Sugarplum Homecoming. Линда Гуднайт
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for her, and of Sydney, kept her straight and sober.
As she parked at an angle in front of the newspaper office, her hands trembled against the steering wheel. She took out her phone and punched in the speed dial number to Amber, her counselor at the mission in Nashville. After a brief conversation and prayer, she stepped out of the car with renewed courage. She’d come too far to turn back now.
Assailed by the scent of bacon, she spotted Marvin’s diner, a familiar old haunt tucked in between the dry cleaners and an antique shop across the street from the Gazette, and smiled. Not everything in Whisper Falls had been bad. She could do this.
Head up, shoulders back, she marched through the half-windowed door into the Gazette. Immediately, the wonderful bacon smell gave way to printer’s ink and old-fashioned type set that harkened to days gone by. The Gazette, it seemed, had yet to enter the full digital age.
“Morning. May I help you?” A short, potbellied man with sleeves rolled back on thick arms and wearing a backward baseball cap rounded a counter. He was probably in his early forties.
“I have an appointment with Joshua Kendle.”
“You must be Lana.” He scraped a hand down the leg of his faded jeans. “I’m Joshua. Welcome. You ready to get to work?”
Her shoulders relaxed at his affable warmth. “Ready. What do I do first?”
“Come meet the rest of the staff and then I’ll show you the ropes.” He took her through the back where several cubicles were set up with computers and introduced her to the small group of employees, including his wife, a heavyset blonde with big hair and a gold print scarf. “Hannah is the brains of the outfit. She handles the classifieds and subscriptions.”
As Lana met the others, she relaxed more. No one here seemed to remember the awful Ross girls, or if they did, they didn’t care.
After the introductions, Joshua led the way to his desk crammed inside a tiny, messy office and got down to business, explaining Lana’s duties and her pay-per-article salary. “Hannah gathers an events list from the schools, churches, civic groups, and posts it on the computer and out front on the bulletin board. You can access it yourself from home if you want. Attend as many of them as you can, write up a report, email it to me. I’ll edit and proof and let you know if I have questions. Pick up your check every other Friday.”
“That sounds too easy.” Even if she hadn’t written a full page of anything other than songs in years.
“You grew up in Whisper Falls, right?”
How did he know that? He wasn’t a native. “Except it was Millerville back then.”
“Your local knowledge should come in handy.” Joshua didn’t appear to be in a rush, but he moved and spoke quickly as if always on a deadline. Which in fact, he probably was. “This job will put you in contact with practically everyone in town at some point. It is a great way for you to get reacquainted.”
She’d considered that, although she hadn’t seen it as an advantage. Joshua might know she was a Whisper Falls native but apparently he knew little else. Thank goodness.
“You got a camera?”
“Only an old used one. The pictures are pretty good.”
“That’ll work. Simon is our staff photographer but he can’t be everywhere. I use photos from anyone who’ll send them in, so if you see something picture-worthy, take a shot, add a caption and email it to me. I’ll go from there. If I use it, you get paid.”
Awesome. “Okay.”
“Good.” He dug around in the mess of papers on his desk and pulled out a sheet. “Here you go. Friday night. Football play-offs. Give the kids a good write-up, mention lots of names so we can keep the mamas and daddies buying newspapers.”
She wanted to ask how she was supposed to know who was who but held back. She needed this job. Any show of uncertainty on her part could kill the deal before she had a chance.
“I need the article by Saturday morning to make the Sunday edition. Can you do it?”
The offer, like the man, came fast and immediate. She hadn’t been as ready as she’d let on. She’d planned to take some time and study back editions of the Gazette, to check out library books on writing.
But Joshua was waiting for her answer now.
She stuck her phone in her back pocket and tossed her hair with a fake smile. “Sure. First thing Saturday morning.”
She’d write that article if she had to sit up all Friday night to do it.
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