14. Chapter 14
“W hat are you doing?” Eric asked, startling Nelie, who jerked and knocked her head on the freezer’s edge.
She hated freezer diving. The old beast of a chest freezer sucked electricity, and it was where food went to die, if Nelie didn’t monitor it.
The kitchen staff believed it was easier to start from scratch than to check the freezer first, no matter how many times Nelie reminded them.
She rubbed her head as stars danced behind her eyes.
Eric grabbed her arm, muttering an apology.
“They’re being discharged today and I’m sure they’ll be too tired to think about cooking.
I’m sure we’ve got some soups in here that are near their expiration date for serving, but would be safe for home consumption.
With some soups, bread, and appetizers, Emily and Jackson will be set for several days at least,” Nelie said.
Baby Nathan William Wyatt had arrived a week early, and the healthy baby boy and his mom were being discharged later that afternoon. Another baby. Nelie grinned.
Eric and Andi’s, Owen, was around two months old.
Parker and Rica had Charlotte—Parker’s daughter from a previous relationship—an energetic toddler, and Nelie knew they were trying for another. If the Posse knew what the Swans discussed at their semi-regular brunch, it would appall and embarrass the men.
Miller and Wren’s daughter, Robyn, was scooting around their house on her back end until she figured out the right way to crawl.
They had their hands full with that one, and Robyn had Miller wrapped around her little finger, much like her mother did.
Miller Lynch was a goner for the women in his life, but Nelie knew it was true for all the men in their circle.
And Josie and Gabe were expecting their little one in the summer.
No one had met baby Nathan yet. With the myriad of colds, flus, and chest viruses, the hospital had canceled visiting hours except in extreme instances. A new baby was joyous, not extreme, so everyone had stayed away.
“That’s a great idea. Should I check to see if we have any Chestnut Hill IPA near expiration?” Eric asked.
“Sure, and see if we have any of that non-alcoholic Riesling for Emily.” Eric made sure she didn’t want help with her freezer dive before walking toward the liquor room.
Nelie found a few containers of soups—beef barley, chili, and chicken tortilla—and made a note to grab a bag of tortilla chips for it.
There were also a few mystery containers with no labels or dates.
She set them into the sink to defrost, nervous about what she’d find.
She found a sturdy box and was loading in the bread and chips when her phone dinged. It was the Posse’s and Swan’s combined group text, and it was usually only used for big events. The previous message was from December 31, Croix and Krista’s wedding day.
Jackson : Discharge is happening as planned. But Emily and Nate will be quarantined at home. I’ll be masking up and working from home as much as possible. No visitors. Only LOTS of prayers.
Parker : ??
Nelie waited as bubbles filled her screen, wishing Jackson could type faster.
Jackson : Nate has SCID. He can’t fight infections. A cold could kill him. If we find a genetic match quickly, he’ll make a full recovery in about a year and lead a normal life. If you want to know more, google it.
Miller : And if you can’t?
Nelie swiped her cheek, hating that Miller had asked, but grateful he’d taken the bull by the horns. They couldn’t help if they didn’t know what they were dealing with.
Jackson : Nate probably won’t see his first birthday.
Croix : Where do we get tested?
Nelie watched the thumbs-up responses pile on to Croix’s question.
Jackson : We start with immediate family and work out from there. Doctor said it is rare to find a non-family member.
Nelie hit the microphone icon so she could dictate. Her fingers were too shaky to type.
Nelie : If it comes to that, I’ll close the Galley to use as a testing site .
Jackson and several others added hearts to her message.
Chet : Paper will issue a full-page plea.
Nelie gasped, surprised that Chet was in this group. He wasn’t joking when he said they’d made up . Jackson responded with another thumbs-up.
Her eyes flooded, and she used her foot to drag a bench toward her.
She sat heavily as other blurry messages appeared.
Nelie heard bottles clink and then Eric sat next to her.
“This is awful,” she said through her tight throat.
“I’ve never heard of it. How did they catch it?
” Eric looked about as wrecked as she felt.
“According to Dr. Google, SCID, or Severe Combined Immunodeficiency, is one of the standard tests they run right after birth.” Nelie wanted to ask more, but Eric’s voice sounded scratchy, and she didn’t need both of them bawling in the back room.
“Is it bad that right now, all I want to do is go up to my mom’s house and hug Owen? ”
“Go.” Nelie pushed him off the bench. “But let’s get this packed up and you can leave it at Jackson’s front door. I’ll text them and tell them to keep an eye out for it.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. Go hug Owen and tell him what a lucky boy he is and that his new friend Nate is here.” Nelie struggled to her feet, choking back tears.
“And they’ll have lots of adventures together and get into all sorts of trouble when they’re older.
It’s all going to be okay. It will. You’ll see,” Nelie said, faking a smile and closing the box.
She didn’t know if she was trying to reassure Eric or her.
Tears wouldn’t solve this, but action would.
“N ext Tuesday at two works great,” Chet said, agreeing to a meeting he didn’t want.
There was nothing wrong with his current insurance policy, but he saw Nelie walking toward his office and the quickest way to get the guy off the phone was to agree with him.
You could have hung up, he thought. But that wouldn’t have been Minnesota-nice.
“Hi,” he said, opening the door for her, and dropping a kiss on her lips. “What brings you here?” Nelie hadn’t been to the paper since his open house, shortly after he’d bought the Haven Times . His salesperson usually met her at the Galley, like she did for most of the business advertisers.
“Lunch.” Nelie thrust the bag at him before hanging her puffer jacket on the coat stand.
“Mom’s Deli?” he said, seeing the familiar logo.
“I’m tired of eating my own food. Don’t judge.” He held up his hands. She sounded cranky, and he didn’t want an argument.
“Not judging. Just grateful. But full disclosure, we’re on a deadline, so I can’t linger,” he said, leading her to his office. He cleared a chair for her and moved piles off his desk, so they’d have a clean surface to eat from.
“Then that’s perfect. I was afraid you’d tempt me to linger, but I’ve got an appointment.” Nelie opened the bag and held up two sandwiches, ham and roast beef. She held both out to him, cocking her eyebrow in question. How does she do that?
“Can we split them?” he asked, unable to choose.
“Good choice.” They each unwrapped a sandwich, giving half to the other. Nelie handed him a bag of chips and pulled onions off her sandwich.
“Since when don’t you like onions?” he asked.
“Since I’m hoping to get a kiss before I leave.” Her eyes twinkled as she bit into her dill pickle, and she laughed as Chet scraped the onions from his sandwich. “I thought it would be noisy with the printing press,” she said, looking out his office door.
“We don’t have one. The paper is printed in Saint Paul.”
“How does that happen?”
“We send them the digital file by two o’clock.
They print it overnight and deliver it here early morning.
We drop copies off at a few of the grocery stores and several other places, and my delivery people come in mid-morning to pick up the copies for their routes.
” He left out the little details that could bite him in the ass and ruin the schedule.
Like if the file was corrupted, or if the printing company had equipment problems, or if he and his staff needed to fill in for sick delivery people.
“Why isn’t it available online?” Nelie asked around her food.
“I’m looking into it.” Online access had been on top of his to-do list since late last summer.
But then he’d met Nelie. And lost Nelie.
And gained the girls. And gained Nelie back.
He couldn’t afford any more distractions.
Chet needed to get his head back in the newspaper game.
The cost of paper was skyrocketing, and it was getting more and more difficult to find good people interested in part-time outdoor work for the routes.
He needed to make the time to research if going digital would save or sink them.
Right now, only back issues were available digitally.
“Would it be free?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a paywall feature where subscribers would get two weekly newspapers”—he used air quotes—“and a free weekly print version available to everyone focused on coupons and the community calendar. Subscribers would get up-to-date information and news.” He shrugged.
“That sounds like a reasonable plan, but I don’t think you like it. Why?” She shook the last of her chips into her hand and tossed the bad into his garbage can.
“Everyone should have access to unbiased news.”
“But if everyone had free access, how would the paper survive?” Nelie asked.
“Like we are now, with advertisers. Maybe add some sponsors. People who support the idea of free, unbiased information could make a donation to keep the Haven Times running.” Nelie looked doubtful.
“But wouldn’t that make you biased toward them?”
“No.”
“Really?” Her damned eyebrow cocked.
“Really.” Chet leaned toward her. She was cute when she played devil’s advocate. He hoped when he got around to a viable plan for the paper’s survival, she’d quiz him just as thoroughly.