CHAPTER 25
Rebecca
She waited at the bistro table in Joe Mama’s at ten the next morning, clenching and unclenching her jaw.
Her latte sat untouched before her, next to the stack of articles she’d printed out last night.
“W Media Buys Tickersville Chronicle.” “Milltown Gazette Now Part of W Media Chain.” “W Media’s Littleton Herald Takeover Latest in String of Small Paper Buys.
” Every one of them detailing how the Wennerman-led media company had swooped in on a so-called dying paper and saved it from demise.
She’d been right. Erik Wennerman’s ad offer really had been too good to be true. Her neck prickled, red-hot anger still boiling. She wasn’t sure who earned her rage more—him or her. How could I have been so blind?
Erik joined her then, wearing a hangdog look and carrying a large mug.
“Rebecca, it’s not what it looks like,” he said as he slid into the chair across from her.
She held up a hand, the other a tight fist atop the articles.
“Erik, stop.” The words came out harsh, and she took a breath, reining in her anger.
“You’ve been visiting me week after week, asking me out, coming to the ‘rescue’ with this amazing ad deal, making me believe full well your family business is all about the retirement home industry, and you never once mentioned anything about W Media? ”
His brow creased at the center and his face looked suddenly long, reminding her of the mastiff from that movie Turner and Hooch.
“I should have mentioned it, and I’m sorry. I see that now.” He looked down, and she could have sworn his bottom lip turned down in a pout. Her eyes narrowed. “My dad owns several companies, W Media among them. But I don’t have anything to do with any of them—only the homes. That’s it.”
“Sure you don’t.” Her laugh was bitter.
“I mean it! W Media’s an entirely separate company, my brother and my dad and a couple of silent partners, and I have absolutely no connection.
Take a look at the website, all those articles you have there.
” He gestured to the stack, his eyes steely.
“I promise you, Rebecca. My name appears nowhere. Not a single place.”
“Oh, drop the game, Erik.” Her voice was tired. “Just because you’re not listed as part of the team doesn’t mean anything.”
“It does to me.” He looked hurt. “You don’t have to believe me, but I am telling the truth.
My focus is entirely retirement lifestyle and marketing.
The only dealing I have with newspapers, or any other media for that matter, is buying ads.
That’s it. And truth be told, my brother and I don’t have a whole lot in common besides the fact that we share parents. ”
His lips were tight. Either he was that good of a liar or he was telling the truth.
“I’m not stupid, Erik. I read the articles.
That one paper that wouldn’t sell, the one in Lark Run?
You all got really dirty with that one, even started a competing newspaper in the same town, charging very little for advertising and offering the paper for free, until numbers got so bad the first paper was forced to sell out or go under entirely.
” She gave him a look. “I’m sure you had absolutely nothing to do with selling them ads on that one. ”
“There’s no need to be sarcastic here. It’s not fair.” He was right, she realized. She could tell she’d hurt him.
Suddenly, all the steam left her. She let out a breath.
“Look, Erik, what am I supposed to think?” She gestured to the articles. “The Dahlia Weekly is exactly like these other papers. And here you are, buying up ads, being all charming, asking me out—”
He reached out then and seized her hands, and she let out an involuntary gasp at the touch.
“Rebecca, that is not the reason I want to go out with you.”
She wanted to let go, needed to let go, but he was holding her hands tight, and his eyes were sincere.
“I like you. A lot,” he said. “I can’t defend my brother and dad, or their practices. I honestly don’t know what their intentions are, or if they’ve even approached your paper. Though I will say I’m pretty sure they would have bypassed you and gone straight to the paper’s owners.”
She mulled that over, knew he had a point. Slipping her hands out of his, she folded them in her lap.
“It’s still bullying, plain and simple.” Her voice was quiet.
He gave a slight nod.
“I hear you. But I will say the Tickersville paper today is strong. W Media saved them from annihilation from the inside out. Same with the one in Milltown.” His blue eyes had an edge now, but his tone was soothing.
“Those communities still have their traditions, still have their connecting force, still have a fair public spotlight and First Amendment freedoms. And their employees still have jobs, which means a lot to those towns.” He leveled a gaze at her.
“Whether you like what my brother and dad do or not, and their ways aside, think about it, Rebecca. It’s better than being gone entirely. ”
“But—that one paper, where they started the competing publication.”
Erik chuckled. “That was downright dirty. I’ll give you that.”
“And yet you still sell ads for them.”
He shook his head. “Oh, no. I sell for the homes.”
“It’s one and the same.”
That hurt look again. “Not to me. And believe it or not, when they did that in Lark Run, I went to them. Told them I didn’t operate that way and didn’t want to be associated with a company that does business that way.
Though, not to defend them, but that Lark Run paper had major problems before W Media came in.
Nepotism, a major sexual harassment lawsuit costing the paper tens of thousands of dollars, even a brush with libel. Look it up. You’ll find it if you dig.”
She bit her lip. “But … this whole time you never mentioned once that your family had a media business.”
A puppy dog look, then a devilish grin. The guy must have taken charm lessons. She found she couldn’t even look away.
“Do you really think a guy wants to mention to the beautiful newspaper editor that he wants to buy ads and oh, by the way, his family just happens to own a company that buys up little newspapers like hers?”
She forced her lips not to curve, brought her hands up from her lap and curled them around her coffee cup. “Touché.”
He reached across the table again, gave her hand a gentle tap with his finger.
“And I’d still love to take you out on a date.”
Her cheeks flushed. No. “I can’t.”
“I know you think so. But maybe you have to let yourself try. Live a little.” He flashed a smile, dimples and all.
Peter sprang to mind, the way he’d courted her, the kicker being three-dozen red roses delivered to her office with a note: You only live once. Dinner tonight?
Live a little, indeed.
But no. No way. She pulled back, the wooden chair scraping on the floor, and stood. And, oddly, Josh Jamison flashed in her mind.
“I … have to get to the office. Erik—” She searched for the words, came up dry. “Thanks.”
He stood with her. As he did, she noticed two teenaged girls in line for coffee swivel, look him up and down. One of them whispered something to the other, giggling.
“Seriously, Rebecca. Look it up when you get to your computer.” His blue eyes were soft now, patient. “What happened in Lark Run, and me. I promise you’ll find I have nothing to do with that business in the least.”
She fled as quickly as she could, articles safely back in her leather bag, her lukewarm latte sloshing as she nudged open the door to leave.
She held it for an older black-haired woman with a streak of white in her hair, who gave her a smile and a thanks.
Josh’s Bible study leader, Rebecca remembered.
She was in her car in seconds, doors locked and heart pounding. Every emotion was bubbling around inside her, and she felt like a pinball machine. Anger. Dismay. Glee. Confusion.
She rummaged in her purse for two Advil, swallowed them down with the lukewarm coffee. She didn’t know what to think, whether to believe him or not. She took a long, slow, centering breath, then put her car into gear.
Time for the hunt.