In This Moment

Chapter Six

Flipping his keys in his hand, Graham strode to the front door of the Gazette. For once, he actually looked forward to work, which hadn’t been the case since further back than he could recall. Small newspaper, no hard-hitting headliners, spending most of the hours alone at his desk while his stomach ate itself in worry over the paper tanking.

Rebecca had changed all that with one interview. He hadn’t minded getting out of bed today. There was no telling if her ideas would be fruitful, but at least they were trying.

Wait…

He paused, backtracked, and stood on the sidewalk in front of the display window. Birds chirped and a fresh, humid breeze blew across his skin, smelling faintly of the river on the outskirts of town, while he stared stupidly at the window.

When had she done this? Last night, the only things Rebecca had out were the typewriter and the birdcage. An empty birdcage, that now had a yellow canary inside it, swinging merrily. It hung from the center of the display window. A little laminated nameplate on the bottom of the cage said, “Plucky II.” To the left, on the sill, was a child’s wooden chair, and on the seat, an old fedora hat with a “Press” tag on the band. Two small planters with something leafy flanked the chair. She’d placed the typewriter under the birdcage with a pair of folded reading glasses. And to the right? Well, she’d found a use for the seventh poster frame. The top of the image had the Gazette’s logo with the year of establishment and website. Below that, a picture of Gunner with the title of owner, Graham’s photo as editor, her picture as journalist, and just Joan and Jefferson’s titles with no pictures. She’d also included all of their work email addresses and the newspaper’s general inquiry email. The frame sat in one of the many individual book stands that had been in the office closet, the poster easily seen and read from the sidewalk.

Damn, but it looked great. It drew the eye, was well balanced, and fit a newspaper theme. He had a feeling townsfolk and tourists would no longer stroll by, uninterested in the storefront. All because of a few bucks and a crafty woman.

Shaking his head, he let himself inside, and the scent of freshly brewed coffee lofted throughout the room.

But they didn’t have a coffee maker.

Check that. They did now.

Next to where they’d put the wingback chairs last night was a small table where she’d set one of those machines that brewed by the cup. Styrofoam cups were stacked beside it, and a wire rack of pods, as well as a bottle of powdered creamer and a bowl of sugar packets.

The light was on in his office.

He opened his mouth to call for Rebecca, but magazine stands in the center of the room caught his attention before he could. She’d arranged them back to back. All the frames she’d bought yesterday were exhibited with various copies of newspaper clippings inside. A laminated sign on top of the rack showed the price of the framed prints.

So, she’d not only set up the front window, a coffee counter, and the racks, but she’d copied and printed old headlines and framed them. Just when, exactly, had she shown up for work this morning? Hell, he was thirty minutes early.

He glanced around, wondering what else she’d done, and could only laugh. The glass display counter. She’d finished that, too. Walking closer, he found several more of the individual book stands from the closet holding old newspapers in clear protection plastic. She even had a small notebook and pencil next to each with the original year of print. Their own showcase of the Gazette’s history.

Feet shuffled the floor.

He turned around.

Rebecca entered the newsroom from his office carrying two boxes, and did a double-take. “Oh good, you’re here.”

“Yep. Looks like you haven’t left.” He hurried to take the boxes off her hands, setting them by a stack she’d obviously been accumulating in his absence. “When the hell did you get all this done?”

“I came in early. It didn’t take long.” She waved her hand like she hadn’t single-handedly revamped the whole office. In a day. “Dorothy said she’d be here at nine. Figured I’d bring these down for her to start copying.”

“Uh huh.” Lookie there. Someone had whooped him with the dumbass bat. “I like the front display window.”

“Thanks.”

“And the coffee station.”

“Thanks. I bought that for Gammy two Christmases ago, but she never took it out of the box. She preferred a regular coffeemaker. You can’t have a legit newsroom without coffee.”

“Word. The magazine rack with frames is cool.”

“Thanks.”

“And the display counter. Very creative.”

“Thanks. Once I got going, I couldn’t quit.” She huffed a laugh. “Thought up a lot of ideas after we left and I—”

“How much caffeine have you consumed?” Should he be concerned? She looked fine. Blonde strands in a high ponytail, light cosmetics, a green top with black leggings. Better than fine, really. She was gorgeous. Huge blue eyes alight with determination, pouty pink mouth smiling, cheeks flushed in excitement…

“Last night or this morning?”

“What?” He really, really wanted to kiss her. The sensation came out of nowhere and struck him square between the eyes. She smelled like honeysuckle right off the vine. Her perfume or bath product or whatever. It was both lightly refreshing and erringly intoxicating. He hadn’t noticed it before now, but damn if he never wanted to breathe anything else.

“Never mind.” She laughed. “I’m only on my second cup.”

Cup? That’s right. They’d been discussing caffeine. He needed way more of it.

“Well, it looks great. I’m speechless.” For more reasons than redecorating.

“I appreciate that. Thank you. If you don’t like something, just let me know.”

He doubted that would happen. “I sure will.” She’d knocked out quite a few things on their list for today. “What’s the plan, Obi-Wan?”

The canary chirped quietly in the background.

“Well,” she said through a sigh, “I figured we’d let Dorothy and Scarlett copy the headlines or various parts of the newspapers. They can bag and board them for the boxes to list for sale. I was going to work on the website and building an email list.”

He nodded. “I need to get tomorrow’s paper ready to go to print, but if we’re announcing the changes in Friday’s edition, we should work on that.”

“Sounds good. Have you talked to Joan and Jefferson?”

Damn. “No. I’ll call them now.”

“See if Joan can do a quick product review and ask Jefferson if he can write up an article on the high school’s upcoming baseball season. We can add it to Friday’s edition.”

She was quite brilliant. “Good thinking.” He glanced at the boxes. “Let me help you bring down the rest of these for your friends, and then we can get to work.”

By the time they’d lugged all the old print boxes down, his office looked like an episode of Hoarders. Dorothy was working on copying, utilizing both printers until Scarlett was able to join in. Rebecca was at her desk on the other side of the glass wall, doing whatever juju she deemed fit to save the Gazette.

There was a constant flurry of motion. Humming and page shuffling and beeping and clacking of keys. The canary chirping a tune. Though he’d worked in a newsroom his whole career to date, it had been a long while since he’d been a part of it. A strange sense of melancholy washed over him that he’d never be a true journalist again. Not in the way he’d envisioned.

A sigh, and he picked up his desk phone to call Joan, then Jefferson.

To his utter amazement, both parties seemed almost relieved to be shifted from part-time to consignment, and to be working on something specific. Graham should’ve thought of that sooner, should’ve been a true editor and doled assignments instead of wallowing in self-pity. Though he was grateful, it shouldn’t have taken Rebecca to light a fire under him.

He’d do better. Be better.

Pulling up his program for the printing press, he uploaded the info he had ready to go, shifted a few things for space, and sent it off. Sad. Two pages of meaningless filler. Just like it had been the past two months.

Come Friday, that would change. Thanks to Rebecca. He wondered if his attraction to her was based on gratitude, but shook his head. He’d been drawn to her before she’d interviewed.

Leaning back in his seat, he stared through the glass barrier between them. Despite the fragile appearance of her frame, she seemed like one tough cookie. To lose her parents at such a young age, even if she’d had a doting grandmother, had to have been immensely difficult. Probably lonely. And to leave a small town, where there was certainty and comfort and a shield from the outside world, to venture out into the great unknown? Hopes and dreams as companions? Titanium spine, this one. She didn’t seem to take crap from anyone, himself included. Smart and creative. Tenacious and more than a little stubborn.

He didn’t know how he got so lucky at this point in his deadend career to have her as an employee, but he’d take it, for however long it lasted. When he’d accepted the job, he’d assumed it’d be a breeze compared to the hustle of a huge city. Following leads, generating stories, forever climbing to stay above competitors. Deadlines and zero sleep and meals from a paper bag on the go. More than one relationship had gone down in flames as a result of that pace.

How wrong he’d been. Running the Vallantine Gazette was harder. Much harder. Rebecca had been right. Small town papers were a whole different class and speed. The sections often found in other prints would have no bearing here. Some remained, but he hadn’t had his thumb on the pulse of the community long enough to know what to attempt. Not to mention, his staff didn’t have the experience.

So, he’d done nothing.

That changed now.

Mercy, she was lovely. Elegant, regal neck. Blonde strands bordering on caramel. Lean, lithe frame. She had her back to him, so he couldn’t see her facial features, but her eyes could stop time. And that mouth. It begged to be kissed.

He dragged in a ragged breath. Office romances were not a good idea on a great day. She’d given no indication she had any sexual interest in him. He’d be wise to remember both.

The chirping of the canary made him blink, pulling him from his thoughts.

The quietness of the room intruded the fringes of his consciousness, and he swiftly glanced at Dorothy. Who’d obviously caught him staring at Rebecca, if her faint smile and raised brows were an indictor. A subtle nod, and she resumed copying, paying him no mind, leaving him to wonder if her reaction had been acknowledgement or approval.

She was a gentle one. Calm. A presence in itself. Natural red hair, curvy shape. He hadn’t known her long, if merely in passing, but he liked her so far. Intelligent and honest. Sincere and intuitive.

Why couldn’t he be attracted to her? No complications there. She was pretty.

But there was no gut punch, wind from his sails, or rug out from under him holy-shit sensation like with Rebecca. He couldn’t explain the phenomenon if he had a week and ten writers. He’d met the woman all of a few days prior. They’d barely grazed the surface of conquering personalities. The pull didn’t make a lick of sense.

Later. He’d analyze it later. There was work to be done.

Rising, he left his office and yanked an extra chair beside her desk. “Whatcha got?” By the look of it, she had a thousand tabs open.

“First, there’s the website.” She moved her mouse and pulled up the server program. “The only thing on it is an About page and the Home page.” More clicking. “I added a Contact tab, which has our images and emails, like the sign up front. Is that okay?”

“Absolutely. It looks good.” It did, too. She’d changed the plain blue background to off-white and framed it to make it look like a newspaper with Vallantine Gazette as the header on all pages. Clever. “I’d maybe add a picture of the front window, magazine racks, and the glass display cabinet to the About page.”

“Good idea.” She paused, staring at the screen. “I created a Facebook page and a Twitter account. Links to those are replicated on all pages. I’m thinking every time we send out or print an issue, we post highlights on both accounts. For instance,” she brought up the Twitter account, “this is what I just posted.”

Weather is looking great in Vallantine today. See if that’s going to change in the coming week…

“Hmm. Smart.” She’d linked the Tweet back to the Gazette’s site. Teasing, and making the reader go check out what’s in store.

“So, we’d do that for all print sections. A partial headline with an open-ended cliffhanger to get them to click.”

“Brilliant. Can I get the login info?”

“Already emailed it to you. My message to Joan and Jefferson just had the links for them to follow.” She switched pages. “I updated the Home page. Nothing major there. I added an Advertise page where businesses can email you to pay to advertise with us. I put a rate for quarter and half pages, with two different options for print or e-print. Here’s where things get fun.” A blank page opened. “If we’re going to do an e-print version, we’re going to want readers to have links to back issues. I think we should start doing those with Friday’s print run. Thus, this page will be links with issue dates.”

He scratched his chin, staring in thought. “How would you suggest we do an e-print?” He’d never been on the tech side of distribution before. They didn’t have the funds to hire a service.

And her honeysuckle scent was distracting as hell.

“Oddly, that’s the easy part.” She backed out and went to what looked like an administration page. “Our web server has email marketing as an option. It’s tiered for pricing. Considering there’s about twenty-five hundred residents in Vallantine, we won’t go above tier two. Thus, we’d only be paying fifty bucks a year.” She went to yet another page. “In essence, we’d be doing a newsletter. Either one of us can put it out. It’s as simple as copying and pasting what you send to the printers, just in one long column with a hyperlinked table of contents.”

What she was doing was making him feel stupid for not checking into this sooner. “How do they subscribe and how do we collect payment?” Gunner’s people were in charge of physical copies and payment. Graham never had to deal with it.

“There’re two signup forms I created. One for print, which is automatically drafted monthly, and is a higher fee at this rate.” She pointed to the screen. “That number is at the low end of the national average. It has them plug in their address for delivery and payment info. I added a PayPal option besides just a credit card.” She switched screens. “This form is for e-print email delivery at this rate.” She pointed. “Again, drafted monthly, and if they unsubscribe, the program will remove them from the newsletter at the top of the month and quit auto-drafting funds. The site updates will go live at one a.m. Friday. I’ll need you to get banking deets from Gunner for money to get dumped.”

He shot off a quick text to Gunner to do just what she requested. Leaning back in his seat, he cracked his knuckles. “You’re one impressive woman. Hard part will be getting subscribers.”

“I have a plan.”

Rubbing his eyes, he laughed. “Of course, you do.”

Yet another screen. “The town’s website for tourism has all the shops and restaurants listed with addresses, websites, and contact emails. I plugged the latter into a CSV file. I’ve scheduled an email to go out Friday morning to all local businesses announcing a facelift for the Gazette and our advertising rates. Links to social media and how to sign up for subscriptions, too. I also mentioned requests for product reviews or food critiques go to your email so you can assign Joan accordingly.”

He”d be damned. “Wow. Great idea.”

She then spewed something about the second email list being small, but it, too, would go out Friday morning to the elementary, middle, and high school administrators with Graham’s info for them to forward school announcements or athletic games for the Gazette to post. How she thought up this stuff was beyond him. The local shops and schools alone would bring in enough revenue to get them in the black with advertising and subscribers. The third list was residents who were already print subscriptions or had signed up through email before. Two-hundred eighty-seven people. Not a lot when compared to census, but hopefully it would climb. Especially if her idea of sending out a free issue of Friday’s paper to all three email lists would show the Gazette’s changes to townsfolk and get them to register.

He rubbed his jaw. “Friday’s issue is going to need to be fantastic.”

“Yes, sir.” She opened her mouth to say something else, but a knock on the front door had her snapping it closed again.

Dorothy came out of his office. “That’s Scarlett. I’ll let her in. As you were.”

Once the commotion of Hurricane Scarlett subsided, Graham asked Rebecca to open a spreadsheet. “Let’s start a list of content. I think we should put in specific roles on the website and in the newspaper every issue based on content, so people know who to email with tips.”

She nodded, her fingers a blur over the keyboard. “Divide and conquer.”

“Yep.” He ticked his first point off on a finger. “Weather is obvious. Why don’t we pull Atlanta and Savannah’s forecasts daily.”

“I can do that. Can also report on any upcoming storms or hurricanes we’d be affected by.”

“Perfect.” He scrolled through notes in his head. “We need a catchy title for Joan’s content.”

Her lips pursed adorably in thought. “Word on the Street? Since she’s doing reviews or critiques.”

“Nice. Let’s go with it.”

She plugged that into the spreadsheet, along with Jefferson’s content under Sports. “I think we should put horoscopes back in the issues. It won’t fill much space, but I know lots of people who read those. We can correlate with one of the spiritual bloggers in Georgia to send us one daily and, in turn, put their website below it for free advertisement as payment. No cost out of pocket.”

Why not? “Okay. Know anyone?”

“I’ll look into it right away.” She added it to the list. “Wordsearch puzzles? They used to be a big hit. Gammy did them all the time. There’s a free site that’ll generate one if you put in the words we want to use. Some of the reporters in Boston used it for baby and wedding showers. We could do a different theme daily.”

He bumped his chin toward the screen. “Add it. Good one.”

Feet shuffled behind them.

“Hate to interrupt.” Scarlett batted her eyelashes. “We couldn’t help but overhear.” She and Dorothy came around to the side of the cubicle. “Are you up for suggestions?”

“Absolutely.” Crossing his arms, he rocked in his chair. “Help is appreciated.”

Dorothy tucked her auburn strands behind her ears. “When we were kids, the Gazette used to have an Artist of the Day thing. Students from the school would submit and get chosen to be featured.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Rebecca typed it into the list. “I’ll add this to the email to the administrators and the townsfolk. Hopefully that’ll engage more people again.”

That triggered something for him. “In Minneapolis, the local TV station had a weather picture of the day sent in by viewers.”

Rebecca nodded. “Added. Will also put a shout-out for Pets of the Day. Plucky II can go in our first Friday issue.”

Scarlett’s thumbs were going to work on her cell. “I’ll send you a pic for the weather one to use Friday. I took a great shot at sunset from home the other day.”

Rebecca’s cell pinged. “Thanks.”

“I think you guys should introduce yourselves in the issue.” Dorothy darted her gaze between him and Rebecca. “We didn’t know you were editor. The town can get to know you better.”

Without hesitation, Rebecca typed it on the list. “Good. What else?”

“Know what y’all really need?” Scarlett cocked a hip. “Book reviews. With the library getting remodeled, it’ll boost interest for us when we open. I can send an email out to Mama’s bookclub that we’re reinstating it. We can get together at the plantation until the library is finished, then meet monthly there.”

He grinned. “Belles Bookclub.”

“Yes!” Scarlett beamed, excitedly clapping. “I’ll send the email tonight. First meeting Friday night at seven. Can you put a call-out in the paper?”

“You bet,” Rebecca muttered as she typed. “Any way you can pick a book to start with so I can add it to the article?”

“I’ll text you one in a bit.”

Which reminded him… “You should do a weekly exposé on the library renovations.” He looked at Rebecca, fiercely typing to keep up. “The town will be up to date, and they won’t feel so in the dark. Perhaps write a bit about the history.”

“Love it. I’ll try to get a story written for Friday.”

Dorothy wrung her fingers. “What about the garden club? Maybe tips for planting?”

Scarlett was right on her heels. “Take pictures of the changes inside the Gazette. Let people know the stuff we’re copying is for sale.”

He shook his head. How he missed this. Bouncing ideas and interaction. Being a part of something again. Rebecca’s friends had come up with wonderful ideas. “You three are a force to be reckoned with.”

Scarlett tsked. “And don’t you forget it.”

“Not even if I tried.” He slapped his hands on his thighs and rose. “I’ll tackle Joan and Jefferson’s articles for edit, and call someone from the garden club for a tip.” He pointed to Rebecca. “Send me the link for the wordsearch and I’ll do that, as well. You want to reach out to someone about horoscopes and get the various notifications ready?”

“Will do, boss. I’ll write a brief intro for me. Don’t forget yours.”

A sigh, and he turned for his office. “Yes, ma’am.”

He could all but hear her grin. “Now you’re learning.”