Chapter 9
Amelia
“I’m stuck,” I say, slumping into the chair across from Violet.
She looks up from her laptop. “What do you mean?”
I let out a slow breath and drag a hand through my hair. The smell of fresh coffee fills the air, completely different from the frustration churning in my belly. “I went to the hospital yesterday to see Adrian. Tried to get the interview. He refused.”
Violet frowns, stirring her latte absentmindedly. “Why?”
“He thinks I’m going to twist his words or something,” I explain. “I thought the last article wasn’t bad.”
“It was great,” she says firmly.
I sigh. “Yeah. But he doesn’t like it. And I need to figure out how to get him to talk, because Luna asked for this interview, and if I don’t deliver, I can forget about that promotion.”
Violet taps her chin, considering. “I’d be that pestering person if I were you. Keep annoying him until he gives in. Show him you’re more than a person trying to get a story, that you’re a person trying to do the town right, and that includes its people.”
“You really think that’ll work?”
She grins. “Absolutely. You can’t back down on this. Luna asked for it. You want the promotion. That means you need the interview. Just keep showing up, asking again, and eventually, he’ll crack.”
I let out a dry laugh, shaking my head. “This isn’t like your boyfriend, where you bat your eyes and get away with things. Adrian’s different. He’s stubborn. The few glimpses I’ve had of him, he doesn’t seem like the type to budge.”
If I can’t get this interview, I don’t get the promotion, and that means no raise. Without that, I can’t keep covering Mom’s medical bills and my family’s expenses.
Violet leans back in her chair, smirking. “You won’t know unless you try.”
“True.” I take a sip of my now lukewarm coffee, then glance at her screen. “Anyway, what are you working on? I feel bad always dumping my problems on you.”
With a grin, she flips the laptop toward me. “Oh, you know, riveting journalism. Genevieve from the diner is about to start making her famous pies, and I’m tracking how fast they sell out for Thanksgiving.”
I sit up straighter. “Oh, that reminds me, I need to get one of those for Thanksgiving.” I tap my fingers on the table, an idea forming. “Maybe… and get one as a peace offering.”
Violet gasps as her eyes light up. “Yes! Bring one to Adrian. He must give you the interview then.”
I tap my lips, considering. “Bribery does have a long and successful history.”
“Not a bad idea, right?” she says smugly.
I smile. “Not bad at all.”
She shifts her laptop back toward her.
“So, what else are you working on?”
“Just the bakery piece?”
“Yeah, mostly. I went down there earlier, took some photos.” She pulls up one on her camera and hands it to me. “Look how proud she is.”
The image is warm and inviting, Genevieve standing in front of the bakery, arms crossed, a crisp white apron tied around her waist, beaming. The pies behind the glass case look too good, golden-brown crusts glistening under the light.
“They’re honestly so good,” I say. “How haven’t you managed to snag one before they sell out?”
Her grin stretches wider. “Who says I haven’t?”
I narrow my eyes. “Listen, if I don’t manage to score one, you better share some of that with me.”
Violet laughs. “We’ll see.”
I glance back at the photo. “There’s something different about those pies. It’s not just one flavor. She makes multiple, and somehow, they all disappear instantly.”
“Exactly.” She takes her camera back with a satisfied sigh. “Well, good luck getting one.”
“Thanks, I’ll need it.” I stretch, glancing at my watch. “So where are you going for Thanksgiving?”
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Nell’s parents.”
I grin knowingly. “Ah. So, the pie is a good kind of—”
“Exactly.” She points at me, eyes gleaming. “Gotta seem like the perfect daughter-in-law, and nothing says, I belong in this family like bringing the best pie in town.”
“You’ve got it all figured out.”
“Damn right.”
I push back from the table, finishing the last sip of my coffee. “Alright. After work today, I’ll head to Keith’s house. Try to catch Adrian there.” I’m not sure if I’m walking into a chance or a total waste of time. Still, I have to try.
“Good idea.” Violet gives me a thumbs-up. “And don’t forget the pie, Thursday. That might just be your golden ticket.”
I roll my eyes but can’t hide my grin. If Adrian’s as stubborn as I think he is, I’ll need all the help I can get.
Later that evening, after a long shift, I make my way over to Keith’s house.
The neighborhood is quiet, and there’s a faint scent of wood smoke from Keith’s place. I don’t see Adrian’s car out front, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t here. He could’ve parked around the back or maybe gotten a ride from someone at the hospital. Either way, I’m not turning around.
I hesitate for only a second before stepping onto the porch and knocking on the door.
A moment later, the door swings open, and Keith stands there, his warm smile as familiar as ever.
He wears a checkered shirt and navy pants, just in from work.
His practice badge still dangles from his pocket.
In all the years I’ve known him, he’s had the same clothes.
I’d love to give him a makeover, but I asked once, and he said no.
“Amelia. How are you?”
“I’m good, thanks. How are you?”
“Can’t complain.” His gaze flickers with curiosity. “What can I do for you?”
I nervously shift on my feet. “I was actually wondering if Dr. Pierce was around.”
Keith’s lips twitch, like he already knows the answer will disappoint me. “He’s still at work. Sorry, Amelia.”
I try not to let my disappointment show. “Oh. Do you know when he’ll be back?”
He shakes his head. “No idea. But you could always wait here. Have a cup of tea with me? I wouldn’t mind the company.”
I glance at my phone, seeing a text from Mom.
I let her know earlier that I’d be late home.
The thought of not being there makes me unsettled.
My family relies on me, and I hate letting her down by not being there to help.
But I need this interview. More money means I can stop juggling overdue notices.
It also means filling her prescriptions without checking my bank balance twice.
I force a smile. “Sure. I’d love a cup of tea.”
Keith nods, stepping aside to let me in. His house is warm from the fire burning. As I follow him to the kitchen, I recognize the jazz tune. It’s something old and soothing.
He moves with ease, grabbing cups and turning on the kettle. “How’s your mom doing?”
I hesitate, fingers brushing the edge of the counter. “She’s… okay.” It’s not exactly a lie. Just the best version of reality that I can give.
Keith gives me a sad smile. “You’re a good daughter, you know that?”
Emotion clogs my throat. I’m not used to hearing things like that from anyone other than my mother. “Looking after her is just… what I do,” I say softly. “She’s always been there for me and my siblings. It’s the least I can do.”
He nods as he hands me my tea, then leads me out onto the back deck. The night air is cool but not cold, the light fading around us.
“So,” he says, settling into his chair. “What are you here to see Adrian for?”
I take a seat and blow on my tea, watching the steam rise into the air. “I need an interview. Which he’ll probably say no to again, but Luna’s insisting.”
Keith’s a doctor, so he might understand the pressure, or he might think I’m just another journalist chasing a story. Part of me hopes he’ll see past that because he’s known me my whole life.
We sit in silence. My mind travels to the moment Adrian made it clear he wasn’t interested in an interview.
He barely gave it a thought before shutting me down.
Sipping my tea, I look out at Keith’s backyard.
It’s peaceful here. No siblings fighting over the last piece of toast, no one stealing my shoes, no yelling. Just stillness.
Wouldn’t it be nice to come home to this?
Keith sighs, which pulls my gaze to him. “Listen, Adrian had a rough time back in the city. He’s a good kid, but the bulletin hasn’t been kind.”
I shift uncomfortably, knowing that was half my fault, already feeling a kind lecture coming on.
“You know, Amelia, you could have left that last line out of your last article,” he says gently. “But you didn’t.”
A pit forms in my stomach. He’s calling me out, and I can’t even deny it.
Keith takes a sip of his drink, clearly thinking.
I don’t know if he’s disappointed, angry, or both. So I wait, expecting him to say I went too far, or that I blew my chance with Adrian completely.
Finally, he says, “There’s one thing I know he cares about.”
I sit up straighter. “What is it?”
Keith watches me for a moment, then leans back. “Some medical equipment at the hospital, called a CT scanner, is broken, and he’s been trying to get it replaced. But he can’t use his own money to fix it.”
I listen carefully.
He stares into the distance before meeting my eyes. “I think if you helped him run a fundraiser to get the money, he might trade you for the interview.”
“Why does he care so much about that particular equipment?”
Keith gives me a look, as if he knows, but doesn’t say it out loud. “That’s not my story to tell. If he wants you to know, he’ll tell you.”
I press my lips together, mulling it over as I sip my tea. The idea isn’t terrible. It might actually work.
A fundraiser. That’s something I could do.
I know people, restaurant owners, small businesses who could sponsor, even the local radio owes me a favor.
If I asked the right people, got some traction, it could gain momentum fast. And if Adrian sees I’m actually trying to help, not just chasing a headline, he might be willing to talk.
This could work, and maybe it would mean more than Genevive’s pie.
There’s something about the way Keith said it, there’s a deeper reason Adrian wants that equipment. I suspect it’s something personal.
I glance at Keith again, but he doesn’t offer more.
If I’m going to make this work, I need to treat it like any other story, so I set my empty cup down, already planning to call Ezra, Milton the community co-ordinator, and the mayor and pitch to them first. Adrian still hasn’t shown up, so I decide it’s time to leave.
“I should get going. I need to get home to Mom.” I stand and straighten my top.
Keith stands with me, nodding. “Tell her I’m thinking of her.”
“I will.”
As I step onto the porch, I glance back. “Thanks, Keith.”
He waves with a smile as I get in my car.
I don’t have my interview. Yet. But now, I have a plan.
I’m about to take off when Adrian’s car pulls up. My fingers tighten around the steering wheel, my heart kicking up a notch. I should leave. But instead, I shove the door open and step out, watching as he parks.
He gets out, his expression already set in a scowl.
“Why are you here?”
I swallow down the heat rising in my throat.
He’s a mess. His white dress shirt is wrinkled, his tie loosened, black suit pants slightly creased.
As if he’s been running his hands through it all day, his brown hair is ruffled, and a shadow of stubble darkens his jaw.
When my gaze lifts to his, blue eyes pierce through me.
I cross my arms. “I need to talk to you.”
“I said no.”
The words sting, but I push through. “Adrian, please.”
He breathes heavily and moves closer. “What is it?”
I square my shoulders. “I have an offer. One that I think would benefit both of us.”
His eyebrows lift, the corners of his mouth twitching with something close to amusement. “Yeah? And what’s that?” His tone is mocking, like he already knows I have nothing worth his time.
I force myself to keep my chin up. “A fundraiser.”
He blinks rapidly. “A fundraiser?”
“For the hospital equipment you need,” I say.
His jaw tightens, his gaze flicking toward the house. “He told you, didn’t he?”
I smile. “Maybe.”
Adrian rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “Yeah, the hospital needs the money. I need the money. What does that have to do with the article?”
“What if I help you run the best fundraiser this town has ever seen? Enough money to get the equipment needed,” I say, letting the words settle before adding, “in exchange for your side of the story.”
He drops his gaze to the ground. The silence stretches. I can almost see the battle playing out in his mind.
“I don’t know. I don’t know if I can trust you. How do I know you’ll follow through?”
The accusation stuns me. My trust has never been questioned before. I’ve built my reputation on reliability. Heat rises in my cheeks. Is this how he sees me?
“You don’t,” I admit, uncrossing my arms. “But you could always give me the interview after the fundraiser. Would that be better?” I pause, trying to read his expression. “And the article will be fair. And the photo… must be good.”
His nostrils flare slightly as he takes a deep breath. I think I have him. If I do, I’ll have to email Luna tonight and let her know the plan.
“Fine,” he says at last. “But do you even know how to run a fundraiser big enough to raise that kind of money?”
“Don’t you worry about that. I’ve covered enough of them to know what works. I’ll figure something out. Nothing like an exciting challenge to keep me on my toes.” The ideas are already coming together in my head.
“I’m glad I’m not the subject this time.”
For a moment, we share a smile, the tension between us easing. But then it shifts, the air thickening again, something unspoken hanging between us. The sudden awareness of it sends a shiver down my spine. Adrian clears his throat, as if shaking it off.
“I better go.” I pull myself back. “Gotta get home to my mom.”
His gaze softens, a rare gentleness in his eyes. “Yeah, of course,” he murmurs.
We both nod, then I turn away. He stands on Keith’s porch, watching as I reverse out of the driveway and onto the street.
It’s only when I can no longer see him that I feel like I can breathe again.
And yet, I’m still on edge.
Still feeling something I don’t know how to name.