Eva's Deadline Page 4
Finally, Mark said, “I know you’re all upset about this turn of events. But I gotta say again, it’s what Seb wanted. He must’ve had his reasons. We’ll welcome Eva and do the best we can while she’s here. For Seb’s sake. For the Herald’s sake. Can I have your cooperation on that?”
The staff nodded their agreement.
When the meeting was over, Mark rinsed out his mug and hung it on the mug tree. Maybe Eva’s disappointment at being her father’s second choice to take over the business was the reason for her reluctance to accept the terms of his will.
Still, something told him there was more to the matter than that. Would he ever know? Judging by their relationship so far, he couldn’t see them becoming friends, much less confidants.
In the meantime, he must be careful to live up to the standards he’d set for the others. It wouldn’t be easy. As coeditors with different viewpoints, he and Eva were sure to clash over how to run the paper. Yes, the coming year promised to be challenging indeed.
*
“IS THIS ALL?” Eva glanced around the apartment’s combination living, kitchen and dining rooms, then shifted her gaze to Mrs. Halsey, the building’s owner.
Mrs. Halsey frowned and brushed a lock of gray hair from her forehead. “I’m not sure what you mean. What more do you want?”
“It’s just so…small.”
The apartment was on a corner of the town’s Main Street. It was on the second floor, above a mini-mall, with stores and antiques shops geared for the tourist trade—what there was of it in Willow Beach.
“Don’t forget the great view of the ocean.” Mrs. Halsey gestured to the picture window.
Eva walked over and gazed out. Mrs. Halsey had a point. From here she could see the ocean in all its glory, waves breaking on the sand, and she could even make out a couple of clam diggers trudging along with their buckets and shovels.
Still, she much preferred the view of Elliott Bay from her fifth-floor Seattle condo. Fortunately, she’d be able to return to the condo when her exile here was over. Her leaving coincided with her coworker Susan Jensen’s need for new living quarters, and Susan had happily sublet Eva’s unit. Plus, Susan said Eva could stay there whenever she returned to Seattle, something she looked forward to. She was homesick already.
“And this apartment is furnished,” Mrs. Halsey said. “You won’t find many furnished places around here.”
Eva tore her gaze away from the view to focus on the lumpy maroon sofa and two stiff-looking chairs upholstered in 1950s lime-green. Once again, she thought of her condo, with the beige sectional couch she’d purchased from Sigma Design, the fashionable furniture store on Queen Anne Hill.
Still, Mrs. Halsey was right about the dearth of furnished apartments in Willow Beach; Eva had searched all the ads she could find, and this was the only one offered.
There was always her father’s house, which was now hers. She could live there until she finished cleaning out the place and put it on the market. She shook her head. Better to stay here in this dingy rental than to be surrounded by all the painful memories.
She turned to Mrs. Halsey. “All right, I’ll take the apartment.”
Mrs. Halsey beamed, then opened a file folder she’d been carrying under one arm. Extracting two sheets of paper, she handed them to Eva. “Here’s the lease. First and last month’s rent due up front.”
“Of course.” Eva scanned the lease, then signed her name to both copies. She gave one to Mrs. Halsey.
The older woman squinted at her signature. “Eva Sinclair.” She looked up. “Are you Seb’s daughter? Heard you were in town.”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“Had to miss his memorial. Had to take care of my sick mother in Morganville.” She slowly shook her head. “I’m sorry for your loss. Seb was a wonderful man.”
“Thank you,” Eva said. Was there anyone in this town who did not think her father wonderful?
“You’re here to take over the Herald, then?” Mrs. Halsey tucked the lease into her file folder.
“Uh, no, just helping out for a while.”
“Good to keep it in the family.”
“Yes, well, I’d better start unloading my car,” Eva said hurriedly, not wanting to continue a discussion that made her uncomfortable. She stuffed her copy of the lease into her purse and headed for the door.
*
TWO DAYS LATER, Eva sat at the kitchen table in her new apartment, lingering over toast and coffee and putting off reporting for work at the Herald. When she could delay no longer, she stacked her dishes in the sink and collected her purse from the bedroom. On the way out, she glanced in the mirror on the bathroom door. She smoothed her chocolate-brown top over her beige slacks and tucked an errant lock of hair into the faux-pearl clip at her nape. At home, she would’ve worn a skirt, but this outfit ought to do just fine for the Herald. From what she’d seen of the staff, she doubted the newspaper had a dress code.
Leaving her car in its designated spot behind her apartment, she headed for the Herald’s office on foot.
Willow Beach hadn’t changed much, not the stores anyway. The window of Barnett’s Drugstore still displayed the same duck holding a placard that said Get Your Prescriptions Filled Here. And she would swear Macon’s Diner sported the very same café curtains in what was still an ugly black-and-white checker pattern. The Bon Ton Bakery still kept its door open, allowing enticing aromas to drift along the sidewalk.
Two blocks later, she arrived at the Herald, located between The Book Nook and Mac’s Barbershop. As she placed her hand on the doorknob, her fingers froze. Then, filling her lungs with a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped inside.
The receptionist, whose name Eva remembered was April Hensen, looked up from her desk situated behind a semicircular counter. She had pale blond hair as fine as corn silk and high cheekbones any model would envy. Unfortunately, her checkered, sleeveless blouse was more appropriate for housecleaning than for meeting the public. Eva was right. The Herald had no dress code.
She shut the door and crossed the room. “Good morning, April.” She hoped her cheerful tone sounded authentic rather than forced.
“Morning,” April said in a flat voice. “I’ll let Mark know you’re here.” She picked up the telephone and punched a button. “He’ll be right out,” she said when she’d hung up. She turned back to her computer.
Feeling more like a customer than the new coeditor, Eva gazed around. She hadn’t taken much time to survey the place the night she’d arrived. The shock of Seb’s death had preoccupied her.
The reception area was as drab as it had always been, with half a dozen molded plastic chairs bracketed by two small tables. In one corner, a terra-cotta tub held a tired-looking philodendron. She thought of Seattle’s Best’s reception area and its elegant black leather sofa, matching side chairs and glasstopped coffee table with its bouquet of fresh flowers provided weekly by a local florist.
Spotting a stack of the latest edition of the Herald on the counter, she walked over and picked up a copy. Tabloid-size, with Willow Beach Herald printed in big letters across the top, the paper had at the most ten or twelve pages. Compared to Seattle’s Best, a publication of at least fifty glossy pages, many in color, the Herald seemed hopelessly dull.
At the sound of footsteps, she turned to see Mark walking down the hallway. He wore his usual jeans and short-sleeved shirt—today’s was blue—that showed off his tanned, muscular arms.
Mark’s long-legged stride quickly brought him to her side. She thought he was going to reach out and shake her hand, and she braced herself for his touch. But he rested his hands on his slim hips and let his gaze sweep over her.
“Looks like you’re all ready to go to work.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” she said with the same forced cheerfulness she’d used on April. She had the feeling she’d be calling on that voice a lot in the coming days.
“Right. First, though, we have a little surprise for you.”
“Don’t look so worried,” he said with an easy grin. “It’s a nice surprise. In the staff room. You’ll see.” He glanced over his shoulder at April. “C’mon, April. You, too.”
April frowned. “I need to be here to answer the phone.”
“Did you forget about the extension in the staff room?”
“Oh, all right.”
April stalked around her desk, arms hugging her slender waist, lower lip thrust out, and fell into step behind Eva as Mark led the way. Her flip-flops slapped on the tiles as she shuffled along.
Mark took them down the hallway, past the staff’s cubicles—all empty, Eva noticed—to the employees’ lounge. A yellow banner stretched across the ceiling. Welcome, Eva! proclaimed the bold red letters.
Eva stared. She hadn’t expected anything like this on her first day. Unexpectedly, she choked up. Were they really welcoming her? Did they really want her to be here?
Several tables had been pushed together to make a large square. In the center sat a tray of doughnuts and a stack of red paper plates and yellow napkins. The scent of fresh-brewed coffee filled the air.
“I think you know everyone.” Mark gestured to the three people standing near the tables.
“I do. You’re Cody.” She nodded at the tall twentysomething man wearing a T-shirt bearing the Herald’s logo and then turned to a stocky dark-haired man. “Bernie, in Advertising, right?” Bernie nodded. “And of course I know you, Dora Winters. You’ve been Dad’s circulation manager forever.”
She focused on the gray-haired woman, who barely came up to Bernie’s shoulder. The yellow tote she clutched had knitting needles sticking out the top. “Still knitting, I see. How many scarves have you done?”
Dora smiled. “Too many to count. Good to see you again, Eva.”
“Have a seat and dig into the doughnuts.” Mark strode to the table and pulled out a chair, motioning to Eva. “Bon Ton Bakery’s best. April picked them out. She’s our official doughnut buyer. Aren’t you, April?”
April scowled. “If you say so.”
Ignoring the ill-humored response, Mark pointed to the chair. “Come on, Eva. Sit and enjoy.”
Eva had no desire to add any food to her already queasy stomach, but she dutifully sat. Mark picked up the plate of doughnuts and held it out. She selected one with white icing and sprinkles. He crossed the room to the coffeemaker and picked up a mug. “You take anything in your coffee?” he asked over his shoulder.
“Black is fine.”
At home, she’d have stopped on her way to work to buy her favorite hazelnut latte. But she wasn’t at home. She was in Willow Beach having coffee and doughnuts with her new staff. With the possible exception of Dora Winters, a staff that obviously wasn’t any happier about her being here than she was.
Dora sat across from Eva and began adding stitches to her scarf. Bernie grabbed a mug that said World’s Greatest Husband and stood behind Mark at the coffee urn. Cody pulled out his phone and studied the screen. April heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes.
Mark brought Eva’s coffee and one for himself. Bernie joined them, then Cody and finally April, who sat as far away from Eva as she could.
Eva had to give Mark credit for trying to build a conversation, but each attempt drifted off into uncomfortable silence. She nibbled her doughnut and sipped her coffee.
Finally Cody looked at his wristwatch, and his eyes widened. “Hey, I’ve got a shoot scheduled. I need to get going.” He grabbed his camera, jumped up and, with long-legged strides, headed for the door.
Chair legs scraped the tile floor as the others mumbled their excuses and fell in behind Cody. They disappeared out the door and down the hallway.
Eva glanced up at the banner. So much for a welcome. “Well, you tried,” she said to Mark, forgetting to use her cheerful voice and resorting to sarcasm.
Mark rubbed the back of his neck. “They’ll loosen up when they get to know you.” He drained his coffee cup. “We’d better get you set up with an office.”
“Right.” Eva stood and carried her cup to the sink. This was going to be a long day.
CHAPTER FOUR
“THIS IS WHERE I hang out.” Mark pointed to the open doorway of a small office near the back of the building. He nodded at an adjacent closed door. “You can have this office.” He stepped forward and put a hand on the knob.
“Wait,” Eva said. “Isn’t that my father’s?”
“Yeah, it is…was.”
Eva raised both hands. “No. No way am I going to use his office. Why don’t you take his and I’ll take yours?”
Mark frowned. “Why should I move, when you could just as well use his?”
Eva shook her head. “You’re not hearing me. I said no.”
They glared at each other.
Eva’s heart thudded, but she wasn’t going to back down. She didn’t belong in that office. She would never belong there. A lump rose in her throat.
She swallowed and tried again. “Why don’t you want to take my father’s office now? You’ll eventually be there anyway. Once I’m gone, you’ll be on your own here.”
“We don’t know that for sure,” Mark said.
“That still doesn’t explain why you don’t want to move into his office now.”
“You haven’t given me a reason why you won’t take it,” Mark pointed out.
No, and she wouldn’t, either. Eva expelled an exasperated breath. “We’re going around in circles.”
“It’s his or a corner of mine.”
“What about the broom closet?”
“We don’t have one.”
“We do, too. I remember one down that way.” She pointed to where the hallway angled off to the right.
Mark jutted out his chin. “Don’t be ridiculous. The paper’s editor working out of the broom closet?”
“Works for me.”
Mark shook his head. “You are something else.”
Neither said anything. Mark stared at the floor. Eva crossed her arms and tapped her foot. In one of the cubicles, a phone jangled. Mark finally looked up. “Okay, there is one other possible place for you. We have an extra cubicle that freelancers use. You can park there.”
“Where will the freelancers work?”
“I’ll fix up a corner of Seb’s office. Somebody will get some use out of it.”
“All right.”
Mark led her down the hall to the cubicle. Eva peered at it. About half the size of the one she had at Seattle’s Best, it contained a desk with a computer and a phone and a two-drawer file cabinet. “Pretty basic, isn’t it?”
Mark shrugged. “You had your choice.”
“Okay, now that I have a place to park, as you put it, what am I supposed to do?”
“We need to discuss that. Come on into my office.”
Mark’s office was considerably larger than the cubicles but as simply furnished, with the exception of a high-backed black vinyl desk chair. Her father had had a chair just like that, she remembered. A worktable near the window held a stack of file folders and several books.
He directed Eva to a straight chair on the other side of his desk and then sank into his chair, swiveling around to face her. He picked up a copy of the Herald lying on the desktop. “Seen our latest issue?”
“I glanced at it when I first came in, but I haven’t read it.”
“Don’t suppose you’ve seen any back issues, either.” He picked up a thick file folder.
“Not a one.”
“Didn’t think so.” He slid the newspaper and the folder in her direction. “Take a look. I think you’ll find the paper has changed a lot since you worked here.”
Eva laced her fingers together in her lap and, with studied patience, said, “I never worked here. I helped out summers when I was in high school. Opening the mail, mostly.”
Mark shrugged dismissively. “Whatever.”
Eva picked up the paper. She turned the pages, scannin
g the headlines: “Local School Board Loses Longtime Member,” “Facts About Home Buying,” “Traffic Increase Prompts Study.”
Bor-ing. Aloud, she said, “Looks like quite a variety of articles.”
“News articles. The Herald reports important happenings around town.”
She met his stern gaze. “What are you trying to say, Mark? That what I write at Seattle’s Best isn’t news? What did you call my writing when we were in Lawrence’s office? ‘Fluff’ pieces?”
“A publication like Seattle’s Best has its place.”
“But obviously a less prestigious place than a newspaper like the Herald.”
Mark shook his head. “I’m not trying to pick a fight. I just wanted to make our mission clear.”
“Trust me, you have,” she said crisply.
Mark cleared his throat. “Getting back to your role here, I figured the closest to what you’ve been writing would be the Our Town column. Notices of club meetings, food drives, activities at the senior center, that sort of thing.”
“Who’s been doing that up to now?”
“One of our freelancers. A sweet lady named June Baker. She was very disappointed when I told her we wouldn’t be needing her anymore.”
“I don’t want to take anyone’s job. Isn’t there something else I can do?”
“Besides the Our Town column? You can help me with the overall layout and editing. And I’m sure we’ll find some other tasks to keep you busy.”
Eva raised an eyebrow. “So that’s the main objective—keeping me busy?”
Mark ran a hand through his hair. “Come on, Eva. This is tough for both of us. You’ve given me the impression you don’t want to become involved while you’re here, that you’re only marking time until your year is over.” He studied her closely. “Am I off base on that?”
Eva looked away. “No, you’re not.”
“I’m trying to make the year as easy for you as I can. You want some other assignment, okay, you pick it.”
“Never mind,” she said. “I’ll do the column.”
They spent the next few minutes going over various routines and procedures. At last, Mark leaned back and said, “That about covers it. Any questions?”