out the strongest of my emotions, both good and bad. I'm just going to have to take things one day at a time and deal with whatever comes my way.

"Tough day already?" asks a voice. "It's only nine o'clock."

I glance up. Standing over me is Imogen, the editor and a friend of mine. She's tall and thin with close cropped blonde hair and sharp blue eyes.

I give her a wry look. "Time is irrelevant to my problems."

"Well there's nothing a cup of tea won't help," she says, switching on the kettle before settling down across from me, crossing her long legs.

"You sound like my mother," I say with a chuckle before growing serious. "And I usually agree, but this time tea won't fix anything."

"I said help, not fix," Imogen corrects me. "Feel like talking about it?"

I shake my head. "Not really, but thanks for offering."

I haven't told anyone besides Jess what happened between Stewart and me five years ago that caused me to take the offer in Seattle. It's always felt too private to share, and now I have even less enthusiasm for the idea: I don't want people to think Stewart and I are starred crossed lovers or something.

Imogen shrugs easily. "Well, if you need to you know where to find me."

Sometimes it's nice to friend who'll offer to help if you need it, but doesn't pry if you don't accept it. In that way she's the opposite of Janelle. If Janelle saw me now, she'd practically be on top of me, trying to figure out what's wrong. However, they both share some similarities such as the fact they're both amazing friends and have always supported me when I needed it.

The kettle goes off, and I grab a mug from the cabinet and an Earl Grey tea bag. Pouring the hot water, I glance over at Imogen who's scanning an old newspaper that was left on a nearby table.

"Since we both know my day's terrible, let's talk about yours," I say. "Got any interesting articles?"

Imogen puts the newspaper down. "Not really. They're all just updates on things that have already been written."

"Fun," I say, only half kidding. Right now I'd take reading boring articles over going back to my cubicle and facing Stewart.

She rolls her eyes and checks her watch. "Speaking of which, I should be getting back to work. I'll see you later."

"Bye," I say, wrapping my hands around my mug.

Now that Imogen is gone there's no point in stalling anymore so I slowly head back to my cubicle.

Upon hearing my footsteps, Stewart looks away from his computer. "Listen, Emma. I'm really sorry about being so rude about handwriting thing. It was out of line."

"It's fine," I reply. "And I apologize for being so short with you earlier." The words feel like glue in my mouth. "I'm just having a bad day." Because of you, I silently add, but keep my face impassive.

"We all have off days," Stewart says offering a tentative smile. "Anyway, your handwriting is neat so I might just add on. Is that okay?"

"Sure," I say, settling myself down in my chair.

The rest of the day passes in relative peace. Stewart and I are polite to each other, keeping our conversations limited to work-related topics. When it's necessary to work in the same space, we allow a careful foot of space between us and keep eye contact to a minimum.

Still, at some points I find myself reminiscing about high school and college or wondering what he's been doing for the past five years. When I realize what I'm doing, I excuse myself and head to the bathroom where I pat my face with a wet paper towel and lecture myself sternly about professionalism.

By five o'clock, I'm more than happy to pack up my things and make a beeline for the door, comforted by the fact David will be waiting for me when I get home.

However, as I pass Hobson's office, he calls out to me. "Hawthorne! A word if you please."

I step into his office which is piled high with books and papers. He's sitting at his desk, drinking a mug of coffee.

"Yes, sir?" I ask, wondering why he called me in.

"Did you have a good day?" he asks, watching me carefully.

"Yes, sir," I reply.

"And what do you think of your new partner?"

I pause, trying to be diplomatic. "I think we have the potential to work very well together."

He snorts. "Potential?" he says sarcastically. "I'd say you work well together right now. In fact, I think you two will end up being my star duo."

"What makes you think that, sir?" I ask politely.

"Don't play dumb, Hawthorne," he says. "The two of you used to read each other's work all the time, not to mention you helped run a winning mayoral campaign."

I gape at him. "How did you know?"

"Ever Googled yourself?" he asks me. I shake my head mutely. "Type in 'Emma Hawthorne' and once you get past your articles for the Seattle Times and all the ones about you and that actor, there are only about thirty articles about Lily Wong for mayor and her talented campaign managers."

A realization dawns on me. "You knew that we knew each other. You played dumb when Stewart said that we worked on the school paper," I accuse him.

He shrugs. "Guilty. I read some of the articles. They were pretty good."

I glare at me and am about to snap at him when I remember he's my boss and is responsible for my paycheck.

"So don't screw it up with Chadwick," he warns. "Together, your articles will be top-notch."

I nod stiffly. "Very well. May I leave now?"

"Go, and be prepared to work tomorrow," he says.

I stalk out of the building fuming. Hobson knew Stewart and I worked together? And he didn't tell me in advance who my partner was?

To be fair, the rational voice in my head says, he didn't you two had a nasty break-up. He just knew you worked well together and wanted to have strong writers for his paper.

Shut up, says the angry part in me. I don't care!

Fortunately, the bus pulls up right as I get to the stop, and there's no traffic on the trip home. Unfortunately, when I step off the bus, my right foot gets submerged in an ankle deep puddle left over from this morning's rain.

Swearing, I hobble over to a bench where I check out the damage. It's obvious that my tights are ruined, but I think I might be able to salvage my shoe. I start home, wincing as my right foot squishes uncomfortably each time I take a step. Finally, I reach my building. I stumble gratefully into the lobby, waving away the doorman who comes to help me.

Stabbing the elevator button, I wait impatiently for the doors to slide open, eager to see David. However, when I finally get upstairs, my apartment is empty. Frowning, I wonder if he's running late. It's not until after I shower and change into casual clothes that I notice the red light flashing on my landline. It's a new voicemail from David.

"Hey, Em. I tried calling your cell, but I guess it's on silent or something. Anyway, I know we were supposed to have dinner tonight, but I need to stay late to re-shoot some scenes for the movie. You know the movie biz. Anyway, I'm sorry that I have to cancel, but I'll make it up to you tomorrow. Love you."

I check my cell phone and sure enough there are three missed calls from David along with several work emails.

I sigh, disappointment weighing me down. First I find out that Stewart is my new partner, then Hobson reveals that he hired Stewart on purpose, and then I stepped in that puddle. And now David, the one person I counted on to make me feel better, has to work late? How could this day get any worse?

A/N: So I've decided to continue with this story for two reasons. First, I really like writing about Emma and second, it's a different kind of story than my other ones.

Just so people know, Emma and Stewart, although the characters we know, might be acting OOC. This is a deliberate choice: they've grown up and aren't the teenagers they are in the books. They have a different outlook on life and have to deal with new situations.

Anyway, I got a lot of positive feedback on the first chapter which I'm incredibly grateful for.

Guest: I'm definitely going to be trying to update more often than I did for Returning Home, especially if there's a cliff hanger. Thank you for your support!

Dahlia Ocean Star: Awww, thank you so much J You don't know how much that means to me to hear that. I'll be starting another story when I post of a few more chapters on this one and get some more votes on my poll.

Dess4ever: Thanks! I appreciate the fact you review every chapter.

Rebel Belle: I can't wait to read your Stemma story. You actually inspired me to start this one so thank you J Do you have a Fanfic account so I know what to look out for? I agree—anything that involves Stemma is great (they're one of my OTPs). Thank you so much for your review!

Keep the reviews coming, guys! I love reading them and knowing that people are enjoying my work!