Chapter 1 #2
After she hurried out of the room, Seb stayed behind.
He’d see Flora in town and at the Clementine Community Church, but not having her in the office was going to be hard.
And then there was the fact that now he had added another job responsibility on top of being publisher, editor in chief, part-time columnist and reporter, and full-time owner.
But that was the newspaper business in the twenty-first century, and despite the hard work and uncertain times, he still loved it.
He loved Clementine even more.
Seb turned off the lights and went to his office to check the messages on his answering machine. There was only one, which was unusual. Often his machine was full. He hit Play.
Hello, Mr. Hudson. Miles Harrington here, from Harrington Media. I’m following up on the three letters and five messages we’ve left with you recently. Our company is serious about discussing a possible deal with you—
Seb hit the Erase button. Geez, this guy was persistent.
Seb had read his first letter and immediately balled it up and threw it into the trash, and did the same with the subsequent letters that he hadn’t bothered to open.
He also didn’t listen much further to the other phone messages Harrington had left over the past two months.
He’d figured if he ignored the man, he’d leave him alone.
So far he hadn’t, but Seb wasn’t changing his strategy.
Eventually he’d realize the answer was an emphatic and forever no.
The Times might be in dire financial straits, and he was taking on another job to keep it afloat, but he continued to hope that this was only temporary—that the newspaper business would make a comeback.
He’d been very, very wrong about the appeal of the internet, and Evelyn had asked him more than once to start moving things to digital.
Seb refused. If he changed the newspaper format, then that would irrevocably change The Times . He couldn’t allow that.
Yes, he was a relic at age forty, but if someone didn’t preserve the past, who would?
When he bought the paper from Buford, he made a vow not to let it go under or stray from its original mission—to keep Clementine and the surrounding communities connected.
And even though it was hard, even though at times it seemed impossible, he wasn’t giving in.
***
Los Angeles, California
“And now here’s the latest from No Doubt—‘It’s My Life’!”
“Ooh, I love this song.” Kalista Clark pushed down her Chanel sunglasses and looked at the man cleaning the pool. “Turn it up.”
The guy stopped pushing the long pole he was holding and looked at her. He was pretty old—at least in his forties. “The radio is right beside you, ma’am.”
“I know that.” She glanced at the small portable radio on the glass table near her lounge chair. “My nails are still wet.”
The guy put down his pole—did he seriously just roll his eyes?—and walked over to the table. He turned the knob, and Gwen Stefani’s voice carried through the speaker. “How’s that?”
“Good. You can go back to”—she waved her hand at him— “whatever you were doing.”
“Yes, ma’am .”
Ugh, Kalista didn’t like his tone at all.
She’d have to tell Daddy to get another pool man.
She blew on her hot-pink nails, then lay back on the lounge chair and closed her eyes.
The bright California sunshine warmed her skin, and the white string bikini she wore was very comfortable.
She might wear it to the beach this afternoon when she met up with Abbie, Ryan, and their other friends.
Having a huge pool was nice, but she loved being at the beach—or rather, being seen at the beach. Let’s be real.
She was just about to turn over when the worst voice that ever existed hit her ears. “Kalista!”
Kalista cringed. Maybe if she didn’t move, Bettany would think she was asleep. She kept super still, resisting a scowl when she heard her stepmother’s kitten heels approach on the textured tile surrounding the pool.
“I know you’re awake and you can hear me.” Bettany kicked Kalista’s lounger.
Rude. Kalista took off her sunglasses. The pool man was gone, but Bettany was looming over her. “What do you want?”
“Ray-baby wants to talk to you.”
So dumb. “Why can’t you call him Raymond like my four other stepmothers did?”
“Because he’s my Ray-baby.” Bettany’s long blond extensions framed her face. Her very young face. Kalista had been shocked to find out her stepmother of three months was twenty-five—only seven years older than Kalista. So tragic. “He’s in his office.”
At least her father was home. Usually he was gone during the week, either at his office downtown or flying out somewhere to close some business deal.
Kalista wasn’t sure exactly what kind of business her father was in, but he was incredibly rich, and that’s all Kalista cared about.
She replaced her sunglasses. “Tell him I’m busy. ”
“He’s not going to like that.”
“Don’t care.”
“You’re such a brat.” Bettany stormed off.
Kalista frowned. Maybe she was being bratty, but not any more than her stupid stepmother. She wondered how long this marriage would last. The longest one was Megyn, and that had been eight years, when Kalista was in her early teens. She didn’t like her either.
Another song started, this one by Maroon 5, and Kalista focused on the music and her tan and pushed Bettany and “Ray-baby” out of her mind. When Adam Levine crooned the last words, the radio shut off. “Hey,” Kalista said, scrambling to sit up. “I was listening to that.”
“Now you’re going to listen to me.”
Uh-oh. She whipped off her sunglasses at her father’s stern tone. She hadn’t expected him to come out here, and he didn’t look happy. “Hi, Daddy,” she said, giving him her sweetest smile.
His expression softened. “Hi, sweetheart. Are you enjoying the pool?”
“Yes, very much.”
“Good.” He looked at the crystal-clear water, tinted blue by the Moroccan tiles decorating the edge. “I need to spend more time out here,” he mumbled. “Shame to have such a nice backyard and never enjoy it.”
Kalista was surprised to hear him say that.
Usually he was just in and out of the house, and every once in a while he’d call and check in with her.
It could be annoying sometimes, like when she was at the mall or the movies or at a friend’s house after school.
But after next week, she wouldn’t have to worry about school anymore.
He turned to her. “What are your plans after graduation, Kalista?”
Plans? “Hang out here. Oh, and hang out with my friends. Go shopping for sure, and of course go out with Ryan.” They weren’t official, but they were going out more frequently lately. She liked him, but she also liked to keep her options open.
“What about college?”
“Ew, no. I’m tired of school, Daddy.” She laid back down. “I just wanna have fun, you know?”
He pushed his hand through his short gray hair. “That’s what I’m worried about. It’s time to grow up.”
“I am grown, duh. I turned eighteen in March.”
“I mean mature.”
Where was this coming from? “I am mature. Just ask my friends.”
“You overcharged four credit cards this month. Where did the money go?”
Oh. She didn’t realize she’d done that. “Things.”
“What things?”
“You know, stuff.” She sulked. “You’ve never complained before.”
“That’s my fault. I should have taught fiscal responsibility to you earlier, but there’s no time like the present.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“After your ceremony next week, you’re going to Arkansas.”
She sat up again. “What’s an Arkansas?”
Daddy’s mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding. Wait, you’re serious. What did they teach you in school anyway?”
“Lots of boring stuff.”
He shook his head, then said, “Arkansas is in the south... by Texas... Forget it. Vivian’s there, and she’s agreed to let you stay with her for the summer.”
“Really?” Despite her confusion, she was excited to hear him mention her first stepmother, Vivian, or Viv as Kalista called her.
She had married Daddy when Kalista was six, a year after her mother had died, and even though they divorced five years later, Viv was a formal model and had been in her life a few years after that.
Although, since then they’d talked infrequently.
Why was she in Arkansas? “Hold on, what do you mean ‘for the summer’?”
“She’s getting married in August, and she agreed to let you stay with her until after the wedding.”
“But what about my summer here? I have plans with my friends.” Very loose plans. Actually, nonexistent, but that was usually how her summers went—she just did what she felt like when she felt like doing it. “Does Arkansas have a beach?”
Daddy chuckled. “No.”
“What about a mall?”
“Probably, but I’m not concerned about that. I’m worried about your lack of direction. I don’t want you to get your trust fund and blow it on clothes and hair salons.”
“I wouldn’t do that.” She’d known for a while she had a trust fund that she would get when she turned twenty-one. “I’m going to buy a Bentley. Oh, and a big house. I bet I could get Britney Spears to sing at my parties—”
“Good Lord,” Daddy said, his scowl back again. “Are you listening to yourself? Having money involves lots of responsibilities. There’s nothing wrong with a fancy car or a big house, but you need other goals. Like an actual job.”
“Oh, I can get a job,” she said, although the idea sounded dull. None of her other friends worked—why should she?
“You need to understand the value of hard work too. Vivian’s fiancé is a farmer—”
“Yuck.”
Daddy gave her an exasperated look. “You also need an attitude adjustment.” He stood. “I bought the tickets and Vivian is expecting you. A week from today you’ll be in Clementine, Arkansas.”
She jumped to her feet. “But—”
“No buts, Kalista Louise. You have to prove that you’re mature and responsible enough to handle your trust fund. The first step is getting a job and helping Vivian with whatever she needs. Understand?”
“And what if I don’t?” She crossed her arms over her shoulders. He couldn’t make her do this, could he? She was an adult, not a little kid.
“Then you won’t get your trust fund until you’re thirty. No, make that thirty-five. I must have been out of my mind to plan to give it to you at twenty-one.”
No trust fund? “All I have to do is get a job?”
“And be responsible—don’t forget that.”
“Okay.” She held out her hand. “Deal.”
“Wow.” He looked surprised. “That was easier than I thought.” He shook her hand, then gave her a hug. “I’ll miss you,” he said.
She froze, unable to remember the last time he hugged her. Weird. She hugged him back. “Uh, me too.”
“I’ll let you get back to your”—he sighed—“tanning.”
“Thanks, Daddy.”
“I love you, Kalista.”
“Love you too,” she said and quickly turned on the radio.
Instead of a cool song, a commercial played and she heard her father walk inside.
Arkansas... hmm. She could do anything for three months, and it would be nice to see Viv again.
This would be a breeze, as long as Clementine had a decent mall.
Oh, and a Star-bucks. And a spa. She couldn’t survive without a spa. ..