Find Me at the Table (Jonathon Island: Season 2, #3)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Today marked the beginning of Ava Harper’s new start. If Judson Wright was in a good mood, that was.

She walked through the newsroom toward her boss’s office. Using her right hand, she gave a swift tug to the bottom of the black blazer she wore over her slim, dark blue jeans. In her left arm, she clutched a file folder tight. Her life was in that folder.

Or, at least, the life she wanted.

The clacking of computer keys and the voices of her coworkers drifted over the tops of the chest-high cubicles laid out around the room.

Along the gray exterior walls hung selected front pages from the Chicago Herald depicting significant events her newspaper had covered over the years.

A scent of burnt coffee hung in the air.

She tuned it all out as she rehearsed the speech she would give to Judson in a moment.

At thirty-five years old, Ava knew that if she wasn’t focused, she’d forget her whole agenda. Today wasn’t a day for distraction. Because, after searching for years—years—for a break, she’d finally made a workable plan. She just needed Judson to see it that way too.

“Knock, knock.” She paused outside her boss’s open door.

The small room held a desk, a couple of chairs, and a loveseat.

Judson didn’t have anything on his faded gray walls, but a framed picture of his grandkids sat on the corner of his desk.

What he lacked in decor, he made up for in mess.

Piles of papers and news clippings, and other detritus—was that a wrapper from the sub shop down the street? —lay everywhere.

“Ava, come on in.” Judson half rose from his chair before plopping down again.

His Albert Einstein hairstyle was especially on point today.

And he wore the condiments of what looked like a hamburger on his white button-down.

Many people made the mistake of underestimating Judson based on his appearance.

Her first week on the job, Ava learned the truth.

He had the sharpest newspaper mind of anyone she’d ever met.

He ran the metro section of the paper with an iron fist and a sharp tongue.

Her columns reviewing local eateries and giving cooking advice always came back from him bleeding red in edits. Yeah. Intimidating. “Shut the door.”

Okay. Good start. Judson only shut the door for important meetings.

She glanced at the chairs in front of his desk.

Piled as high with papers and other items as the rest of the space.

Near the couch along the far wall—also covered with random stuff—a folding chair rested in its closed position.

She grabbed it and opened it. It sank a good three inches as she sat.

Great. Not exactly a position of power, but maybe that would be in her favor.

“Sorry, that chair has a broken seat.” Judson ran a hand over his head, but it did nothing to lessen the impact of his wiry gray hair.

“No problem.” She straightened her back.

“Sherry tells me you have a pitch for me.” Judson’s bulldog of a personal assistant took her job as bouncer seriously.

Ava had had to beg and plead for this meeting.

Sherry had finally caved after Ava brought her a slice of cheesecake from Studio 67, a restaurant where she’d been sent on assignment.

She’d given the restaurant a great review in her column, Ava Harper Chows Down.

“I do.” She pulled the top sheet out of her folder and handed it over.

It was a printout from the Visit Us page of the Jonathon Island website.

Judson glanced at it before setting it down on top of his desk.

He folded his hands over his stomach and leaned back in his chair.

“I know the Chicago Herald usually only covers local news, but I had a great idea for expanding our readership.”

Judson nodded. “I’m listening.”

Gulp. “Lately, our sales have been declining. Well, every newspaper is seeing declining readership. In exit polls, people have stated that they can find out these kinds of news items from anywhere.”

“I’m well aware of the declining sales. I just had my ninetieth meeting about that this year, and it’s only the beginning of May.” He laughed, but there was little humor.

“Right. Of course. So, what if we gave the readers something different?” She took a deep breath.

“What if I take my column on the road? I could work remotely, reviewing restaurants that are not just in the greater Chicago area. I could do other pieces too. Food-centered still, but like on food festivals, maybe food factories or something. Do you remember the Food Network show Unwrapped? It could be Unwrapped meets Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives. Except I could review lots of places. Right now it’s the beginning of May.

Food festival season is just starting. I could get a jump on it.

” Her heart thumped. Could he hear it on the other side of the desk?

Judson’s gaze sharpened. “I take it you’re thinking of Jonathon Island?”

“I am. Jonathon Island in Michigan is having a food festival, Flavor Fest, in a few weeks, the first part of June. I thought that could be a trial run.” She pictured the quaint village of Jonathon Island she remembered from her one and only trip there but pushed it aside.

She’d stumbled across the contest advertisement while clicking around the town website and dreaming of living there.

Concentrate, Ava. No distractions. “There will be two weekends of cooking contests with other activities in between. Cooking classes, demonstrations…even a fudge-tasting event. I could review the restaurants on the island as well as the contests themselves. Maybe do a few feature pieces on the chefs. I could get two weeks’ worth of content from that event.

” She bit back the next sentence on her lips.

Better to let Judson mull it over first.

“I know about Jonathon Island. My family has traveled there many times. Not lately, of course.” Judson unfolded his hands and drummed them on his desk. “I don’t know. Sounds expensive. The last time I brought the kids and grandkids there it cost almost as much as taking the family to Disney World.”

She handed him another paper. “I’ve sketched out a budget and projected expenses.

Their rates are low right now while the town is trying to garner new interest from tourists.

” She pointed at the bottom line. “But even if we weren’t getting a sweet deal on lodging, I think we could reach a broader audience with these articles, and they’ll pay for themselves.

We could do hard copies first, then upload them onto our food blog.

I’ve also outlined a couple other places I could replicate this experience. ”

“I like where you’re going with this.” Judson picked up a pen and marked a few spots on the paper.

“Tell you what—I have to run this past the editorial team, but I like where your head is at. Let’s consider Jonathon Island a trial run.

” He pointed the end of the pen at her. “If you can produce at least fourteen good articles and they garner some good traction, we’ll consider letting you go remote full-time. ”

She stood, her insides feeling like they were filled with rising helium balloons. “Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.”

“You never have.” Judson turned his attention to something else on his desk.

Ava put the chair back where she’d found it. Her hand was on the cool doorknob when Judson spoke again.

“I see there’s a charity competition here. Get signed up to cook for that. It’s good press for the newspaper, plus it will give you an inside scoop.” He stabbed a finger at the paper.

A few balloons popped and her stomach sank.

Judson went on. “The daughter of celebrity chefs Leah and Aaron Harper will make quite a splash. I bet you’ve been cooking since you were a toddler.”

Now her heart was somewhere near her knees, which were in danger of giving out. “Actually, um—”

“I know you don’t like to talk about your parents in your column, that’s fine. But this is for charity.” Judson waved a hand in the air. “And if you win, you can donate it to the Herald’s charity, Reading Is for Everyone.”

Open your mouth, Ava. Tell him you can’t cook. But the words stuck in her throat.

“I’ll let you know what the board says, but in my mind, this charity competition seals the deal. Consider yourself signed up for all of it.”

Gulp. Writing fourteen articles in ten days, no problem. Cooking anything more than a frozen dinner? Very much a problem.

She pushed the thought away. Time enough to deal with it later.

Sure, the job wasn’t secure yet, but Ava felt a hundred pounds lighter after having her pitch over with. She beelined for the corner desk where she could see the top of her friend Emily’s curly brunette head.

“I think he’s going to go for it.” She pitched her voice low, but Emily squealed.

“Ava, that’s great!” Petite and always in a skirt or a dress, Emily Knox was the unlikely sports reporter for the Herald.

The two had become friends after Judson sent them both on the same assignment, Emily to check out the Chicago Dogs, a local baseball team, and Ava to report on the food offerings at their park.

Today, Emily wore a cream sweater over a calico sundress that brought out the blue of her eyes.

“We’re way past the minor leagues now. If it doesn’t work out, you can always join me on the sports beat. ”

“Nah. I love my job, you know that.” Ava shifted the folder in her hands.

“True. I don’t think I’ve ever known someone to love writing about food as much as you do. Though sometimes I suspect you’re in it for the free meals.” Emily raised her right eyebrow.